Keeping a Warrior

by Melanie Hansen

  “Oh, yeah.” She stroked his nape with her thumb.

  “I—” He choked off. “I just—”

  Before he could get anything else out, she yanked him into a scorching kiss that immediately swept him up and drove all rational thought from his mind. With his hands and mouth, he worshiped her, delaying his own pleasure until she’d shattered around him, once, twice, her nails digging into his flexing back.

  “Devon,” he cried out, collapsing on top of her as she wrapped him up and held him close.

  “Love you,” she whispered hoarsely into his ear. “Mean it.”

  His heart full, his body sated, Rhys slid into a contented sleep.

  When he woke, she was gone.

  * * *

  I love him. I love him.

  Devon’s feet pounded the pavement, her thoughts in a jumble as she cursed her impulsive declaration.

  What do I do now?

  “You don’t give up everything you’ve worked so hard for, that’s for sure,” she said out loud, puffing. “He’s in the Air Force. You’re going to Afghanistan with Special Forces and the CIA, for God’s sake. It’d never work.”

  Why wouldn’t it, though? Matt and Shane are making it. Dual-career military couples are a thing.

  If those two clowns could do it, why couldn’t she and Rhys?

  Maybe because they’ve had years to get to know each other. Because they’ve already been through some ups and downs, some separations, some trials. They’ve seen each other at their best, and their worst.

  “You and Rhys have, too,” she argued with that pesky voice in her head. “You’ve packed a lot of living into these past six months.”

  But you’ll be gone for a year or more. You might not speak for weeks, maybe months, at a time.

  At that, all Devon’s optimism slowly drained away, and she slowed to a walk. Theirs was a brand-new relationship that hadn’t had a chance to take root, to grow and flourish. How long until it withered on the vine, smothered to death by the weight of silence, and distance?

  With a weary sigh, she pushed her way inside a nearby Shoppette, the Air Force’s version of a convenience store, to buy a bottle of water. At the counter, a petite white woman in PT clothes was paying for a sports drink and chatting with the clerk.

  Behind Devon the door jangled, and a rowdy group of airmen rushed inside, jabbering about buying some chips and cigarettes. The woman leapt out of the way as they swarmed the counter, her eyes wide in her suddenly ashen face.

  Devon froze. The woman’s defensive posture was only too familiar, the way she raised her hands as if to ward off an attack...

  Oh, God.

  Without a word the woman fled, her panicked footsteps echoing down the sidewalk in her haste to escape. Rushing out the door after her, Devon could only watch helplessly as she disappeared around the corner, her call for the woman to wait dying on her lips.

  With a moan of anguish, she slumped down on a nearby bench and buried her face in her hands. What’d happened to the girl was all too evident—but was it at the hands of these particular young men, or ones just like them? Had she reported it and been retaliated against, or was she living in constant fear and reminder, maybe having to work with her assailant every day or live in the same barracks as him?

  If only Devon could’ve talked to her, could’ve been a listening ear or a comforting shoulder. Maybe she could have helped...

  “You okay, ma’am?”

  Devon glanced up into an earnest face and a pair of blue eyes shining with concern.

  Such a polite young man, she thought. Had he, or someone like him, taken that girl’s trust, her sense of camaraderie, and twisted it into something that’d violated not only her body, but her sense of self-worth? Had her command used the “good soldier” defense to dismiss her allegations?

  “You don’t get to come in here and ruin some good men’s careers...”

  “Ma’am?”

  The young airman was still waiting for an answer, and with an ache in her soul, Devon nodded. “I’m fine.”

  She stood up, aware of her sweaty T-shirt clinging to her and waiting for his eyes to drop to her chest. To her surprise, his gaze stayed firmly fixed on her face, and with another bright smile, he took a step back. “Just checking, ma’am. Have a lovely day.”

  Unable to speak, Devon simply turned and headed in the opposite direction, back toward the barracks and Rhys.

  As she ran, her heart started to pound from more than exertion. Sudden possibilities started swirling through her mind. Ideas, dreams...

  Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

  Yes, the women of Afghanistan needed her.

  But maybe her own sisters-in-arms needed her more.

  Chapter Twenty

  The other guys had had the same thought, about seeing Shane, and the duty van was full of boisterous high-spirited men on the verge of going home.

  Rhys sprawled out in his seat and listened to the cacophony of voices.

  “Guess what? Darla’s pregnant!” Smudge announced to immediate razzing.

  “You haven’t been home for months, dude! How’d that happen?”

  “I heard those Coronado mailmen really get around.”

  They all hooted at the thundercloud that descended over Smudge’s face. “I got her pregnant right before we left,” he ground out. “And she just now told me about it. You fuckers.”

  “Sure, sure. That’s the story and you’re sticking to it.”

  “Cool story, bro.”

  Smudge just sat there as the guys continued to bust his balls. At last, not getting any further rise out of him, they offered their sincere congratulations with punches to his arm and crude jokes.

  Rhys laughed along with everyone else, his arm slung along the bench seat behind Devon’s shoulders. After she’d returned from her run, she’d been quiet, pensive. As much as he wanted to talk about what’d happened that morning and what it meant for them going forward, he hadn’t pushed.

  They’d have all the time in the world to talk on the plane.

  Luckily the grumpy nurse wasn’t on duty at the hospital, and the one who was understood that the SEALs wouldn’t be denied entry into Shane’s room. She stood back and graciously waved them in.

  Shane looked better, his face less puffy, his eyes a little brighter. “They’re gonna med-flight me to San Diego by the end of the week,” he announced. “And no, nobody needs to go AWOL to stay with me.” He smiled at Matt, who glared back at him.

  Rhys could relate. If it was Devon in that hospital bed, it’d take an earthquake to pry him loose.

  In the end, Matt caved to Shane’s entreaties for him to leave.

  “Don’t risk jail just to sit here and watch me sleep, Soup,” he said firmly. “I’ll be home before you know it. Besides, you need to finish wiring the surround sound in the bedroom.” He shrugged. “I was gonna hire some other guy to do it, but—”

  “What? I can do it better than some random dude off the street can!”

  “So go do it. Have it ready for me when I get home.”

  Rhys had to marvel at Shane’s skill in handling his worried, recalcitrant boyfriend. It was a skill that came from a deep understanding of Matt’s needs, of what made him tick. He thought he and Devon had that, too, and Rhys was eager to see it deepen and grow.

  Despite Matt’s assurances he couldn’t wait to get home so he could have everything ready for Shane, it still took every ounce of Devon’s persuasive powers to convince him to leave the hospital and get on the plane.

  Once onboard, she stuck close to him.

  Just looking at Matt’s face, Rhys could understand why; it was apparent the poor dude was on the verge of losing his shit at having to leave Shane behind.

  Making himself comfortable on a nearby pallet, Rhys alternated between watching a movie and watching Devon, who was available when Matt wanted to talk, and a comforting presence when he didn’t.

  At last Matt fell asleep, and with a groan and a stretch, Devon pushed to her
feet and made her way toward Rhys’s perch to lean against it. “Hey, you think we could have a serious talk when we’re home and settled?”

  The words serious talk normally would’ve sent a bolt of fear straight through him, but there was something in her tone...

  Hope surged. Maybe she wouldn’t be leaving without at least a commitment to try to see where this led.

  “Of course,” he said, reaching out to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I can’t wait.” His heart soared even higher when she leaned in for a kiss before returning to Matt’s side. Lying back in a lovesick haze, Rhys at last succumbed to the hum of the plane and drifted off to sleep himself.

  Wheels skidding on the tarmac jolted him awake.

  “We’re in Maine,” Smudge informed him on the way to the head, still groggy from Ambien. “Refueling stop.”

  When Rhys woke the next time, they were landing in Coronado.

  The hydraulic squeal of the ramp was loud as it lowered, revealing a slice of bright blue sky scudding with clouds. Rhys rolled off his pallet and hurriedly gathered his things. Before he could head toward Devon, Aaron intercepted him.

