Badass - The Complete Series: A Billionaire Military Romance

by Leslie Johnson

I press my lips together.

  “Shut up,” she says without looking at me.

  “I … didn’t … say … anything.” I blow out a breath, trying to keep my shit together. Then it comes out. A bark. A laugh. Something that isn’t supposed to.

  She huffs. “I want a divorce.”

  I can’t help it. I howl.

  Thank God for her. For her humor. Her good nature. Her caring spirit. I reach for her hand and she slaps it away. I wait, resting my hand on her thigh and grin when she sighs and links her fingers with mine.

  Four hours later, her stomach growls again. She winces, shifts in her seat and places her hand over her stomach.

  “If I pull over, do you think you can eat something? Maybe some broth or soup? Or do you need the bathroom again.”

  “No.”

  I glance over at her, but her lips are twitching in the corners. “Okay, something light. But I make no promises about how this ends.” She looks a little paler than before.

  Grinning, I take the next off-ramp and point. “How about that hoagie shop? They usually have good soups.”

  Her eyes brighten a little. “And cookies.”

  That’s my girl.

  Inside the shop, we both place our orders and then head to the restrooms. I’m done and pay for our food before she comes out, looking very pale.

  “You okay?”

  She rolls her eyes and winces. “Yeah. My stomach is still funky. Must be the antibiotic.”

  “Unfortunately, it’s the only kind we have with us.” I kiss her forehead and circle my arm around her shoulders. “Better a sick stomach than a nasty infection.”

  “You poor thing, you’re pale as a ghost.” Both of our heads swivel to the woman sitting in a booth. “Henry, look at her. She looks like she’s about to pass out.”

  Henry, who I presume to be the woman’s husband, turns and then stands. “Dear, are you alright?”

  Setting down the bags of food, I help Grace to a chair, then lower her head to between her knees, careful with her shoulder. She’s sweating more profusely now.

  Looking up at Henry, I paraphrase our cover story to him. “We were in Vegas and got jumped. Robbed. My wife had her purse stolen and took a bullet through the shoulder. We’re on our way home. I think the antibiotic they gave her is sitting wrong.”

  Henry’s knees pop as he crouches in front of Grace and checks her pulse, then asks her a few additional questions while his wife hovers nearby. He stands and looks at me. I resist the urge to pull my ball cap lower. “Bring her over to my clinic in about ten minutes,” he says and gives me some quick directions.

  I thank him and get Grace to her feet, leaving the food and half carrying her to the car. The physician’s office was easy to find in the small town. Five minutes later, a black Silverado pulls into the slot marked ‘Doctor Singleton.’ The perfect truck for a Utah mountain doc.

  Digging through my ‘go’ bag, I pull out the pistol and toss it into a backpack I’d bought in Vegas. Safe side. I’m playing everything on the safe side. I sling the backpack over my shoulder, then go around the car to help Grace—who keeps saying she’s fine, but clearly not—get out.

  A bell dings over the door as Dr. Singleton and the woman he was with go inside, holding the door open for me. The woman holds up a paper bag. “I brought your food with me. For later.”

  Small towns. You gotta love them

  I smile my thanks before following the doctor to an exam room, then get Grace on the table. She farts and covers her face, mumbling, “Kill me please.”

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. The doctor is going to get you something to help.”

  I stand there as the doctor checks her breathing, her eye dilation, listens to her lungs. He removes the sling and checks under her bandages and nods. “No infection.”

  We talk about the antibiotic she’s taking, a penicillin-based drug. “She was fine with it yesterday,” I tell him, “but started getting sick to her stomach this morning.”

  He pushes on her stomach and examines the scar. “What happened here?” he asks, looking up at me.

  I look down into her face and hurt for her as I say it. “Emergency C-section.”

  The doctor straightens. “I’m sorry. The baby?”

  Grace closes her eyes and I shake my head. The doctor nods and continues his exam.

