“You sit on a throne of lies,” Briggs replies, laying his cards down as the rest of the table groans at the sight of his winning hand. “You ladies never had a chance.”
“There’s only one lady at the table, asshole.” Morrero slaps his hand on the table to protect his stash of Now and Laters as I pull up a chair.
“That remains to be seen,” Briggs replies, snatching the earned candy out of Morrero’s reach.
Briggs tosses a few bags of Skittles and other candy my way. “I’ll pay your ante until you can get me back.”
“Thanks,” I say as Mullins puts a hand on my shoulder. “You good?”
Briggs watches me carefully for the answer, and suddenly all eyes are on me. I realize then that I need to be more present. My pity party has gone on long enough. I’m not going to help anyone with the way I’ve been behaving.
“Can I have a shot of that?” I ask Briggs, who sits across from me. He doesn’t hesitate a second to fill the cap close to the rim, and I grip it from him and toss it back. Warmth spreads through me as I finally answer. “I will be in about five minutes.”
Briggs nods, shuffling the deck six ways, making it look easy.
“Should I be afraid?” I whisper to Mullins.
She leans in conspiratorially as Briggs grins at something Jones says. “He’s only lost two hands in the last hour.”
“Damn.”
“I told him you wouldn’t come, but he insisted Jones go get you. I’m glad you came.”
Briggs wanted me here?
I look up to find him grinning at me.
“Want another?”
I swallow. “Another what?”
His smile widens with amusement. “Another shot, Scottie?”
“Oh, sure, yeah.” I extend the empty cap and return his grin as Mullins nudges me, “Someone is crushin’ on you.”
As if Briggs can hear her, he speaks up on his own behalf. “You’ve been killing yourself over there,” he says with a twinge of what sounds like respect. “You need a break.”
“Thanks for noticing, but I’m okay.” I take my cards and spread them out. I only have a pair of tens. I toss three down, and Briggs deals me three more. “I’m not the one risking my life out there every day. Don’t make a hero out of me.”
Morrero speaks up next from where he sits beside Mullins, who hangs on his every word. “I’ve seen the traffic coming in lately,” he says in a somber tone. “You’re appreciated,” he adds as he pours another shot in front of me and then looks over to Mullins. “Both of you.” He hands the Listerine bottle filled with liquor to Mullins, who takes a healthy swig after toasting with me, and I toss mine back. It’s here, sitting at a table full of soldiers with lives, families, and fears of their own, that I finally start to breathe a bit easier.
“During a loud thunderstorm,” Briggs says, before tossing a shot back, “a little girl runs into her parents’ bedroom. ‘Holy shit!’ she screams. ‘And you wanted me to see a doctor about sucking my thumb?’ ”
I shake my head as the rest of the table cracks up laughing. Briggs has been on a roll for the last two hours, freely pouring shots while sweeping the table with the hands he lays. Most of his jokes are chauvinistic or in poor taste, but I can’t help but laugh at him. His attention is divided equally among all of us, and it’s over this time I realize he’s that guy, the attentive one. In his own way, he’s taking care of all of us. I can’t help but admire his spirit—the way he always seems to make the best of the situation. And for those hours, with my head buzzing from the whiskey, and the laughter bubbling up, I forget the ache of missing home.
“Tell the one about the husband and wife,” Morrero orders as he takes another shot.
“Not appropriate,” Briggs says, grinning at his cards.
“Oh, please,” I say. “Like you’ve really been holding back.”
His eyes shoot to mine and hold my gaze. “Trust me, I have been.”
Uncomfortable with the roundabout comment, I shift in my seat and fire back. “Might as well, and for the record, you need new material.”
“Nah,” he says, pulling one of his cards out and pushing it back in his hand. “I’ll keep this one to myself, and if you’ve got better, I’d love to hear it.”
I shrug. “Not my thing.”
“They’re jokes, Scottie,” he says with a frown. “It’s not exactly a hobby.”
In that moment, I feel like an ice princess. I don’t know why I’m riding him so hard or always on the defensive. Maybe I’m a little jealous of his carefree demeanor. I’ve never been one to woo a crowd, but he’s done nothing but cater to all of us since I showed up.
“Tell you what,” I offer. “You find yourself in need of a nurse, I’ll show you exactly what I’m good at.”
He doesn’t miss a beat.
“Jones, grab your gun, but don’t get that bullet anywhere near my dick.”
