Disarm

by June Gray

  DISARM

  THE COMPLETE NOVEL

  JUNE GRAY

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) LLC

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

  USA • Canada • UK • Ireland • Australia • New Zealand • India • South Africa • China

  penguin.com

  A Penguin Random House Company

  Copyright © 2014 by June Gray.

  Excerpt from Arrest by June Gray copyright © 2014 by June Gray.

  Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

  BERKLEY® is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.

  The “B” design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.

  eBook ISBN 978-0-698-14181-0

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Gray, June, 1979–

  Disarm: the complete novel / June Gray.—Berkley trade paperback edition. pages cm

  ISBN 978-0-425-27212-1 (alk. paper)

  1. Secrets—Fiction. 2. Love stories. 3. Erotic fiction. I. Title.

  PS3607.R39515D57 2013

  813'.6—dc23 2013023863

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  Berkley trade paperback edition / February 2014

  Cover photo of couple by Claudio Marinesco; planes by Thinkstock.

  Cover design by Lesley Worrell.

  Interior text design by Tiffany Estreicher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Version_1

  Contents

  COVER

  TITLE PAGE

  COPYRIGHT

  DEDICATION

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  PART ONE - DISARM

  CHAPTER 1 - ASSESSING THE SITUATION

  CHAPTER 2 - LOCK AND LOAD

  CHAPTER 3 - CLASSIFIED INFORMATION

  CHAPTER 4 - DETONATION

  CHAPTER 5 - UNDER RUBBLE

  CHAPTER 6 - OVER AND OUT

  PART TWO - BESIEGE

  CHAPTER 1 - TENDING THE HOME FIRES

  CHAPTER 2 - HOMECOMING

  CHAPTER 3 - PROBLEMS IN LOGISTICS

  CHAPTER 4 - SHOCK AND AWE

  CHAPTER 5 - PEACE TALKS

  PART THREE - RETREAT

  CHAPTER 1 - REVEILLE

  CHAPTER 2 - BACK IN THE WORLD

  CHAPTER 3 - ENEMY CONTACT

  CHAPTER 4 - ALPHA MIKE FOXTROT

  CHAPTER 5 - OVER AND OUT

  PART FOUR - THE HENRY SESSIONS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  PART FIVE - ENGAGE

  CHAPTER 1 - CONTINUE MISSION

  CHAPTER 2 - COUNTERATTACK

  CHAPTER 3 - RETURN TO BASE

  CHAPTER 4 - PEACE TALKS

  CHAPTER 5 - ASSIGNED MISSION

  PART SIX - CAPTURE

  CHAPTER 1 - FIRST DATE

  CHAPTER 2 - SECOND DATE

  CHAPTER 3 - THE LAST DATE

  CHAPTER 4 - ARRIVALS AND DEPARTURES

  CHAPTER 5 - RETURNING HOME

  CHAPTER 6 - THE HAPPY EVER AFTER

  PREVIEW OF ARREST

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  To the men and women married to the military:

  You are the strongest, kindest, most courageous people I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing and I am proud to be in your company. Military life is tough, but we are tougher.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Military life is not easy. When marrying a service member, you never really know what you’re signing up for: deployments, PCSs, TDYs, and every other acronym under the sun. You are often separated from your loved ones and you have to learn how to deal, how to become both the mother and father of your family. This story is personal for me because it draws from my own experience of being a military wife, and I am both afraid and excited to share it with the world.

  I must first thank my husband, who swept me off my feet in Oklahoma over ten years ago. Thank you for answering my endless questions about the military, and of course, for your sweet spreadsheeting skills. I love you and this little family we’ve created together.

  Salamat to my amazing family, who supported me every step of the way.

  To my beta readers: Beth, Lara, Alicia, Kerry, and Shannon. Thank you for your time and your willingness to help. I cannot express how much your friendship means to me.

  To my original editor MJ Heiser at Clean Leaf Editing: Thank you for whipping my writing into shape and helping me create a manuscript worth publishing.

  Thank you to Kim Whalen for giving me the opportunity to stretch out and reach for things I’d never dared to before, and to Cindy Hwang for believing in this story of mine.

  Thanks to Todd, Rina, and the team at the Cherry Bean Cafe. You guys always made me feel welcome, even if sometimes I overstayed.

  A big shout-out to Mimi Strong for convincing me to finally put on my big-girl panties and write something steamy.

  Finally, to the readers: thank you for giving Henry and Elsie a chance.

  Visit my blog at authorjunegray.blogspot.com for more information on upcoming projects, news, and short stories.

  PART ONE

  DISARM

  1

  ASSESSING THE SITUATION

  It wasn’t my fault—at least, not entirely. Henry Logan, my roommate and a captain in the Air Force, was technically to blame. The guy had been acting so unusually moody for the past five weeks that I was getting desperate to see a smile on his face. So that Saturday night, I suggested we head to our favorite bar at Bricktown and just drink the night away, confident that Henry, even in his grumpy-bear state, could never turn down beer.

