by Cat Johnson
"Oh my God. It's still by the door. I'll get it." Still in the heels she'd pretended she'd needed to change, Trish jumped down, holding on to the edge of the counter to keep from twisting an ankle.
While Crash was busy tucking in his shirt and zipping his pants, she ran as fast as she could to the door. She spotted the incriminating item on the floor right where Crash had dropped it. Trish bent down and scooped up the scrap of lace. She wadded the fabric into a ball in her fist just as the bedroom door opened and her brother came out wearing the expression she was familiar with from their childhood. The one that looked too innocent to be real, which he donned when he'd been up to no good. It was obvious he and Dawn had done something in there. The only question was why the hell hadn't they taken their time tonight the way they had last night?
"You ready to drive us back to the boat?" he asked, straightening the shirt not so neatly tucked into his pants.
"Already?" Trish put on her own look of innocence.
"Yeah, it's getting late and we have to check in early tonight. Remember?"
"And you want to go out somewhere else before you do." The thought had the acid backing up into her throat.
Why did Danny's plan bother her so much? The reason moved closer to stand behind her now. Crash. She didn't want him at some strip club surrounded by women who for a twenty dollar bill—or however much a damn lap dance cost—would grind their bodies against his.
"I'm sorry, Trish, but I promised some of the guys we'd meet them for a drink at a club near the boat. It's no big deal. You and I got to have dinner together and hang out, didn't we?"
Trish scowled at her brother's lie, or rather avoidance of the complete truth. Crash had told her about Danny's plan to go to the strip club across the street from where the ship was docked. She noticed Danny never had mentioned which club he'd be ditching her and Dawn to go to.
"We have time to get down there, Zip. It's early yet." Crash stepped closer and she felt his hand on the small of her back, where her brother couldn't see his touch.
The intimate gesture made Trish more pissed she'd be saying goodbye to him sooner rather than later, thanks to Danny. "It's not like I'm holding you up. As soon as Dawn is ready, we can go."
Danny glanced down at Trish's feet. "I thought you had to change your shoes. That's why we came up here in the first place."
Crap. She'd forgotten about that ruse.
"I do, but the door to the bedroom seemed to be closed for some reason so I couldn't get to my shoes, now could I?" After adding a good dose of attitude to her tone, she strutted around her brother and headed for the bedroom door.
She smothered the guilt and wadded the panties tighter in her hand. She held them behind the skirt of her dress as she walked so he wouldn't see. Trish shouldn't be laying into her brother about being shut inside the bedroom with Dawn since she and Crash had been behaving just as badly together out here without even the privacy of a door.
Right now, she didn't care if she was right or not. All she could think about was the goodbye ahead.
Dawn was still in the bathroom, which was good. It gave Trish time to step behind the closet door and slip her underwear back on. Only then, after she was no longer commando, did she take the time to look for a different pair of shoes. They'd have to be flats since the other pair of heels she'd packed didn't match this dress. Not that it mattered. All she'd be doing was sitting in the car and driving. Delivering her brother and the man she'd been having sex with just minutes before right into the arms of some naked woman-for-hire.
But before they disappeared into the ironically named gentlemen's club she'd have to say goodbye to both of them, and that would be the hardest part.
The door to the bathroom opened and she turned to see Dawn, a little pink cheeked, in the doorway, although Trish couldn't say that she wasn't looking a little flushed herself after her own quickie with Crash.
"You ready to go?" Trish asked.
Dawn's brow wrinkled. "Go where?"
"I have to drive them to the dock. Danny is itching to get back."
"Why? I thought they had a few more hours."
"They do." Not in the mood to enable Danny's half truths considering he was taking Crash away from her earlier than necessary, and to be with naked women no less, Trish decided to tell Dawn the real reason. "There's a strip club across the street from their ship he wants to go to."
Dawn's frown deepened. "No wonder he was in such a rush."
"Yup." Trish sat right on the carpet and pulled off her heels, tossing them one at a time into the closet. She slipped on her flats and stood. "Ready?"
