Battle Scars

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  He sighed and his shoulders hunched with tension. I waited for him to speak.

  “Damn,” he said quietly. “I thought we’d have more time.”

  I bit back the words I’m sorry. This was my job, and I wasn’t going to apologize for it.

  “How long will you be away?”

  “A couple of weeks. Maybe a month . . .”

  “What time’s your flight?”

  “Nine. I have to go to the office first to pick up my documents.”

  He nodded.

  “I’ll drive you.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I’ll drive you.”

  I gave him a small smile.

  “Hmm, does that mean you want to spend the night in my apartment?”

  He gave me a serious look.

  “I want to spend every goddamn second with you, Maggie.”

  I swallowed and looked away.

  “I’d like that.”

  It was strange having Jackson in my apartment. His large body dwarfed the place, filling it in a completely masculine way. My homey space seemed diminished with him there, and yet it seemed right.

  Part of me felt like I’d known him forever, but I had to be realistic. I didn’t know him and he didn’t know me. What I did know, I liked a lot, but I’d noticed that there were subjects he deliberately avoided. That didn’t make me nervous exactly, just . . . aware.

  He stood in the middle of my small living room, examining the photographs on my walls. Most of them were from assignments, but there were a few family ones, too.

  “Is that your dad?”

  “Yes, that’s him. Mike.”

  “You look like him. You have his eyes.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Just sayin’ what I see,” he said, his own eyes warm with compassion.

  “So, what are you going to do tomorrow? You’re welcome to stay in my apartment, if you like?”

  I felt as though I should offer, but it would be strange having Jackson living here without me. He smiled briefly.

  “Thanks for the offer, sugar, but I’m going to see my family. Mama has been asking when I’ll come visit. Maybe we can hook up when you’re back?”

  Hook up? Although at least it sounded like he wanted to stay in touch. Sort of. Did he just mean a booty call?

  “Sure,” I said, and I knew by his raised eyebrows that my lack of enthusiasm surprised him.

  It wasn’t lack of enthusiasm for him—of course it wasn’t. But a hookup wasn’t dating—it was simply an offer of more sex. Wonderful, life-changing, heady, earth-shattering sex. But nothing emotional. I wasn’t sure I could do that—in fact I knew I couldn’t. But I wasn’t ready to end it with him either.

  He cocked his head to one side.

  “I’d better go and pack,” I said. “Can you order a pizza or something? There’s a bunch of menus in the kitchen drawer and there’s beer in the fridge.”

  “Damn if you aren’t the perfect woman, Maggie,” he said with a grin.

  I couldn’t help smiling. He certainly made me feel that way. That was new and unexpected, but very wonderful.

  I pulled together everything I needed for my trip, pushing it into a large duffel bag that I’d kept after an embedment with USAF a couple of years back. The body armor went in last, because although it was the heaviest, I always ended up having to take it out at airports during security checks.

  I piled the clothes I’d need onto the bed—all things that could be rinsed and dried easily. Plenty of underwear, tampons and unlubricated condoms. Not that I was planning on having sex, but they had a range of off-list uses, including storing water. They were also surprisingly useful to put over the lids of difficult to open jars—added traction. Who knew? (And when you were eating MREs every day, spicy sauce could make a hell of a difference.) Condoms also made very useful waterproof cases for cell phones and microphones, or even bandages.

  The front door buzzer rang while I was finishing my packing, and immediately the smell of Thai curry filled the room.

  “Wow, I’m impressed!” I smiled, walking into the living room. “You ordered my favorite! How did you know?”

  Jackson grinned and tapped his forehead.

  “Need to know, Maggie. Need to know.”

  “Let me guess, you picked the menu that looked the most used.”

  “Aw, you’re spoilin’ the surprise!”

  I kissed him on the lips quickly.

  “Thank you. It’s a lovely surprise.”

  His blue eyes darkened with desire, but then he pulled back and waved a hand at the boxes of food spread across my living room coffee table.

  I tossed a bunch of throw cushions on the floor, and we sat cross-legged to eat our food.

  I felt more comfortable now I was getting used to seeing him in my space. He was easy company, liking having an old friend over that you haven’t seen in a while. An old friend that I badly wanted to have in my bed.

  Eventually, we pushed the plates away and I finished packing while Jackson took out the trash and cleaned up in the kitchen.

  When my bags were ready and waiting by the front door, I walked into the kitchen and put my arms around Jackson’s waist while he stood at the sink, pressing my cheek against his broad back.

  “You’ve got an early start, Maggie,” he said softly. “I guess we should turn in soon. To sleep.”

  “Are you sure about that, Jack? Your lips say no, but your body says yes,” and I rubbed the front of his jeans, feeling his hardness grow under my fingers.

  He groaned and turned around to face me, his wet hands landing on my hips.

  “I can’t help that,” he said, gesturing to the bulge behind his zipper. “It’s like feeding a stray dog—he keeps coming back for more even though you’ve told him to go home.”

  I laughed lightly and pushed my hand into the front of his jeans, feeling his dick hot and hard and straining against my clutching fingers.

  “I think we should go to bed now, Maggie,” he hissed.

