by Warren, Rie
Fuck. The woman had to be made of iron, because there wasn’t a twitch or tell on her body, nothing to show she returned my interest as she remained totally professional.
“Are you sure you’re not just calling my bluff?” Her head tilted and one strand of russet red hair escaped from her bun to dangle against her cheek. “Do you use sex to forget? Because I think making love should be the thing memories are made of.”
“No.” My jaw hardening, I straightened my shoulders. “I’ve survived every impossible situation a soldier can. I’ve been tortured to within an inch of my life, never begging for mercy or giving in. I’ve been hurt and hunted. I know my truth. I just don’t like recognizing it usually.” Looking deeply into her eyes, I spread my hands before me. “You are one thing I’d want to remember.”
“You are not adjusted enough to have a lover in your life right now, but then you already know that.” She drew in a deep breath. “Let’s stick to getting you healthy, and if you feel the need for release, just make sure not to hurt anyone.”
“I don’t hurt women. I wouldn’t hurt you.” My nostrils flared. My hands curled into fists.
“That isn’t a scenario you’ll even have to worry about. Do you want to continue or is it time to call it a day, Captain Maverick?”
I settled my ass down in a chair and nodded. “Do your worst.”
A small smile glimmered on her lips as she took her seat. “I like to think I’m doing my best.”
Edging forward in the chair, I hung my hands between my spread thighs. “Look, I’m sorry about what I was saying. About you and the dream and stuff. That wasn’t cool.”
“I get it. It’s transference. I understand.”
I peered up at her. “Are you ever not understanding?”
“Yes. That’s when Ms. Hyde comes out to play and I get really mean.”
I barked a laugh. “Might like to see that.”
“I assure you it’s not pretty, Bo.”
“Don’t see how that’s possible,” I murmured.
“Let’s carry on. Do you want me to ask questions or do you just want to talk?”
“Questions. I’ll try to answer.” Sweat trickled down my back at the mere thought.
“What brought you to Charleston?”
“So you’re going easy on me now?” I squinted at the woman and she smiled back. “Hmm. Let it be known I’m onto you. Charleston’s kind of a hub. I mean, I could just go all backwater, but I knew I needed some fallback options, some sort of safety net to start my new life. Otherwise I’d just disappear, you know?”
Veronica brushed the fallen strand of hair behind her ear. “I understand perfectly.”
For some reason I got the feeling she did know exactly what I meant.
“I knew a few guys in the area. Thought it would make a good home base.”
“Hunter Angelo?”
“Yeah. Him. Although he set me up with you”—her eyes flared and I rushed on—“I mean in a professional capacity.”
“You don’t like accepting help.”
“I don’t like needing it. Never have before. And don’t tell me it’s not a weakness to know when to ask. I don’t like being weak either, but my head’s not at its best and half the time I still think I’m back in the Sandbox.”
“What about family?” she asked.
Jesus. I didn’t want to think about them. I’d made do through the years of my tours with the long letters, the care packages, the Skype convos, an occasional stateside visit. Not once did I tell them the real raw truth.
“They’re good people. Close by. My folks live in Cheraw, where me and my brothers and sister were raised. All God’s country.” Scrubbing my hands up and down my face, I remembered them the way I’d last seen them in person.
A couple years ago on one of those rare fly-by-night visits. My older brother’s wedding. I’d been his best man. I’d still felt whole then.
“I can’t . . . I don’t talk to them anymore.”
“Do they know you’re back?”
“No. I didn’t tell them I was out.” Seven months and I hadn’t said a word.
“Why is that?”
“I’m supposed to fit in. Get right back up on my feet again, but I feel like I’m falling on my ass. The disconnect between what I do, what I want, what I’ve done . . . it’s insurmountable. Doesn’t make sense to me to be here now when so many of my Devils are dead. When their families grieve. I wake up to sand in my mouth, grit all over my body, toes swollen in damp, sweaty socks, a grown-out beard. Lice. Thirst. Hunger gnawing in my gut. Blood all over my hands. And these people. Everywhere. Clean. Pampered. Taking everything for granted.” Guilt streaked inside me.
