Solid Steel (Unseen Enemy Book 6)

by James, Marysol

  “Yes. If you want to.”

  “So tell me.” He kissed her sweet lips, hard and rough and brief. “Tell me what to do.”

  “I want – I want to go back to where it all happened,” she said, her voice stronger than he’d heard it in a long while. “Back to Foxburg Falls. I want to go soon. I think…” She hesitated. “I think I’ll be ready within a couple of weeks.”

  Jim froze up. Of any one of the millions of things that he thought Beth could or would have said, going back to the scene of all that hell wasn’t one of them. Foxburg Falls was where she’d been terrorized and assaulted and raped, where her baby had been beaten right out of her. In Jim’s mind, it was nothing less than the most horrifying, frightening place on earth – at least for the woman that he loved.

  “You really want to go back there?” he asked, staying calm. “Go back home?”

  “Home?” She sounded stunned. “That’s not home. Not anymore and not for a long, long time.”

  “No?”

  “No way.” She set her small hands on his chest. “This is home… here with you. Home is anyplace that you are, babe. Don’t you know that?”

  He sucked in air, her words able to move and amaze him yet again with their innocence and honesty and strength.

  “No,” he said. “I mean, I hoped… but I didn’t know for sure.”

  “So now you do.” She smiled, and his heart stopped dead at her beauty. “You’re my home, Jim, and I’m not leaving you.”

  “So, you want me to come with you?” he said. “Back… there?”

  “Would you?”

  “Jesus Christ.” He was almost angry at her hesitancy in asking. “Of course. You don’t even need to ask me. I’m there.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, tears in her eyes again.

  “Nuh-uh.” He brushed them away, probably too roughly. “None of that, not for me, Beth. No crying for me or because of me, not ever.”

  She blinked a few times, nodded, tried to smile. “OK.”

  “Come here,” he said, pulling her closer and tighter, needing her to be real and safe. “Let me feel you against me, sweetheart. You know there’s nothing I want and love more.”

  “Nothing?” she teased him, regaining a hint of her good humor. “Not one single thing in the whole, wide world that you want and love more?”

  “OK, you got me.” Jim grinned down at her. “There is one thing.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “You, baby.” He kissed her, felt the heat start to build between them. His large hands wandered over her curves now, pulling her long t-shirt up and over her naked body and she moaned and shifted on him. His cock hardened under her sweetly-rounded ass and she ground herself against it, her breath getting short and shallow. “Just you. I want and love you so fucking much, some days I think I’ll die from it.”

  “Show me.” Her voice was a murmur against his hot mouth. “Show me how much you want me, Jim. How much you love me.”

  “Oh, Beth.” His fingers found her slick centre, slid in between her folds; her back arched and he lowered his lips to her throat. “No problem, baby.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The next morning, Luke woke up to find Selena’s warm, dark eyes on him. He smiled and drew her naked body close, ran his hand possessively over the curve of her hip.

  “How long have you been awake?” he asked her, his voice a husky growl.

  “A while. Maybe an hour.”

  “And you didn’t wake me up?”

  “Why? You going to make me breakfast?”

  “Yeah. Eventually.”

  “Huh.” She tipped her head back and took him in, in all his morning glory: bright blue eyes, rough dark stubble, sensual lips. “You got something else you want to do first?”

  “Yeah.” In one quick movement, he pinned her under him. “This.”

  He kissed her and it was a no-nonsense kind of kiss. As far as Luke was concerned, it was all settled between them. Well, except for a couple of things, and he was determined to get one of those out of the way right then and there. He’d seen her looking at the end of his left arm the night before, seen her looking at it this morning when he’d opened his eyes, and he knew it was time to talk about it.

  He pulled back a bit, stroked her hair. “Babe?”

  She gazed up at him, all golden skin and dark curls, looking for all the world like a woman who loved being stretched out under him. “Hmmm?”

  “You want to ask me now?”

  Selena looked confused. “Ask you…”

  He raised his left arm. “This. You want to ask?”

