by Jillian Neal
“K, I’ll text you what I find tonight.” When his searching gaze found my eyes, he held out his free arm, and I propelled myself into him. I clung to him with all of my might. If only I could squeeze him tightly enough to suture all of those scars he collected to prove his worth.
He buried his head into my hair and kept talking. “Yeah, we’re gonna get out of here.” Another long pause. “T, man, I know, okay? I was there.”
I wondered what it was he knew.
“We’ll do whatever she wants. But I can do that and catch some geriatric credit card thieves. I multitask well. I’m hanging up now.” There was another quick pause. “No, you are not talking to her.” I lifted my head, offered him what I was certain was a broken grin, and held out my hand for the phone.
He handed it over with a complimentary eye roll. “Hey, T, listen…I’m really sorry….” There were no words. I knew that. Words were insufficient bandages for what they’d survived, but my God, I tried. “So sorry.”
“Nothing but a thing, baby doll.” Grinding my teeth, I was beginning to wonder why we hadn’t etched that expression on the other half of their team’s grave markers. “Listen though, he forgot what today is until I called. I’d say you’re getting through to him so keep up the good work, but maybe let him have a break today. Just let him talk if he will.”
“He won’t but I’ll try.”
T’s chuckle was just as broken as Smith’s had been. “You’re probably right. Maybe just ease up then. He sounds like hell.”
Another round of guilt backhanded me. How could I have not only forgotten the date but have also shown him that sketch book? I’d done nothing but cemented more guilt in his soul. I glanced at the toilet certain I was going to vomit. “You got it.”
“Hey, if anyone can make him feel better today, it’s you. Go take care of my bro.”
“That is all I ever want to do.”
“I know, Hannah Banana. Go do your thing.”
29
Griff
“What did he say?” I ordered my voice to sound slightly more human to no avail.
“To take care of you.” She stared up at me, through me maybe. I didn’t need to be taken care of. I needed T to get his shit together and… I needed to do something that wasn’t whatever we were doing in the bathroom.
“I’m fine. Nothing but a…”
“Thing. Yeah, I know. I told him you were fine.” She wasn’t a good liar, and that one was a doozy.
“Oh yeah?”
“No, but that’s what you want me to say, right?”
Had to give her that. “Want to get out of here for a while? We can’t do anything about Bonnie Parker and the funky bunch until I can get in their room tonight.”
“Hey, that was a really good one.” I earned myself one of those dazzling grins.
“I do what I can, baby.”
“I’ve been trying to work out something with Destiny’s Child, but I’m struggling.” She was so fucking perfect. She knew I needed a distraction from this ridiculous day, and she was making a valiant effort to provide one.
“Yeah, that’s going to be tough. Which one is Beyoncé?” I considered.
“That’s the problem. I love Beyoncé.”
“Then I don’t think we can use that one, but I’ll work on it. I swear.”
“I have no doubt. There’s this amazing breakfast place on The Strip, Blueberry Hill. They have cinnamon pancakes that I swear will give you a mouth-gasm.”
Shaking my head at her, I was quite certain I should’ve just made up some excuse the past few years to spend this day with her. She didn’t try to fix what had happened. She knew she couldn’t. She wanted to, but she was also good with letting it be. Letting the pain live and breathe and stretch its legs because you couldn’t keep the damned thing contained. It didn’t work. It existed with me, in me, beside me all the fucking time, and she was the only person who ever seemed able to put distance between me and the torment. It had to exist because without it Chris, and Matt, and Sunjay and everyone else didn’t exist, and I would never allow that. But she softened its constant lashes. Took them on for me when I could no longer stand under the weight of it all. I hadn’t forgotten about that damned sketchpad, but I couldn’t go there today. I just couldn’t. “A mouth-gasm, huh?”
“Yes. They’re delicious.” She was already pulling on a pair of short-shorts I wanted to peel right back off of her when she shot me a mischievous smirk. “I mouth-gasm every time I eat there.”
“That so? I’d prefer it if I was in charge of all of your gasms of every variety.” I marched to my suitcase and located a pair of jeans, even though the heat of July in Vegas was brutal. I wasn’t in the mood for pity-glances from every fucking person on The Strip today, and you could see my scars when I wore shorts.
“Oh, trust me, you give me mouth-gasms, too.” She stood off of the bed. “You taste even better than the pancakes.”
Clearly, she was an angel sent to me to make this particular day not suck the balls of every variety of farm animal. “You like that, baby? You like it when I come hot and fast down your throat?” Resolve or gentlemanly behavior might’ve been something I could summon on any other day but not today.
“You know I do.” Her lips brushed over my jaw before she shimmied out of that tank top. Her tits bounced in my face, mesmerizing me. I had precious little interest in pancakes. She was still within arm’s reach, so I took full advantage. “I haven’t spent near enough time with these.” Her nipples obediently throbbed against my palms. A slight shudder worked through her as she stepped closer. My baby loved having her tits worshipped. Like I said, she was perfection all bottled up for me. I caught her nipples between my thumb and index finger and her eyes closed. Oh, hell yeah. “Lay down for me. Let me get a fix,” I commanded.