  The woman he was with comes in with some forms I need to fill out. I sit in the corner and lie like a dog. I hand them back and she asks for my ID. “Sorry, my wallet was also stolen in the robbery.” She looks at the doctor who only nods and tilts his head toward the door.

  “I think your original diagnosis is correct. Penicillin based antibiotics can cause severe abdominal distress. I have some samples for Flagyl, which I think will work better. She needs to take them for five days. I’ll also give you something to help settle her stomach. Be sure she drinks lots of water. How much further do you have to drive?”

  “Just another hour,” I lie.

  He looks at me. Looks through me. “Uh huh. Be right back.”

  The hair stands up on the back of my neck. I grab the backpack and open the door. Quietly, I step down the hallway and stop when I hear voices.

  “You’re certain?” It’s the doctor.

  “Yes, dear. He’s all over the news. It’s hard to forget a face like that.”

  The doctor grunts. “And he’s supposed to be dead in an explosion you say?”

  “Yes. If that young man is indeed Link Duffy like I believe, then yes, he is supposed to be dead.” I hear the click of computer keys. “See,” the woman says triumphantly. “It’s definitely him.”

  Turning my head, I look for additional exits. A back door and several windows line the back wall.

  “Who is the woman?” the doctor asks.

  More clicking. “It doesn’t give her name, but that might be his nurse. Another report I heard said she’s from Tennessee or Georgia, or somewhere in the southeast. That girl sure has the accent.” More clicking. “He was injured a month or two ago, and was living on his parents’ estate while he got better. Some government project although the Star Talks magazine says he was really in the military. Navy Seals, I believe. They say he captured Bin Laden.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Terrible thing, all those soldiers getting killed,” the woman prattles on, then she sighs. “Like Bast. And more dying everyday it seems.” A second later, I hear footsteps and begin to make my way silently back to Grace. “What are you going to do, dear?”

  The footsteps stop. I stop.

  “I’m going to do what my gut says to do.” I hold my breath. “I’m going to help them.”

  Back in the exam room, the doctor strolls in, an IV bag and a syringe in his hand. The backpack is sitting on the floor next to me now. Opened. Just in case.

  “On second thought, I think our best avenue for treatment is to push fluids and deliver an antibiotic intravenously.” He looks down at Grace. “Are you allergic to anything you know of?” She shakes her head and he places a hand on her forehead. “Then we’ll get this done quickly.”

  “Thank you,” I tell him.

  He looks me in the eye. “You’re very welcome, young man. For some reason, I feel the need to be thanking you.”

  I clear my throat and Grace rolls to her side, curling into a ball. I pull my chair closer and stroke her face as the doctor inserts the IV needle in her hand and hangs the bags to begin their healing drip.

  Grace looks up at him. “I hardly ever see a physician do that. Are you always this hands-on?”

  He pats her arm. “Small town doctor for almost thirty years now, trained in the Army many moons ago. Deliver the babies; close the eyes on the dead. Everything in between. That’s how I like it.”

  “You did a good job. Thank you.”

  He smiles at her and then looks at me. “Can I see you for a moment?” I reach for the bag and he holds up a hand. “You don’t need that.” He turns and walks through the door. “You’re among friends.�
��

  Slowly, I stand and do a gut-check. Trust, my gut seems to say. I stroke Grace’s hair and tell her I’ll be right back, then walk into the hallway to face him. “Son, is there anything else you need before you get … home?”

  “No, sir. What you’re doing right now is more than enough. I noticed on the sign outside that your clinic is supposed to be closed today. Thank you for seeing us. Don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

  “Speaking of pay. You were … robbed. Do you have enough money to get home? I could offer you a loan.” He looks up at me. “I believe you’d be good for it.”

  I swallow and look up at the ceiling. My faith in humanity restored. “No, sir.” I have to swallow again. “But thank you, sir. The offer is very kind.”

  “Now then, did you suffer any injuries in the … incident? It’ll take about half an hour for your lovely wife’s IV to drip through. I’m happy to tend to you in the meantime.”

  “No, sir. My wife took the brunt of it, I’m afraid.”

