"Guess what else?" he continued. "I yell sometimes. I like to yell. I like to fight. But I don't always win, because I'm not a hero. I'm not always right. I'm not always in control. I make mistakes, sometimes stupid mistakes. I get angry. I get hurt. I get scared. And right now I'm all three of those things." His voice got softer, and he looked away from her, out the kitchen window. "Only I can't tell you that, can I? Because... you expect more from me."
The silence that surrounded them seemed almost unnatural, artificial. Blue could hear the hum of the refrigerator, the almost inaudible ticking of the clock. Outside, a breeze blew and a tree branch bumped the house.
He heard Lucy take a step toward him and then another step, and then he felt her hand on his back. It was a touch meant to give comfort. Blue didn't know what he wanted from her, but he was almost certain it wasn't comfort. Still, when he turned and saw the sheen of tears in her eyes, he knew without a doubt that he was going to take whatever she had to offer. And maybe even then some.
She went into his arms, holding him as tightly as he held her, and the longing that welled up inside him was sharp and painful as hell. This wasn't comfort; it was torture.
"I'm so sorry," she murmured.
He felt her hands on his back, in his hair, meant to soothe and calm. It wasn't working.
"Lucy, I want you," he whispered, "and I don't think I can stand it anymore."
He felt her stiffen at his words. She lifted her head and he gazed directly into her eyes.
"Blue—"
He touched her lips with one finger, silencing her.
"I'm not what you think I am," he said. "You think I'm some kind of gentleman. You think all you have to do is tell me 'no,' and 'don't,' even though you damn well want it as much as I do. You think that because I'm some kind of hero I'll keep both of us from going too far. You think you can look at me with these big, brown eyes, not bothering to hide how much you want me, too. You think you can put me upstairs in some guest room, while you sleep one flight away, with your bedroom door unlocked and open, as if I'm strong enough to keep us apart. But guess what? You leave that door open and unlocked tonight, and I'm going to take it as the invitation that it is—because I'm not strong enough. I don't want to be strong enough anymore. I'm not a hero, Lucy, and I'm tired as hell of playing one."
She was trembling, actually trembling, in his arms. "Blue, I can't. You're right. Part of me wants to be with you that way, but I can't—"
"Maybe you can't, but I sure as hell can."
Blue kissed her. He covered Lucy's mouth with his and drank her in. She tasted sweet and hot and she so absolutely set him on fire. If she resisted his kiss, she resisted for all of a half a second. And then her tongue welcomed him fiercely, pulling him into her mouth, harder, deeper.
The power of her answering passion took his breath away. He kissed her again and again, trying desperately to get even closer, to fill his senses with her, to have more, more.
He reached for her shirt, yanking the tails up and out of the waist of her pants. He found the softness of her skin and moaned at the smooth sensation beneath his fingertips.
And still he kissed her and she kissed him. It was wild, incredible, amazing. He couldn't get enough, would never get enough. Her hands were in his hair, on his back, on the curve of his rear end, pulling him closer to her.
She could surely feel him pressed against her, fully aroused. He was so hard he hurt.
Blue picked her up and her legs locked around his waist. He was dizzy, delirious with the knowledge that he was going to have her. Right here and right now, he could take her and she wouldn't refuse.
He pulled his shirt off over his head and quickly unbuckled his shoulder holster, then tossed it onto the kitchen table. Lucy's hands were everywhere, skimming across the muscles in his shoulders and chest and back, touching him, caressing his skin, just lightly enough to drive him totally insane.
I can't.
Blue's eyes opened. Lucy hadn't spoken. She was still kissing him. She hadn't given voice to her protest again. But still, it echoed in his head, over and over and over.
I can't.
If they didn't stop, she'd lose her job and her self-respect, just as she'd told him.
And if they did stop, he'd lose his mind. After all, he was no hero.
But even so, how could he willingly do something that would destroy her?
As if she felt his hesitation, Lucy lifted her head, staring with sudden shock into Blue's eyes.