“Yes,” escaped her lips in a hungry whisper. She crawled back in the bed, and I set to work tending her need and making an effort to dam back the pain.
An hour later, I watched her devour a stack of cinnamon pancakes. A dollop of whipped cream landed on the tip of her nose. Leaning in to the table, I scooped it off with my finger and laughed. Jesus, I laughed on July 11. How the fuck had that worked out?
She sighed. “Someday, I’ll be able to eat something and not get any on me. Today is clearly not that day.”
There was already syrup on her shorts.
“I keep telling you I’m happy to eat anything you want off of you so just keep spilling, my adorable little klutz.”
She stuck her tongue out at me.
“You looking for something to lick? I can provide.”
“I enjoyed licking you an hour ago, but I could definitely go for a second course.”
I grunted at the angel seated across from me, but I wasn’t letting her suck me off all damned day as good as that sounded. “What do you want to do today, baby doll?” As massive as it was, our suite just wasn’t quite big enough to contain me and the anguish that day. I needed to be outside, closer to the clouds maybe.
“I was thinking maybe we could go get a tat. They have some great shops here.” Absolutely nothing about her sounded certain, and I couldn’t stand to think about her hurting herself just because she knew that’s occasionally how I dealt. Not one single thing marred my baby’s beautiful alabaster skin and nothing ever would as long as I lived and breathed. As much as I appreciated that she would willingly do that with me, I wasn’t having it.
“You want a tat?” I made no effort to hide my doubt.
“Maybe. I don’t know. I could get your initials on my ass or something.”
Okay, maybe I’d been hasty in my decision not to allow this. She doesn’t really want that, fucker. She’s trying to make you feel better. Thank God she wasn’t naked. My better sense had a fighting chance when she was clothed. “Come on, Hannah baby, you don’t really want that, and The Sevens will be rounding the bases using snowballs in hell before I’d let some guy stare at your ass long enough to ink anything on it.”
“Because I know my girl. Now come on, anything but a tat.”
“I’m assuming based on your comment about another guy seeing my ass you would feel the same way about the Bare Pool back at the hotel.” She was teasing me, and fuck me sideways but it was working. She managed to give my fury over the people who’d been robbed from the earth directionality.
“That would be a very safe assumption, sweetness. I don’t share. You know this.”
“And here I thought you were more evolved than that, Sergent.” Her sexy coo wasn’t hurting either.
“I’m barely three steps away from the cave, and you know it. If I could carry a freaking club around with me to beat back men who stare at you, I would.”
That elicited a sweet giggle. “I am aware. I like the warrior side of you, remember?”
My brain knew I needed her to stop saying that. My cock, on the other hand, was lapping it up like it was her pussy asking for it harder. “So I’ve been told. If you want to go topless in a pool, there is one outside my suite. As long as it’s for my eyes only I see no reason for you to wear a swimsuit at all.”
“I’ll add that to the list of possibilities for today.”
“You’ve been out here a lot lately, right? What are your favorite things to do?” I shoveled another bite of pancakes in my mouth still not really tasting much. Nothing worked right on this day. Even my taste buds gave up the will to function. By the end of the week, they’d stage a resurrection.
“I love to ride the High Roller. It’s so fun. You can see all of Vegas when you’re at the top.”
“That’s the big-ass Ferris wheel right?”
She nodded. “Or we could go hiking, or do the fastest go-cart track in Vegas. I’ve never driven them, but they’re supposed to be cool. We could walk The Strip.”
Fucking amazing. Fast, hard, free-falling, and outside. All the things I needed she just offered up.
For a moment, there was a little space between that day a few years ago and today. I existed between the two. A sudden gasp from her jerked me back to the present time, rescuing me from drowning in memories of moon sand and blood and agony. “I know! Let’s go to Range 1020. It’s outside. It’s huge. That’s perfect!”
Had she not been so exuberant I would’ve batted this off like the tattoo idea but she really wanted to do this. That glimmer in her eyes was legit. My God, how the hell did I get to even spend one single week with her much less all of the fragmented days and weeks I’d gotten to be in her presence? “You’d really go shoot with me?” I had to ask.
“Hell yeah! Please. I haven’t been in so long.”
“You are aware that you’re basically the world’s most perfect woman, right?”
She laughed. “I’m glad you think so. You know, I happen to have been trained by the best weapons sergeant in the army. Bet I can outshoot him now.” She waggled her eyebrows.
“Oh, you are on, baby. Get your sexy ass up. Now, I have something to prove.”
30
Hannah
He was almost smiling. I pinched my own thigh. Yep, definitely awake and alive, and Griff was almost smiling on July 11. Holy crap, this was working. The fake leather of the ancient Suburban the guy who worked for the range was driving slapped at my thighs as we bound along the desert terrain. My boobs bounced, and Griff’s eyes immediately locked on my chest appreciatively. All of that practiced resolve and politeness training wasn’t happening today. He didn’t have the fight left in him. I was pleased to see it go but hated the reason for its disappearance. Today, he couldn’t manage the many versions of himself. Only the one I needed could breathe through all of his pain.
“Either of you ever shot before?” the driver inquired.
