by Cameron Dane
“You wouldn’t be cramping our space. Cain and I will be out here with Herc again tonight.”
A light clicked on at the end of a panic-filled tunnel. “What if I do that?” Hunter asked. “I’ll sleep out here and keep an eye on him.”
Rocking his weight back on his heels, Luke made a clicking noise with his cheek and assessed Hunter from a few feet away. “How about you rotate with us? That way you actually get some sleep too. Then I can make Cain get a few hours of shut-eye in the cabin before camping out here again.” He rubbed his chest, and Hunter imagined the man experienced physical pain due to the worry about his partner. “That would be a big help.”
Hunter stuck out his gauze-covered hand. “It’s a deal.”
They shook on it, and then Luke said, “You can use the shower in the back room there to clean up. Cain and I have some clean clothes in the nightstand too. Between our stuff I think you should be able to find something that fits.”
“Thank you.” Hunter dipped his head. “I’ll take first shift.”
“Join us for dinner first.”
Somersaults picked right back up in Hunter’s belly. “No. I coul --”
“Or not,” Luke said before Hunter dug himself into an even more embarrassing hole. “There are some snack foods in the office too. You’re welcome to anything you find in the mini fridge.”
“Okay.”
Giving Hunter space, Luke backed up to the open doors. “We’ll see you later then.”
Hunter nodded. As soon as Luke left, Hunter’s mind slipped right back to Will. As Hunter locked himself in the little bedroom and stripped out of his clothes for a quick shower, images and sounds of Will Hicks not only filled Hunter’s thoughts but also consumed his very being. That young man had taken life by the balls and never once cowered, not even in his last moments on this earth. He’d faced every element of war head-on with a plan to live big upon his return home. Almost daily he’d told Hunter he expected the same from him.
And look what I’ve become. Someone who couldn’t even face a man he’d had sex with and apologize for his actions in person. Someone who made himself sick with worry and fear in just thinking about getting near Alex again.
Hunter had become a piss-poor excuse of the man he’d sworn into a dying man’s ear he would become.
Will would be ashamed to call Hunter a friend today. And Hunter wouldn’t blame him.
Fuck.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Shit” -- Hunter swerved his truck onto a dirt road -- “just do it already.”
Gripping the hell out of the steering wheel, Hunter drove toward another silver trailer, this one Alex’s temporary place of business. After spending another sleepless night -- even after Cain and Luke relieved him of watching Hercules -- Hunter had come to the realization he would never sleep again if he didn’t look Alex in the eyes and apologize in person. The man’s scraped and bitten back continued to haunt Hunter every time he closed his eyes. Worse for Hunter, though, were the continual, aggressive fantasies that went hand in hand whenever the sexy blond businessman entered his thoughts. Which is pretty much all the time.
Fuck. Only now Hunter had Will living front and center in his head too. Every time Hunter looked into those phantom hazel eyes, he saw disappointment, and he knew it wouldn’t go away until he grew a pair, talked to Alex, and made a promise to himself he wouldn’t run. If he could just start to get his life in order, maybe Will would smile and start talking to him again. The constant voices of the dead had haunted Hunter to a point he’d often thought they would drive him mad. In twenty-four hours, he’d discovered their silence was a thousand times worse. He’d never felt so fucking alone in his life.
Drawing his truck to a stop at the end of a half-dozen cars, Hunter took a steadying breath and exited the vehicle. He’d looked for Alex at his personal trailer first and had found the place empty. After not crossing paths with Alex during one of his morning runs either, Hunter figured tracking him down at work was the next best bet. Alex had talked about his building project with great pride during both meals at Sarah’s house, so much so Hunter could tell the man’s work was his life. Shit. An unintended smile emerged as a picture of their mating filled Hunter’s vision. I even folded him on top of a bunch of blueprints when I fucked him. Now Hunter only had to hope Alex would forgive him for intruding into such an important part of his world.