"Yeah. Let's go." Dawn's expression told Trish she was no happier about Danny's plan, and there was nothing either one of them could do about it.
Her brother and the guy she was crushing on hard were both heading to the damn warzone in Afghanistan and the only thing Trish could do was drop them off for one last night out on the town, and then pray they'd both come home seven long months from now. That pretty much sucked.
~ * ~
Trish pulled along the curb, out of the way of the traffic, and put the car in park.
Crash noticed it was early enough that, unlike when she'd dropped them off this morning just minutes before they were due back onboard, there wasn't a line of cabs and troops streaming toward the boat.
The one good thing about this drive was that Dawn had insisted Zippy sit in the backseat with her. That left Crash in the front next to Trish. It was a small thing, but he felt better being there. Like he wasn't loving her and then leaving her, even though that was exactly what he'd done thanks to Zippy's speedy performance tonight.
He would have thought all that alcohol would have extended the man's stamina. Crash knew from experience that much tequila sure as shit would have meant a marathon session in the bedroom for him. But that wasn't in the cards for tonight.
As Trish cut the engine, Crash opened the door and stepped onto the curb.
Trish walked around the car just as Zippy and Dawn crawled from the backseat. "So I guess this is goodbye."
Zippy enveloped Trish in a hug. "I'll call before we leave the country. After that, I'm putting my cell service on hold until we get back."
"Okay. Make sure to email me and give me your mailing address over there so I have it."
"I will."
Trish clung a little tighter before she released Zippy. "Goodbye, big brother."
"Bye, sis. And thanks for the ride."
"You're welcome."
Zippy stepped back and Dawn launched herself at him. While his friend was occupied with a handful of tipsy and now, teary woman, Crash decided to take advantage of the time to say a semi-private goodbye to Trish.
"I had a really good time this weekend."
"Me too." She swallowed hard and raised her gaze to his. "Stay safe, okay?"
"That's the plan." After one more look at Zippy to make sure he was still occupied with Dawn, Crash pulled Trish close and hugged her hard. He'd been inside this woman not even an hour ago. It was a hell of a thing he couldn't even kiss her goodbye now.
Fuck it. Zippy was probably still drunk enough he wouldn't notice anyway. Crash cupped the back of Trish's head, leaned close and pressed his mouth to hers in one brief, hard kiss that he hoped told her how much he did enjoy their time together. All of it.
He pulled back and dropped his hands from her just as Zippy extricated himself from Dawn's hold.
Zippy turned to Crash. "Ready to go?
"Yup." He dipped his head in a nod and then glanced at Trish. "Thanks again for everything."
"Anytime." So much promise in that one word and her tiny, sad smile, but it was futile. Seven months in Afghanistan was Crash's reality.
"All right. Let's go." Zippy turned and looked both ways, waiting for a break in the traffic to cross the street to get to the club.
Crash hated with everything in him to be leaving to go to a damn club when he and Trish could have had more time together tonight. With
a heavy heart, he turned to follow Zippy. Behind him, he heard the doors of Trish's car slam and the engine fire to life.
Their whirlwind weekend fling was good and over. He glanced back long enough to see her pull away from the curb before he had to jog behind Zippy as a car stopped to let them cross.
He'd go to the strip club with his friend. He'd sit there, even have a beer, but Crash knew he'd only be there in body, not in spirit. His mind would be on the woman in that car driving away from him.
CHAPTER 8
Camp Leatherneck/Bastion
Helmand Province, Afghanistan
June 2013
"We have to have a roommate? Seriously?" Zippy turned on the three overhead ceiling lights with a flip of the switch inside the door of their quarters. His lips were pressed together as he shook his head, telling Crash he wasn't done ranting yet. "We're fucking senior staff NCOs, and we don't even get our own quarters on this deployment?"
Crash propped his M4 against the wall just inside the heavy steel door of the windowless, metal Containerized Living Unit he'd call home for the near future.
