Secret Maneuvers

by Jessie Lane

  Unbelievable. Talk about kicking a man when he’s already down. Instead of saying something I would regret later, or doing something stupid like giving him a fist to his face, I turned towards the front door and started to walk away.

  “That’s right, Bobby. Just run away from the problem and go back to licking your self-inflicted wounds. If I hadn’t been with you in the jungle and Afghanistan, then I’d start thinking you were a pussy with all this chicken shit you’ve been pulling lately.”

  Who needed a best friend? A punching bag was more therapeutic anyways and I had a living, breathing version of one, fifteen feet behind me that I was going to beat the ever living shit out of.

  Whipping around to face him again, I roared, “Fuck you, man! You have no idea what this situation has been like for me! I don’t see any long, lost loves falling into your lap after hiding a teenage son from you. So, until that happens to you, keep your judgmental bullshit to yourself. You have no goddamn idea what I’ve been going through! If you think I’m over here, loving life, when really I’ve left everything that ever fucking mattered to me halfway across the goddamn country, then you can take that shop vac hose and you can shove it up your own ass!”

  “Oh,” he sneered, sarcastically. “I can tell how you’re living life up since Texas, Bobby. Even if you hadn’t spent the last few weeks moping around like an idiot, it’s written all over your face. You’re not eating or sleeping, you’ve lost weight and you look like shit. You’re so out of it that half the guys on the team wouldn’t want you to watch their six because they’re afraid your head wouldn’t be on straight during any mission we go on. You’re shooting your life down the shitter.”

  Jesus, Mary and Joseph! I thought your friends were supposed to be there for you when you were down on your luck. I lunged at him. Barely refraining myself from throwing that punch that I wanted to knock him out with so badly. We were nose to nose now as we yelled at each other.

  “I know I’m struggling, asshole! I don’t need you to tell me that. I live and breathe it every second, of every minute, of every fucking day that I have to live without them. So why don’t you be an understanding friend, know that I’m doing the best that I can do right now, and just be there for me instead of giving me grief I don’t need.”

  He used both of his hands to grab my shirt and shake me with it. “How about, instead of being an understanding friend, I act like a good friend by telling you to pull your head out of your ass? How about, instead of you walking around like a zombie, you get your shit together and fix your fucking life? It’s not like the woman you love died in Mexico! She’s living and breathing in Texas with your son. So it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that, if you’d just get over your own fucking self, you’d realize that you could make this right with your family.”

  “And how do you expect me to do that after what I said in her hospital room? You got some kind of magic wand shoved up your ass that you can pull out, wave around, and give me the perfect way to make it alright?”

  Throwing his hands up in the air in frustration, he turned and started to walk away from me towards his kitchen. He made it five steps before he turned around and pointed a finger in my direction. “Maybe I expect you to act like a fucking man, get down on your goddamn knees, and beg the woman that you claim to love for forgiveness for being such a self-righteous jackass. I know it’s a radical idea, but perhaps, if you apologized, she might forgive you.”

  The hole in my heart that had been throbbing since getting thrown out of Belle’s hospital room in Texas started to throb in agony again. My eyes pricked with oncoming tears, instead of letting Declan see me emotionally defenseless, I dropped my chin to my chest, bringing my boots into view, and blinked my eyes a few times to clear them away.

  He made it sound so easy. Like I could just waltz back down to Texas and do a little groveling to win my girl back. The half of me that had wanted to do just that, weeks ago, swelled with hope. The other half of me, the part that was scared shitless of both being hurt again and hurting her again, tried to pop that bubble of hope with a savage stab of my metaphorical KA-BAR.

  I never wanted to hurt Belle like that again in my life. The look of utter devastation on her face as she sobbed so hard that she tore her stitches open and started to bleed out in her hospital bed would haunt me until the day they put me six feet under. It was because of that horrific scene that I’d convinced myself that she was better off without me. If I wasn’t around, then I couldn’t hurt her anymore.

