Lucky II (Patten Bodyguards Book 6)

by Stella Marie Alden

  I go downstairs, make coffee, and am joined by my mother who’s been pointedly absent since Lucky arrived yesterday morning.

  “Mother, we need to talk.”

  “Yes dear, just a moment.” While she types, I run upstairs, grab my husband’s cell phone, and place it on the granite island next to her.

  “Would you mind explaining this?” A gulp of strong brew gives me much-needed fortitude.

  “He’s not right for you. I was merely trying to help.” When her stony face doesn’t flinch, something inside me snaps and I can’t hold back.

  “None of this is any of your damn business! You had no right to poison him against me. I want you to go home. Leave us be or I swear, you’ll be cut out of our lives forever. Forget ever seeing your grandchild.”

  Her perfectly sculptured brows raise. “This is my house. You can’t possibly expect me to go. I have-”

  “Arggh! Your audacity is beyond belief.” Voice low and controlled, I speak slowly so she doesn’t miss a word. “The next ferry leaves in an hour. Either you go or we do. If it’s us, don’t bother to stay in touch. I’m beginning to see why Father chose to put an ocean between you two. This was beyond despicable, even for you.”

  She glares, slaps her laptop closed, and departs without a word. A few minutes later, the front door slams and she’s gone.

  Good riddance.

  Pat must’ve heard the commotion from the guest house because a few minutes later, he sits down beside me and touches my hand. “That was a long time coming, Calliope.”

  “Yeah, I know, I know.” I shove the cell phone his way so he can see what she said.

  He shakes his head back and forth. “Sorry. I had no idea.”

  “Me, neither.” I pick up my phone and begin to delete the hateful words while he makes another pot of coffee.

  “Does Lucky understand it wasn’t you?”

  “Oh yeah. Everything’s good…”

  When he cocks his head like he doesn’t believe me, I add, “He had a really bad dream and it freaked both of us out. He went for a run. He’ll be back soon.”

  From the refrigerator door, Pat grabs a carton of cream, then stares at the dark brew dripping into the clear carafe. “Hmm. I wasn’t going to say anything but Juan said Lochlan fell outside yesterday, like he had epilepsy or something.”

  I bite my lower lip, mind churning up scenarios with tumors, cancer, or worse. “That doesn’t sound right. Loch moves like a tiger, always lands on his feet. What happened then?”

  Pat sips on his coffee, staring out the back deck at the darkening sky. “Lochlan brushed it off, said it was only heat poisoning.”

  “It wasn’t so hot yesterday.” Lucky survived the desert. He runs miles a day. A walk from the airport shouldn’t’ve had any effect. That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Is he coming down with something?” Pat raises one brow.

  “Nooo….” Not in the physical sense. I think back on what Suds said about him drinking, the bad dreams, and now hallucinations. “Is it possible he’s got PTSD?”

  My mom’s butler nods and sits. “That would be most likely.”

  “But he’s been out of the service for years… Oh my God, the gas explosion. That must’ve triggered it.”

  I relive the agony in Loch’s voice when I almost gave up underground. My poor hubby. I need to get him to talk.

  “I’m sure you two can work it out, especially with your mother gone.” When my stomach growls, Pat smiles and eases out of the chair. “Eggs for breakfast?”

  “Sure.” Lucky will come home, we’ll talk, and everything will be fine.

  About an hour later, the front door slams, and I rush to greet him. Sweat glistens on Loch’s chest and he gives me a big grin. “Fancy a shower with me, luv?”

  “Shush. Pat’s in the kitchen.”

  “He’s not invited.” He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the door. “Do you figure your mum will hear us in the outside shower?”

  At the mention of her, my mood darkens. “I sent her home. I can’t believe she didn’t even apologize for what she did. I may never be able to forgive her.”

  “Ah, it’s your mum. You’ll have to, eventually.” He tweaks my nose. “Towels?”

  I grab a couple thick, white bath sheets from the downstairs closet. “This time she went too far, Loch. She made me think you didn’t care about me.” Tears well and I swallow hard. “I can’t live without you. Please don’t reenlist. I need you. We need you.”