“Life is just a constant reminder death is waiting around the next corner. And it should’ve been me.”
Veronica didn’t move as I laid my balls on the line.
“I can’t cope with outsiders. I don’t want to see my brothers or sister. My parents. I don’t feel . . . worthy. I’m dirty. I’ve done bad shit, and I don’t think I fit in with them anymore. I don’t want them to know what happened to me. What I’ve become.” I pressed my fists together, knuckles against knuckles.
“Why is that?” She’d moved beside me, taking one of my clenched-tight hands in hers. “Didn’t you serve your country, Bo? Aren’t you proud of that?”
Shaking her off, I stomped to my feet. “What don’t you get, lady? I let good men die! No, I didn’t just let them, I watched them. I said their last fucking rites because there was no one else. I’m not a priest or a savior or anything safe.” I pounded my chest with my fist. “I’m a soldier. I’m only good for one thing. Killing.”
Veronica leaned forward. “I already know there’s more to you than that.”
“You’re full of doublespeak and bullshit. I’m outta here.” I would not let this woman see my worst inner thoughts.
Wrenching open the door, I halted when she approached behind me, the very worst place she could be.
I smelled her scent. I felt her warmth.
I stood down, dropping my head.
She laid her hand against my strung-tight shoulder as I braced against the doorway. “I can help you.”
“Way too late for that.” I spun around, capturing her wrists. “You can’t crack me, lady.”
Although my hands grasped her tight, she was completely calm, utterly unfazed. “That is not my intention, Bo.”
Chapter Three
I CALLED A CAB as I stalked down Chalmers Street away from Veronica’s house of pain. I turned back several times, knowing I’d been a hothead, needing her to realize I just couldn’t come clean with anyone about who I was or what I’d seen.
Soft whispers of a warm breeze curled against my back every time I hesitated. I wondered if her hair would feel that soft and warm on my skin. Just another reason to turn on my heels and keep walking.
Fountains burbled. Flowers overflowed. The streets were narrow, the pavement rippled by the roots of ancient magnolia trees spreading underground. Life sprang up all around me, yet I felt dead inside. Unable to dig myself out of this hole.
I caught the cab and sped through downtown, away from Veronica, away from the past bubbling up, away from truth. Putting distance between me and a woman I wanted but could never have.
That night at Retribution, I returned to retrieve my bike.
Hunter point blank asked me how my first counseling session had gone—the man had no boundaries when he wanted info.
“Worst possible torture known to man, fuck you very much, asshole,” I answered. “And you know I understand the finer points of that shit.”
The new laugh lines around his golden eyes smoothed out as his face became serious. “Not for nothing, but she helped me sort my shit out and get my head screwed on straight.”
“Yeah, and you probably weren’t having horny dreams about the doc or wondering whether your wood was gonna bust through your jeans, either.”
He coughed into his drink. “So it’s like that?”
<
br /> “Apparently so.”
“Fuck. I haven’t felt that for anyone but Jessica.”
“What are you saying?” I turned toward him in disbelief.
“Maybe she’s not the doc for you, but something better?”
My low chuckle held an edge, and I raised my glass in salute to him. “Doubt that. Not after how I left her.”
“Care to talk about it?”
“Are you trying to impersonate Veronica or something?”
Dragging his fingers through his black hair, he grimaced. “Did you make another appointment?”
“Hell the fuck no.”
And I left it at that, with Hunter and Veronica.
****
I was getting pretty good at filling empty time and keeping myself busy twenty-four seven. If I couldn’t sleep, I got up, sat at the kitchen table, and wrote up exercise rosters, business plans, and started spreadsheets for income and expenses instead of tossing and turning in my bed or hitting the bottle. During the day I hit the pavement to source customers, gained a few regulars, and devised new ways to bring the pain to their bodies.
