Bound to Break: Men of Honor, Book 6

by SE Jakes

  “Right.”

  “What did you think happened to me?”

  Rex’s face clouded. Lucky didn’t want to go there any more than Rex did. But if they wanted memories from him, he’d have to try to trigger them any way he could.

  Cooper said Lucky would probably need something harsh to break the amnesia. That it might happen now or ten years from now.

  Or never.

  “We were put into separate cells. Beaten on a rotating basis. Given a day to heal, listen to the rest of us getting hit. We were each told we could make it stop. Standard shit.”

  “But they did let you go, right?”

  Rex blinked. Stared. “We were let go about two days after they told us you died.”

  A chill went through Lucky as Rex talked about his death. He didn’t remember any of this—it was like being told the plot to a movie. And Lucky wanted all the spoilers, but it was strange being so detached and so invested in the outcome all at the same time. “Did you think the terrorists killed me?”

  “No. It was an infection in your leg. They wouldn’t give you medical treatment, no matter how hard we begged. They’d only do it if we did what they wanted us to. And we couldn’t. You have to understand that we couldn’t.”

  “I do, Rex. You couldn’t give in.”

  “Fuck.” Rex rubbed his head and the pain in his eyes was unmistakable. “If they’d wanted something else, I would’ve given it to them. If they’d said to me, ‘Your life for his’, I would’ve let them kill me.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s the truth, Lucky. It’s what you need to hear. I would’ve saved your life if that was all it would’ve taken.”

  That weighed heavily on Lucky, and he wondered how much someone could take on before he broke.

  Rex continued, “They showed us your body. They threw you into a fire, said they didn’t want infection to spread, which was bullshit. I figured they just didn’t want us to be able to bring your body home.”

  Lucky nodded. Everything was bits and pieces of a puzzle that wasn’t fitting together quite right for him.

  “So why wouldn’t they have done the same thing with me that they did with that agent? Why not show my body to the world on videotape?”

  Lucky didn’t realize he was indicting Rex with that statement, realized it only after the anger in Rex’s voice came out. “At the time, we didn’t know what they’d done to that agent. We were being held, remember.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that, Rex. I have twenty-twenty hindsight,” he started, but Rex cut him off.

  “Let me see your leg. Your calf.” Rex’s voice sounded hoarse and then he was kneeling at Lucky’s feet.

  Lucky felt like he should pull away, that Rex wasn’t going to like what he found. But he didn’t, let Rex pull up the scrub pants, which were all Lucky was allowed to wear in here.

  And then Rex held his bared calf in both hands and stared at it like something was really wrong. Ran his hands around the back, lifted it like it wasn’t attached to Lucky.

  “I don’t understand this,” he muttered. He went for the other calf, did the same thing. “Nothing. Not fucking possible.”

  “Want to tell me what you’re looking for?” Lucky asked.

  Rex sat back on his heels, his eyes dark, an obvious temper rising. He looked angry and confused, and Lucky steeled himself. Fought for a scrap of memory and found none. He stared down at his calves, wondering what Rex had expected to find. “Do your scars go all the way down to your calves?”

  The question seemed to wake Rex up. “No.”

  “Mine stop at the back of my knees.”

  “Mine too,” Rex said.

  “Then what are you looking for?”

  “Nothing. Guess I got confused.”

  “And now you’re lying.”

  Rex glanced up at him, seemed to remember he was on the floor and pushed himself to his feet. Lucky fixed his pants, trying not to let the panic rise.

  Rex started slowly. “They told us that you had an infection in your leg. That you had a fever. They said it was killing you and under those conditions…”

  Rex had already told him this, so Lucky was even more confused. “Did you see the infection?”

  “No. There was a bandage on your leg. And you were so out of it. Glassy eyes. Lethargic. None of us were in great condition but you looked like…” He paused before he uttered the word death.

  Lucky stared. “Guess it wasn’t me.”

