Bucky snorted dismissively, but I knew that he wasn’t that stupid. “Are you done talking trash?” he wanted to know. “Not that I’ve ever heard anything else from you.”
“You’re the one who’s still lying on me,” I pointed out.
“I can’t move up unless you withdraw the knife.”
“Oh, you mean this one?” I said—and rather than retract it, I shoved it another inch up into him, making sure to cut deep. I doubted I’d get lucky and perforate his intestines, and right then, I didn’t care whether I did or not. “Do we have an agreement? I need you to say the words. And I need everyone to hear them.” I jerked my chin toward our bystanders, who were, to a man, undecided what to do with the situation.
Hamilton’s face had turned into a grimace, but he still let me wait a full ten seconds before he finally gave the smallest of nods. “We do.”
“Good,” I said cheerfully, rearing up once more so that my lips were almost touching his ear. “And never forget—the only reason why I didn’t castrate you today was because I simply didn’t want to.”
I pulled the knife out with a jerk that was hard enough to make the hilt slam into my abdominal scars, but I didn’t give a fuck about that now. Bucky launched himself off me the same moment I scrambled back, both of us ending in a ready stance at the different ends of the circle. Never one to risk a hard-earned victory, I relaxed first, giving a dismissive flick with the knife to get some of the blood off it. It wasn’t much, but enough to be easily visible, covering parts of the blade. “I will keep this as a sweet souvenir,” I told him, offering him another fake smile. “I hope you don’t object.”
“Keep it,” Bucky offered, ignoring the small pool of blood that was spreading on his T-shirt. “It’s a worthless piece of trash. Fits you.” He paused, then added, just as I was about to turn around, “Stumpy.”
I considered not reacting, but since we were already being so chatty…
Turning back to face him, I grinned. “Yeah, you say that like it’s demeaning, for me. Right after defeating you, with the hand that took the brunt of it. Exactly what do they feed you? Because I’d add a little more carbs in the mix. Your brain doesn’t have enough energy to work right.” I could do that dramatic pause, too. “Besides, Bucky… two can play that game. I guarantee you, I will have the last laugh in this, you petty, little fool.”
There were no outright cheers, but some good-natured if suppressed laughter going on. The two soldiers closest to the door—Cole and Aimes—stepped away to make room for me to pass as I aimed for them, both offering me a small nod. I did my best to keep a straight face, but it got harder from second to second. Yeah, I could maybe bullshit them all, but that didn’t mean I was as relaxed as I pretended to be. If I’d been smart, I would have lost the fight and let him have that little triumph. But I’d had a chance, so I took it, and I didn’t really find it in me to regret it. And only feeling a little beat-up with a possibly broken nose was better than being dragged the whole nine yards.
I was almost to the door, trusting that Nate and the others would pick up my discarded clothes on the way, when two of the marines stepped in my way, blocking my exit. I still had the bloody knife in my hand, but did my best to make that none too obvious, next to my thigh.
“Can I help you with something, gentlemen?” I asked, rather than the, “Get the fuck out of my way!” that I wanted to hurl at them. See, I could be a pinnacle of diplomacy if I wanted. I was still panting with exertion and pain, so the words came out slightly breathless, yet my tone was calm enough.
They didn’t exactly exchange glances, but the one to my left fidgeted a bit, until the other responded. They were both in gym clothes, so I couldn’t even guess at their rank, or whatever. “You need to come with us. To the brig.”
I didn’t need Burns or Nate to translate that for me. “Absolutely not.” Then, “Why would I?”
Now they did exchange glances, and the one that had spoken eyed my hand with the knife uneasily. “Ma’am, you just attacked your commanding officer with an edged weapon—“
My pulse, already refusing to slow down after what had happened, spiked. It was almost comical to feel the world around me snap into perfect clarity, down to me seeing a bead of sweat make its way down the marine’s forehead. My muscles tensed without my conscious doing, gearing up for another fight. Sheer surprise was probably the only reason why my left fist wasn’t already flying toward his face.
“You got to be shitting me,” I grumbled, briefly glancing to the side to get my bearings. The others were coming but still half a room away. Murdock and Hill were the closest soldiers, chatting with Aimes and Cole. I couldn’t see Red anywhere, but that didn’t matter. He’d been here before so he was likely over there by the weights. Focusing back on the marines, I cocked my head to the side, then crossed my arms over my chest, this time no longer hiding the knife—but I did rotate my grip so that the blade was flat across my wrist and pointing toward my elbow on the inside of my arm. “He’s a lot of things, but he sure as hell isn’t my anything.”
“But you’re—“ The other marine finally found his voice, only to be cut off by me immediately.
“I am an independent technical advisor,” I lied—or maybe even said the truth. Nobody had defined my role in this shindig. “I haven’t even vowed to my husband to obey him when I married him. I’m certainly not letting that idiotic buffoon order me around. I hope this resolves things?”
Rather than wait for a reply, I stepped forward, intent on simply pushing through them, but they didn’t budge, pushing me back immediately.
“Ma’am, I insist—“ the first marine tried once more, but looked a lot less authoritative than moments before now that I was literally standing face to face with him.