It was too dangerous to my state of mind to be without constant occupation. Relaxation and I had never been good friends.
My website for HardCorps Gym was up and running thanks to Cole. He turned out to be pretty fucking handy with coding, graphics, and html—all that fiddly computer shit that made me stir-crazy.
A few days after I’d gone crazy-Vet with Doc Veronica, with March nearing an end and April in sight, I expected a new client. This one had signed up online for a workout session. I was checking my equipment out in the yard when I heard the doorbell through the open deck doors. I walked inside, thinking I’d need to find some rental space before summer fully arrived. It was fine for trained soldiers to bust ass outside in one hundred plus degree heat, but I probably didn’t want my clients to keel over from heat stroke.
“Coming,” I called out. Kicking my extra pair of cross trainers away from the door I opened it and . . . “You?”
“Me. In the flesh.” Veronica stood on my front stoop, not dressed in one of her Doc Hottie suits.
“You’re my twelve o’ clock?” Transparent shock filtered across my face.
She nodded and her long ponytail in rich claret red bounced, the ends curling to the middle of her back.
“You’re not Penny Richmond.”
“Yes, I am. For a couple hours at least.” She pointed at her ponytail. “Besides, I have the whole copper thing going on.”
“Why?”
“Isn’t that obvious?” Cocking her hip, she drew my gaze to her body scantily covered in workout gear.
Well, I could see that. In fact my eyes were bugging out of my head even while I tried to make my tongue form words.
“I’m working.” I glared down at her all the while inventorying her outfit.
Stretchy black yoga shorts led to a tight bright yellow Lycra tank molded to her upper body. The dark blue straps of a workout bra peeped out on her shoulders. Her breasts restrained, they still looked round and full, and her skin gleamed. I couldn’t wait for the back view. Fucking criminal to look like that underneath her suits.
“I know. That’s why I made an appointment, and I tend to keep them.” Her saccharine smile held the hint of a killer edge.
A smile I wanted to kiss off her lips with my tongue in her mouth.
Sweeping past me she asked, “Where do you want me?”
Trick question.
In my bed? On the couch? Hell, right now the floor would work pretty damn good. I’m not fussy.
I hung back, closing the door, taking my time to enjoy that rearview and, oh man, what a sight it was. Her waist narrowed, her hips flared and that ass. Jesus. She had to be wearing a thong because there was no hint of a pantyline beneath the black fabric cupping her full cheeks just so and just right.
I rubbed a hand through my hair and quickly knocked my gaze up when she turned toward me.
“Uh, hi?” I said, sounding like an idiot.
Suddenly I was distinctly aware I was as negligently clothed as her. Loose nylon shorts held low on my hips by the string tied at my waist. No shirt. Compression shorts beneath, and at the moment they were failing at concealing the length and general girth of my cock, because that shit was getting interested in these goings on.
I didn’t know if Veronica had superhuman willpower, if she was just so goddamn good at being professional, or if I really didn’t affect her at all, but she hardly dipped her gaze to my chest before meeting my stare.
“Hello, Bo.” Her eyes twinkled, rum cask-colored today.
She looked totally different, and then I finally placed why.
I pointed at her, still stupefied. “You have ink.”
My brain finally caught up. When her back had been turned colorful vines and flowers snaked across the top of her back and shoulder blades, the edge of something tattooed with a gritty metallic sheen peeking just above her sports top.
“Is there more?” I asked. Talk about unexpected, and even hotter because of that.
“You have tats too. Is there a problem?”
The only problem was her appreciative glance at my ink. My skin was on fire as her gaze touched the tattoos. I could only imagine her fingers walking along my flesh, tracing the solid marks of ink: a highly stylized version of the Stars and Stripes with the words Semper Fidelis covered the skin on the side of my neck. An explosive array of detailed-down-to-the barrel service revolvers spread across my chest, each with a helmet emblazoned on the grip. One for every teammate I’d lost.
Fallen. Never forgotten. The words wrapped underneath.