  With a disgusted snort, Declan added, “God, you’re such a dumbass, Bobby. I can literally see the wheels turning in that peon-sized brain of yours as you talk yourself out of your own happiness. Just stop it already! Get over it, dumbass! You hurt her. She hurt you. Then, you went and hurt her again. Now go down there, offer your cojones up as a sacrifice, then kiss and make up with the woman. Don’t look back, Bobby; look forward. The two of you obviously love each other. Don’t be stupid enough to throw that away, man.”

  Declan was right. I knew he was right. That wasn’t what was in question here. What I was worried about was if Belle would even forgive me. Give us another chance. Because, if she would, I would work my fingers to the bone every day for the rest of our lives to prove to her that I would never hurt her again. I’d bend over backwards, tie myself up into knots, trying to do the emotional equivalent of those crazy ass yoga poses with even crazier names like downward dog, to show her that I wanted nothing more than to move on with my life with both her and Seth in it. To live the dream of growing old together. Loving each other morning, noon and night until one or both of us took our last breaths. Even then, I loved her so much that I was pretty sure my spirit would follow hers through eternity. Whether in this life or others, if they existed, there was only one woman I would ever love and that was my Belle.

  “For the love of God, man, tell me I got through to your ass!”

  Nodding my head, I looked up to him. “Yeah, man, you did. Thanks for verbally knocking some sense into me.”

  “Anytime, bro, anytime. Now, are you going to help me clean this mess up or what?”

  “Nope. You’re on your own. I’ve got a mission to Texas to plan.”

  “It’s about goddamn time.”

  ***

  The next day…

  There was too much testosterone in this room. How many guys did they think it took to pack two bags? One bag was already done. The one with enough clothes to get me through up to a week in Texas and a little black box that held a diamond ring. It was the second bag that was giving me some problems. Looking over to the three men in the room with me—Declan, Riley, and Jaxon—I shrugged my shoulders at a loss of what to do.

  “I want to take her for a picnic to surprise her, but I don’t know what I should take for it.”

  Riley raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “You think she’s going to go with you willingly on this picnic?”

  That was a good point. With the way things had been left last time I’d seen her, there was no telling what her reaction to me showing up would be. Pursing my lips in consideration, I said, “Getting her there isn’t the problem. Seth’s helping me with that. My boy is even taking care of the Sheriff so I don’t have to do something drastic because he pissed me off. Like shoot him. It’s making her stay still long enough not to grab a gun and shoot my sorry ass that I’m worried about. Think I should pack the paracord in case I have to tie her up and make her listen to me?”

  Jaxon hesitated for a second before he said, “Annabelle was kidnapped and held hostage not too long ago. Maybe tying her up isn’t such a great idea.”

  Shit. He was right. How could I not think of something like that? Before I could respond, Riley piped in, “I don’t think you have to worry about her listening to what you have to say, man. If I were you, I would just be worried about whether you keep your nads by the time you’re done talking. Your girl is a bit of a firecracker. Take the paracord anyways, though. If the Sheriff tries to get in your
way after all, you can tie him up instead of shooting him. I know you hate his guts, but Annabelle may never forgive you if you kill or maim one of her friends.”

  They nodded like bobble heads in agreement. Declan’s lips twitched like he was trying to hold back a laugh. “The rope may be thin, but I recently used it on a brunette after she broke into my house and tried to sexually assault me in my sleep. It’ll hold the Sheriff where you want him, if you use it right.”

  “I don’t even want to know the story about the paracord and the woman, Dec. Sometimes the shit that happens to you is just too disturbing for words.” I tossed the small bundle of thin rope into my bag along with the mini-Maglite that it had been lying in the drawer next to.

  Jaxon curiously rumbled, “What are you taking the Maglite for?”

  “It’s a nighttime picnic. Just like we used to do back home in Georgia by the creek.”

  His eyebrows furrowed. “The Maglite is good, but it’s not going to light up the whole area for you. That’s a rookie mistake, you should know that.”

  Now my lips were twitching. “I’m not going to use it to light up the whole area, Commander, just the ground as we’re walking, so we don’t trip.”

