Rank & File (Anchor Point Book 4)

by L. A. Witt

  Brent smiled. “Good. Glad I could help.” He leaned in and kissed me.

  This was so perfect. Especially after the day I’d had, but also in its own right. I was never more relaxed and content than I was when Brent was lying next to me.

  I stroked his hair.

  I might be stupid for dating you at all.

  In fact, I am stupid for dating you at all.

  I pressed a tender kiss to the top of his head.

  But I’d be a fucking idiot not to fall for you.

  Night after night, I found myself in bed with Will. I didn’t think I’d ever spent more time naked than I had since I started seeing him. It had long since become normal, though. The whole day could be chaotic or painfully boring, and I could be at the end of a fraying thread, ready to lose my shit completely, and then . . . ah. There. Tangled up with his warm, familiar body under either his sheets or mine. It was like hitting the reset button on my brain. Something told me that if we just climbed into bed together and didn’t have sex, it would have the same effect. It wasn’t the sweat and orgasms—it was him.

  But we probably wouldn’t be testing that theory anytime soon. Once I was in bed with him, sex was pretty much inevitable. I couldn’t get enough of him, and he wasn’t showing any signs of getting tired of me either. For all he joked about getting old and not being able to keep up with a young guy like me, he did just fine.

  Tonight was like any night. Sort of. We were at his place, comfortable and satisfied together, but he’d been a little distant earlier. Not standoffish, and definitely not far enough away to turn down my playful come-ons, but there’d been something else there. And I had a feeling I knew what it was.

  I turned on my side and lifted myself up on my elbow. Draping my arm across his chest, I said, “You okay?”

  He nodded and absently played with my hair. “Just a long day. Well, long week. But . . .” He smiled, genuinely if a little sleepily. “I’m okay.”

  “Good. And I, uh, meant to ask, but how are you doing? After the other night?”

  Will shrugged, and I had the distinct impression he was trying not to shudder. “Better.”

  “Glad to hear it.” I ran my fingers along the shaved side of his head. He had a severe high and tight, so he must’ve had his hair cut in the last day or so. The back and sides were shaved to the skin, and the top was just long enough to almost mess up when we were fooling around. I loved it like that. I liked the way the sides gently abraded my fingertips when I ran them across.

  We were quiet for a little while, but I couldn’t let go of the thought about the other night. It had really shaken him, and even now, it didn’t seem like it had gone away.

  I rested my hand on his chest again and studied him, trying to read him. “I’m curious about what happened. I mean, if you don’t want to talk about it . . .”

  His eyes lost focus. I thought for a moment he’d tell me the bedroom wasn’t where he wanted to think about that shit, but then he quietly said, “We had a domestic. I mean, we get those all the time in base housing. Difference was that this call was . . . one I’ve been expecting for a while.”

  “Expecting? How so?”

  “The couple seemed like a time bomb. My guys have been called out to their place several times, and it kept escalating. Husband and wife were both really good at coming up with excuses for dents in the wall or broken glass or whatever.”

  I grimaced. “Holy shit.”

  “Yeah. This time, I guess it was finally bad enough for him to press charges against her.”

  “Oh, it was the wife beating him up?”

  Will nodded. “Happens more often than you think. Doesn’t get reported as much, but we see it a lot.” He shifted uncomfortably, gaze still fixed someplace else. “When it’s repeat incidents like this, we’re always afraid it’s going to get too far out of control before we can actually do anything.”

  “Like someone’s going to get killed?”

  The shudder answered the question well enough.

  “Does that happen?” I winced at my own stupidity. “I mean, on base. Do you ever see murders and things like that?”

  “They’re rare on bases, especially smaller ones like Adams, but they happen.”

  “And you’ve . . . been to them?”

  Will nodded again. Then, slowly, he took in a breath. “Remember how I told you I hate domestics?”

  “Yeah?”