"Oh, my God," she said. "What are we doing? What am I doing? Blue, I can't do this."
Blue gently set her down, away from him, on the kitchen counter. He had to look away from her—she looked too damn good with her hair messed and her clothing askew. He picked up his holster from the table and his shirt from the floor, keeping his eyes averted.
"I'll be outside," he said, barely getting the words out through his clenched teeth, "getting some air."
Chapter 9
When Lucy came home from the police station, the sun had already set. Her house was dark. There were no lights on, and she climbed out of her truck filled with trepidation. Where had Blue gone this time?
She'd told him to stay here, but that didn't mean he'd be here.
Hoping she'd find another note on the kitchen table, Lucy wearily climbed the stairs to the porch, searching for her key in the darkness.
"It's unlocked."
Lucy jumped. My God. Blue was sitting out on the porch in the dark.
"You're here," she said inanely.
"You asked me to stick around."
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see that he was on the porch swing, rocking slightly, just watching her.
"And you told me you were going to do what you wanted."
"Not entirely," he said softly, his meaning clear. He was referring to this afternoon—to when they had almost made love.
Lucy sat down on the steps. It was as far as she could get from him and still be on the porch.
"I'm sorry about before," he murmured.
She turned to look at him. From this distance, she couldn't quite make out his features in the darkness. "Which part of before?" she asked bluntly. "The part where you yelled at me, or the part where we almost had sex?"
"I'm sorry for yelling."
"But not for the other."
He chuckled. "I'm sorry about that, too—but only that we didn't get to finish what we started."
Lucy was silent for several long minutes, just looking up at the stars. Another man probably wouldn't have admitted that. Another man would have pretended to apologize. Of course, another man wouldn't have blithely lied about the fact that he was carrying three different concealed weapons. Another man wouldn't have egged on an angry man holding a two-by-four.
Blue McCoy wasn't a hero. He was a man, with a man's strengths and weaknesses. Until his outburst, Lucy hadn't allowed herself to see past the comic book-perfect facade she'd constructed for him. She hadn't allowed him to have any real human emotions or fears. But he did.
The moon came out from behind the clouds. It was still quite full, and it lit the yard and made the white paint of the porch seem to glow.
"Are you really afraid?" Lucy asked.
She heard him sigh. "Normally, I wouldn't admit something like that more than once a decade," he said. "But, yeah, Yankee. I'm scared."
She turned to face him, leaning back against the banister, tucking her knees in to her chest and holding them with her arms. "You don't act like you're afraid of anything."
"I'm not afraid of fighting," he said. "I know what to do when it comes down to violence. I know how to respond to that. I know I'm good at it. The thought of getting hurt doesn't frighten me, either—I've been hurt before. Pain ends. Bodies heal. I'm not afraid of dying, either." He looked up at the moon, squinting slightly as he studied it. "I've got my faith," he added quietly.
He turned to gaze at her, and his eyes reflected the moon's silvery light, making him appear o
therworldly.
"But I'm terrified of getting caught in a legal system that's corrupt—and possibly controlled by the people who are trying to frame me. I feel like I'm in the middle of a war that I don't know how to fight."
He closed his eyes briefly, and Lucy knew that this wasn't easy for him.
"I'm afraid of going to jail, Lucy. It damn near scares me to death. I won't let them lock me up. I swear, I'll run before that happens."
Lucy sat forward. "But don't you see? That'll make you look guilty."
"I already look guilty as hell," Blue said flatly. "Everyone in town thinks I did it."
"Well, I know you didn't kill Gerry," Lucy said fiercely, "and I'm going to make damn sure that you don't go to jail for something you didn't do."
She could see an odd play of emotions cross his face in the moonlight.
"You still believe in me," he said. He sounded faintly surprised.
"Of course."
"Even though I'm not... some kind of superhero?"