Griff smirked. “A time or two.”
“How ’bout you, sweetheart? You don’t look like you’ve ever even held a real gun. If you ask me, most of ’em are just too heavy for girls. Ought to leave this to the men. It’s men’s work.”
There were a few ways I could handle this. I could either tell him off now or wait and show him just how well I shot. I’d been trained by a Weapons Sergeant for the Green Berets not to mention a general. Griff smirked clearly thinking the same thing. “First of all, I am not your sweetheart. Secondly, no I’ve never even held a gun before. Are they scary?” I batted my eyelashes for effect.
Griff choked back laughter. I glanced skyward with a silent thank you. I was certain Chris had a hand in this day providing me with so much material to ease Griff’s pain.
“Ah, now, don’t be scared. I’ll hold it for you, so you don’t have to,” the driver spoke to me like I was a toddler, but I was in this for the long game. I’d tell him off after I showed off my skills.
“He wraps his arms around you to help you pull, I’m shooting him just be aware of that,” Griff huffed under his breath.
“He puts his mitts anywhere near me and it won’t be you who shoots him, honey,” I matched his whispered tone.
Just as I was beginning to think we were actually being driven all the way out to the canyon, we pulled up at the outdoor range. I hopped out ready to take on both of my opponents.
“Now, you know, man, if you want to give her a little money and let her go shopping back at The Strip, you could do our Black Ops Experience. It’s the real deal.” Our driver continued to make a fool of himself. “Got military grade weapons and everything.”
“Dear God,” I breathed the words out trying to remain calm. The guy didn’t actually know who we were, but that little comment about giving me money pissed me the fuck off. Not to mention the fact that it was one thing for us to be sport shooting. It was a whole other thing to make Griff think about all of the real Black Ops missions he’d done.
“The real deal, huh?” Griff glared at the ground the man was standing on like he’d love to set it on fire.
“Yeah, just like real Black Ops.”
“Oh, I bet.” He rolled his eyes. “Where are the guns?”
“Here,” he opened the back doors of the Suburban, unlocked a case, and handed Griff the Glock he’d picked. “You sure you don’t want an AK? We got ’em. That’s a real man’s gun. Got a real easy trigger for her, too.”
Abject fury flared in Griff’s eyes. Burn the house. Scorch the skyline. Fuck the world. Here we go. I braced for impact, but Griff shook his head seeming to decide that this guy just wasn’t worth it. “I prefer for there to be some degree of difficulty when I shoot. And if you say the words real or man, and associate them with the word gun again, I’ll shove my boot so far up your ass you can taste the sand still on them from Iraq. We clear?”
The guy took several steps back. Confusion and fear contorted his face. “Sure, man.”
“Good. Now shut up, and give her a gun.”
He removed another Glock from the locked box welded in the Suburban. “I thought you said you didn’t shoot much. You sure you’re good with this one? It ain’t as easy as some others I have, and you’re gonna have to let me load it for you. It’s tricky.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, give me that.” I yanked the Glock out of his hand, grabbed a box of American Eagles, and shoved bullets in the clip.
“Now, you’re gonna need the speed loader when you get a few in there,” the guy sounded panicked. “Let me get it for you.”
Without missing a beat or a bullet, I shoved all fifteen bullets in the clip and then locked the clip in the pistol, without a loader thank you very much.
“Looks like she’s got it.” Griff shook his head. “And now you’ve gone and pissed her off.”
I marched to the farthest line from the targets, dragged my sunglasses off my head and placed them over my eyes, took aim, and shot all fifteen bullets in a perfectly straight line down the target sheet.
“Look at that,” Griff continued to taunt. “Must be beginner’s luck.”
“Can’
t believe any man would let his woman learn to shoot like that,” the idiot grumbled.
With that, Griff stood at the line beside me, narrowed his eyes, and turned his Cubs hat around backward. Yep, it was about to go down. He lifted his arms, stared down the barrel, took a few seconds to lower his heart rate and time his breaths. When he barely blinked, I knew this was going to be as impressive as hell. And then, my man shot all fifteen rounds in the same freaking hole. I was both thrilled with the look of absolute awe on our guide’s face and bummed because I was so not going to outshoot him. My ears rang. Probably should’ve grabbed some of those ear plug things.
“So, what you’re like Mr. and Mrs. Smith or something?” the guy fumed. “You could’ve told me that.”
“Doubt Brad and Angelina can shoot as well as we do,” I informed him.
“Safe bet,” Griff agreed. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you between all of the chauvinistic bullshit free-flowing out of your face. Might want to wipe that off your chin before you crawl back under your rock.”
“It’s a range requirement for you to wear ear protection,” the guy fumed. “I’m throwing you off the course.”
“Seriously?” I huffed. “Then I’m letting every supervisor I can find know just a few of the things you said to and about me.”
He considered that for far too long. Griff marched back to the Suburban, got two pairs of earmuffs, and we shot three more rounds.
Our range officer pouted in the truck while we loaded in our last round. “What was that about you outshooting me, sweetness?” He winked at me.
“The sun’s in my eyes.” I laughed at my own lame excuse.