“You insist on what?” I asked. “Being imbeciles who can’t differentiate between a good-natured tussle”—my ass—“and an attack? Or being accomplices to a repeat sexual offender and are now holding his not-quite helpless victim accountable for defending herself? Pick one.” I knew it was a low blow, but one thing I’d learned in the past year and a half—the good guys usually got incredibly uncomfortable whenever rape was mentioned, and if I could use that sentiment to put an end to this before I gave anyone an actual reason to throw me in the brig—or right over the side of the ship into the freezing-cold ocean—I would always play that card.
The marine whose face I was staring at grimaced while the other donned the expected horrified expression. “Ma’am, we certainly didn’t mean to imply—“
“Move out of my way,” I bit out, making them both jerk slightly from the steel in my voice. “Don’t you think that if any of them had some issues with what I did that they’d take care of that?” I glanced over to the soldiers, who were only paying us so much attention. “I’m getting tired of this. If you insist on behaving like despicable human scum, why don’t you take me to your CO? Let’s see what he has to say about this. No? Then what are we still doing here?”
“Is there a problem?” Nate asked from right behind me, his voice that homicidal kind of neutral that was impossible to take for anything else.
The marines squirmed for a few more moments before they stepped to the side. As soon as the way was clear, I rushed ahead, adrenaline flooding my veins anew. How I made it to our quarters, I couldn’t say; it certainly didn’t happen with me choosing turns deliberately. I stormed right to the very back of the bunks, mostly to let the others in behind me, but also because I just couldn’t stop yet. Every fiber of my being was vibrating with tension, too-long suppressed frustration bubbling over right into blinding-hot rage. It barely registered when Tanner pulled the door shut behind him, but that shoved the lid right off my barely-contained self-control.
Dropping the knife, I balled both hands to fists, trying for another second to hold it all in—but to no avail. Throwing my head back, I screamed—and then, there was no holding it all in anymore. All that pain and grief, fear and frustration, came roaring to the forefront of
my mind, no longer content to hide in the dark recesses where I’d tried to stow it all away indefinitely. Everything that had happened since fall—and a lot before that—crashed through my head, a maelstrom of emotions that I simply wasn’t equipped to cope with. I screamed until I was all out of air, then took a noisy, sharp inhale and continued, my voice so loud that it hurt in my own ears. And when that simply wasn’t enough, I slammed my fists into the steel wall in front of me, first once, then over and over and over again—
Somewhere, almost buried underneath all of what needed out, alarm bells started going off in my head, and I forced myself to stop, then bend over when even something as simple as inhaling almost got unbearably hard to do. Panting, I tried to get a grip on myself, but I simply couldn’t. My left hand was bleeding but I couldn’t even feel it, my body was too keyed up for that.
Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck—
Turning my head to the side, I looked up at the others, finding Nate and Burns pretty much shielding Gita from me, the lot of them wedged into what little open space there was by the door. Burns was looking mildly concerned, while Nate was squinting at me, trying hard to get a good reading.
“How do I fucking stop this?” I pressed out between clenched jaws, forcing my fingers to dig into my thighs to keep myself for going for the wall again. It would serve absolutely no one if I broke my hands for good. “I can’t… calm down. I just can’t! How do I fucking stop this!” The last words left me as more of a shout than anything else, my control slipping again.
Nate was there, gripping me from behind, pinning my arms to my sides. I tried to buck against him, but his embrace was tight as a vise, unmoving whatever I did. I fought, then gave up, screaming as he held me until my throat was raw and my ears were ringing.
I didn’t feel better once my scream cut off, ending in more heavy panting. I felt worse, much, much worse. Whatever had set it in motion, that breakdown had pulled aside the curtains, forcing me to stare reality straight in the face. And damn, I really didn’t like what I was seeing. I felt like a broken, bleeding shell of my former self, stripped down to the bare bones, everything raw and exposed.
I inhaled shakily, ready to say something—what, I had no idea—but a loud knock at the door made us all pause. The others looked mighty welcoming of the distraction as it was. Honestly, I was surprised that it had taken Red this long to come after us—or it could be the firing squad, ready to finish what the marines had started.
Nate hesitated, but the fact that I’d gone as limp as a noodle seemed to communicate that I was done losing it, so he let go and stepped away, giving me some much-needed space. At his nod, Tanner pulled open the door. It wasn’t Red, nor the firing squad, but a tall, thin Asian woman—one of the Navy officers.
“Lieutenant Commander Nekanda,” she introduced herself, peeking into the room cautiously. “Commander Parr would like me to extend his sincerest apologies to you, and ask you all to join him for dinner tonight.” Her eyes skipped across the lot of us until they landed on me. “Sergeant Buehler also asks your forgiveness and understanding for the misunderstanding that has happened between you and her men. She has set actions to punish them.”
That was so not the news I’d expected. I had to thoroughly clear my throat to get it to work once more, but tried to sound relaxed—not ready to keel over—as I replied. “Nobody needs to be court-martialed because of me. I have a very good idea who put them up to this. And he and his ego already got what they deserve.” Not really, but it was a start.