The truth was, Lucy liked him better this way. The human Blue seemed so much warmer, so much more real. Realizing he had imperfections and weaknesses added a depth and dimension to her image of him. He was still outrageously attractive—maybe even more so, because she knew now that he was human, with a full array of human emotions. His vulnerabilities contrasted with his strengths, giving him a sensitivity she hadn't realized he'd possessed.
"What does that have to do with whether I think you killed your stepbrother?" she asked evenly.
"I don't know," he admitted. He paused. "I guess maybe I misunderstood your reasons for wanting to help me."
Lucy laughed softly. "I assure you my reasons are only pure," she said. "The pursuit of justice. The defeat of evil. Things like that. Whether you can leap tall buildings has nothing to do with it."
Blue was silent. She knew he was thinking about Gerry. In Gerry's case, evil had won. And Lucy knew that if she didn't come up with some new evidence exonerating Blue, Chief Bradley was going to bring charges against him. With Matt Parker's damning testimony and without the hard proof of the tire tracks they'd seen, it was only a matter of time. She'd talked to Matt Parker today. He insisted that Leroy's story about finding the dirt bikes on the side of Route was true. And he swore it was Blue he saw up in the woods on the night Gerry had died.
"Maybe you should call someone," Lucy said. "Get a lawyer."
Blue shifted his weight, making the swing rock slowly.
"I tried calling Joe Cat this afternoon—Joe Catalanotto. He's my commanding officer in the Alpha Squad. And he's my friend," Blue told her. "I figured he'd know how to proceed, maybe even get me a good navy lawyer, get this mess cleared up. But I found out that Alpha Squad is out on a training mission until further notice. And SEAL Team Ten's normal liaison, Admiral Forrest, is suddenly unavailable." His normally relaxed voice sounded tense, tight. "I spoke to some pencil-pushing commander from Internal Affairs, who says he's handling all of Alpha Squad's paperwork and messages until further notice. IA does this every few years when it's time for budget cuts. This commander is looking for dirt—for reasons to get rid of Alpha Squad. I didn't dare tell him I wanted to talk to a lawyer. If he found out that one of the members of Alpha Squad was going to be up on murder charges..." Blue shook his head. "I've got to get through this on my own."
"But you're not on your own," Lucy said softly. "You've got me."
Across the porch, Blue tried to smile. "Thanks, Yankee, but..."
"I'm not part of Alpha Squad," she finished for him.
He nodded. "We've been trained to work as a team," he tried to explain.
"I know," Lucy said. "I know how the SEAL teams operate. And from what I've read about Alpha Squad, some of you guys have been together since basic training."
Blue nodded. "Joe Cat and I went through BUDS together more than ten years ago. We were swim buddies. Still are."
Swim buddies. That meant that all throughout BUDS- Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training—Blue and his friend Joe Cat had stuck together like glue. Where one went, the other had to follow. They had no doubt formed a bond that went way beyond friendship, based on respect and determination and an unswerving responsibility toward each other and Alpha Squad.
"I've read about Hell Week," Lucy said, resting her chin in the palm of her hand as she gazed up at him. "It sounds awful. Was it true that you had only four hours of sleep all week?"
"Yeah," Blue said with a smile. "Both Cat and I were hallucinating before it was over. Fortunately, when I was seeing sea monsters he took charge. And when he was the one foaming at the mouth I was able to grab him and set him back on track. That was one hell of a week. I guess that's why they call it that."
"Will you tell me about it?" Lucy asked.
Blue gave the porch swing another push with his foot and it creaked rhythmically as it swung back and forth. He gazed at her, his expression unreadable for many long moments.
"Please?" she added.
"'You gotta want it badly enough.'" Blue said.
For a second, Lucy was confused. But then he explained.
"That's what one of the SEAL instructors used to shout at us, and it's the single most lucid thing I remember about Hell Week."
The moon slipped back behind a cloud, taking its silvery light with it. Blue became a dark outline on the other side of the porch, but his voice surrounded her, as warm and smooth and completely enveloping as the darkness.