  After parking his convertible Mustang, we walked down the street to Tapwerks in silence. I waited for him to open up, to tell me what had been bothering him, but no dice.

  “What is with you lately?” I asked.

  Henry stuck his hands in his jacket pockets and shrugged. “Nothing, why?”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. He could successfully pull off the nonchalant attitude on anyone but me. I’d known him for thirteen years and had lived with him for two. I could decipher his every expression, sometimes to the point of reading his mind. “Come on. Are you on your period or something?” I asked with a teasing jab of the elbow. “Do you need to borrow a tampon?”

  That finally got a small laugh out of him. “Elsie, you are such a brat,” he said. He reached over to ruffle my curly brown hair, but I anticipated the move and did a little ninja-ballerina maneuver to avoid him.

  “Hey,�
� I said, “leave the hair alone.” I slipped my arm through his as we stood in line outside the bar—Tapwerks was the place to be on weekends—and tried to pilfer some of his warmth. He was six-two and built like a brick wall; he had plenty of everything to spare.

  As I craned my head to study the people in line, dressed up in their casual best, I suddenly caught a glimpse of Henry, his face partially lit by the soft glow from the bar’s windows. It struck me then that he was really no longer that awkward kid I grew up with but a man, and a gorgeous one at that. I’d always known he was good-looking—hell I’d had a crush on him since my brother started hanging out with him in their sophomore year of high school—but the way the shadows played on his face rendered planes I never knew existed. His short dark hair and the scruff on his strong jaw lent a nice contrast to his olive skin, and he had a proud nose with a little cleft at the end that matched the cleft on his chin. But it was his eyes that drew my gaze, those icy blues that seemed as if they could see into my every thought.

  I stared at him for a long moment, feeling a strange tickle in my chest, when I came to the realization that he was staring back.

  “You okay, Elsie?” he asked in that husky, gravelly voice of his. Had he always sounded so sexy?

  I gave him my best sunny smile, shaking off the confusing feelings that had snuck up on me. “Just wondering why you don’t have a girlfriend.”

  His lips quirked up a little and I felt an elbow nudge me in the side, but he didn’t bother answering the question.

  * * *

  Inside, the two floors were at full capacity and there were no available tables or chairs, so we stood at the bar, trying our hardest to get the bartender’s attention. I was only five-six, so Henry theoretically had a better chance at visibility, but somehow, the male bartender’s eyes just kept flitting right over him as if he were invisible.

  “Let me try.” I stepped up on the brass rail that ran along the bottom of the bar and squeezed my arms together, causing instant cleavage over the low neck of my loose top.

  The bartender noticed. He finished up his orders and came right to me with an appreciative smile. “What’ll it be?”

  “Woodchuck Cider, Sam Adams, and two tequila shots,” I said, and straightened up.

  Henry was doing the big-brother scowl when I joined him back down on the floor.

  “What?” I asked, preparing for the lecture. “When you’ve got ’em, use ’em.”

  He glowered down at me with a disapproving purse to his lips but said nothing. God, was nothing going to get him to talk?

  After downing our shots, Henry and I stood around with cold bottles in our hands. He continued to scowl at me and I pretended not to notice by looking elsewhere. Thankfully, I saw a few of his Air Force buddies across the room and they waved us over to their table. Henry grabbed my hand as he led the way through the sea of bodies, his large frame parting the crowds so that I wouldn’t get swallowed up.

  “Hey!” Sam, another captain, raised his beer bottle in greeting.

  I clinked his bottle with my cider. Henry gave a cool little jerk of the head and said, “Hey, man.” The two men exchanged a silent look before Henry gave the slightest shake of the head.

  Sam’s girlfriend, Beth, gave me a hug before I could figure out what the guys were communicating. “How are you?” she asked. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “I’ve been good. Busy,” I said, keeping an eye on Henry. “You?”

  Beth started to say something, but the band began to play and cut her off. For a while, we all stood there and bobbed our heads to the rhythm of the rock group, all except for the stiff corpse beside me. Sometimes Henry knew how to really kill a good time, but as his friend, it was my duty to pull him out of this funk he was in.

  I stood on my tiptoes and pulled him down so I could yell in his ear. “You wanna dance?”

  He looked at me, then at the near-empty dance floor, then back at me again. “Hell no.”

  I pretended not to hear. I grasped his hand with a cheeky smile and pulled him through the crowd and onto the dance floor.

  “I said no,” he said and turned to leave.

  But I still had ahold of his hand, so I jumped in front of him and danced to block his way. I pulled his arm around my waist and gave him my most seductive smile as I began to sway my hips to the music.