  “Yes.” She nodded and sat up a bit. “I – if that’s OK, I’d like to ask.”

  “I want you to ask.”

  “You don’t mind talking about it?” she asked softly. “It doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable?”

  “No. Not at all.” He sat up too, his left arm resting on the bed sheet. “Shoot, babe.”

  “OK.” She paused and collected her thoughts. “I guess the most obvious question is, how did it happen? And how long ago?”

  “Just over three years ago,” Luke said. “In Afghanistan.”

  “Yeah, Griff told me once that you’re ex-military,” she said.

  “Yep.” He grinned at her. “One of your fellow brothers-in-arms.”

  “Huh.”

  “But I wasn’t like you, not exactly. I was with an EOD unit.”

  She went very still, suddenly understanding everything. “Explosive ordnance disposal.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You defused bombs? Disposed of IED’s?”

  “Yep.”

  “My God.” She stared at him, seeing his calm steadiness in a whole new light all of a sudden. “That’s horrifically dangerous work, Luke. How’d you get in to that?”

  “Well, it wasn’t what I did, initially. At first, I was just a regular, run-of-the-mill grunt. Enlisted at twenty-one right after college, trained in Texas, got shipped overseas at twenty-two. After four years of service, I got tapped for more specialized training.”

  “Why EOD?”

  “They were looking for certain qualities and skills, they told me. I had the right temperament, apparently, and I had the right background, too. I’d studied engineering at college, so I understood machines and electronics and physics… and I had steady hands. Very important for taking bombs apart while under pressure.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “So, that was it, really. They asked, I accepted. Got trained up, changed my focus. I got sent somewhere different almost every day, and was placed with different units all over the country. My work ranged from detection to controlled explosions to full-on defusing. That's how I met Griff, by the way."

  "You got placed with his unit in Afghanistan sometimes?"

  "Pretty often, actually. I'd go ahead and check the sides of the roads for IED's and his unit would have my back while I checked and cleared."

  "You did this for a while?"

  "Yeah. I was there for four years, and I spent my time disarming bombs and devices with remote-controlled robots mostly, but sometimes I’d have to put on the suit and get up-close-and-personal.”

  “Is that how you lost your hand?” she asked quietly. “When you were up close?”

  “It is.”

  “I’m amazed you didn’t lose your life.” Selena thought about some of the IED’s she’d seen detonated overseas; the blast range on some of those fuckers was a hundred feet, and those were the homemade ones. The more professional ones could level a city block. “Was it a small bomb?”

  “Tiny and not very strong, even, in terms of fire power.” Luke shook his head, still a bit amazed at what had actually taken him down, in the end. “But it was damn volatile, and it was smack in the middle of a neighborhood. I didn’t trust the robot to do t
he job, I really wanted that control in my hands. So I rolled the dice and I lost.”

  She stared at him, a bit taken aback at his casual acceptance of it. “You weren’t hurt any other way?”

  “Not really. I mean, I got thrown about thirty feet and knocked out, but no lasting damage.” He touched his left arm. “Just this.”

  “No way to reattach your hand?”

  “Nope. There was nothing left of it – nothing to reattach.”

  She flinched. “God, Luke. I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, me too. It’s not what I would have chosen.” He shrugged. “But it is what it is, and I damn well knew the risks when I took the job. I’d seen guys blown to bits right in front of me, and I knew that it could happen to me, anytime, anywhere. Even the easiest, most routine EOD call can go sideways fast and when it does, things go boom. When that happens, chances are good that someone’s going to hurt, maybe even dead. All you can hope for is that it’s the guy in the protective suit who bears the brunt of whatever the hell it is.”

  “You seem so…” She paused, searching for the right words. “…so accepting of it. Of the loss of your hand.”

  “I am now,” Luke said. “But it has been three years. I’ve had time.”

  “But it was bad in the beginning?”