He made his way across the bare tile floor, leaned against the single table in the CLU and tossed the piece of paper in his hand onto the bare surface next to him. On it was written the five-digit code for the cypher entry lock on their door, but he'd already memorized it.
Crossing his arms, he took in the rest of their accommodations for the next seven months. He eyed the two bunk beds and four mattresses lined up along the walls. Given the set up, he figured they were lucky they only had to double up. One word from command and things could get a whole lot more crowded in their ten by sixteen foot quarters. "You know, most of the other gunnies have four in a can. We should be grateful there's only the two of us in here for now."
"Great." Zippy rolled his eyes. "Keep talking like that and you're gonna jinx us."
"Well, look at it this way. As least we were assigned together. They could have stuck us with some Marines we don't even know." Crash tried to point out the bright side of the situation, though given Zippy's mood right now three strangers as bunkmates might be preferable to his company.
Zippy twisted his mouth to one side. "I guess."
"I heard there's free Wi-Fi. That help any?" If he was going to have to live with him, Crash was determined to knock this shitty attitude out of Zippy.
"I heard it doesn't work more often than it does and the signal is crap." His friend shot him a look and moved toward the bunk beds. "Which side you want?"
"Does it matter?" Crash asked.
Four undecorated steel walls, uninterrupted except for a single door, made up the backdrop of their lush accommodations. It wasn't like there was a view or one side that was better than the other.
"Just asking." Zippy bent to unzip his duffle. "It's freaking freezing in here."
"Well, Jesus, don't bitch about it to anybody. Use a damn blanket and be happy we're not sweltering in this steel box." Given it was about a hundred and eighteen degrees Fahrenheit outside Crash wasn't about to complain the A/C in their can was too cold.
Being raised in the South, Crash firmly believed it was better to be too cold than too hot. A man could always put on more clothes, but he could only take off so many. And he had no intention of sleeping naked with Zippy in the next rack.
"I only brought one blanket with me. I'll see how it is sleeping tonight. I might have to ask Trish or my mom to send me another one."
The mention of Trish caught Crash's attention.
They'd agreed it was a predeployment fling, yet Crash revisited memories of those two nights he'd had with Trish every time his head hit a pillow.
Sometimes when there wasn't even a pillow. He'd thought of her during the layover in Germany while leaning against his bag on the floor of the airport waiting for the next flight. He'd thought of her until he dozed off on the four flights it took to get them from North Carolina to their final destination in the Helmand Province. He had no doubt he'd continue to think of her and the time they spent together while in his rack just feet from her brother.
Boredom. That's what it was that brought his mind to her so often. It's not like there was a television or much else for distraction. Crash hadn't wanted to waste the space in his bags bringing anything to read other than the compact leather-bound bible he'd carried during every deployment he'd been on in his career.
Of course, he'd resort to thinking about Trish. It was a good memory and there was nothing else to think about. That was all it was. It wasn't like he was falling for her or anything.
Still, he couldn't stop himself from extending the conversation. "So, you talk to your family since we left?"
While pawing through clothes in his bag, Zippy said, "Not since we were laid over for those few hours at the base in Maine."
Crash nodded. "I guess we should boot up our laptops and see if there really is usable Wi-Fi. Then we can at least email home to tell them we're safe."
Zippy pulled a set of sheets out of his bag and tossed them on the bed. "I'll try tomorrow. I think we have to get a code to log in anyway. I wanna get unpacked and lie the hell down. I didn't sleep for shit last night in Kyrgyzstan. I'm exhausted. Besides, there's what? An eight and a half hour time difference? Neither Trish or my parents are going to be on Skype right now."
Skype. Crash hadn't thought of that possibility. Email yes, but live video chats, no. While Trish was on with Zippy in their tiny, shared space, Crash would hear her voice. Her image would be just feet from him, in living color on the computer screen.
Shit. So much for his hopes that the memories would fade, that he'd forget about her so he could concentrate on getting through these seven months. This wouldn't help their mutual plan to have a no-strings fling and then part ways.