  “Not up for some kitchen action?”

  “Oh yeah, I’m always up for some kitchen action,” he said, rocking into my hand, “but right now I’m craving a soft bed, so I can spread you out and take my time kissing every part of you. Slowly.”

  The man’s mouth was wicked lethal.

  I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward my room. But he stopped me so he could open the door, giving a little bow as he turned the handle.

  “Thanks for getting the door open for me. Tricky things, doors.”

  “Learned it all from my grandpappy,” he whispered huskily in my ear. “He said if I was going on dates where I planned on opening a condom wrapper, then the least I could do was open the door for a girl as well.”

  I choked on a laugh.

  “Good to know you have standards, even if they’re low ones.”

  “They’re the best kind. Although I wouldn’t call you ‘low’ exactly,” he said with a wink.

  I punched him in the arm, shaking out my fingers when I hit solid muscle.

  “Ow,” I said, unnecessarily.

  “Want me to kiss your boo-boos better?”

  “I want you to kiss something.”

  His eyes flared with excitement.

  While he was busy undressing me with his eyes, I pushed him hard in the center of his chest so he fell backwards onto the bed.

  “You don’t always have to be the one in control, Jack. I might even say that watching you lose control is hot. Very hot. I think I’d like to see you lose control again.”

  His eyes burned with intensity and he licked his lips, a slow smile drawing his mouth into a sexy smirk.

  “Is that right, sugar? Waal, there’s a 100% possibility of you getting what you want.”

  What I wanted? Now there was a loaded statement. What did I want from Sergeant Jackson Connor?

  His expression became serious, no doubt matching my own.

  “I don’t know what this is, Maggie, what’s happening
here, but it feels good. Real good. And I don’t want it to stop. I have absolutely no fucking control when I’m making love to you. And that’s what I want to do. Right now.”

  The sweet intensity of his words touched me. Everything he said made me want to hold him and never let him go. And that was a foolish thing when his first priority, his first love would always be the Marine Corps. I was also aware it made me a hypocrite—my career was everything to me. And I was leaving first thing in the morning.

  “I’m on board with that idea,” I whispered, pushing away my darkening thoughts as I concentrated on running my fingers down his broad chest, watching his muscles clench and release.

  He yanked his t-shirt over his head, exposing all that deeply tanned smooth skin, looking as perfect as the day I met him. More perfect, because he was here in my bed, not just starring in my dreams.

  I pulled down the zipper of his jeans, and he sighed with pleasure as his dick sprang free. I took him in my mouth and his sigh turned into a groan, as if I was pleasuring him to death.

  “Maggie, you gotta slow down,” he said, his voice strained. “Otherwise this is going to be over fast.”

  “We have all night,” I reminded him.

  And maybe his mind moved on a parallel road to mine, acknowledging that this would be our last night together in who knew how long. Maybe ever. A shadow passed over his eyes, clouding the sparkle, but then he forced a smile as I took him again.

  He could have tossed me onto my back at any time, but he let me have control. Because I wanted to, because I’d shown him what I wanted, what I needed. And because he was enough of a man not to feel the lesser for it.

  I took him to the brink and beyond, luxuriating in the moment when he gave me complete control as he lost his own, the moment his body tensed and his hands fisted the sheet beneath him. And then, when his breaths had evened out and his eyes told me it was time to return the favor, he undressed me slowly, kissing every part of me, showing me with his body if not with his words that this meant something.

  He started with the tips of my fingers, kissing them softly and sweetly, then sucking them into his mouth and tickling my palms with the stubble on his chin.

  Gentle fingertips grazed my arms, raising goosebumps wherever and whenever he touched me. I stretched out, naked and flushed with desire, exposed, willing and trusting.

  How foolish to trust this man—not because he was bad, because he was so obviously good, his soul bright despite everything he’d seen and done. No, it was foolish because he already had the power to hurt me. I prayed the pain would be over quickly.

  He kissed, stroked, touched and teased every part of me, and I let him. I gave back the control he’d willingly ceded to me, enjoying every touch, every taste, every stroke of his tongue or press of his soft lips.

  His face was taut with strain when he finally kneeled up, his mouth pressed in a thin line as he rolled a condom down his shaft, then his dark eyes met mine, burning with need and intensity.

  And when he sank into me, his eyelids fluttered, desire tightening his whole body.

  “I’ve waited all day for this.”

  He started circling his hips, arms at full stretch as he gazed down at me, his spine curved. Hot, rough amusement shone in his eyes as I linked my ankles behind the globes of his ass, digging in with my heels.

  He began to thrust harder, willingly losing control, his thrusts more savage, almost brutal, until he came with a feral intensity that shocked and gladdened me.

  We slept, we woke, we made love, again and again, the whole night through.

  The next morning came too soon. We shared a quick shower, a quicker breakfast, and then Jackson drove me to the office.

  Allison, my PA was waiting for me at my desk.

  “Morning, MJ. Here’s your visa, letters of introduction, emergency plan, checklist, money for bribes, spare flash drives, plus all the usual things. Anything else you need?”

  “No, that looks good. Thanks, Allison.”

  She stared at me impatiently.