I swallowed harshly. “No. No problem at all. Shall we?”
Holding out my hand, I beckoned Veronica through my house, leading her out back.
“You live alone?”
My eyebrows shot up. “Isn’t that obvious? You know, me and people not being on the best of terms.”
“How could I forget?” For a moment she sounded rueful, but then she swished ahead of me and stepped outside.
We ended up side by side on the deck on a pair of yoga mats.
“We’ll start with some warm-up.” I guided Veronica through some stretches she proved more than capable of handling.
We finished with our legs wide open, leaning down to place our foreheads on the mat then reaching for our ankles.
She remained in that position long after I sat up, and when I tapped her shoulder she curled up, grinning. Her face shined as she arched her back and rolled her neck.
“Wow. You’re flexible for a big guy.”
So was she, and I could think of a million ways to limber her up even more in my bed.
“What’s your fitness level, Doc?”
“Oh, I think I can keep up.”
Not if I have my way with her.
Once down on the ground, I set Veronica to work and went at it right beside her. The obstacle course I switched up everyday had us crawling under crosshatched wires, hurtling over sawhorses and dive rolling beneath heavy swinging logs.
I even made her dig her own trench. Fuck the lawn. I gave her a two-minute break after she lined the top of the culvert with sandbags.
Damn right I drilled her. She wasn’t a gym bunny, and I approved. No slab-board abs or ropey lean thighs, she looked soft and warm and curvy in all the right places, just how I liked a woman. That didn’t mean she didn’t know how to get down and dirty and dig in, which made me respect her even more.
An hour later, we panted next to each other, guzzling water and mopping up sweat with our towels.
“You’re really good at this, Bo. I think you could make a killing.” Then she winced, because she said the k word.
“Don’t worry about it.” I gripped the ends of her towel, drawing her nearer so the heat of her body collided with mine. “I don’t think about killing every hour of every day.”
Her breathing chugged faster the closer I brought her to me until she splayed
a hand on the taut muscles of my chest.
I inhaled, my head cranking back.
Her words whispered against my nipple, a brown disc that became instantly rigid. “I know. It’s just . . .”
Peeking down at her then slamming my eyes shut because seeing her, feeling her right up against me it was all I could do not to grab her hips in my hands and drag her the last little bit until I cradled her between my thighs.
“You don’t know me, Bo. And I think it’s better if we keep it that way.” Her hands curled at my sides before sliding off me.
I hissed in a curse.
She stepped back, and her loosened towel flapped down to the ground. “I meant what I said though. You’ve got a good thing going on here.”
“Just trying keep my head above water, do something useful.” I scooped up her discarded towel and tossed it with mine toward the door.
“Do you miss the Marines?”
My shoulders rose up, and I dug my fingers into my hips. I chewed on my lip, my head tilted to the deck.
“Oh, don’t look like that.” She tisked, and I looked up to see her smiling. “I’m not here as a shrink. I’m not trying to pick your head apart. I’m asking as a friend.”
I hesitated, drinking the last drops of water in my bottle before crushing the plastic in my hand. “Yeah.” I sighed. “I don’t know how to explain it.” I shrugged. “I miss my platoon, the camaraderie. It used to be easy and simple, and I knew I was doing something good.” Life had been easier that way. “I had fallback. Friends.” My eyes hooded, I glanced at Veronica. “Friends die. Especially in combat. I can’t do that anymore.”
I walked a few paces. “Sometimes I even miss the danger. The high. The adrenaline. I don’t know if that makes me all fucked up. I can’t feel anything now. I don’t want to get hurt again.”
Pain fresh on my face, I pivoted to her.
“You closed up,” she gently said, her hand rising to caress the side of my face.
I blinked slowly, nodding. She was the first woman to touch me and actually mean something. It hit me like a bullet to the heart, the heart I’d been trying to protect.
“Veronica . . .”
Shaking her head, she withdrew her hand. “So, I haven’t used up my two hours yet, and you cost almost as much as me. What’s next?”