Strange, but the more Crash thought about it, the more he realized he wasn't all that upset that plan had gone down the crapper. He liked the idea of seeing and hearing her again, even if she was talking to Zippy and not him. Crash couldn't afford an emotional attachment right now, but hell, he could hear her bicker with her brother and enjoy the sound of her laugh without getting attached. Hell, that would be almost as good as having a television.
~ * ~
New Jersey
"Look. I know there's something up with you." Dawn's eyes zeroed in on Trish across the table.
Trish paused, her glass of wine halfway to her mouth. "What? No. What makes you say that?"
"Because the past couple of times we've been out you haven't mentioned our trip to New York once. And if I bring it up you change the subject."
"No, I don't. You're crazy." Trish's heart rate sped. She'd been so careful to not talk about that trip so nothing would slip out about her and Crash, that now Dawn suspected.
"No, I'm not crazy. You're obviously pissed about what happened between your brother and me. I'm sorry, okay? If I'd known it would affect our friendship, I never would have done it. I honestly thought you were behind helping me be with him when you suggested we go up to the room that second night. But I see you weren't and I can't change it now, so can you just please forgive me so we can move on?"
Phew. Trish tried to hold in the breath of relief that threatened to whoosh out of her.
"It's fine. I forgive you." And now Trish had double the guilt to carry around. First, because she was hiding her night with Crash, and more because now Dawn assumed it was the hookup with Danny making things weird between them.
"How's he doing anyway?"
Trish glanced up. "Who?"
"Danny. Your brother. The one in Afghanistan." Dawn's eyes widened as she stared at Trish.
"Oh, he's fine." Christ, she sucked at this lying stuff. "I got an email telling me he's okay and that they'd gotten to Afghanistan. It took them a few days, but they're on base now. They're sharing a room, which they weren't expecting so they're kind of pissed about that."
"They? Who is this they you keep talking about?"
And there was one more mistake. Trish h
ad been better off when Dawn thought she was mad. "Danny and Crash. The guy who was here—"
"I remember Crash. He was cute, don't you think?"
Cute was not a word Trish would use to describe Crash. Puppies were cute. Toddlers were cute. Crash was—silent but strong. Big but gentle. Rugged but handsome.
Trish tore herself out of her own thoughts long enough to glance up and see Dawn watching her, brows raised, apparently expecting some sort of response to her last comment. "Uh, yeah. I guess."
Dawn frowned. "Jesus, woman. You need a man. If you're so deep into sexual hibernation you didn't notice that hunka man and how he was looking at you that weekend, we've got an emergency situation here."
"Was he looking at me?" Trish couldn't help it. She had to ask.
"Uh, yes. Oh my God. I'm getting you laid tonight. That's it. Desperate times demand desperate measures." Dawn craned her neck to look around them, presumably for a candidate for her quest to get Trish some sex. Little did Dawn know that Trish had so much sex that first night with Crash, the next day she'd had sore muscles. She'd been sore other places, as well.
There was no way she could be with another guy for a meaningless night of sex now, because what was supposed to be exactly that with Crash, hadn't been meaningless at all. She was clearly incapable of having a one-night stand. She couldn't get him or their parting kiss out of her mind.
Dawn leaned closer. "Okay, there's a guy at the bar. No wedding ring and he keeps glancing this way. I think he's checking us out. You should go flirt with him."
"First of all no wedding ring doesn't mean he's single or available. Second, he's probably checking you out, not me." Trish tipped her head toward the good expanse of cleavage Dawn was showing tonight.
"Yeah, because men never look at you with all that hair of yours bouncing around and those gorgeous green eyes and legs so long you could play women's basketball." Dawn rolled her eyes. "Please."
Trish smiled. "Aw, thanks. You're sweet."
With all the flirting and cleavage, it was sometimes easy to overlook what a genuinely generous person Dawn was.
"Not sweet. It's true." Dawn pushed her chair back from the table and stood. "I'm going to ask if he'd like to join us."