  The doctor sighs, crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the wall. “My nephew was in the Army. Delta Force. He’d come home with all these stories.” He looks up at me again and I find myself leaning against the wall too. “Now, he’d never talk about missions or anything like that. Just the men he served with. There was this one man he talked about a lot. Said he was super rich and generous as the day is long. Said they’d give him hell because of his rich daddy and the media chasing after him for a picture every time he went home.”

  I lift my hands and press them to my eyes, trying to hold everything back. My legs grow weak and I slide down the wall to sit on the floor. The doctor goes down with me, places a firm hand on my arm.

  “My nephew loved his team. Thought the world of them. Said he’d die for them. And he did. About six weeks ago. In Syria. In a fight I don’t think those boys were supposed to win.”

  I look up at him, wipe my nose with the back of my hand. “Who…” I cough and try again. “Who was your nephew?”

  “Seelan. Sebastian Seelan, although I think you probably knew him as Hulk.” He squeezes my arm again. “And if I remember correctly, my sister received a check for a million dollars a couple weeks after Bast died. Anonymous donation.”

  I drop my face in my hands and just cry.

  He lets me. Soon, his wife comes and sits on the floor next to me too, stuffing some tissues in my hand. I try to thank her, but can’t get the words out.

  I’m not sure how long I sit there like that, but when I finally look back up, back into his kind, wise eyes now wet with emotion, he says, “Now, you sure there isn’t anything else I can do for you?”

  Chapter 8 – Grace

  “That was unbelievable,” I say again, trying to process the chain of events that just happened. What were the odds that we’d stop on the exit of a physician who would recognize Link? Not just recognize him, but be able to connect the dots so quickly? Not just connect the dots so quickly, but want to help him? Personally know someone Link was close to? Served with? Had nightmares over?

  “I know.”

  I lean the seat back in the Dodge Durango we’re in now. The doctor had insisted we get legal and borrow this older model SUV. He told us he’d take care of the Grand Cherokee for us; get it back to the Vegas airport before the elderly couple knew it was missing.

  He even tried to stuff a couple hundred dollars in Link’s pocket and he’d given us a bag filled with sample medication.

  “When all this is over, just bring the Durango back and let Molly and I take you to a nice dinner,” he said before we walked out the door. Tears were leaking down Link’s face as he hugged the older man and then Molly goodbye.

  Then both of them had taken me in their arms.

  “How are you feeling?” Link asks me after we’d driven several miles, moving his hand back to my thigh.

  I link our fingers together. “So much better. That stomach medicine is wonderful and I can’t believe I was so dehydrated.”

  Link grins. “All that squirting will take it out of a girl.”

  I blow out a breath, feeling my face turn red, but don’t even bother to yell at him. “Are you sure I didn’t just pee all over you?” I ask before my big mouth could hold the question in my brain.

  I’d heard about squirting before, but thought it was an urban legend or something. I’m going to have to research the phenomenon for sure.

  He’s laughing, of course. “I think it’s fluid that comes from the bladder but it mixes with PSA from the whatever it’s called that’s kind of like a female prostate.”

  “Great. So I peed on you. You’re sick, you know that?”

  He’s still grinning. “Oh yeah, I know that for sure. But you have to admit, it felt intense, right?” I can’t help it, I squirm in my seat. “And you’re going to let me do it to you again in the future.” I press my thighs together. “Maybe just before I take your ass.” I squirm again and blow out a breath. His voice gets lower, deeper; the hand holding mine tightens. “And while I’m in your ass, I’ll have a vibrator inside you too.”

  I groan and he laughs again. Hearing the deep baritone rumble makes me smile. “Maybe I’ll return the favor and stick the vibrator in your ass,” I tease him.

  He wiggles his eyebrows up and down. “Maybe I’ll like it.”

  I pause in the teasing long enough to wonder if he’s serious, the big grin on his face giving nothing away. “What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done, sex wise?”

  He points a finger at me. “Oh no. No. No. No. We are not going there.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I said so, that’s why?”