  “The men who held us, they showed us a picture of your leg infection. It was down to the bone in your leg—and then they told us that they’d get you medical attention if we turned. When we didn’t…fuck, that’s when they burned a body that was supposedly yours. Christ, we were all so out of it, drugged and beaten, and you’d been so out of it the last time they dragged you past the room I was being tortured in. But now, this doesn’t make sense. There should be a goddamned scar. Maybe I got the leg wrong, but there should be a scar.”

  “But there’s not. So what does that mean?”

  Cooper had intervened not long after Rex went looking for the scar on Lucky’s legs and found none. Rex had looked angry and apologetic when he left, escorted out by Cooper.

  Lucky could just imagine the conversation the two of them were having.

  In the meantime, he pulled up his own pants to stare down at his calves. Other than some small scars here and there, there was zero indication that he’d had a severe, life-threatening infection.

  Cooper came back into the room then, shut the door behind him, and Lucky was so drained. He hoped that Cooper wasn’t going to keep him here for much longer. His head spun, his fucking heart hurt.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking,” Cooper said quietly, although it was more of a demand than Lucky had ever heard from the man.

  “I don’t have the scars on my leg.”

  “So? Rex himself said he was being beaten daily. Starved. Maybe drugged.”

  Lucky nodded. It would be so easy to believe what Cooper was telling him, what Rex told him earlier. God, he wanted to, so damned badly. But… “What if…what if I did agree to help them in exchange for my team’s life and then…” He shook his head. “Why go to all that trouble and then beat the shit out of me and dump me in the ocean? That doesn’t make sense.”

  “What does makes sense to you about it?”

  He glanced at Cooper. “I’m not playing the speculation game with you.”

  “Why not? Afraid of what you might find?”

  “Look, I don’t remember shit. And now, a member of my team is actually starting to doubt my story. So fuck this.”

  He stood, stormed out of the office, not turning back when Cooper called his name.

  At this point, he was still a prisoner. And he wasn’t going back to therapy unless they locked him in and forced him. Which they probably would, come morning.

  He circled back to his room, going through the locked ward doors with the soldier-slash-guard silently following him. The guy must have orders to not talk to him ever, so it was like having a ghost trailing him. He wondered when—if—the guy ever slept. Or if he was a twin. Or if everyone and everything was starting to look alike to him, because maybe if you spent enough time in a mental ward, you became mental.

  He wondered if Dash would come in for a session. That would be worth going back to Cooper and asking. And then he could finally process the truth behind the fact that Dash had used him to get intel. That he was a job to Dash.

  No matter how much he told himself it hadn’t felt like that, even when Dash handed him over to his old SEAL team, Lucky knew he had to come to terms with the truth.

  No one’s ever going to fully trust you. And how the hell was he supposed to live with that?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sawyer hadn’t seen Rex for six weeks, since the night he’d come home for the party. After that, Sawyer and the team, with their XO stepping in for Rex, had gone on a month-long mission. When they’d returned home, Sa
wyer slept on base to finish his SITREP.

  He knew Rex was still going through hell, being called in for debriefings about the capture. He wondered if Rex’s career was in jeopardy, but more than that, he was worried about Rex.

  At first, Rex checked in by text. Sawyer wanted to hear his voice but knew that would upset both of them further. Although he wasn’t really sure Rex was upset at all, at least not about the fact that he wasn’t spending time with Sawyer.

  “I know he’s being watched, but I also know he’s totally fucking avoiding me,” he told Jace now as he finished lunch at Jace’s house.

  “Didn’t sound like he avoided you the night of the party.”

  “That was sex.”

  Jace nodded. “Sex is always easier than anything else. But you would’ve been more worried if he didn’t fuck you, am I right?”

  “You just like hearing you’re right,” Sawyer mumbled, hating to admit that Jace had a point. “He wouldn’t talk much about it. Said he couldn’t.”

  “Well, that’s partially true. But I’m guessing he figures it’s weird for you.”

  Sawyer shrugged. “Weirder pretending it’s not happening.”