  “Oh, yeah.” He stared down at his arm, lost in thought. “I struggled, babe, believe me. Even more so when I got stateside and my fiancée took one look at my stump and took up with one of my friends. Dumped me, called off the wedding, kicked me while I was down.”

  That was a whole lot of information all at once, and Selena blinked. “OK… all that again, but slower and with more detail.”

  Luke grinned. “Alright. So… her name was Natalie. We were at college together, and when I was sent overseas, I proposed. She accepted, said she’d wait for me. We held it together for the years that I served, but we’d talked about me moving back. I was less than a year from coming back home for good when I lost my hand.”

  “Damn.”

  “I know, right? Anyway, I got back and she couldn’t cope. Like, at all. She couldn’t even look at my left arm, let alone touch it. She wouldn’t let me put my arm around her, I sure as hell couldn’t make love to her.”

  “I’m sorry. That must have hurt.”

  “Fuck yeah, it hurt. There I was, learning how to put on a goddamn shirt and tie up my laces with one hand, and the woman who was supposed to stand by me through it all told me she needed some time alone to think. She moved out the week after I got back, and that was the beginning of the end.”

  “She started seeing your friend?”

  “Yeah. Brad.” Luke scowled. “We’d been friends since high school, and we were pretty close. I talked to him a lot about how I was feeling when I got back, and he was awesome. Supportive and there whenever I needed him – but he was seeing Natalie the whole time, and I had no idea.”

  “Wait.” Selena found this unbelievable. “So, he knew how hard you were struggling after losing your hand and he still took up with your fiancée?”

  “Yep.” Luke have her a tight smile.

  “What a dickhead.”

  “No shit, huh?” He sighed. “So after a few weeks of this back-and-forth and ‘I need my space’ crap, Nat dumped me by e-mail. Never said a word about Brad, but by then I’d caught wind of it through my brother. And I have no proof, but I suspect that they’d been together for a while, while I’d been overseas. I mean, it all just happened so fast, I feel like he was already waiting in the wings and losing my hand was just the excuse to be with him.”

  “Urgh. What a coward, doing it by e-mail.”

  “Yeah, well… that was it. I was a free man, and I worked damn hard to get my life together again. I started a support group for men who’ve lost limbs, in armed conflict and in accidents and from surgeries, and I lead meetings twice a week. I found work at Curves, and my boss Jax didn’t bat an eyelash when I showed up at the interview missing a hand. Just asked me to pour a few shots, make a few dishes. When I handled everything fine, he gave me a job.” Luke paused. “I know Curves is mostly known as a pick-up bar and the bartending is OK, but what I really like is the cooking.”

  “Yeah?” She sat up a bit straighter, intrigued by that. “You like to cook?”

  “Love it. I’ve always loved it.”

  “You ever thought about working in a restaurant?”

  “Oh, yeah. I gave it a shot a couple of years ago, but no place in town wanted to give me a job. A kitchen is a fast-paced environment, and it’s a challenge for people with both hands to keep up with demand a lot of the time. I’d have been overwhelmed, I think, so Curves is the best I can do, at least for now.”

  “But Curves is a dangerous place,” Selena said. “The clientele… the fights. God, Luke, the first time I ever saw you, you were beaten up.”

  He stared down at her, amused and incredulous. “My job’s dangerous? Fuck, babe, have you looked at your job description lately? And what are a few bruises on my face compared to a stab wound?”

  She grinned. “OK. You got me there.”

  “And what – you think I can’t hold my own when trouble starts up?”

  “I bet you can.” She kissed his chest. “I get the feeling you’re pretty good with your hands, handsome.”

  His eyes flared. “I can’t wait to show you what I can do with ‘em.”

  She shifted a bit, trying to ignore the throb in her lower body, tried to focus. “Does the kickboxing help? At Curves?”

  “Oh, yeah. For sure.”

  “Can I – umm. Can I ask something definitely ignorant and quite possibly offensive?”

  He propped himself up on his hand and surveyed her. “Yeah. What?”