  He swallowed. “Years ago, there was a couple in base housing. We kept getting called out to their house, and we all knew what was happening, but we couldn’t prove it. And as long as we didn’t see anything and she wouldn’t press charges . . .” He sighed. “What could we do?”

  I studied him, then laced our fingers together. “What happened?”

  “We got called out. Again. Neighbor heard something and called us.” His eyes were distant, and he was silent for a long moment. “My partner and I were the first on the scene. We . . .” He paused, then met my gaze. “We were the ones to call into dispatch and report that our domestic was now a homicide.”

  My heart dropped. “Oh my God.”

  “They train you for that stuff, you know? They tell you over and over that eventually, it’s going to happen. You’re going to be the first to show up at a crime scene.” Shaking his head, he said, more to himself, “They can train you for decades, but nothing really prepares you for it.”

  “I can’t imagine anything could.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. “No. So, ever since then, whenever we get a domestic—especially when it’s a house we’ve been to more than once—I go right back to that day.”

  “Has it ever happened since then?”

  “Not on my watch, fortunately, but yeah . . . it’s happened.” He didn’t elaborate.

  I studied him for a moment, then whispered, “How do you do it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I have to psych myself up every day to face a desk and paperwork. You come to work and . . . shit, you never know what you’re going to deal with.”

  “If I don’t do it, who will?”

  “I know someone has to do it,” I said. “I just . . . How do you stay sane?”

  He absently trailed his hand up and down my arm. “Because sometimes you can keep it from happening. The day I met you, that whole thing could’ve gotten ugly if my MAs hadn’t intervened. Yeah, they needed backup, but in the end, everyone calmed down, and nobody got hurt.”

  I swallowed, remembering all too clearly how sure I’d been that Jenna’s husband was going to rip my head off once the two of them had finished their screaming match. I’d never in my life been more relieved to see the cops, even if I’d been scared the report would hurt my career.

  “That’s the kind of thing that keeps me going,” he said. “Knowing that we sometimes keep the really bad shit from happening.”

  “I guess I can see that. Feeling like you’re actually doing something.”

  He nodded. “And, really, even with the bad shit, this is what I want to do. I like my job. I like the Navy. I like being a cop. It’s hard as fuck, and there are days that keep me awake at night, but it’s definitely my calling.”

  The words prodded at me in a weird way. When he talked about his job being his calling, even after almost twenty years and with all the horrific crap it threw at him, there was an undercurrent of passion in his voice. It wasn’t just a path he was following because it was the path laid out in front of him. It was who he was.

  I should have been able to relate to that. I should have been able to nod along and say, Yeah, me too—I know exactly what you mean.

  But where that passion should’ve been? Nothing. Not a goddamned thing. And it wasn’t a void that could be filled with my usual platitudes about paying my dues or getting there eventually. What the fuck?

  “Hey.” He touched my cheek. “You’re spacing out on me.”

  I shook myself. “Sorry. Just . . .” Wondering when I stopped knowing who the hell I am. I cleare
d my throat and smiled. “I’m good.”

  “You sure?”

  I had a dozen assurances on the tip of my tongue. Mostly bland shit about being all right, just thinking, being distracted, whatever. But looking at him now, realizing that for all I was bored and frustrated with my life these days, that predestined Navy path had led me here. Maybe my job sucked right now, but it seemed like a small price to pay for nights like this.

  For him, the horrific parts of his job were worth it whenever he could defuse a situation and keep people safe. When he got to be that thin blue line that meant the difference between someone getting hurt and not.

  For me, right now, the boring, demoralizing, and seemingly endless drudgery of my job seemed worth it when I came home and landed in bed next to him.

  Smiling for real this time, I trailed my fingers along the shaved side of his head. “Yeah. I’m good.”

  Then I leaned in and kissed him, and no one asked any more questions that night.