  “Dude, I really need to talk to you about Lani—”

  “Not now,” Rhys said brusquely. “Whatever it is, it can wait. You know she and I are through.”

  “Halloran...”

  Devon was already off the plane, so Rhys brushed past Aaron and jogged down the ramp after her. The bright sunlight blinded him for a moment, and cursing, he dug around in his ruck for some sunglasses. Slipping them on, he immediately searched for Devon, the loud cheers from assembled family members waiting on the edge of the tarmac annoying him and making his head throb.

  He finally spotted her, frozen midstep and staring at something off in the distance. Swinging around impatiently to look, too, the bottom of Rhys’s stomach dropped to his toes, nausea rushing through him in a sickening wave. “Oh, my God.”

  Aaron walked up behind him and gripped his shoulder. “Tried to warn you, man. Tried to fucking warn you.”

  Convinced he was in the midst of a terrible dream, Rhys stared disbelievingly at the cheering, fist-pumping, video-taking crowd. A crowd that Lani stood at the front of, wearing his favorite yellow sundress despite the chill in the air, holding high a fuchsia sign with heart-shaped balloons attached to it.

  A sign which read, in big block letters, LET’S TRY AGAIN!

  He swore loudly and viciously, and fear made his knees weak as he whirled toward Devon, his voice pleading. “I swear I had no idea. I don’t want this—”

  He broke off when Devon strode toward him, grabbed him by the hand and tugged him back into the plane out of sight. “Rhys, you have to go to her,” she said steadily. “You can’t leave her like this and embarrass her in front of her friends.”

  Her reasonable tone was calming, although Rhys’s heart was still tripping a mile a minute. “You’ll be around? Tell me you won’t just leave me without a word, Devon, please.”

  She’d just opened her mouth to respond when a deep voice called out from the bottom of the ramp: “Ms. Lowe!”

  Rhys went cold all over again. It was Beck.

  “Major!” Devon snapped to attention and saluted him, even though she was in civilian clothes. “I, uh, didn’t expect a welcoming committee.”

  “Just happened to be here vacationing with the family and heard your platoon was on the way back,” he said jovially, returning the salute. “Sent my wife and kids on home yesterday and waited around, thought we could go over some of the preliminaries. I can’t wait to hear the strategies you’ve come up with, the solutions to some of the things we talked about. Dinner tonight? My CIA contact can be here in two hours...”

  Still chattering away, he gestured for Devon to precede him down the ramp. She cast Rhys one last impassive glance before turning and leading the way.

  No, don’t go. Not yet...

  Outside, the cheering hit fever pitch, and Rhys couldn’t put this off any longer. Shouldering his ruck, he pasted a smile on his face before starting one of the longest walks of his life. Lani watched him approach, her long black hair blowing in the sea breeze, her smile wide, eyes hopeful.

  In spite of the dread roiling through him at the difficult conversation to come, Rhys couldn’t help but smile back at her. She’d meant so much to him once...

  And of course she still did. Her unwavering friendship had gotten him through some tough and lonely times, her love had taught him what it meant to be a good man. Devon was right. He couldn’t reject her and hurt her in such a public way.

  Plus, you deserve all this and more, you tool, after what you put her through.

  His cheeks burned at the memory of that desperate flash-mob proposal, that last-ditch attempt to salvage what was already on its way to dying a natural death.

  When he reached Lani’s side, he dropped his ruck. “Hey, pretty girl,” he said softly. “What’s all this?”

  Instead of answering, Lani threw herself into his arms to the roar of the crowd. All around him, his teammates were greeting their loved ones, toddlers and babies perched in the crooks of their arms.

  It was a chaotic, happy scene.

  As Lani clung to him, Rhys searched frantically for Devon, finally spying her standing about fifty yards away talking to the major and Bradley.

  As if feeling the weight of his stare, she turned and looked at him, a remoteness now in her eyes that sent fear rocketing through him.

  It can’t end like this. Not like this.

  Not without a proper goodbye.

  * * *

  The drive to Lani’s tiny apartment in El Cajon seemed to take forever.

