by Dee Palmer
My nights aren’t a problem either, and the notion I would get a few more ‘days off’ with there being only two of them was laughed off as ridiculous. But I do miss them as a whole. If I’m honest, I miss Charge maybe a bit more. My new phone buzzes in my back pocket, and I can’t reach for it fast enough, even though it’s crazy to think it would be him. I look at the screen and smile all the same.
“Hi Flick,”
“Hey, girl, how you been? What are you up to?” I snicker that she doesn’t actually pause long enough for me to answer. “Get your ass down here. I haven’t seen you in forever, and the band is killing it tonight.”
“We weren’t planning on—”
She draws breath, and I try to add my input into the one-sided conversation.
“Tell those boys to take you out. They can’t keep you locked in a tower forever.”
“Pretty sure they could,” I snort. “But it’s not them, it’s me. I don’t feel much like going out.” I defend my men, because this really is my deal.
“You can’t stop living when they get deployed, girl. It doesn’t work like that,” Flick protests.
I’ve heard the same argument from Pink and Tug, but I think this situation is slightly different.
“Oh, I know, but It’s complicated,” I mutter to deaf ears.
“Well, how about you come down here and tell Auntie Flick all about it. I’ll bet your ass I can uncomplicate it for ya’.”
“I don’t doubt—” I stop mid-sentence, and check my watch.
As if reading my mind, Flick says, “Finn, it’s seven-thirty on a Friday night. Come and have a beer. Let your hair down. Those boys would be here in a shot, and you know it.”
Her attempt to guilt me into coming is right on the money. I don’t want to be this person. I don’t want to stop them from doing what they would normally do, and I don’t want to stop living. Even when it’s hard not to feel their absence like a huge fuck-off hole in my chest, it’s not healthy, and I have to be able to deal with this. It’s their job for three of them, and I would no more ask them to stop doing what they love than they would ask me. Man the fuck up, Finn.
“Hmm… I’m sort of bringing the mood of the house down. Okay, I’ll check with Pink and Tug, see if they want to—”
“We do! Whatever it is, we do. If it gets you out of the house and puts a smile on your face, we’re in.” Tug calls out in an overly loud voice so Flick can hear. I think the horses at the stables heard that holler.
“There you go,” I laugh into the phone. I didn’t even see them behind me, but they were obviously there the whole damn time. “We’ll see you soon.”
“Great, see ya’ when you get here.” She hangs up before I can double-check where she is.
“I take it you know where to go?” I turn to face two eager, handsome faces wearing bright, dazzling smiles.
“Same bar, sugar. It’s always the same bar.” Tug winks.
“Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been a killjoy. You know I wouldn’t stop you guys from going out.”
“Finn, stop. You’re not, and we understand. It won’t always be like this, but we get that this is hard.” Pink steps forward and strokes my cheek, his large palm resting to cup my face.
“Sugar, we do not need to go out to have a good time. Been there, done that, and nothing compares to just having you.” Tug comes up behind me, wrapping his strong arms around my waist, stepping flush against my back rather than pulling me away from Pink. I feel so damn protected and treasured with these guys, but Pink gets the wrong end of his stick.
“Jeez, Tug! Really? Does everything you say have to revolve around your dick?”
“What? It doesn’t; that’s not what I was saying.” Tug sounds genuinely mortified, and I lift my hand up high, stretching to wrap it around his neck, tilting my head back so I can briefly kiss his pouting lips.
“Tug, ignore him, that was really lovely. Thank you. You both have been amazing, and if you’re really up to it, I would love to go out tonight.”
“Hell, yes!” They both call out, peppering me with a hundred kisses all over my face and neck. I squirm, giggle, and finally break free only because they let me.
“Great, give me ten minutes. I think PJs are a bit informal, even for a bar,” I joke, running up the stairs to get changed.
I pull my hair back into a high ponytail and slick on some nude lipgloss and a swipe of mascara. I swap my PJs for a button-front, denim mini skirt, an off-the-shoulder white gypsy blouse, and some cute ankle cowboy boots. I’m good to go in under ten minutes.