A couple of hundred yards away, men streamed in and out of a partially gutted house -- Hunter assumed the farmhouse Alex had said he found charming and wanted to refurbish. From where Hunter stood, he could easily imagine Alex striding through the front door, hardhat on, maybe some work boots, the protection clashing seriously with his perfect suit. Hunter could hear the man’s smooth yet commanding voice giving orders to a dozen men, all of them eager to aid in their boss’s vision for these homes.
Hell. Hunter found himself grinning again. He speaks with such passion about this dream of his I half want to join up and help him too.
Hunter stopped on a dime a few feet away from the open trailer door, taken aback by his suddenly lighter step. What the hell? Then it hit him. Alex did this to him. Somehow the man had the ability to stir up Hunter’s worst demons and fears yet also make him forget himself and just smile and live in the moment, exhilarated and free of anxiety. How does he do that? Hunter touched his hand to his chest as his heart fluttered. Because you already like and care about him.
Nervousness suddenly overtook Hunter, kicking his heartbeat up to a pounding thud, but a lopsided smile quirked his lip up at the edge too.
Commotion just inside the trailer grabbed Hunter’s attention. “If you call him again without my express permission,” a male voice said, “I will fire you.”
“But, Mr. Gainer. Sir,” another male, higher voice replied, “this is important.”
“Understand something, Bradley.” The first man’s voice slipped to lethal. “Mack is much more important to Mr. Quick than this project. When he says he is not to be disturbed for any reason, he means it. If there is an emergency, you bring it to me, and I will decide if I need to call him. Otherwise, as far as you are concerned, Mr. Quick has holed himself up on a little tropical island in the middle of the ocean with no way to reach him. You should thank your lucky stars you did not get through and disrupt his time with his friend. He would not have been a happy man, and you do not want to see Mr. Quick angry. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then tell me what you need, and I will take care of it.”
“Okay, so, I took a call…”
The conversation continued, but Hunter didn’t hear another word of it. Holed away with a guy named Mack? Hunter speed-walked and then ran to his truck, each step a battle to beat out the sledgehammer of unwanted emotion bearing down on his back. Here Hunter was making himself sick and losing sleep over Alex, and all the while Alex had another man. Fuck. Hunter slammed his fist against the side of his truck, welcoming the radiating tentacles of stinging pinpricks taking over his entire hand. Alex sure hadn’t acted like someone with a piece on the side while Hunter had his dick up the man’s ass, pounding away until he screamed and came. Hunter punched the truck with the same hand again, and then a third and fourth time, not stopping until the million dots of numbing discomfort crawled all the way up his arm and into his shoulder.
As Hunter climbed into the truck, he called himself every kind of idiot fool in the book for thinking a man like Alex wouldn’t already have someone romantic in his life. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. Hunter’s gaze strayed to the lighter, but seeing it only slipped him back to Alex catching him burning himself. Fucking shit. Hunter rammed his fist into the windshield instead. The glass held. He bit down a cry as a second wave of crushing pain consumed his hand and smothered the knifing betrayal lancing his gut. Son of a bitch.
Alexander Quick would fucking get his apology. Hunter still owed him that. Beyond that, the guy needed to stay out of Hunter’s way.
* * * *
The setting sun pushed rays of orange and rose through the sheer curtains in the little house in Georgia, casting strips of light and shadow across the floor and walls.
“I don’t need you playing nursemaid,” Mack grumbled, drawing Alex’s attention from an e-mail. “I’m goddamn fine.”
After putting down his laptop, Alex took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I know you are,” he replied.
But damn it, a week had passed, and Alex still couldn’t get Mack’s frantic phone call out of his head. Never mind that Helen had checked on him, discovered he’d accidentally taken the wrong pill, the result of which had revved up his heart rate and left him disoriented. She had taken Mack to the ER and had him back to his usual self before Alex had even arrived.
Alex looked at Mack now, and his gaze immediately dropped to the tremor in the strong man’s hands. He couldn’t erase the way Mack tried to hide it when he clutched his stomach after eating too. Seeing this once-hearty bull faltering pulled back the curtain on Alex’s weaknesses and left him stumbling in the dark, unsure where to step next. God, he didn’t want to lose this man -- the most important part of his world. He didn’t know how he would survive when he eventually did. This time Alex clutched his stomach. Constantly feeling near to throwing up had become a regular part of his days lately when visiting Mack.
