Fragged: A BWWM Military Romance

by Paige Notaro

“Sex isn’t all there is to it.”

  I ticked my head from side to side. “Actually, I think it might be.”

  Lilly hummed a moment. I knew that it meant she was biting down her own judgment.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Now I see why you go for the guys you go for.”

  I found the paper clip and flailed it back at her. “I’m not looking for a family. Elsa’s still a kid herself. Wait, you’re not still trying to sell me on Lem, right?”

  “No! I mean, if you don’t like him, you don’t like him. No big deal.”

  “But…”

  “But…you know, he is kind of a step up from your usual type. Just in terms of potential.”

  I had a line all queued up about the potential in her musician husband, but it was too vicious. That was high school me. “I judge potential on things other than income.”

  “How about stability?”

  “Whatever.” She knew how stable I thought stability really was.

  “I’m just saying. At least he’s not the kind of guy who shows up to ER at noon with a busted nose and cracked ribs.” She ticked her head at a guy slumped against an armrest. His face looked like a bruised grape.

  “You’re saying I date ER patients.”

  “Kind of.”

  “Well, then I better get out there and find my dream man.”

  I huffed out, put on my best face and started talking to the new arrivals who were just finishing their form.

  Lily wasn’t far off. Guys who built muscle out of need often tended to use them. At least it was a way to make sure they still worked.

  Down the hall, I heard the automatic door slide open. I looked up from the old woman I was talking to, to see what fresh calamity had stumbled in.

  Whatever she had been saying completely fell from my ears.

  Mighty.

  That was the first word that came to mind when I saw the man walking in. He was tall but solid. He wore a tan shirt and green camo pants, and he filled out both. His skin glowed in a deep, rich tan. Thick cords of muscle ran up the length of his arm - a promise that his strength ran everywhere.

  He looked this way, then that. His eyes fell directly on me. They were like crystal lakes.

  His whole face had a hard beauty, like someone had taken a solid granite block and sanded it down to perfection. Dark stubble covered his head and traced around his face. The hard edges were still there, but his cheeks, his jaw, his nose - they looked more than strong.

  They looked freaking gorgeous.

  They also looked to be in an enormous amount of pain, wincing with each stride. His face was pouring way too much sweat for the cool August day outside.

  He took a stiff step towards me.

  “Sorry, ma’am,” I murmured to the old woman. She only had a mild cold. I hurried over, but as I peered up at the swell of him, I forgot my lines.

  “What’s your name, sir?” I finally said.

  “Calix Black.”

  Calix. I mouthed the word. It sounded like some Roman general. “Are you ok?” I asked.

  He frowned at me. “No. That’s why I’m here.”

  “What seems to be the problem?” I shamelessly walked my eyes down his bulging torso. His shirt had a US army logo over the right breast. He was military?

  “My leg,” he said.

  I looked down. Despite all my years of medical training, it was the first time I noticed the thick shirt he had wrapped around his thigh. Above it, the camo was stained much darker.

  “You’re bleeding,” I said. “What happened?”

  With the same matter of fact tone I might have read out someone’s blood pressure, he said, “I was shot.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Calix

  The curvy, black nurse made a face at my thigh as if she didn’t believe me.

  That made two of us.

  I’d been back stateside for three weeks. I’d been in contact with my old biker club for just one.

  Already, I had a new scar to deal with. Now I had to protect them from their idiocy. I’d even come here alone.

  “Could you show me the site of the injury?” the nurse asked.

  I edged the makeshift tourniquet up my thigh. The adrenaline had worn off a half hour ago. Every nudge sent a knife through my muscle.

  She knelt and rolled up my pant sleeves

  “Oh god.” Her eyes grew to saucers. “Lily, we’ve got a red here.”

  My mind blanked as another burst of pain set off. The room dissolved around me. There was only this agony and me.

  I had to keep it under control. I could not fall over this.

  The club was depending on me. My father was depending on me.

  The nurse touched my shoulder gently. There was a tremble to her touch like she was handling an unexploded shell. But my time in Afghanistan had taught me to accept help given.

  This was all for a purpose, I told myself.

  “What purpose?” the nurse asked.

  Apparently, my mouth was freely voicing my thoughts.

  I couldn’t let loose around this woman. Something about her made me too comfortable. Her fingers felt long and graceful, pianist’s hands.

  I wondered suddenly, how they would feel wrapped around me.

  Christ, Calix.

  The pain was making me forget myself. It’d been far too long since I had been with a woman. Afghanistan had offered no acceptable opportunities.

  The nurse’s face drifted into my vision, soft and concerned. “What purpose are you talking about?” she asked.

  “No purpose,” I gritted out.

  I turned the words over in my head. Had this bullet meant anything at all? It felt much closer to foolishness. Even if the plan had gone off successfully, the day would still feel like a waste.

  How did any of it advance the cause?

  An older, white nurse pushed up a gurney. It’d been a year since my last hospital stay. The medics had carried me to the chopper on a dark plastic mat. Compared to that, this one looked like a cloud.

  “Can you climb on?” my black nurse asked.

  Her hand urged me forward, like a child trying to move a mountain. But her touch kept the pain from my mouth. I swiveled onto the trolley and lay down.