  “Well? How’d it go with Sergeant Hottie on Friday? You can thank me by telling me everything. I want details.”

  I smiled serenely.

  “We had a very pleasant dinner. Thank you for asking.”

  Allison was a fantastic PA and someone I considered a good friend, but that woman liked to gossip more than the average twitterholic.

  “Is that all you’re giving me?”

  “I had pepperoni pizza. He had chicken wings.”

  “Oh, come on! Really?”

  “Yup.”

  “You know you want to tell me!”

  “See you when I get back!”

  “Tease!”

  She threw a balled up piece of paper at me, then pulled me into a tight hug.

  “Safe travels, boss.”

  The drive out to the airport was silent and full of tension. There was so much to say. A lifetime of things, maybe. And here I was, the wordsmith, living by my writing, unable to form a single sentence.

  Jackson pulled into the drop-off area and hauled my duffel out of the trunk. Then he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me against him, burying his face in my neck as his large body curved over me.

  “This feels so wrong, leaving you here like this.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “You’d better. Just . . . be careful, Maggie.”

  “I always am.”

  “Is that right? You forgettin’ already how we met?” He hugged me tighter. “Do it smart and safe. Maybe you could call me sometime . . . if you want to.”

  “I will, Jack. I promise.”

  His voice was uncertain, hesitant.

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  Communication Failure

  I WAS IN love with Facetime. No more waiting in an Army base comms unit for Skype via whatever crappy IP provider Uncle Sam was paying for. I had a boosted cell phone and solar powered charger, courtesy of the New York Times, and better still, they were picking up the bill.

  I didn’t get a chance to call Jackson as often as I’d have liked. Apart from anything else, Jordan was eight hours ahead of the East Coast, so the time difference made it difficult. It was definitely worth the wait.

  My heart jolted with joy when he answered on the third ring.

  “Hey, Maggie! It’s so good to see you. You look . . .”

  Jackson bit off whatever he was going to say, and I was thankful for that.

  “I know, I look awful,” I said, running a hand through my lank hair. “Rough day.”

  “No, you look great,” he lied. “I just meant tired. You want to tell my why it was rough? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I shrugged. “It’s hotter than hell and I didn’t hydrate enough. Headache.”

  “That’s not all, is it?”

  I shrugged helplessly.

  “You know what it’s like out here . . . the things you see. I’m used to seeing dead bodies . . . well, not used to it, but it doesn’t affect me like it did the first time, or the second . . .” I took a deep breath. “But when they’re children . . .”

  He swallowed and nodded. And I was so grateful that I didn’t have to explain. Because Jack knew. He knew and he understood.

  “Yeah. But you’re doing great, Maggie. I read that article you wrote about the MSF. It was real good. Too good,” he said with a grimace. “And those photographs . . .”

  His words trailed off and he looked away.

  “How are you doing?” I asked gently, knowing how hard this was for him, for both of us. “How’s Gulfport treating you? Met any debutantes lately?”

  I was hoping to make him smile, but it wasn’t working.

  “It’s a double whammy. You’re over there, up to your neck in shit, dodging bullets, and I’m over here. As useful as tits on a bull.”

  “Jackson,” I said quietly, “you of all people know that . . .”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he said roughly. “Ignore me. I’m real happy to hear your voice.”


  And he gave his patented panty-dropping grin. He was trying. We were both trying. For what? Some sort of normalcy when that was just an illusion?

  “So, what are you up to?”

  “Sitting here drinking a cold beer.”

  “Oh, shut up!”

  He laughed unapologetically.

  “Glass is frosted, too.”

  “I hate you!”

  “No, you don’t. You love me really.”

  There was an uncomfortable pause as he sucked in his breath, trying to bite back the words we weren’t ready to say.

  “Nah, I only want you for your body,” I teased. “Take your shirt off.”

  Jackson grinned.

  “Only if you take yours off.”

  I shot him a wry look.

  “Um, probably shouldn’t do that right now,” I said, letting my phone show the body armor that I was wearing, my helmet sitting on the cot next to me.

  “Ah shit, Maggie,” he said softly, screwing up his eyes with concern.

  “I’m fine, Jack. Really. Just being careful—like you said. But it would cheer me up if you took your shirt off,” and I gave him a flirty wink, reaching for the light-hearted tone I needed to hear from him.

  He forced a weak smile, because he was supposed to, because I’d asked him to, but it soon faded.

  “I probably shouldn’t start undressing either. Mama has her friends over. I snuck away for some peace and quiet.”

  “A tactical withdrawal?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Aw, poor baby! Can’t you handle some cougar action?”

  He pulled a face.

  “Not from my mama’s friends. They’ve known me since I was a twinkle in my Daddy’s eye. That would just be so wrong.”

  I laughed at the expression on his face. But then I heard a woman’s voice in the background.

  “What are you doing out here all by your lonesome, Jack, honey?”

  He must have put his hand over the phone because the picture went dark and his voice became muffled.

  “Just talking to a friend, Emmy.”

  I didn’t hear what came next but it was several seconds before Jack’s apologetic face was back.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “Emmy?”

  His mouth tightened.

  “An old . . . friend.”