by SE Jakes
Rex looked at Lucky and then at the doctor waiting and said, “I think he’ll be fine.”
Lucky couldn’t be as sure, but he didn’t want to be both handcuffed and pawed at unless there was an orgasm attached to the end of the experience. This didn’t look promising, as the doctor was maybe seventy and decidedly not gay, but at least he looked friendly.
Scratch that—he didn’t look terrified at the thought of spending time alone with a trained killer with amnesia. Lucky moved past him into the exam room, and the doctor shut the door quietly.
Everything he did was quiet and controlled.
“I’m Dr. Larkin. I’m going to be examining you today.”
“I’m Lucky.”
Dr. Larkin nodded and picked up the file from the countertop.
“I mean, I know the file doesn’t say that’s my name, but that’s what I go by.”
Dr. Larkin looked through the file for a few moments before saying, “Your name’s Josiah. But it looks like everyone called you Josh. I’m guessing you always went by it.”
He tried both names out on his tongue but nothing pinged in his brain. He shook his head, frustrated, and the doctor stared at him.
“Okay, I’ll just call you Lucky then, for now,” he said quietly.
“Thanks.” He stared down at his hands balled in his lap. “Are they sending me to jail?”
“I hope not. But a JAG will be around to talk to you.”
“They were on the plane with me but they told me to keep my mouth shut, not to even ask questions.” And he hadn’t.
“Let’s get through your medical reviews, okay? If you have nothing to hide, none of this should be a problem.”
Maybe that was wishful thinking, but Lucky wanted to believe it more than anything.
Dr. Larkin put the file down and said, “I’d like to give you privacy to undress, but I can’t. So I’ll get ready while you strip down. Put the gown on, opening in the front.”
Lucky stared at it. “Seriously? Isn’t it easier to go naked?”
“They have rules about these things for doctors.”
Dr. Larkin had some snark going and Lucky decided he liked the guy. So he stripped and put the gown on while the doctor washed up and lined up his instruments.
“Do you have any issues with touch or sound?” he asked before he started.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Do loud noises startle you more than you think they should? Are you hyperaware of noise, or when someone puts a hand on you? If I came up to you from behind and put a hand on your shoulder, would you react violently without thinking about it?”
Lucky just stared at him, the questions mixing up in his mind. “I don’t…no one’s ever really tried that.”
Dr. Larkin smiled a little. “I can see why. I won’t make any moves without telling you what I’m doing first. Fair enough?”
“Sure.”
The exam was standard doctor stuff except for the photographs he took of Lucky’s scarring. He asked about Lucky’s aches and pains, told him not to be a tough guy but to answer truthfully.
“The scars pull. My back and thighs ache more than they should from just scars. Other than that…you know, beyond the fact that I can’t remember anything before four years ago, I’m great.”
“The scars are deep. Lots of trauma to the muscle, which is why you’ll have the pain. If you need something stronger than ibuprofen, I can write you a prescription.”
“No thanks.”
“What about sleeping?”
“That’s not a problem.”
“Nightmares?”
He stared at the doctor, flashing back to his talk with Dash. “I don’t dream.”
“Interesting. I’m going to set up a CT scan and an MRI for you. See what we can find out. Any seizures?”
“No.”
“Good. Headaches? Blurry vision?”
“No.”
After ticking off the doctor’s laundry list of items and finding out he was in damned good shape, Dr. Larkin closed the file. “Do you have any questions for me?”
“Can I see those?” he asked, pointed to the photos on the counter. Dr. Larkin looked reluctant for a second before handing over the Polaroids.
“Do you want to see the psychiatrist before you do that?” he asked.
“You think I’m going to freak out?”
“You might. Any drug allergies?”
“Not that I know of.”
He stared down at the pictures. He’d seen the scars in the mirror, of course, or at least as much of them as he could. But the photographs were different. It was like he was looking at a stranger. “Fuck.”
“Lucky, what’s wrong?”
“It’s just…I didn’t know they were this bad.” He rarely went shirtless, and when he did at the beach, he was always aware of the whispers behind his back. The scars on his legs only reached to right above his knees, so they were hidden. But they were thick and roped. “Why didn’t they heal?”
The doctor was silent for a long moment.
“You’re not supposed to tell me anything, right?”
“Right.” He turned around and then handed Lucky the file. “I suppose letting you read isn’t the same as telling you.”
Lucky took the file and stared at it, and then he handed it back to the doc. “I’m not ready.”
Dr. Larkin took it back. “They put salt in the wounds—literally—to make sure they scarred. It would make things more painful for you, both then and now.”
Unconsciously, he reached up to rub one of them on his shoulder that always seemed to pull when he got tired. Dr. Larkin smiled at him, a real smile.
“I think you’re going to be fine, Lucky. I think you deserve that.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
“Just wait here while I call for your escort. Not sure if you can go straight to the scans or if they have other plans for you.”
Rex came in past the doctor. “Everything okay?”
“Healthy as a horse.” He paused. “The doctor was nice to me. It’s like they’re scared of me, but they’re nice.”