“I love that you can do that, by the way.” Tug opens the door to the truck, and I slide all the way over until I’m sitting next to Pink in the driver seat.
“Love what?”
“That you can look like you do without spending hours and shoveling a shit ton of makeup on your face.” He looks me up and down with a mix of sexy appreciation and downright lust.
“Like I have a choice with the huge amount of time you guys always give me to get ready,” I quip.
“You don’t need a single second more, beautiful.” Pink takes my hand, threading his fingers with mine in a secure hold.
“Well, that’s lucky, then.” I nudge Pink first and then lean over to do the same to Tug. I flick the radio dial on and turn the volume up high. “Let’s rock!” I shout out above the instantly recognizable intro of Credence’s “Bad Moon Rising”. I won’t ruin the evening by singing along, but I love this song.
There’s a long queue around the building but, like last time, we stroll right through the roped-off doorway and into the loud, dark bar full to bursting with sweaty bodies. The band is on, and the crowd ebbs and flows with the swell of heaving revelers. Tug leads Pink and me in a snake of joined hands through to the back stairway and up to the mezzanine. I barely step one foot on the top step when Flick appears from nowhere and pulls me away from my men. She gives me a tight rib-crushing hug and grabs my hand to lead me back down the way we came. Turning briefly to wave and give the guys an apologetic shrug, Flick drags me through the crowd right to the front of the stage.
I don’t know the words to the songs, which is probably a blessing, but I jump and dance like Tigger on speed. After an hour or so, I’m a hot, sweaty, dehydrated mess and I desperately need some fresh air. Flick offers to get the drinks and I head out toward the rear terrace. The dark corridor is narrow, and I have to turn to the side to squeeze past a hulk of a man with his back to me. He turns as I unavoidably brush past and he slams his tree trunk arm against the wall, right in front of my face.
“I know you.” His voice is rough, and his breath is soaked with liquor. I don’t turn but try to duck under.
“I don’t think so,” I reply with a vehement shake of my head. He drops his hand to prevent my escape and pushes me back against the wall.
“Yeah, I do. You’re the new slut.” He barks out a dirty laugh.
“What the fuck!” I snap, but he presses his hand against my mouth and lifts me with one swift move and backs us both under the stairwell. Where the fuck is everyone? I bite down on his hand so I can scream, but he doesn’t flinch. I struggle and kick, only stopping when he slams me against the wall. I lose all the breath from my lungs and the capacity to fight. It’s useless anyway, look at the size of him.
He removes his hand but keeps it hovering in case I venture a scream. My heart is thumping like a jackhammer in my chest, but I’m trying to keep calm. “I tell you what.” I suck in a deep breath that actually hurts, and I wonder if this arsehole didn’t crack a rib. “If you back off now, I won’t tell Charge and the others, and you might just live.”
“Ah, but Charge isn’t here, is he?” he sneers, peering down my top, sweat beading his top lip. His eyes are glazed black and his preternatural dark glare chills the blood in my veins. He looks high as well as drunk, but his remark actually makes my heart stop. No, Charge isn’t here. No one is. I can hear people, lots of people, but the noise from the band will drown out any path
etic attempt to be heard, unless someone was standing within spitting distance.
“But Pink and Tug are and—” His ugly mouth crashes onto mine, and I bite down and catch his lips. He pulls back and rests his forehead on mine. He sucks in the blood, slow and menacing.
“I’m only helping you out, darling, no need to be like that.” He grinds his filthy groin against me. I retch and try swallowing back the bitter pool of saliva in my mouth, but it just sits there, refusing to go down. “I know you’re two cocks down with them gone, and your hungry little pussy must be starving by now.” I’m now glad I didn’t swallow, because I pull back a little and manage to spit full in his face. The shock makes him step back, which is all I need. I stamp the heel of my shoe down his shin and snap my knee up hard. He buckles, and his balance is gone—more to do with the alcohol than me, I’m sure, but I’ll take it. I use the wall as leverage and kick his shoulder away and watch him topple like a not so mighty oak.