Our eyes lock over the table as I shake my head with a hesitant smile.
Chapter Five
Briggs
“Fuck!” I fist my hands at my forehead as I watch Hollins roll out in a Humvee, unconscious. He’s lost a shitload of blood.
Jones puts a hand on my shoulder as I try to recall what happened.
“It was quick. Get out of your head. This isn’t on you,” he warns as we climb into the truck and follow them back to base. Our patrol had ended in a gunfight. Some motherfucker had decided to go kamikaze on us just before we’d finished up. Twisting in my seat, I look back at the two soldiers behind us who I call the two micks—McKnight and McCallister.
“What’d you see?” They’re already shaking their heads before I can get the question out.
“No fucking clue,” McKnight says, looking past my shoulder at the speeding Humvee. “That asshole came out of nowhere.”
“Was he alone?”
“Not sure,” McCallister answers. “But as fast as we took that fucker down, I think we rattled the rest away.”
Pissed I didn’t see it coming, I smash my fist on the dash as Jones drives us back to base. As soon as he hits the brakes, I’m racing for the clinic.
Hauling ass inside, I’m brought to a stop when I see Scottie sitting beside Hollins, her features twisted in guilt, his lifeless body on the table next to her. She rubs her hands down her face and shakes her head before her eyes meet mine.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” I say, approaching the table with lead in my stomach. “What happened?”
“We tried,” she says, pulling a fresh sheet over Hollins. Reaching out, I stop her movement before she can completely cover him. My hand rests on her shoulder for a beat before I pull it away.
“Just a second,” I whisper, as my chest constricts. I study Hollins for a minute, maybe more, before I nod my head, and she covers him the rest of the way.
“Thank you,” Scottie whispers to Hollins. “I’m so sorry.”
Unable to speak around the building lump in my throat, I turn to walk away when her voice stops me.
“Did he have a family?”
Irritated with the question, I look back to her, letting it out the only way I can. “He had a fucking life he wasn’t finished living, Scottie—isn’t that enough? Or does every soldier have to be a family man to matter?”
Instantly I regret it. I can’t even look at her face for her reaction because I already feel like an asshole.
Two steps outside the clinic, my hands are on my knees. “FUCK!”
“I’m sorry.” She speaks up from behind me. “I did everything I could. In truth, he was already gone before he got here.”
Turning, I look back at her. My asshole comment didn’t faze her, but I can see the regret of his loss in her posture. Sunlight glints off her hair as she looks to me with concern and sympathy swimming in her sea-colored eyes. I’m not used to seeing that on any other woman’s face but my Gran, and I find it comforting, appealing even.
“Thank you.”
She swipes the side of her face with
her hand, her own frustration showing. “I didn’t do anything. I feel like I’m not saving anyone. Most of the time”—she pauses—“by the time they get here…” Her eyes shine with defeat. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be dumping on you.”
“It’s okay to grieve a soldier you don’t know, Scottie. I think everyone should. I’m sure you’re doing all you can. You’re here, that’s enough.”
She opens her mouth to speak then presses her lips together.
“What is it?” I ask, taking a step toward her.
It’s hard not to notice her. Even when she’s dressed in greens and without a stitch of makeup, the woman is remarkably beautiful.
She hesitates before she takes a step forward and looks up at me. “Just…be careful out there, okay? Watch your six, Briggs.”
“You worried about me?”
“Yes,” she says without hesitation. “Yes. Please don’t show up on my table.” She’s dead serious. I know she’s having a hard time being away from her family. She’s probably never seen as much carnage as she has in the last month. I stare at her a beat too long as she holds my gaze.
“I’ll do my best, Scottie.”
“Do better than that,” she whispers before she turns and walks back inside.
Chapter Six
Briggs
Firing off my fists, I do my best to put a dent in the bag, and I don’t stop until I feel the restlessness inside give way to exhaustion.
“You are such a pus-say,” I hear Mullins say. I turn around with a grin on my face, which only grows wider once I see who she’s torturing.
Scottie is doing sit-ups in a T-shirt and camo pants. Mullins is pressing on her knees as she barks down at her like a drill sergeant. Scottie gives her the “eat shit” look I’ve grown so fond of. It’s been a few weeks since Hollins, and from what I can tell, she’s done a one-eighty since then. Her morale is up, and she’s giving her smiles out a little more freely, especially when it’s the five of us. I check in on her when I drop off supplies to the clinic, and the last time I was there, I watched her single-handedly save a man before the doctor could set the spoon down on his chow. It’s easy for me to admit I was in awe of her that day, and since then, I’ve been spending a little too much time being in that state.