“You’re a decorated SEAL. You were awarded a posthumous Purple Heart,” Rex told him. “I guess we can cross out the posthumous part.”
“Won’t they take it away?”
“Why? Just because you don’t remember what you did doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. I was there—I was by your side for just about every mission you ever did with the SEALs, including that last one. You more than goddamned deserve it. You deserve a hell of a lot more.”
Chapter Nine
“Sawyer, it’s your mother.”
“Hey, Mom.” He clutched the cell phone hard enough to leave dents in his hands. He dropped it to the table, put it on speakerphone and asked, “Where are you?”
Because she mainly called when she was close to Virginia, like she knew he couldn’t escape.
“I’m in Virginia, visiting some friends. Tonight, I’m going to the Scanlons’ party. Remember, I sent you the invitation last month?”
“Vaguely, but I’ve been away a lot…”
“And you told me you could go.”
“I don’t ever remember saying that.”
“I RSVP’d to the Scanlons for you.”
“Shit.”
“Sawyer, language. I’m not in the Navy.” His mother sighed. “Tonight at ten. I’m resending the invitation right now. Oh, and they’d like you to bring some of your friends.”
“Why’s that?”
“They want a nice showing of active-duty military. Wear your dress whites. Can’t wait to see you.”
She hung up before he could say anything. Damn, she was good.
He checked his email, found the invitation and stared at it for a few minutes. He couldn’t get out of going—and he’d drag Jace along. Rex wasn’t supposed to be back until…well, hell, he wasn’t exactly clued in to the details, for security purposes.
He looked down at his phone and saw his friend tr
ying to Face Chat with him. He pulled up the app and saw Jace sitting on the couch. “Want to go out tonight?”
“I have to go out tonight and you’re coming with me. My mom’s in town.”
“I’m not great with mothers.”
“You don’t have to do anything but go to this party. She wants me to bring other uniforms. Wants heroes.”
Clint walked behind the couch where Jace was sitting and gave Sawyer a wave as Jace said, “So I’m like your date.”
“Keep being an asshole—see where that gets you.”
Jace pointed at Clint’s retreating back. “I was an asshole to him sometimes and it got me…”
“I can hear you,” Clint called over his shoulder. “Go with Sawyer to the party. Make connections. It’s good for both of your careers.”
Six hours later, dressed in their dress whites and ribbons, Sawyer and Jace entered the grand ballroom that was already crowded with socialites and a few members of the press. A woman came up to them, checked their names off a list and asked them if they preferred not to have their pictures taken.
“No ma’am, we’d rather not,” Sawyer told her.
“Certainly.” She walked away and spoke to the man with the camera. When she came back, she told them, “It’s been noted. If you show up on the video, your faces will be blurred. Also, your medals.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank you both. Please enjoy the party.”
“How’d you swing an invite to this?” Jace asked when she was out of hearing.
“I told you my mom’s in town—she forced this on me and I forced it on you, because that’s what friends are for.”
Jace snorted, then said, “Your mom runs in these circles? Why am I just hearing about that?”
Sawyer shrugged.
“This is like, this is your life, Sawyer Thomas.”
“Sawyer Kirke Thomas.”
Jace’s eyes widened. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Wish I was.”
“Boy, you’ve got some explaining to do.”
“Couldn’t talk about everything when we were in that cave,” Sawyer shot back.
Jace stared at him and then looked around the party. “You hated it, didn’t you? Growing up in this life.”
“Yeah,” he admitted quietly.
Jace put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re free, Sawyer. This is just a visit. And I’m going to get us something to drink. Try not to get married to a socialite when I’m gone.”
“Funny. You’re funny. Can see why Clint keeps you around,” he called as Jace walked away. Watched many pairs of eyes follow his friend, because yeah, Jace was as all-American good-looking as they got.
He felt like a weight had been lifted by telling Jace this. He hadn’t been hiding it, but you didn’t just walk up to people and tell them you were filthy stinking rich.
Now he had to let Rex know about it. Because he’d been bitching to Rex that they didn’t know each other while he’d been keeping this secret.
But it had stopped being a secret a long time ago for him. Instead, it became simply a life that he’d felt had never been his. He’d never felt rich. He’d grown up running roughshod over any culture his mother tried to give him. That’s not to say he hadn’t picked up any social graces. He could hold his own at any fancy party, knew how to make the right kind of small talk to keep people comfortable.
He also knew how to make people decidedly uncomfortable, but that didn’t come from practice. That was a skill that he’d been born with, and whether or not he did it with a question or a look, he was always able to suss out both truth and lies.
He was also able to hide his own truth and lies. It helped him to rise up the ranks in the military and he’d been recommended for OCS but hadn’t gone.
Rex had been actively trying to talk him into it. Sawyer had been just as actively refusing.
“I work for a living,” was an old military joke non-officers used when someone addressed them as sir but that wasn’t far from the truth for Sawyer.
He could’ve gone to an elite military academy, just like his father had. Could be working in the Pentagon. Instead, he was happily ensconced in a SEAL team.