  “Did you tell him that, or are you going to share shit he can’t possibly know now with me only?” Jace asked.

  Sawyer threw a fork at him, and Jace ducked. The fork rattled in the wall, tongs embedded.

  “Next time, I won’t miss on purpose.”

  “Keep telling yourself that.”

  Sawyer drove back to base, Jace on his Harley behind Sawyer’s truck. They were early for the meeting, fucked around for a few minutes with their other team members, and Sawyer was grateful none of them mentioned the Josh situation.

  Rex looked fucking wrecked when he’d walked into the meeting room that morning. Sawyer sat on his hands, forced to pretend it was all business as usual, had to watch the man he’d fallen in love with go over a SITREP with the team and then delve into their upcoming mission plans.

  To Rex’s credit, he looked like hell but he didn’t miss a beat. By this time, the entire team knew about Josh, so they all sat quietly and respectfully, with none of the usual banter that went along with mission planning.

  And then, when the meeting ended, it was time for training. Sawyer was surprised that Rex was leading the exercises, but he took it as a good sign. Maybe things with Lucky were looking up.

  And Rex was doing his usual yelling, the way he always did before a mission. Except this time, he stepped it up a notch, and Sawyer got it. They’d spent time apart and Rex was freaked and he’d push Sawyer and the rest of the team to hell and back, just to make sure they never actually got that far.

  But pushing and riding were two different things, and Sawyer was precariously close to breaking. Jace knew it, tried to deflect some of Rex’s yelling while still keeping Sawyer on track. And Rex seemed to have no problem yelling at Jace either, and more than usual.

  Sawyer held out for four hours. And then he couldn’t stand it anymore. Maybe if Rex had called or texted or did anything since fucking and running…

  “You can’t let it affect you.”

  Jace was right. But Sawyer had gone from getting an amazing write-up from the admiral to this, being yelled at in front of the two new guys and anyone in their general vicinity because he hadn’t been able to shave time from the O-course runs.

  “What’ve you been doing since I’ve been gone? Sitting on your ass?” It was a blanket statement to all of them, but he got right in Sawyer’s face when he yelled it. It took everything Sawyer had not to give him a satisfying head-butt and Rex knew it, told him, “What’re you going to do? Take me down? Go ahead and try it.”

  Instead, Sawyer did the course again, shaved the time and then did it twice more just to prove he could. When he finished, Rex was gone and Jace was telling him that he was staying with him and Clint until he calmed the fuck down.

  Sawyer didn’t argue, because being alone right now wouldn’t have helped anything. And he let Jace do all the bitching on the car ride back to Jace’s. Jace loaded his bike into the back of Sawyer’s truck to make things easier.

  “Because there’s no way I can keep my goddamned balance after that shit,” Jace grumbled. “I know he’s always like that to you, but how the hell did I get on Rex’s good side?”

  “Clint.”

  “Clint talked to him?”

  “He called one night.”

  “And you’re just telling me this now?”

  “My misery likes your company.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet.”

  Sawyer parked, still in an angry daze. He found himself sitting at Jace’s table, staring at nothing in particular, pushing away Jace’s offers of food.

  He wanted to talk about it, but really, what the hell was he supposed to say?

  “Hey bud.” Clint’s voice. He sat down next to Sawyer, a look of sympathy on his face.

  “Guess the whole goddamned world knows.”

  “Yeah, pretty much. POWs are a big deal.”

  “Shit. I know. Hell, I’m glad he’s alive, glad they found him. It’s just…it changes everything.”

  “Doesn’t have to,” Clint said.

  “It already has.” Just then, Sawyer’s phone rang. Rex. He pressed the speaker button and Rex said, “Come to my house, now.”

  “You can go fuck yourself, sir. I’ll see you on base.”

  Clint raised his brows, and he and Jace left the room so Sawyer could talk in privacy.

  “You’ll come here and see me now,” Rex said again, calmly.

  “Don’t do this, Rex. I won’t.”

  “I will spank the shit out of you,” Rex warned him, his voice low.