  Jaxon asked, “So you’re going to forego light and lay there in the dark? No candles or anything? That doesn’t sound very romantic.”

  I shook my head. “No, way. Candles would ruin it.”

  The three men stood across from me, confused now. Finally, Riley asked, “Ruin what exactly?”

  Holding two fingers up in front of me, I answered, “First of all, the stars wouldn’t seem as bright and my girl loves to see the stars. Second, I’m taking a set of night vision goggles with me. That way when I talk her into getting naked, I can put them on and not miss a thing, but she’ll have to rely on all of her other senses to pay attention to what I’m doing to her. I get a naked, green-looking Belle and she gets what I want to give her. What more can a man ask for?”

  This got me amused, male chuckles before Declan asked, “What else are you going to pack?”

  Rubbing a hand across the back of my neck, I looked down to some of my standard issued gear. “I don’t think she’ll want MRE’s to eat at a picnic.”

  Riley rubbed a hand over his mouth while he thought about something. Somewhat absentmindedly, he murmured, “Strawberries and whip cream.” He had that faraway look in his eyes that he got when he was thinking about his ex-wife, Kara.

  “Thanks, man. That’s a good idea. I can pick them up from the store before I see her.”

  Jaxon added, “Champagne would be good with that.”

  Scoffing back at my commander, “Are you nuts? We don’t drink that prissy shit.” Glancing down to my canteen I got an idea. “But I could take this and put some Southern Comfort in it. It would certainly help her to unwind so she doesn’t try to cut my nuts off before I do what I got to do.”

  “You’re going to need something to lie down on the ground with her on. Pack your old Army field blanket,” Declan added.

  “That’s wool, you moron! You want us all chaffed up after I get done playing Marco Polo with my night vision and her body parts?”

  Riley started coughing to hide his laugh. Declan and Jaxon didn’t bother to hide theirs. “Then take your thermal blanket and lay it on top of the wool one. Then you can play slip and slide while you get sweaty with her.”

  Damn. That was a good idea, too. Images of getting sweaty with Belle bombarded my brain, causing all of my blood to drain south. Suddenly, I was so hard my dick practically felt strangled behind the zipper of my jeans. If I didn’t get a move on, I was going to embarrass myself in front of the last people on earth I wanted to see me in this condition.

  Stuffing the two blankets in the bag with the other stuff, I watched as an industrial-sized box of condoms landed on the top of the pile. Looking up, I saw Declan grinning unrepentantly. “Be like a boy scout and be prepared, right? I think you’ll want to get her to an alter before you knock her up again.”

  Jaxon ignored the horn ball in front of me and asked, “You got everything you need, now, to go down there and bring her back?”

  Pulling the folded up envelope out of my back pocket, I held it up and in front of me. “This is the last of it right here.”

  “What is it?” Riley asked.

  Waving it back and forth a little bit, I answered, “This is the letter she should have had all along.”

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Bobby

  Five hours later at San Antonio International Airport…

  If one more TSA Security Officer patted me down, I was going to start killing people. Just because a guy was a little nervous and jumpy, did not mean he was a terrorist carrying a bomb. At least, not a bomb of the physically exploding variety. I was, however, carrying an emotional bomb in the form of an expensive shiny rock attached to a little gold band. If this went badly, it could end up making me the equivalent to an emotional suicide bomber. Because, if she said no, I was going to be blown away to nothingness.

  I was standing at the luggage carousel, looking for my bag with the picnic supplies in them, when I felt a presence stop next to me. Looking over, I instantly started to regret listening to my son about this part of the plan. Giving the irritated man a polite nod and a mumbled “Sheriff” as a greeting, I turned my attention back to the sight of luggage rotating round and around, in the hopes that mine would show up very soon. The quicker I got my luggage, the quicker I got the hell out of this airport, which also meant I would be one step closer to being rid of the man next to me after he dropped me off at my destination. Would it be possible to ignore him for that long?

  “You better not be dicking her over again, Baker.”