  As much as I loved winding up in bed with him most evenings, I had to admit that, especially after our trip to Portland, the bedroom walls were closing in. Now that I knew what it was like to be out with Will, I wished like hell we could actually date. It would be nice to have a change of scenery and go somewhere besides one of our apartments without having to dash off in separate cars to another city. Maybe eat something that didn’t involve tipping a driver. This was the reality of dating him, though, so I sucked it up.

  But it wasn’t all bad. Having the same scenery over and over wasn’t a horrible imposition when that meant spending a lot of time under the sheets.

  Sprawled across his bed, I wiped some sweat off my forehead. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this much sex in this little time.”

  Will laughed. “I can’t remember the last time I had this much good sex.”

  A pleasant shiver ran through me. “Ditto.” I circled his nipple with my nail, grinning when he pulled in a sharp breath, and added, “We should go back to Portland. Like, stat.”

  “I know. Definitely.” He paused, then frowned. “Except my next off weekend is Thanksgiving weekend.”

  “Thanks— Aw, fuck. Is that really coming up already?”

  “Yep.” He groaned. “Under two weeks now, and I am so not looking forward to it.”

  I laughed humorlessly. “Sounds like you’re about as enthusiastic about it as I am.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yep.” I trailed my fingertips through his dark chest hair. “So why don’t you want to go?”

  “Because I hate pretending to be straight.”

  The answer—not to mention the bitterness coating it—made my stomach flip. “Your family doesn’t know you’re gay?”

  “Oh, they know I’m gay.” He sighed. “They just refuse to acknowledge it. So we agreed a long time ago that I’m gay except in their house.”

  “How the hell does that work?”

  “Basically, I don’t discuss boyfriends or dating with them, and they don’t ask me when I’m settling down with a woman.”

  I studied him, trying to proceed with caution. “Didn’t you have a boyfriend for a long time, though?”

  “Six years,” he said quietly, absently sliding his hand up and down my arm. “And I never once said his name to them.”

  “Wow. I can’t imagine.”

  “It sucks.” He cleared his throat and turned toward me. “So why is Thanksgiving such a drag for you?”

  “Besides traveling to the East Coast during the busiest travel week of the year?”

  “Besides that, yeah.”

  I pushed out a breath. “Because the conversation will revolve entirely around my job and my brother’s job. So . . . the Navy. Like, I don’t mind discussing my job, you know? But give it a rest once in a while.”

  Will nodded. “I can totally understand that. It sounds exhausting. And I’m not looking forward to it either.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” He exhaled. “For the opposite reason—what I won’t be able to talk about.”

  “Which is?”

  Will looked in my eyes. “You. I’m used to not being able to talk about you because of our ranks. But it’ll be weird to have to keep quiet because . . .” The sadness in his eyes made my throat tighten. He brought our hands up and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. “Because you’re a man.”

  My heart sank. Fuck. It was hard to imagine not being able to tell my parents I had a boyfriend. Then again, I wasn’t so sure I could tell them about this one. Not without very carefully omitting a few details.

  He gently freed his hand and caressed my face, lightly callused fingers scuffing across the stubble on my jaw. “I wish I could tell them about you.”

  Forget sinking—my heart wanted to break. “They’d probably remind you that we’re technically fraternizing.” Really, Brent? That’s where you went with that?

  But Will sighed. He slid his hand up into my hair, drew me in, and kissed me softly. “Is it weird that half the time, I completely forget we shouldn’t be doing this?”

  “So it’s not just me, then.”

  “No. Definitely not.”

  I drew back again so we could see each other. “I know this is still a bad idea. I know we should have stopped before we started.” I touched his face, fingertips hissing across his five-o’clock shadow. “But I also know I don’t want to.”

  “Neither do I. I mean, I . . .” Will pressed his cheek against my hand. “I thought we were just fooling around, and maybe we were, but it doesn’t really feel like that anymore.”

  I swallowed. “No, it doesn’t.”

  It hasn’t for a long time.

  Since at least before we went to Portland.

  Oh God. I am really in over my head, aren’t I?