Mack maneuvered himself out of his wheelchair and onto the couch. “Don’t you have a business to run and houses to build?” He started flipping through channels on the TV. “Why the hell are you still here?”
“For your scintillating company, of course.” Alex flashed a big, cheesy smile. “Nobody else curses at me quite like you do.”
With a snort, Mack arched a thick, dark brow. “Then you need to get out more, boy.”
Memories of Hunter’s hard mouth claiming his and then mapping every inch of his cock made Alex’s blood rush and his pulse increase. Right where he sat, Alex could still feel the man’s cock buried deep in his body, stretching him so deliciously. He shifted in his chair as his asshole throbbed for a repeat performance.
“Whoa, shit.” Mack muted the TV and shifted his focus totally to Alex. “What was that?”
Alex’s brows knit together. “What was what?”
“You’ve got something going on with someone, don’t you?” Mack’s eyes gleamed like moonlight reflecting off the purest ocean water. He used his massive arms to shimmy across the couch and get right in Alex’s face. “Yep. I can tell by the way you’re still squirming that you’re hiding something.” His stare narrowed, and his voice dropped to gentle. “The only thing you don’t talk to me about is men.”
Alex’s lips compressed, but he nodded. “There has never been one who felt important enough to share with you.”
“But now it’s different.”
“No. Maybe.” Alex growled and tugged at his hair as his last encounter with Hunter once again bombarded his thoughts and left him battered. “Honest to God, old man” -- Alex propped his elbow on the chair and plunked the side of his face in his hand -- “I don’t really know.”
“Well that’s good, punk.” Mack whacked Alex in the shoulder hard enough to knock his elbow off the armrest. “You’re so smart you always have an answer for everything. It’s about time someone has you confused.”
“Maybe.” A chill came over Alex, as had happened every time he closed his eyes and saw Hunter burning a hole into his flesh with that lighter. Don’t forget all those other scars you saw on his chest and stomach too. “He’ll be complicated as hell to be with.” Alex made eye contact with the man whose opinion and guidance he valued more than the top minds who’d taught him at the best universities. “Maybe more than I can handle.”
Mack never even blinked. “Nope. Not for you. If he’s important, you’ll find a way to figure him out and make it work.”
A wave of love buoyed Alex out of the undertow. “He -- his name is Hunter -- has served in the military. In the army. He doesn’t talk about it, but I know his sister, so I know he did multiple tours in Afghanistan and Iraq.”
A turbulent sea shadowed Mack’s stare. “That much time in a war zone will fuck with a person’s head.”
Just as fast as Alex had crested the surf, a riptide pulled him under again. “Yeah.” Coping with a man struggling with nightmares of war as well as the very real, repeated act of harming himself rendered Alex virtually mute. “I know it will.”
Mack’s stare narrowed and his shoulders stiffened. “You don’t sound like yourself. Your words are demonstrative, but your tone is hesitant.”
Alex opened his mouth, but it took two tries before he said roughly, “I think I’m scared, Mack.”
Bigger storms kicked up in Mack’s eyes. “Of this Hunter guy?”
“No.” Alex quickly found his voice this time. “He is aggressive sometimes, but much more often he’s quiet or soft-spoken. I don’t think he would hurt me.” The last remnants of flaking scabs from Hunter’s brand of mating tickled Alex’s back and slipped a burr of doubt into his logical brain. “Mack, were you” -- Shit. How to phrase this?-- “forceful after your time in the military?”
“Some,” Mack replied with a curt nod. “I saw some bad shit on some peacekeeping missions -- stuff you don’t wish on your worst enemy. Mostly, though, after I lost my legs, I started drinking too much, and that made my ability to control my anger worse. The cops arrested me for busting up a little dive of a restaurant once, and that sobered me up. A liaison from the VA bailed me out and dragged my ass into AA that very night. The program saved my life. I found a good job, and shortly thereafter I met you and your mom.” A naughty smile graced Mack’s face right then. “I dove right into dating her well before AA rules said I should.”