  Well, I guess that was my answer to the ignoring question. Apparently not.

  My luggage finally came into sight, so I reached over, plucked the bag off the conveyer belt, and then turned to start walking towards the exit. The Sheriff stayed with me every step of the way. Why, oh, why, had my son thought that having this douchebag give me a ride would be a good idea?

  Maybe Seth had been lying to me all those weeks ago when I’d poured out my heart and soul to him on the phone and apologized for having hurt his mother and, by extension, him. Perhaps this was a form of punishment from him for what I’d done and said in the hospital before leaving Texas without so much as saying goodbye to him. If that was the case, my boy had a mean streak a mile wide.

  Sheriff Jenkins and I managed to make it to his SUV without saying another word, but after he unlocked the vehicle and we climbed in, the gloves were off. It was time to nip this shit in the bud. “Let’s get something straight here, Jenkins. I fucked up. I understand you’re a good friend of Belle’s and, I also know, that you have feelings for her in more than a friendly capacity. The fact of the matter is, though, I don’t owe you an explanation. I owe her one. As well as an apology. However, in the name of starting over with a clean slate, I’ll at least give you this; I love that woman more than you will ever be able to even fathom. I have every intention of making things right between her and I. I’ve lost too much time with her as it is. I’m ready to do whatever it is I have to do to make her realize just how sorry I really am and put the past behind us. That’s all you really need to know. I’ll make sure she sends you an invitation to our wedding, though.” I gave him a shark’s smile, practically daring him to say something else.

  The muscle in his jaw tensed before he looked away from me and started the engine. I almost breathed out a sigh of relief. Not that I was seriously worried that the Sheriff could cause trouble for me with Belle, but I also didn’t need any more problems than I already had. Until I was face to face with Belle and she had agreed to hear me out, I was walking a fine line between nervously on edge and going totally postal. Between now and then, I was going to be praying for a miracle.

  Annabelle

  My kid was going to drive me nuts.

  “Tell me again why we have to go to Victor Braunig
Lake? It’s six o’clock, Seth. It’ll be dark soon and I’m already tired.”

  “Because you need to get the hell out of the house, Mom.”

  “Do I need to wash your mouth out with soap? You only dropped the occasional cuss word before, now that you’re talking to your father on a regular basis it seems like I’m having to tell you daily to watch your mouth.”

  “You can’t blame just Dad for my vocabulary. It’s half your fault, too, and I thought you were happy that I was talking to Dad so much?”

  Hoo-boy. I’d stepped right into that minefield, hadn’t I? “I am happy about it, Son. It’s good that you have him in your life now. You can talk to him every day, if you want, just please don’t talk to him about me. Not until I’m ready to talk to him myself.”

  “I haven’t told him about the baby, Mom,” he murmured. After a brief span of silence he asked, “But you’re planning on telling him soon, right?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Waiting these past few weeks is long enough. I don’t want him to think that I’m trying to hide this baby like I hid you from him. It’s a miracle this baby even made it through Mexico, so I’m hoping he’ll be happy about it.”

  Shaking my head absentmindedly, my mind drifted back to the day, three weeks ago, when I’d found out I was pregnant. It was mid-afternoon and I was hunched over the toilet for the fifth day in a row, puking my guts out with Seth hovering behind me, holding my hair. He was complaining about why he didn’t understand how I could possibly puke so much when I hadn’t been eating. The next thing I knew, he was on the phone with Charlie, asking him to come over, telling him that he was worried I had some kind of infection from my wounds because I was sick and throwing up everywhere.

  I was still praying to the porcelain god when Charlie showed up out of his mind with worry. He’d promptly taken one look at me before stating, “Darlin’, you look like shit,” and then commenced cleaning me up with a cool rag before laying me back down on my bed. He shushed my protests when he lifted my shirt up to peel back the bandage there and check. When he didn’t find anything wrong there he checked the bandage down the front of my thigh. The staples had been removed and replaced with smaller stitches just last week, but that wound was clean and infection free as well.