  He rolled his eyes but I kept on dancing, sure that sooner or later he would relent. He knew how to have a good time; he just had to be pulled out of that scowly shell of his.

  The crowd on the dance floor swelled and I was unexpectedly pinned to Henry, my hips grinding into his before my brain could tell it to stop.

  The effect was instantaneous and twofold. Henry’s expression changed at the same moment I felt something stir in his jeans. My face went up in flames, but when I tried to pull away, his arms tightened around me and pulled me closer.

  “Where are you going?” he asked in my ear, his warm breath tickling my neck. “I thought you wanted to dance?”

  My heart was pounding a million miles a minute through my chest, but I had teased the beast out of hiding and I now had to face him. I looked up at him, acting as if having an erection against my stomach was not a big deal, and tried to take advantage of our close proximity. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

  “I don’t want to talk tonight,” he replied, his eyes focused solely on my mouth. The breath hitched in my throat when he ran his tongue along his lower lip. “I’d rather do other things.”

  That was about the time I lost my cool. This was Henry, my closest friend, my roommate, my surrogate big brother. He was a great many things to me, but he was definitely not someone I made out with. I’d stopped hoping for that a long time ago, when he’d made it clear that he saw me as nothing more than a little sister.

  Now here he was, bowing his head with a dark look on his face, his arm tight around my back. The fifteen-year-old me was squealing with glee, but the twenty-six-year-old was, admittedly, a little flustered.

  I twisted out of his embrace and took a step back. My face was overheating, my heart was trying its hardest to hammer its way through my chest, and my body was tingling with that special kind of sexual exhilaration.

  Henry’s face broke into an impudent smile. “Are we done playing this game?” he called out to me over the music.

  I nodded. Yes, we were definitely done. For now.

  * * *

  Here’s something you should know about Henry and me: We never meant to live together. He and my brother, Jason, met in high school and attended college together. For as long as I could remember, Jason had always intended to join the Air Force—it was kind of a given since my father and grandfather were both retired pilots. My guess was that Henry hung out with Jason enough that he too became convinced the military life was for him. So they had gone through ROTC together and eventually were sworn in to the Air Force, Jason as an Intelligence officer and Henry as a Security Forces officer. Not surprisingly, they were both sent to Tinker Air Force Base in Oklahoma and, of course, lived together in an apartment on the south side of the city.

  I was always the outsider, the third wheel. I was two years younger and a bit of a pest, always asking to join them in their adventures. Besides that, I was a girl and had cooties, so I was almost always left behind, rejected and heartbroken. Very early on, even before his braces came off, I was convinced that Henry and I would get married. During my early teenage years, when I was barely past the Disney stage, I pictured him as my Prince Charming. Then, during my rebellious years, he was my imagined bad boy who would whisk me off on his motorcycle. But these fantasies were nothing but the daydreams of a girl who then grew up to realize that the boy of her dreams was far from perfect. The sobering reality was that Henry was a flawed guy who oftentimes tiptoed into jerk territory, as all men are wont to do.

  After graduating from college, I accepted a web desig
n job in Oklahoma and crashed on their couch for a few months while I saved up enough money for an apartment. Henry was not keen on the idea and, in fact, tried his hardest to find me another place to live. I still remembered coming to the table one Sunday morning and finding the newspaper opened to the classifieds with some listings already highlighted, his not-so-subtle way of telling me to stop cramping his style.

  Henry inspired me to find a place faster, but then Jason was deployed to Afghanistan and asked me stay in his room for the six months that he’d be gone. To save money, I jumped at the offer.

  Little did I know that my brother would never come back.

  He was gathering intel, walking around a Kabul neighborhood talking to the nationals, when someone started shooting out of nowhere. Jason never even had a chance. Even now, his death makes no sense to me, and I still hold on to the hope that one day they’ll find him somewhere in the Afghan mountains, roughed up but still alive, that the person we’d buried was actually someone else.

  It’s a long shot, but the ability to fool myself is one of my best talents.

  So it was with a smile that I walked out of my room the next morning, pretending that nothing happened at Tapwerks the night before. I shuffled to the kitchen in my flannel pajamas and turned on the coffeemaker. Henry came out of his room, still committed to that sullen persona, and reached for the coffee mugs. I started frying some eggs and he put the bread in the toaster. When the coffee was done, he poured and fixed mine the way I like it and took our mugs to the table. I slid the eggs onto two plates, placed a piece of buttered toast on each one, and joined him at the table.

  We ate quietly, hiding in our own thoughts to avoid talking about last night. I wasn’t sure if it was even worth talking about; maybe he had just been playing around to teach my nosy ass a lesson. But my, what a long, hard lesson it was.

  I had to gulp down coffee when the toast stuck in my throat, chalking up my impure thoughts of Henry to sex deprivation. I just needed a good lay, that was all.