  “Yeah, you try that and you’ll find yourself through the goddamned wall.”

  Sawyer could handle a lot of things, but spanking wasn’t one of them. He’d learned that early on with Rex, when even the threat of it made him angry instead of turned on.

  “I wasn’t going to do it for pleasure, Sawyer. You don’t think I know you well enough?”

  Rex did, and that’s what made this harder. “Try your Dom punishment shit on someone else.”

  “I don’t want to try it on anyone but you.”

  “I’m not willing. Isn’t that what you always said—that it had to be safe, sane and consensual?”

  “Keep pushing, boy.”

  Boy always did it to Sawyer, made the blood rush to his cock faster than anything. He didn’t know why that did it for him, but Rex knew that it did and used it to exploit his weakness.

  “Want to let it out?” Rex asked.

  “What?”

  “You going for sainthood?”

  “Fuck you, Rex. Handling this the best way I can.”

  “You’re too fucking understanding. And you’re pulling away. Distancing yourself from me. You started the night before I left for South Africa.”

  “Because I can see the writing on the wall. Because I don’t want to deal. Because…”

  “It’s the thing that’s always bothered you,” Rex said softly.

  “Don’t patronize me.”

  “You want out?”

  Sawyer stared at the table in front of him. He’d been biting back anger and tears for the past couple of weeks and he didn’t think he could anymore.

  “Do you want out? Things get a little tough and you want out?”

  “Is that what you want me to want?”

  “I wanted you to stop acting like a goddamned saint. I know things are bothering you.”

  “And pushing me was the way to force me to say it?”

  “Only thing that seemed to work.” Rex paused. “I need you to help me.”

  “I’m letting you use me as a punching bag. What more do you want?”

  “Come to my house. Pull in the garage and wait for me.”

  He was about to protest when Rex said, “You’re going to get what you need. But only if you shut your mouth and get here now.”

  Rex hung up and Saw
yer stared at the phone stupidly.

  “Go to him,” Clint said.

  “Why?”

  “Dom voice,” Jace said with a smile, and Clint put a hand on the back of Jace’s neck. “It’s a good sign.”

  Rex hadn’t used it in a while. Not since they were together a lot of the time.

  They’d been together, but not together. And before he could ruminate on how stupid that sounded, he said goodnight to Jace and Clint and he was in his car, driving to see Rex. His heart was beating fast, fingers drumming the wheel, not knowing what lay beyond the garage doors.

  But he pulled into the opened side and he waited. The door came down behind the car and he cracked his door and started to get out.

  “Can’t follow simple directions?”

  Rex’s voice. Sawyer stilled, not wanting to get yelled at again. But Rex’s voice was different, almost playful, and Sawyer wanted to hate him.

  In reality, he probably did. He pulled back into the car and shut the door and stared straight ahead.

  After what seemed like hours, Rex opened his door and said, “Come with me.”

  “Rex…I don’t need you to pretend.”

  Rex’s expression softened for a second. “I’ve never had to pretend with you. I don’t intend to start now.”

  Sawyer followed him, out of the car, into the house and into the bedroom.

  “Strip.” Rex told him.

  “Rex—”

  “Didn’t ask for talking. Clothes off. Or leave.”

  Sawyer looked at the floor and wondered why the hell he was putting up with this shit. Until Rex put a hand on the back of his neck and said, “Please.”

  He drew in a breath and he stripped. Looked at Rex and the heat in the man’s eyes, and things became clearer. He’d known why Rex was ultra-freaked, but knowing and dealing with it were two different things.

  This was Rex’s apology. And, like the man said, all Sawyer needed to do was accept it.

  “Still thinking,” Rex grunted. “Get on the bed. On your belly.”

  Sawyer complied, feeling strangely vulnerable and completely, undeniably turned on at the same time. Rex took his time winding the soft ropes around Sawyer’s wrists, tight enough to hold him in place but still comfortable enough that his circulation wouldn’t be compromised.