“Come anywhere near me again, and I’ll ask the boys to hold you down while I cut your bollocks off with a rusty saw.” He groans and tries to move. I don’t wait around to gloat. I’ve seen way too many horror films, and I know I would be screaming, “Get the fuck out of there, you stupid bitch!” at the screen right about now.
Turning, I run around the corner of the stairwell into a group of people. Oh, now, there are people. Fighting my way through using panic and the adrenaline still coursing through my veins, I run straight into Flick.
“Shit, Finn! What happened?” She holds my shoulders, which are shaking.
“Nothing,” I blurt, grabbing the beer from her hand. I down half the bottle before I have to come up for air.
“Wanna try that again?” She tilts her head and raises a suspicious brow.
“It’s nothing. Some guy thought…” I swallow back a sudden rush of bile and wince as I force it down.
“Thought what, Finn?” she pushes.
“Thought…” I draw in a shaky breath as it all hits me, and I start to really shake. Shit.
“Jeez, honey, come on, let’s go and sit upstairs.” She wraps her arm around my waist and pulls me close.
“No, I can’t let the guys see me like this.”
“Why the hell not?” she exclaims, and I puff out a flat humorless laugh.
“Firstly, they’ll kill him, and they would both end up in prison. Secondly, they’ll never let me out of their sight again.” My imploring tone helps, because when my eyes meet hers, she gives a reluctant nod.
“I don’t think the latter is such a bad thing,” she remarks.
“I wouldn’t be able to hang with you without them,” I clarify, and her eyes widen with understanding.
“Oh, right. Okay, let’s take it to the ladies room.” She turns us toward the restrooms, and I try to stop her, but she keeps her arm tight around me until we are secure in the cubicle. Her expression is so full of concern, I feel bad that I’m already over it.
“Really Flick, I’m fine. It was just some drunk guy trying his luck. He said I needed cock because Charge and Toxic were away.” I let it all out, because I really don’t want to waste any more of my evening; it’s done and dusted, and I dealt with it.
“What guy?”
“I dealt with it.” I appreciate her caring, but I really just want to carry on with my night. I was having fun.
“You should tell them, Finn.”
“I will, just not now. I want to enjoy the evening, please.” Holding my shoulders and gaze, her eyes search mine. I’m pretty sure she’s checking for any signs of trauma by her serious expression. “I’m fine, Flick. I promise.”
“How about you tell me who he is, and I get him removed.” She tips her head waiting for my answer. “He might try his luck with someone else not quite so feisty.”
“Shit, I hadn’t thought of that. Yes, let’s go tell the bouncers.” I straighten myself up in the mirror and am thankful he left no marks. I let out a fortifying breath and straighten myself right up. Okay, let’s do this. I stand on the first step of the stairs to get a better view and I look around the edge of the room. If I’m honest the last thing I want to do is clock the guy again, or ever, but she’s right. “Him. That one at the end of the bar.”
“Hick?” I shrug at her question. “You took down Hick?”
“I took down an arsehole. He didn’t give me his name, but that’s him.”
“I’m impressed.” She blows a low whistle from her pursed lips. Looking me slowly up and down before nudging me playfully.
“Whatever. I’m going to go back upstairs and wait for you there, okay?” I wave her off and skip up the stairs, happy to put Hick and our horrible encounter behind me.
“Sure, won’t be long,” Flick calls after me, but she’s already gone by the time I turn around.
The rest of the evening was fun. I danced with the guys, drank too much, and was about to doze off in the truck on the way back, when Pink woke me fully with his question.
“You wanna tell me why Hick was being carted off by the police back there?”
“How would I know?” I answer way too quickly and a little too high-pitched to be remotely convincing.
“Well, I would’ve said you didn’t, except for the look you exchanged with Flick when we were outside. The squeaky pitch of your voice isn’t exactly crying out innocence, either, darling.” He raises a knowing brow, and I twist my lips into an apologetic smile.
“Might want to point out, it’s not a great idea to lie to us, sugar.” Tug offers the wise words with a warm smile.