  I trailed my fingers along the side of his head. “How long before the novelty wears off and the secrecy gets old?”

  “The secrecy got old a long time ago. And I figured when it did, I’d want to jump ship.” He sighed as he slid his palm up my arm. “But I don’t. I’m just frustrated that I’ve met someone like you, and I can’t breathe a word about it to anyone.”

  My stomach fluttered. He had a hell of a knack for saying exactly what I was thinking but hadn’t been able to put into words, and hearing my own thoughts on his lips was both a rush because he felt the same, and heartbreaking because what the hell could we do about it? At the end of the day, the secrecy wasn’t negotiable. We either did this in the dark or we didn’t do it at all, and that second part had stopped being an option somewhere in that space between fucking in a bathroom stall and waking up together in Portland.

  “Maybe we do need some time away again,” I whispered. “After we both get back from seeing our families.”

  Will nodded. “I don’t think there’s any maybe about it. I need to kick out the rest of the world and just be with you. After I’ve been with my family?” He whistled.

  “Yeah. Me too. Especially the family part.” Especially the “just be with you” part.

  A tired smile played at his lips. “Well, we’ve still got another week or so before we have to run off for the holidays.” The way his hand was drifting down toward my hip made me squirm.

  “You’re right.” I pressed against him as my cock started to stir. “What do you think we should do with it?”

  “I think you know.”

  He lifted his head, pulled me in, and we both sank to the bed in a kiss that very quickly went from sweet to oh fuck yes. There was a renewed sense of urgency too. Not the frantic need for sex because we’d been pretending not to know each other all day, but the need to exploit every single second we had at our disposal before we had to be apart for a long weekend. Holding him closer, kissing him harder, I needed us to be sweating and panting and fucking, but more than that, I needed us to be here.

  Oh yeah. I’m in way over my head.

  And I don’t care if I drown.

  I’d known Noah long enough to be able to read him like a book. We
were cops too, so picking up on things sort of came with the territory. He’d tried his damnedest to keep his cards close to his vest, but I’d always seen right through him. Maybe I’d been in denial for a good long time because I hadn’t wanted to admit my best friend had a serious drinking problem, but even the subtle signs hadn’t escaped my notice.

  So it really wasn’t a surprise that it cut both ways. Especially these days when Noah was sober.

  It was two days before Thanksgiving, so the precinct was utterly dead. A lot of people were on leave, and I was heading out myself at the end of shift. Noah had taken last Thanksgiving off, so he was working over the holiday, though I suspected Anthony would get a pass to join him on-base for dinner.

  For the moment, though, it was only him and me. He was lounging in a chair in front of my desk, and his full attention was fixed right on me. “What’s going on?”

  “Hmm?”

  Noah rolled his eyes. “C’mon, dude. Playing stupid never worked on you, and you know damn well it’s not going to work on me either.”

  I blinked, something cold slithering through my veins. How much did he know? “You want to at least tell me what I’m playing stupid about?”

  He smirked. “You’re getting laid, and you haven’t said two words about him.”

  “Oh. That.” I laughed, trying to play it cool, and hoped he bought it. “I told you—it isn’t just one guy. I’m playing the—”

  “Nuh-uh. Not when you keep spacing out and wandering around with that grin on your face.”

  Oh crap.

  “Come on.” He thumped his knuckle on the desk. “We’ve compared notes on pieces of ass for years, and you couldn’t stop talking about He Who Doesn’t Deserve to Be Mentioned Anymore when you met him. But now you’re being awfully cagey.” Noah inclined his head. “What’s the deal?”

  I chewed my lip, avoiding his eyes.

  Noah inched his chair closer to the desk and lowered his voice. “Hey. What’s going on?” The teasing in his tone was gone, replaced by concern. “Whatever it is, it stays between us.”

  I lifted my gaze and searched his.

  His forehead creased as his eyes widened. I could only imagine the scenarios bouncing around in his head.