  “You sound like my mom. Come on, tell me. What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”

  He zips his lips together, like he’s five years old.

  “Seriously? Is it that bad?” I gasp. “Have you like had sex with a man? Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but … have you?”

  He snorts. “No, but…”

  I wait. Then I can’t wait any longer. “But what?”

  He lifts a shoulder. “Threesome. Two guys. One girl.”

  My mouth falls open. “You’ve had a threesome?”

  He’s grinning so big I have to grin too. “Well, yeah.” He says it like it’s no big deal. “Haven’t you?”

  I bluster. “No.” I think about it for a minute. “How did it work?”

  He frowns. “How did what work?”

  “The threesome. I mean, did you have to coordinate things? Know who was about to do what and when?”

  He shakes his head. “It was a little more logistically challenging, I suppose, with two men, but with two women, it’s—”

  My mouth falls open again. “You’ve been with two women at the same time too?”

  He brings a hand to his mouth to cover a cough.

  “More than two women?”

  He coughs again.

  “Oh good heavens. Just don’t tell me there was a goat or camel or whatever involved.”

  I squeal as the Durango swerves in the lane.

  I pout in the passenger seat while he tries to control his laughter. I punch at the radio buttons to drown him out. If he tells me he’s had sex with a camel, I’m throwing myself from the car. Hot sexy dude or no. That’s my line.

  Several minutes pass before he reaches for the volume, turning it down enough for us to talk. “You are the funniest person I’ve ever known. A camel, really? Where did you even get that from?”

  I scowl at him. “Desert. Camels. Lonely nights. Duh.”

  He lifts a hand and wiggles his fingers. “That’s what this is for.”

  I grab his hand and bring it to my mouth, biting the end of his middle finger. Then I link our hands together again and bring it to my cheek. I’ve never had so much fun just being silly.

  “You know, it’s kind of crazy. We almost died yesterday, and today we’re laughing about silly stuff. Does that mean we’re on the edge of losing our min
ds?”

  “Probably,” he says, squeezing my hand until it hurts. “But let’s stay on the edge. It’s good to have a mental break from all this death.”

  With those solemn words, we both sink into a dark silence and I search desperately for a way to bring us out. I’ve got nothing. Instead, I stupidly decide to dive into the conversation I’ve been wanting to have.

  “Who’s Sami?”

  Big mistake.

  He jumps. Literally startles when I say the name and he pulls away his hand to lay it back on the steering wheel. Miles pass. Twenty minutes and then another fifteen. I don’t press the subject and I can’t think of anything else to say. Not after that reaction. Instead, I lean my seat back further and close my eyes, kicking myself for bringing Sami up. I should have just talked more about sex.

  When I open my eyes again, it’s after four o’clock and Link’s fingers are stroking my cheek. We’ve stopped and I look around, trying to get my bearings. It’s no good. I don’t recognize anything.

  “Hi, beautiful. We need gas and I thought you might want to try something to eat. At least something to drink.”

  I nod and smile at him. “I feel so much better. Something light though, just in case Mt. St. Helens erupts in my stomach again.”

  He grins. “I think we just about have all the Dwarfs covered now. I’m Stumpy and you’re Stinky, Farty and Squirty all rolled up into one.”

  I blow out a breath. Thank goodness, we’re back to teasing each other. “You left one out?”

  He raises a brow.

  “Grumpy. Oh, and let’s not forget Orgy.”

  He grins. “We left another one out too. Sexy.” He leans and kisses me, his lips trailing from my lips up to my temple. “I’m going to pump some gas then find out where a good sandwich shop is.”

  “Link.” I stop him when he pulls away, his hand on the door. “Let me go in and pay. I’ll ask for directions.” His brow furrows and I go on. “Henry and Molly recognized you. Someone else could recognize you too. Someone who isn’t…” I let the word trail off.

  He nods. “Good thinking.” He opens his wallet, pulls out a hundred and I notice it’s the only bill left. “Not sure how many gallons this will hold. Pre-pay fifty. That should get us close to home.”