  The cushions smelled like steamed flowers. The pain vanished. I unclenched and finally let myself fade.

  The young nurse loomed over me, her narrow, oval face condensed in worry.

  Worry, for me?

  I wanted to chuckle, but as my sight dimmed, her face remained like the moon.

  She had good features. Delicate, but not fragile. Singular, but not exotic. Some men would call her beautiful.

  Most would use much stronger words.

  Something in me tried to fight that analysis, but it had no fuel.

  This was fine, I thought. It was fine to admire her from a distance. I just needed to remember who I was and what had brought me here.

  A new spark erupted in my brain, an incoming round I could not ignore.

  “No anesthetic,” I whispered. I couldn’t afford to be unconscious while the cops started digging.

  “What?” The nurse asked.

  I tried but couldn’t lift my head. I grabbed her hand and clenched her in. “Tell them to only numb my leg. I can handle that.”

  The nurse wrenched out of my grip. I realized how harsh my touch had been. She didn’t look angry though.

  “I don’t decide that,” she said. “The doctors do. Honestly, they probably are going to put you under. That entry looks way too close to the artery.”

  I shut my eyes and tried to think. Even that was too hard.

  “Why?” she said. “What happened?”

  What happened. It was a simple question but I had to search a long way to find the start of it. It was good I had no voice anymore. Something about her gentle earnestness made me want to tell her everything.

  She leaned in deep and the scent of some bright yellow flower sank on me.

  But then a differe
nt hand moved into view.

  “Rosa, we got it from here,” a man’s voice said. His chin hovered over me like a cliff’s edge.

  She looked down on me. “You’ll be ok. I’ll see you on the other side.”

  Her hand squeezed mine with surprising strength and she vanished.

  I didn’t want her to go. I hadn’t spoken, but the way she had looked at me, it was like she could see who I was. We already shared a secret.

  “Alright, big guy,” the new man said. “Just breathe deep, ok?”

  An air mask came down on my face. It was just oxygen, but I took two breaths and I was out.

  ****

  I came out of the daze in wall of quiet. Idly, I considered that I was in a coffin. Everything around me was white like cushions. But then I realized how far away it all was. This was just a hospital bed, with a curtain pulled around.

  A baby blue robe covered me loosely. I had a flare of panic about my clothing. Then, I remembered I’d removed everything incriminating.

  My throat felt like crumbling parchment. A tray near me held water and a small case of pudding. I chugged both and looked for more. I remembered the black nurse who had taken care of me. I had the urge to press the nurse’s button to bring her back.

  I barely managed not to. The button wouldn’t bring only a nurse, not after I showed up here with a gun shot. Hospitals were obligated to report gun wounds to law enforcement. I was clear enough to know my mind wasn’t ready for that.

  It took some time for the meds to wear off completely. I finally saw how much they’d fucked up my thoughts.

  The nurse worked in ER. She wouldn’t be up here.

  And what the hell was I thinking wanting to see her. I didn’t even know what she was. Black? Indian?

  I remembered the doctor saying her name: Rosa. It sounded Mexican. She didn’t look it though.

  It didn’t matter. There could be nothing between us but a nurse helping a patient.

  I tried to figure out what about her had tempted me. My memories of arriving had faded, but her face had not. I could almost see it above me, long and elegant. She looked like an Egyptian queen.

  So she was beautiful. There was no harm in appreciating that. I’d appreciated plenty of exotic beauty from a distance while on tour in Afghanistan.

  At least, I appreciated what little flashes I saw: dark, serious eyes and sand-colored brows. The rest remained hidden beneath sashes and scarves and burqas. I’d lain awake at nights in base camp picturing what lay underneath.

  It was all fine as long as it remained fantasy. I wouldn’t engage. End of story.

  I focused on getting my injury story ready to withstand interrogation. I didn’t lie well. I knew that. But the situation was a lucky one - as far as taking a bullet could be.

  The rounds matched that of my army-issued sidearm. Mainly, this was because I’d been shot at from the same model. The Storm’s Soldiers motorcycle club once had a part time business running guns.

  I might have been hit by one of the very guns we sold. Still, the fault lay with the Soldiers. They had put me in the line of fire. I was pissed, but I wasn’t going to throw them to the dogs.

  Eventually, a bleary-eyed Hispanic nurse came and noticed I was up. She pulled back the curtain halfway.

  My bed sat right by the window, looking out at the middle stories of some high rises. The light helped my mood, but seeing those buildings made me feel caged. I got water from her and that helped. The moment she walked out, however, my clock started ticking down.

  Two police officers walked in a minute later on the dot. The one up front was white and stocky, with a bulldog face. His partner looked like a pissed-off, black version of him.

  “Mr. Black,” the white one said. “I’m Officer Carroll. This is Officer Wallace. You mind if we ask you some questions?”

  “I need to warn you that you are under no obligation to speak,” Wallace snarled. “It’s your choice.”

  “I get it,” I said. “Go ahead. It was just a stupid accident with my service weapon.”

  “Describe to us how you got shot,” Carroll said. “We just want to hear it in your words.”