Damn. Alex pushed at his chin and closed his gaping mouth. He never would have thought it possible, but after almost two decades of friendship, Mack had revealed something brand-new about his life. “I’ve seen your chips, but I had no idea what made you start drinking and why you stopped.”
“It was hard to talk about back then. Losing my legs, the drinking, and battling to stop… It was all still fresh.” The timbre of Mack’s voice rubbed like sandpaper. “It’s still very personal now.”
Alex squeezed the man’s callused hand. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”
“It’s all right.” Mack patted Alex’s arm in return. “This guy Hunter is obviously important to you.”
Alex’s heart constricted terribly as snapshots of his time in Hunter’s company consumed him. “I care about him, Mack. I hardly know him, and it’s not rational to want someone so completely and so quickly the way I want him, but I do. I have this, this” -- Alex churned his fists against his stomach as he struggled to share -- “fear twisting me up inside because I don’t like things I can’t explain, and I can’t explain why Hunter is different than any other man I’ve been attracted to in the last ten years. It doesn’t make sense, but it feels like I see him better than anyone else in that town of people who’ve known him forever. I get near him, and I just want to wrap him up in my arms and protect him from the world, which is ridiculous because he surely knows how to defend himself and probably knows ten ways to kill a man with his bare hands.”
Shaking his head, Mack frowned. “Physical strength doesn’t mean a damn thing when you’re all cut up and bleeding inside where nobody can see.”
“I know.” Alex’s entire body ached for Hunter and his struggle. At the same time, Alex had been around the man enough to see and feel the barrier Hunter kept erected around himself -- even during sex, to a degree. Fissures of panic crept through Alex’s system, leaving icy streaks of cold. Adrenaline automatically pumped into his bloodstream, something Alex understood as his subconscious working to protect him. He’d learned early on in his career never to ignore when his body spoke to him. Shit. Damn. Fuck.
Swallowing thickly, Alex looked to Mack for answers. “I want to go back to him -- I fucking want him with a desperation I have never exhi
bited in my life -- but I’m scared I’m already waist-deep in falling for him while he isn’t capable of having anything more than sex with me.”
Mack studied Alex through piercing, clear eyes for a full minute in silence before speaking. “Let me ask you something. When was the last time you did something where your feet weren’t firmly planted on the ground and you didn’t have a plan in place where you’re almost guaranteed the result before you ever said ‘go’?”
Alex slipped back to ten years ago, in this very house. He thought it, and he knew Mack could read it in his eyes. “You know,” Alex murmured, his cheeks blossoming with heat.
Mack nodded. “Did you regret that?”
Looking into this wonderful man’s gaze, Alex could only speak the truth. “No.”
Mack nodded again, as if to say good for you. “But you haven’t opened up and taken a chance with a man since then?” he pressed.
A decade’s worth of categorized romances with researched lovers ticked through Alex’s memory and prompted more honesty. “No.” That night so long ago, and what had come afterward, made Alex’s voice gruff. “Not like that.”
“Then maybe it’s time to go back to Montana and try,” Mack said. “Maybe Hunter is the right soldier for you.”
A tall, dark drink of sexiness in boots, tight jeans, fitted plaid shirt, and a Stetson tugged Alex’s lips upward. “He’s a cowboy now.”
Mack waggled his thick brows. “Go ride ’im then, little doggie” -- he made gunfighter signals with his hands -- “and see what happens.”
Thank God Alex didn’t have a drink in his mouth. “Holy fucking shit, Mack.” He gagged and pretended to vomit over the side of the chair. Glaring at the man sideways, he said, “Please don’t ever try to bond with me by making a riding joke like that again.”
Mack gave him the finger. “See if I ever try to help you win another boyfriend.” He worked his way back to the other side of the couch, muttering, “Punk-ass bitch.”