The officer kept her face perfectly neutral, so it was hard to judge whether she considered me an utter imbecile, or smart. It didn’t really matter. It was only when the silence turned awkward that I realized that she was still waiting for an answer.
I glanced at Nate. He was still trying to gauge my reaction, but at catching my gaze, he directed his attention to Nekanda. “Please tell the commander that we will gladly accept his offer,” he told her quite pleasantly, as if he wasn’t still on the verge of making a grab for me once more.
She inclined her head. “I will come fetch you at 1900.” She hesitated, clearly at odds with herself. “You should maybe swing by the med bay and get that fixed.” It took me way too long to realize she was talking about my nose. It was then that I realized that the lower half of my face was caked in dried blood, and quite a few rivulets had made it across my cheeks while I’d been lying on my back as well. It looked bad enough in the tiny wall mirror that had miraculously survived my attack of its general surroundings. Reaching up, I gingerly touched my nose, but while there was a little swelling and some discomfort, nothing was broken. My quick nod was enough, making the officer scurry off as she closed the door behind her.
“Well, that was unexpected,” I croaked out, quickly clearing my throat once more. “Now, anyone care to tell me why you’re all looking so glum?”
Gita gave the guffaw that I’d expected from Burns. “Think they have steak? I could do with some steak.” She grinned brightly. I flashed her one in return, not caring how grizzly that must have looked.
Nate, Burns, and Tanner were still awfully quiet. I was burning to ask, but dropped the point. I had a feeling it would come out sooner rather than later. “So what exactly does one wear to a dinner with the captain of a ship?” Looking over at my pack and the few things not yet stowed away, I shrugged. “I have ratty old thermals and slightly less ratty newer thermals. Black’s always a good idea, right?”
Nate shook his head as he turned away, muttering something under his breath that I was sure I didn’t need to hear. Oh, this was going to be so much fun, I just knew it!
Chapter 9
Three hours later, Nekanda was back, waiting for us to file out of the claustrophobic quarters into the slightly less claustrophobic corridor. Her eyes lingered a moment on my hair, but she didn’t comment. I felt like asking her whether she approved of seeing that same dried-blood color missing from my chin that had finally replaced the patchy blondish pink that the decontamination shower in Raynor’s lair had left me with. I wouldn’t have gone with such a dark, muted color myself, but the hair color that Red had dropped off that day together with my Beretta was the only one I’d had at hand—and it certainly fit my mood. In all fairness, it made a lot more sense than the riot-red I’d gone for last summer before setting out on our crusade. Back then, painting a target on my head had seemed like a wise idea. Now? Not so much. And as Gita had noted as she’d helped me work it into my curls, both of us sitting on the bathroom floor—it went great with the bloodshot in my eyes.
And yes, I was wearing a black thermal with my dark gray cargo pants and boots, not giving a shit whether that was appropriate or not. It wasn’t like I’d packed any other clothes—or at least not any that weren’t much worse.
Judging from the sense I was getting from Nate, we were walking to our execution rather than dinner, but I hadn’t gotten a chance to rib him about that yet. I was way more concerned about what the fuck that serum was doing to me to care about his finer sensibilities right now. The others weren’t quite so glum, although Tanner was a close second. Gita still seemed mostly excited, so for once I chose to latch on to her example. It couldn’t really get much worse, now, could it?
I knew I was wrong when we entered the officer’s mess, and the tension increased about tenfold. I had no idea who the officers present were since I had next to no recollection of how I’d gotten onto this boat, but I could tell that there must have been some kind of exchange, as not only Nate glowered all the way over to his seat beside me, but also Burns and Tanner remained rather tense.
It was a single table that had been set in the middle of the room, not exactly fancy, but miles above anything I’d sat down at long since the shit had hit the fan. The salt-and-pepper-haired trim guy standing at the head of the table must have been the captain, Commander Parr. Next to the officer who had fetched us, there was only a single other female officer present—the Marines’ top dog, Sergeant Buehler. I couldn’t remember having
seen any of them, or the other two men waiting to the side of the table that hadn’t been allocated to us—the ship’s XO, Commander Leary, and Higgs, the chief engineer. After the bitching about who was going to sit where in the mess hall, I half expected there to be a squabble now, but with all of us in single file order and no seat better defensible than the rest, it was—from captain to empty end of the table—Nate, me, Burns, Gita, with Tanner bringing up the rear. The difference between the officers—all standing ramrod straight—and Higgs with his perpetual slouch was telling, making it easy to guess that he was the head of one of the many stations on the ship, and less prone to becoming a pain in the ass.
“Thank you for joining us for dinner tonight,” Parr finally said after a pause that was long enough to make my two remaining toenails curl up.
I waited for Nate to say something, but he and Parr had already started a glowering match, so I took it upon myself to be the chatty head of our delegation. “Thank you so much for the very unexpected invitation.” Didn’t mean I had to even pretend to be diplomatic.
Green Fields Series Box Set | Vol. 3 | Books 7-9 Page 49