  “Ah now, sweet. Don’t cry. I can’t go on being a bodyguard, not with what happened. It ain’t right. Who’ll hire a bloody bloke who can’t even protect his own wife? Word will get out and Grayson will have to fire me to protect his business. I can’t have that.”

  “What about Suds? He didn’t quit.”

  “I can’t speak for any man other than myself.” He grabs my hand and pulls me out the door but I pout and dig in my heels.

  “Why go overseas?”

  “They’re the only ones who will have me. C’mon now. We going to shag or what?” He lifts me and carries me out the door.

  “This discussion isn’t over.” I inhale his scent, my clit tightens, and I kiss his neck.

  He chuckles the way he does when he thinks he’s won an argument. “I’ll do a few tours, make a few bucks, then find something in the civvy line of work.”

  It sounds so easy but he’s talking about years of us being apart. I could barely handle him gone for a week. Maybe I’d be more open to him reenlisting if I’d had some warning. This change is too immediate. In the nine months I’ve known him, he’s never mentioned reenlisting, so why now? When we’re expecting our first child?

  He opens the swinging door of the outside shower and drops me onto my feet on the tiled floor. Overhead, angry dark clouds gather and thunder rumbles in the distance. Quickly, I start the water so it will be heated while Lucky drops his shorts.

  His cock swells at my gaze and points to me, zooming in on what it wants. Quickly, I remove my sleepshirt and undies. We hold hands and stare for a moment. Maybe, if I love him hard enough, he’ll forget about reenlisting and want to stay.

  I grab his hand and pull him under the shower. Water dripping over both of us, I wrap my arms around him and reach my lips to his. I kiss him with all the love I have, pouring into him the sadness and longing of the last two weeks.

  He groans and digs his hands into my hair, holding me as the impatient tip of his length pokes. I squirm, reach, and pump the soap dispenser. Hands slick, I rub his chest in small circles. Then, step back so more of the water reaches him.

  He plays with the controls and I squeal because the first jets out the side are cold. While he laughs, I turn him, and soap his large, muscled back. Every inch of my man is so damn beautiful, even the scars. Slowly, I clean him completely, slapping his hands away when he tries to reciprocate.

  This is my time to love him and he lets me have my way. The muscles of his buttocks twitch when my palm glides over them. My clit swells, waiting for the iron control he’ll use to pump into me and make me whole.

  I kiss the middle of his back, his side, then drop to my knees in front of him. Before I take him in my mouth, I glance up and catch his gaze. He’s so full of love, of intensity, I need to take in air to go on. Eyes on him, I flick my tongue on his tip and his mouth drops open.

  When my fingers wrap around his base, his eyes roll up into his head. “Luv…”

  Totally into him, I take as much of him as I can, hollow my cheeks, and suck. At his sharp gasp, I take more.

  He pushes into my mouth and grabs my hair so I hold him a little tighter and pump. My other hand fondles his balls the way he loves most. At that, he moves faster and I suck harder as he thrusts. My large boobs bounce with sensitive nipples rubbing against his thighs. Holy shit, I’m about to cum and he hasn’t even touched me.

  Suddenly, he puts a finger into my mouth, I unlatch, and he pulls out. I’m lifted onto my feet, he places my hands on the walls, and
enters me fully.

  Oh my God. I cum, I shudder, I cry out, and still there’s more.

  He pumps, thrusts, holds my waists as he grunts and pants. When I grow weak, his strong arms hold me. Then, with a primal shout, he releases.

  Overwhelmed with emotion, my tears mix with water. Gentler now, he finishes off into the echoes of my spasms. Neither of us move, spooned together, joined physically and spiritually.

  Lightning strikes nearby but the intensity is nothing compared to what we shared. When reality returns, he pulls out and turns me.

  Our eyes meet and they say all. We love each other. We’ll figure this out. We have to.

  Chapter 21

  Lochlan

  She’s so fucking good. I don’t deserve her but can’t give her up. She’s got my baby growing in her. I need to become the man I once was. The only way I figure I can do it is to go back to where I was at my best.