Didn’t matter how highly decorated he was or how many missions he’d clocked, the lives he’d saved. His mother was proud he’d followed in his father’s footsteps but angry that she had to worry about him. It brought back too many memories for her, and it complicated their already complicated relationship further.
At least he didn’t have to live with her. That was her new boyfriend’s job and hell, if the guy wanted to hang around and play second fiddle, so be it. He’d find out soon enough, like his stepfather had, that there was only one man in his mother’s life.
He’d been five when his dad was killed. Didn’t remember much, although the memories were good.
And knowing how much his mother still mourned for her first love had been what stopped Sawyer cold when he’d first discovered Rex’s boyfriend had been killed. Rex had assured Sawyer that wasn’t the case in their relationship and Sawyer had finally gotten comfortable enough to believe it.
But now, the ghost wasn’t a ghost any longer.
Love was a powerful, funny thing—the connection was indescribable. And no matter who tried to convince him that Rex didn’t see Sawyer as coming in second…well, Sawyer knew how he felt about Rex, knew that the man had changed him in a way he’d never be able to adequately describe or forget.
When someone touched you that deeply, you didn’t ever forget it.
Jace handed him a Coke, because he knew Sawyer didn’t drink at all when he drove. Jace had designated him the driver and designated himself the invited guest.
He was drinking a dirty martini. Correction, he drank half and put it down. None of them drank with any regularity these days, so when they did go out to get hammered, it happened pretty quickly. He didn’t want that to happen tonight.
“I’m guessing Rex doesn’t know about any of this, right?”
“No.”
“Does your mom know about Rex?”
“No.”
“You’re not planning on revealing that shit here, are you? Because I only brought one set of restraints and that could get ugly.”
“You brought cuffs? To this? Did you think a brawl would happen or were you planning on randomly arresting people?”
“No, they’re for later when I meet Clint.”
Sawyer held up a hand. “I don’t need to hear any more.”
Jace grinned. “Mom alert. She’s waving and pointing and mouthing, my son.”
Sawyer turned around just in time. His mother was coming toward him, her high heels clipping along the floor.
“Sawyer.” She hugged him, then kissed him—no air kisses, which was something he liked. She never did that fake shit.
She hugged Jace too, and he mouthed “Your mom’s hot” over her shoulder.
She was, but Sawyer mouthed back “Asshole” anyway.
After a few minutes of catch-up and small talk, Mom’s newest boyfriend, a retired three-star admiral, came over and introduced himself.
Both Sawyer and Jace saluted and then he shook both their hands.
“I appreciate the salute. I know those are rare gifts from SEALs.”
It was true—SEALs didn’t salute many people. But, like Clint said, this was good for both their careers and it never hurt to give a little respect to a three-star.
He actually seemed like a good guy, which meant that Mom would run him out of town pretty quickly.
Jace was talking to his mom, and the admiral told Sawyer, “It’s good to meet you, son. I’ve heard great things about you from Admiral Beck. He said you’re on the fast track for a promotion. That you’re one of the best operators he’s seen in a long time.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Listen son, I heard what happened to your CO.”
“Word spreads fast.”
“I’m sure the investigation won�
�t prove anything against him,” he said, and Sawyer schooled his face and pretended the admiral’s words weren’t a punch to the gut. Because the admiral was talking about Rex and goddammit, Sawyer had put the fact that Rex could find himself in real trouble out of his head. Because that’s the way Rex had wanted it. But if it had gotten this far along the chain, if the admiral was hearing rumors about the investigation…
Sawyer forced himself to stop thinking and just answer, “Yes, sir.”
“If there’s anything I can do for him, for you, you’ll let me know?”
“Yes sir.”
“I mean it, Sawyer. Don’t be afraid to call in a favor if need be. The Navy’s tough on deserters, but the scuttlebutt is that his teammates knew nothing about his deception.”
“Ray, let’s dance.”
His mother put her hand on the admiral’s shoulder and led him away to the dance floor. As Sawyer watched, he wondered how much longer she could keep faking it—and she was, because he knew what her real smile looked like.
Jace wandered back over. “I’ve got five phone numbers.”
“Men or women?”
His friend’s smile was wicked. “Little of both. The uniform’s a fucking magnet.”
That was the truth. “You gonna tell Clint?”
“Yeah, because there’s nothing much better than Clint when he’s jealous.” Jace looked around. “Who bothered you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Seriously? You’re going to try to fool me?”
Neither had been able to do that since their near-death experience during a mission. They’d shared a lot when they thought they might not make it. They even made promises to fulfill when they got out.
Since then, they’d been tight as hell. “The admiral mentioned that Rex is being investigated because of Josh. Rex mentioned that he’d be questioned too, but he glossed over it. We both did.”
“Maybe the admiral was trying to give you a head’s-up that you should pass along to Rex? Maybe Rex can call him for advice?”
“I don’t know. Shit. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
They’d been driving for half an hour when Sawyer glanced in the rearview and said, “We’re definitely being followed.”
“I knew that twenty minutes ago,” Jace said, not taking his eyes from the side-view mirror he’d been staring into for most of the ride home.