  Rhys silently cursed the traffic, the noise, the people who blithely drove by trash on the side of the road as if it didn’t mean anything.

  “Troops in contact. We are troops in contact. Lead vehicle has hit an IED...”

  “Baby?” Lani reached over and touched Rhys’s forearm. “You okay?”

  The scent of her spicy perfume was strong in the car, her long, tanned legs silky smooth, makeup flawless.

  Chapped lips, hair tucked under a scarf, the smell of dust on flea-bitten skin...

  A wave of longing for Devon brought tears rushing to Rhys’s eyes. She was going to leave. Beck was going to whisk her away into a shadowy world of secret, clandestine missions that people only heard about when things went terribly wrong...

  “Was that girl the one in those pics Sarah had?”

  Desperately trying to focus, Rhys cleared his throat. “What?”

  “That girl you were talking to when you first got off the plane. Was that Devon?”

  Rhys let his breath out slowly. “Yeah, that’s her,” he rasped. “Why?”

  “Did you sleep with her?”

  The SUV jerked wildly in the lane as Rhys fumbled the wheel. “Jesus, Lee-Lee!”

  “Did you? It’s okay if you did. I slept with someone, too.”

  Through clenched teeth, Rhys ground out, “Let’s not have this conversation while we’re going eighty miles an hour, Lani, okay?”

  A heavy silence fell after that, and when they reached her apartment complex, Rhys grabbed his stuff and followed her up to a second floor unit, where he dumped his duffel right outside the door; it was way too dusty to bring inside.

  The apartment was small but tastefully furnished. He’d been here once before, the day he’d helped her move out of his. When they were through, they’d both cried, then ended up making love on the floor in the midst of all the packing material strewn about.

  Back then, Rhys had taken that frantic sex as a sign of hope, but now he saw it for what it was: something familiar and comforting in a moment of fear and uncertainty.

  “Ah, sweetheart,” he murmured, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “What’s all this about? You know it’s over, Lee.”

  “You sure about that?” She lifted her face invitingly, lips parted, her hand splaying across his chest. “Doesn’t feel over to me.”
>
  For the briefest of instants, temptation reared its ugly head. Why not try again? Devon’s leaving and there’s a good chance you’ll never see her again. Lani’s here...

  Right on the heels of that thought came a hot tide of shame.

  No. She deserves more than to be my Plan B.

  Sorrow churning in his gut, Rhys eased back. “It’s over,” he said as gently as he could. “It’s been over for a long time.”

  “Why? Because you’re in love with that Devon girl?”

  “Yes.”

  The pain on her face crumbled Rhys’s heart into a million pieces. Snatching her hands away, Lani spun around and walked over to the window to stare outside. “Well, shit.”

  After a long, agonizing silence, Rhys approached and stood just behind her. “Talk to me. What’s this really about?”

  For a moment he didn’t think she’d answer, but then she snapped, “It’s about the fact that I’m stupid, okay? Because I believed him when he said I was more than a hookup.”

  Rhys was utterly bewildered. “Who said? What happened?”

  Through clenched teeth, Lani described meeting a tall, mysterious man at the bar where she worked. “He said he worked for the CIA.”

  Rhys wanted to tell her that real CIA agents wouldn’t advertise that fact, but mansplaining was the last thing she needed from him right now.

  “He took me up to Malibu one weekend,” she whispered, “to a beautiful house on the beach. We walked, and talked, made love...”

  Picking up a shell that was sitting on the windowsill, Lani held it up to the light. “It was one of the best weekends of my life, Rhys.”

  Fury at this unknown, faceless prick boiled through him. Her first serious dating experience after their breakup had been with some spoiled, rich asshole who got off on lying to women and then ghosting them when the thrill was gone?

  No wonder old Reliable Rhys suddenly looked so good to her.

  “I never in a million years thought you’d be the one to move on first, you know? When I saw those pictures Aaron took of you and Devon, I—” Lani swallowed hard, her voice going flat as she said, “I guess I just wanted to see how much power I still had over you, that’s all.”