  Until things all went to shit, I could handle any scenario, anyplace, anyone. My aim never missed, my nerves were steel, and I never fucking questioned my abilities. I was in control. Every fucking second. I had none of this bullshit with bad dreams and fucking daytime hallucinations. Maybe, with a structured physical regimen, I can get my act together. The alternative is too awful to consider. I won’t go to a nuthouse and be a burden on my family.

  My sweet sheila turns in my arms, lifts her hands to the back of my head, and smiles so sweetly, I have to return it. I kiss her under the warm water now mixed with the rain beginning to fall. Tree leaves rustle as the wind picks up and heat lightning flashes repeatedly.

  “We should get back inside.” I soap her curves, growing hard.

  How the hell does she do it to me? I can’t get enough of her. My mates tell me the lust grows less after you’re married but I see no signs of it yet. I thought I might slow down as she grew more pregnant, but hell if her ripe body doesn’t make me want her more.

  Done touching her all over, I reach for the shampoo, pour some into my hand, and scrub. She leans back into me and moans in pleasure.

  “You keep making those noises and we may never leave.”

  When she giggles, the world lifts off my shoulders. With her by my side, I can do anything. Maybe the nightmares will go away by being with her. I’ll just wait and see.

  Taking a huge towel, I rub her down until she’s starts to laugh. “I’m dry already.”

  She tries to dry me off as well but I shake my head and get her all wet again. She turns on the bottom hose, points it at me, and douses me with frigid water.

  “Fook, no.” I grab it and spray her back.

  Shivering and laughing, I turn the warm water back on and hold us both under, our towels now in a wet heap at our feet.

  An explosion blasts our small enclosure, I hold her tight, and drop to the sand.

  Insurgents surround us. The damn tires spin on the damn vehicle resting on its side. Bullets whistle by my ear, my mates moan, and I can’t fucking save them because one leg is stuck up to my knee, deep in the sand. I dig with my knife, trying to get free but there’s no time left.

  My gun glued to my hand, I fire. Men drop dead but there’s more. Holes appear in the Hummer’s metal chassis over my head, inches from my torso, and yet I’m still alive.

  “Fuck.” I run out of ammo and reload.

  “Lochlan!” My wife calls out from under me.

  “Stay down.” I fire another set of rounds.

  “Stop! We’re safe.”

  I close my eyes as bright lights flash. At the next earsplitting explosion, I manage to get free, and pull my wife to my chest. Her eyes are full of fear.

  “Don’t worry luv.”

  Her palms cup my cheek. “Lucky. Come back. We’re here in the shower. No war. Thunderstorm. You there?”

  Huh? Horrified, I let go, heart thumping. Sand turns into wood, desert to water, explosions to the grumble of a fading thunderstorm.

  This was the worst one to date and I haven’t got a clue how to explain it to my wife. She’s still standing there like an angel, hands to my face, eyes wide.

  I put my large hands over hers, pull her knuckles to my mouth, and kiss them. “Sorry, luv. Did I hurt you?”

  Her brows crease. “How long has this been going on?”

  No doubt, the gardener filled her in on my last episode. “I had some bad dreams right after I left the service. After I was home for a while, they died down.”

  “And now?”

  “Since the restaurant… a couple. But no worries, they’ll go away on their own. I’m sure of it. Just like they did the last time.”

  She doesn’t look convinced. “Let’s go have some breakfast, then we need to talk.”

  I wring out one of the wet towels, twisting hard until it’s dry. About now, that’s what my guts feel like.

  She wraps it around her body, grabs her clothes, and waits while I jump into my shorts. We dash in the cold rain up the back stairs and into her bedroom.

  There, we silently dress as the smell of bacon wafts up the stairs.

  I’m mortified she saw me so vulnerable and the only words that come to mind sound insipid. Hello, luv, your husband is a fuckin’ fucked up mess? A former Marine, former bodyguard, now worthless piece of shit.

  I need her to understand it will go away when I reenlist. There, I’ll regain the man I lost under the Hummer in the sands of Afghanistan. This time, I’ll get it right.

  Chapter 22

  Callie

  Melanie and CJ are the first to arrive on the island with their three kids in tow. I put them on the main floor. Andy and Sienna arrive next. They share the suite above with Lilac and Slate.