  “I was an idiot,” I said. “The safety wasn’t on, and I dropped the gun.”

  “Don’t tell me it went off and shot you,” Wallace said, snorting.

  I didn’t give in to his taunt. “No. I picked it up. I gripped it wrong and it discharged at me.”

  Judging by the size of the bandage, the bullet had made it out. It must be embedded back by the safehouse somewhere.

  “Oh that makes much more sense.”

  “I told you it was a stupid accident.”

  “Where did this occur?” Carroll asked, scratching notes onto his little pad.

  “Back home. My father’s house.”

  “Is that where you live?”

  “No, I stay on base at Camp McPherson.”

  “So you’re active duty?”

  “You already know I am. You must have run my name.”

  “Oh we read up on you,” Wallace cut in. “How is it that a decorated veteran with two years of combat experience fires a gun in his own damn thighs?”

  He must have read my whole file. He knew I ran with the Storm’s Soldiers before I enlisted. I had never been charged with anything criminal in that time. The affiliation itself must have pissed him off.

  “By accident.” I spelled it out like I was speaking to a child. “If I had any idea it would force me to talk to someone like you, I would have been even more careful.”

  His eyes burned like coal, but it just showed he was no threat. Carroll cut in. “Can your father verify this account?”

  “He wasn’t home. I went over to fix something for him while he was out.”

  “Out preaching?” Wallace asked.

  “It is a Sunday.”

  “And your father’s no minister.”

  “Wallace,” Carroll said. “Focus.”

  “I am,” he said. “I don’t buy this one bit.”

  I said nothing.

  “Is there anything else you want to add, Mr. Black?” Carroll asked. “Anything at all that we should know.”

  “Remember your safety,” I said. “If it could happen to me, it could happen to anyone.”

  Wallace looked like he wanted to spit on me. I just watched my blank TV. If he wanted me as an arch enemy, he’d have to wait in line.

  “Alright, then,” Carroll said. “I’ll leave the precinct number if you think of anything else. We’ll run ballistics and be in touch. Thank you for your time and thank you for your service.”

  I shot up as the two made for the door. “Ballistics?” I said.

  “That’s right.” Wallace turned around with a cancerous smile. “You know, on the bullet fragments they pulled out of you?”

  I chewed my lips and thought through things fast.

  This wasn’t the end of me. The bullet caliber matched my gun. If they traced the make, they would find it to be an army munition.

  But not everything was covered. I couldn’t rule out some unknown they could find with a test. It was a small risk, and one that I could handle personally. At worst, I might get discharged and do light time.

  But if they got me, they might trace this thing all the way back. They could take down everyone in the Soldiers. Potentially, they could even indict my father.

  He had led me astray on this matter. That didn’t mean I would ever let him fall.

  I decided to try something.

  “That’s not your call,” I said, right before the officers walked out.

  “All gun injuries are ours to examine, pretty boy,” Wallace said.

  “Sure, if you got here first. But you didn’t.”

  His smile cracked.

  “What?” Carroll asked.

  “The Military Police already stopped by,” I said. “You want the bullet, get it from them.”

  It was a long shot. But it was the only play I had lying here.

  Carroll turned o
n Wallace. “I thought you were watching the room.”

  “I was in the waiting room. The guy wasn’t going anywhere.”

  “You didn’t see two giant-ass guys with helmets go past you?”

  Jesus, it was working. These were Atlanta’s finest. I hoped neither had ever been affiliated with the US army.

  Wallace itched the back of his head. He threw a glum look at me.

  “What you so happy about?” he said. “Those guys are going to tear you a new one.”

  “I’ve dealt with worse,” I said.

  I had no idea what I’d get at the base. There was no reason they’d have heard yet, but they’d ask questions when I showed up with a bandage and a limp.

  The cops shot each other another disappointed look, then stormed out of the room.

  The sun was setting outside. A heavy curtain weighed on my eyes. Blood loss has its way of making you exhausted.

  I dozed for a bit and woke to the smell of boiled beef. Some brown stroganoff type thing had been set out for me. It looked like shit, but army life had prepared me well. I shoveled it down without even holding my breath.

  The curtains at my side rustled. I clenched my fork like it was a combat knife.

  A head peeked in. I loosened immediately.

  “Hey, there,” Rosa said. “I just wanted to pop in and see how you’re doing.”

  She was out of her bland, loose uniform. This might have been the opposite. A tight red T-shirt covered her body. A light navy sweater hung open on top, falling away from the swell of her chest. Her legs were wrapped tight under tan capris.

  The only skin she flashed was her long neck. But I needed very little imagination to picture what it led to.

  Stop this.

  “I’m good,” I said. “You’re done with your shift?”

  “Yeah. You were the most exciting patient by far.” She winked sharply.

  I felt tense again. I needed her to leave. I should just tell her I was too tired to talk.

  Instead, I said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Sorry you couldn’t be topped, or sorry for being so interesting?”

  “I did nothing interesting. This was just a man being an idiot.”

  “You’ve just defined all men.”

  My mouth tugged up, but I pulled it tight. She was wreaking havoc on my discipline.

  “It’s ok,” she said. “Idiots still have their uses.”