  “Are you able to use your left arm when you box?”

  “Oh, sure I can. Not to punch, mostly, even though I have my stump in a boxing glove.”

  “So you use it defensively?”

  “Yep. To block.” Luke demonstrated and she nodded. “Then I use my right hand to just pummel the hell out of my opponent.”

  “That’s amazing.”

  “You think?”

  “Yeah. I do.” She thought for a few seconds. “And is your family around?”

  “Right here in Denver. Dad’s an engineer, Mom’s a doctor. One older brother who’s a teacher… and me.” Luke gave her a real smile. “Bartender and cook extraordinaire specializing in Mexican breakfast cuisine.”

  Selena laughed.

  “So that’s me, beautiful.” He cocked his head at her. “Anything else you want to know?”

  “Just two things.”

  “OK.”

  “Have you talked to her since?”

  “Who?”

  “Natalie. Have you guys seen each other since you broke up?”

  Luke paused, suddenly alert. OK, technically, the answer to both questions was ‘no’. They hadn’t spoken at all since she’d walked out of his apartment and gone to Brad’s, and they hadn’t spoken because Luke hadn’t picked up the phone when she’d started to call him a couple of weeks earlier.

  And they certainly hadn’t seen one another, since Luke didn’t count the picture that she’d texted him of herself half-naked as ‘seeing’ her. He hadn’t laid eyes on the woman in person for years now, and that’s how he wanted it to stay.

  Why Luke didn’t just tell Selena all of this right at this moment and right up front was something that he’d kick himself for later, over and over again. It would be a shrieking, wailing regret, one that he’d feel deep and hard.

  Why didn’t he just say, ‘Hey, you know what? Natalie started calling me out of the goddamn blue two weeks ago, and she calls about thirty times a day. I never pick up and I sure as fuck never call her back… but I think maybe I need to. See, yesterday she texted me a nude pic and I’m so not interested in seeing that. Th
e only naked woman I want to lay eyes on is you, babe. So, what do you think? Should I call her back, tell her to go fuck herself? That cool with you?’

  But he didn’t want to bring Natalie in to this whole thing with Selena, didn’t want all that dirty history to taint or sully something so new and clean and amazing. Besides, he figured that if he just ignored Natalie long enough, she’d get the message and go away.

  So Luke didn’t say anything, didn’t answer Selena’s question any deeper than he had to. He just answered literally, kept it black-and-white. Technical.

  “No,” Luke said. “No, I haven’t talked to her since we broke up, and I haven’t laid eyes on her.”

  Selena nodded.

  “What was the second thing you wanted to ask?” he said, changing the subject.

  “Ummm.” She hesitated. “I – I wanted to… um.”

  “What?” He stared down at her, a bit worried. “What, babe?”

  “Can I – can I touch you?”

  His heart stopped. “You mean the end of my arm?”

  “Yes.”

  “You want to?”

  “Yes. You touched my chest, I want to touch your arm.”

  “You don’t have to, you know.” His voice was rougher than usual. “I know how hard it is to touch scars, Selena.”

  “It is,” she agreed. “But it’s important, too.”

  “You believe that?”

  “I do.”

  “OK, babe.” He laid down slowly, not taking his eyes off her face for one second. “Whatever you want to do, go ahead.”

  She reached for him right away, not showing any fear or squeamishness or disgust at all. Her fingers ran delicately over the rounded end of his arm, really made contact with the limb. His breath caught as she stroked the jagged scars, traced their criss-cross lines around and around.

  Selena was astounded at how different Luke’s scars were from hers: hers were darker and angrier, to be sure, but they were also cleaner, somehow, neater and organized. They were obviously planned scars, scars that had been sketched out beforehand with marker before being carefully cut by a professional. She had scars that represented an actual purpose.

  Luke’s scars, though. They were rough and ragged, angular and messy. They went off in every direction, with no planning and no forethought. They were clearly the result of something sudden and traumatic, something that had ripped his flesh brutally.