“Shit.” I groan, and suddenly feel all the alcohol swimming in my tummy. I puff out a long slow breath. “Fine, but you’re not going to like it.” I pause for some witty comeback, but they are both deathly silent, only the engine and roll of the tires is keeping the heavy silence at bay. “Hick kinda said something about me.”
“Said something?” Pink presses.
“Right, okay. So he grabbed me and pulled me under the stairwell. He basically suggested I needed more cock while Charge and Toxic were away, and he kissed me.” I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for the apocalypse.
“Fuck!” They both yell, and I sink back into my seat. Pink’s knuckles glow white from the grip on the steering wheel, and Tug punches the dashboard.
“And you called the cops?” Tug’s tone is pure anger.
“What? No! Flick must have, but why is that a fucking problem after what he did?” I hope I’m getting the wrong idea with his tone and question, and they aren’t about to put bros before me.
“It’s a problem because we can’t drive back and beat the ever-loving shit out of him, that’s why.” Tug yells out through clenched teeth.
“Which is why I didn’t tell you,” I shout right back, my head turning between the two of them so fast I’m getting whiplash. “You would be the ones in the cop car if I did, and I can’t lose you, too.” My voice catches, and a surprising well of sadness mixed with a stupid amount of alcohol has tears bursting onto my cheek.
“Oh, sugar, don’t cry. Please, baby.” Tug pulls me onto his lap, and I can feel Pink’s hand squeezing comfort into my thigh.
“You haven’t lost them, darling. They’ll be back before you know it.” Tug loosens my hair and rocks me in his big strong hold. I tip my head up to see his light brown eyes smiling at me.
“Promise?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer me and neither does Pink. I look at them both, but before I can berate them for teasing me, Tug stiffens beneath me, and Pink removes his tender touch from my thigh. I sit up and look out the front windshield as we near the farm.
“Why is there a military vehicle here at this time of night?” I hate that I know the answer before I even asked the question.
They don’t answer me. They don’t have to. I don’t know how I know, but I feel it in the pit of my empty rolling stomach and my clenched heart. Pink pulls the truck to a stop nowhere near the military jeep and turns to me. His hands cup my face, and every nerve in my body freezes, and
an icy chill washes like a wave through my soul. I start to shake my head. No. No. No!
“FINN, YOU NEED TO STAY in the truck.”
She’s shaking her head before I get the damn words out. I look over her head at Tug, who’s mirroring the gesture. I can’t bear to look in her eyes; they look so lost already. “Please, darling,” I plead, but her sadness turns to fury.
“No fucking way, Pink. No!” She starts to push against me, and, when I don’t move, she twists and tussles with Tug. He wraps his thick arms around her and pulls her immobile and protected against his chest, if only for a minute. She looks up at him, then me.
“Please, you can’t leave me in the truck.” Her voice is so broken there’s no way we can stop her.
“Fuck!” Tug throws his head back and nods to me. This is a bad idea. He opens the door, and Finn slides out right after him. The doors to the jeep open, and I brace when I see the insignia on the lapel jackets: commander and captain. Fuck.
Tug salutes his superior officer, and I take up the slack, grabbing Finn’s now free hand and coaxing her into my side. Tug makes the introductions, careful to include Finn as family.
“I think we should take this inside,” the commander offers, his tone formal. We all file in, and it’s just as awkward and ominous inside the house as it was outside, only we’re seated and facing each other.
“I’m very sorry to inform you that Senior Chief Petty Officer Marlon Serrano has been critically injured. He underwent emergency surgery on location, has been airlifted back to base, and is scheduled for more surgery just as soon as he’s stable. But I have to advise you to prepare for the worst. He was lucky to survive the crash.”
“Crash?” Finn has no color left in her face, and she’s gripping my hand so tight I’ve lost all feeling in my fingers.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m afraid I can’t tell you much more than that. It’s classified, but we can take you to the hospital.” As if sensing my question, he looks away from Finn and directly at me. “Lieutenant Martinez is still MIA.”