  Grayson has his own home on the island. He’s housing Jack and his wife, Blake. As our resident psychiatrist, her role is primary.

  While Loch runs along the beach, I phone her from my deck. “Is everyone ready?”

  “Yes. Please make sure to bring him to Grayson’s by ten. We’re set up there.”

  My throat tightens. “I hope this works. He had another bad dream last night. I can’t imagine him going off to war like this.”

  “Stay strong. You’re not alone. Now, depending on the weather, the kids will either be at the beach or the movies. Then, we’ll have about two hours to pull this off.”

  I pace in the early light. Beyond, the sun rises above the ocean’s sparkling water. Far down the beach, my husband races barefoot along the water’s edge, every inch of him a warrior.

  I hope he won’t be too mad. I waited a full week for his nightmares to subside but if anything, they’ve gotten worse. If my idea doesn’t work, he’ll reenlist and with his condition, may die. I glance down at the crumpled note in my hand. I’ve been composing it for hours. This has to work, it absolutely has to.

  I meet him at the foot of the deck with a towel. “Want to take a walk after your shower?”

  “I just ran for ten miles, luv.” He shoots me a heart stopping grin, sweat rolling down his naked chest.

  “I know, but I promised a couple friends we’d stop by.”

  “Oi, I hate trying to make convo with the locals. I don’t stack up by their standards, yeah?” He pokes one of my ribs, no doubt sensing my sadness but I step back because right now, I’m not ticklish.

  “These guys are really nice and I promised. It may be years before we can get back here together.” Tears form, I look away, and blink them back.

  If he wanted to reenlist and was in a good place, I might not be his biggest supporter, but I’d not stop him. What he’s doing is suicidal.

  He holds me tight in his naked damp body, smelling all good, sexy, and beachy. “Don’t cry, luv. I’ll meet these blokes. I’ll even be nice.”

  I punch his arm. “You’re always nice.”

  “Nah, but I will be, for you. Let me grab a quick shower.”

  Thank God. When the water starts to run, I text Blake a thumbs up, and run back upstairs to throw a dress on over my bikini.

  A few minutes later, he drops his tow
el and grins. Then, he pulls me into his warm damp body, and whispers in my ear. “Sure you wouldn’t rather stay here?”

  I laugh, hoping he doesn’t catch my nervousness. “After, I promise.”

  “Right then.” He dons khaki shorts and a t-shirt, we hop in my mother’s car, and drive to the other side of the island.

  “Bloody hell. Who lives here? Oprah?” His mouth drops open at the sight of the multi-decked, multi-floored, beach front, mansion.

  “You’ll see.” I jump out of the driver’s seat and walk the paverstone driveway, up the three stairs, and ring the bell.

  The door opens, Melanie squeals and gives me a delighted hug.

  Lucky’s mouth drops open. “I’ll be buggered.”

  “Please, come upstairs.” She hugs him and over his shoulder shoots me a worried look but I’m resolved.

  No backing out now.

  Upstairs, his friends gather on the far side of the living room by the outside doors. We walk past a circular stone fireplace. Beyond the wall of open glass doors, a salty breeze cools what would otherwise be too warm a day.

  “What’s all this? Someone’s birthday?” Lucky shakes hands and kisses cheeks.

  When done with the greetings, Blake clears her throat. “Could we all take a seat, please?”

  My husband, still confused, glances at his friends, circled around him. Sitting next to him on the couch, I grab his hands and let out the breath I was holding.

  “It’s an intervention.”

  “For who? Me? Are you fookin’ kidding?” When he stands, I do too.

  “Wait.”

  Blake steps to the middle of the room and says, “Would you be willing to stay for a moment? To hear us out?”

  “Hell no. I’m not an addict. Who told you I was?” He stares at me like I’m to blame and I am but not in the way he’s thinking.

  I put my arm around his waist because he’s sprung tight, ready to bolt. “If you’re going overseas, this is the least you can do for me.”

  “Fine.” He plops on the couch and steams while I sit.

  Blake starts the proceedings the way we rehearsed. “Loch, we’re all family here. We want to help.”