"The instructors would shout at us over these bullhorns," he said. "It was relentless. They would ridicule and torment us all the time as they hit us with surf torture or made us run endless laps on the beach or do sugar-cookie drills. But there was this one bastard—his nickname was Captain Blood—and he was the meanest, toughest instructor of them all. He was out for blood, literally. But one of the first things he ever said to us through his megaphone was 'You gotta want it badly enough.'"
Blue laughed softly. "It must've been on the first day. We were in the water. It was cold water, less than sixty degrees. We had to lock arms and just sit in the surf and try not to freeze our asses off. They called it surf torture and it was designed to see how much we could endure, the thought being that someday we'd find ourselves swimming for hours in the ice water off Alaska.
"Anyway, we were in the freezing mother of an ocean for about an hour, when the first man quit. It was so damn cold. I'd never been that cold before in my life. All around me I could hear other guys complaining. What were we doing this for? Why did we need to do this? What were the instructors trying to prove?"
The clouds covering the moon thinned and then broke apart and Blue paused. Lucy gazed up at him. She could picture him sitting in the freezing water, silently enduring the cold, his handsome face tight, his teeth clenched.
"As I sat there," Blue continued, "these other guys started to give up. Just like that. It got too uncomfortable, too tough, too painful, so they just up and quit. But I wasn't going anywhere. And I looked at Joe Cat, and I knew he wasn't going anywhere, either. I could tell from the expression on his face that he was thinking the same thing I was thinking—'You gotta want it badly enough.' And we did. We wanted to make it through, get our SEAL trident pin."
Blue smiled down at her, and Lucy found herself smiling almost foolishly back at him. His eyes seemed to caress her face and he shook his head slightly, as if he were bemused. "You are pretty, aren't you?" he asked softly.
Lucy had to look away. Everyone was pretty in the moonlight.
"You sure you don't want to sit up here on the swing, next to me?" Blue added.
She met his eyes evenly. "You know I can't."
"I know you won't," he countered.
"Either way," she said. "I better stay where I am."
"We could just hold hands," Blue said. "Like sweethearts. Nothing more. It'd be real innocent."
Lucy had to laugh. "You don't have a single innocent cell in your body, McCoy. You know as well as I do that holding hands would lead to a kiss, and
we both know where that would go."
Blue's eyes turned hot. "Yeah, I sure do," he said softly. "I spent most of the evening fantasizing about it."
Lucy stood up. "I think it's time for this conversation to end."
Blue sat up. He didn't want her to go. More, even more than he wanted to make love to Lucy, he wanted her company. Her smile and her beautiful midnight eyes kept all his demon fears at bay. "You sure you don't want to hear more about Hell Week?" he asked.
He'd never talked so much in his entire life. He'd never told his stories, recounted his past the way some of the other guys in the squad did over and over again. It wasn't that he didn't have good tales to tell—he just always preferred to listen.
And he and Joe Cat didn't talk that much. They knew each other so well that they shared each other's thoughts, communicating with a look or a nod.
His friendship with Daryl Becker—nicknamed Harvard because of his Ivy League college education—was filled with talk of books and philosophy, of science and art and technology and anything—you name it and they'd touched on it. But Harvard did most of the talking, thinking aloud, rattling off ideas before they'd even become fully formed. Blue kept his thinking to himself, carefully forming his opinions before he spoke. As a result, his comments were always short and sweet.
But tonight, even though he was nearly hoarse from doing so much talking, he was willing to keep going if it meant Lucy would stay with him just a bit longer.
Lucy was still standing by the steps, her arms crossed in front of her. "Are you going to let me sit over here?" she asked warily.
He nodded. "Yeah."
She sat down, just gazing at him expectantly in the moonlight.
It took Blue a minute to remember he'd promised to tell her more about Hell Week. Except he was damned if he could think of a single thing to say.
"I'm not sure what you want to hear about," he said lamely.
Lucy shifted, getting more comfortable on the hard wood of the steps. "I've read about something called 'rock portage,'" she said. "Did you have to do that in basic training?"
Forever Blue Page 12