“Morning, ladies,” I say as Scottie’s eyes bulge a little when she sees me.
“Go away, Briggs,” Scottie barks.
“Now, is that any way to treat a fellow soldier?”
Mullins turns to me with a grin. “’Sup, Briggs.”
“Just heard my favorite subject being discussed and thought I’d mosey on over.”
Mullins wrinkles her brow.
“Pus-say,” I repeat. She throws her head back and laughs.
“Figures,” Scottie huffs, doing a terrible job of hiding her smile while she lifts up.
“I know, I know.” I raise my gloves, palms out, in defense. “Poor form, but I couldn’t resist.” Scottie looks up at me with parted lips in an attempt to catch her breath. Sweat trickles down her temple, and my imagination kicks into overdrive.
“Hence the, ‘go away Briggs,’” Scottie says, standing.
“You should box,” I remark.
“Yeah?” she asks. “Why’s that?”
I give her a menacing smile. “It’s fun. It’ll work some of that pent-up aggression out of you.”
“I don’t have any pent-up aggression,” she says, a quizzical look on her face.
“Well, then maybe it’s sexual hostility. I’m also a pretty good teacher there too.”
“I bet you are,” Mullins says with a budding smile, just before Scottie socks her right in the tit. “I’ve got your pus-say.”
I throw my head back and laugh before Scottie levels me with her stare.
“Don’t you worry about me, Briggs,” she says sardonically. “I’m good. I get mine. Matter of fact, it’s time for a call with my Captain.” She yanks Mullins’s ponytail and gives me the bird before she makes her way toward the door. I turn to Mullins, confused.
“Captain?”
“Yeah,” Mullins says. “As in, US Army Captain. She doesn’t like to brag, but yeah,” she says, enjoying my discomfort, “he’s a bit of a badass.”
With my balls lodged in my throat from that swift kick, I swallow hard, praying like hell she doesn’t see it.
She saw it.
Biting her lip, Mullins briefly lays a comforting hand on my shoulder before she follows Scottie out of the door.
Chapter Seven
Katy
“How many men does it take to open a beer bottle?”
Smiling to myself, I continue wiping down my station. I’d recognize that twang anywhere now, and as much as I hate to admit it, Briggs’s voice has become a growing comfort to me. Whether it’s the familiar accent alone or the fact that it’s always accompanied by a warm smile and much-needed humor is a mystery. All I know is, in the last two months, he’s grown on me.
Mullins and I have been hanging out with the guys every spare moment we’ve had. They’ve become like family to us. Well…to me, anyhow. I haven’t asked, because I really don’t want to know, but I am fairly sure that in the last week, my best friend has engaged in extracurricular activities with Morrero. And Mullins isn’t the only one slipping out of her tent at night. From what I gather from wagging tongues at the clinic, Briggs is quite the ladies’ man and has one hell of a sexual appetite. I don’t understand why the thought makes me cringe.
Briggs still pisses me off with his bravado, but I’ve come to realize he truly is harmless, albeit a shameless flirt with an ever-growing ego. If he’s returned to base and telling jokes, that means they’ve all made it back safely, so that lighthearted drawl is music to my ears.
“I’ll bite,” I say as I spray sanitizer on the countertop. “How many men does it take to open a beer bottle?”
“None,” he chuckles. “It should already be open when she brings it to you.”
Shaking my head, I glance over my shoulder and see his eyes are already on me—well, my ass. Warmth and relief creep in when his dimple appears, as his smile deepens.
“You’re such a pig.”
“Missed ya, Scottie.” He leans in, resting his forearms on the counter I just wiped.
“Yeah, yeah…war makin’ you soft, Briggs?” I tease, pushing him away.
“Me? Soft?” he scoffs. “Hard as a fuckin’ rock.”
I choke, widening my eyes at his nerve.
“You walked right into that one.”
“Did you come over here just to aggravate me?” I ask. He knows how much his flirting gets to me and just loves to see me riled. My problem is the way it makes me feel. You can only get away with being flattered at the attention for so long. I’ve come to expect it from him, and if I’m honest with myself, I would miss it if he stopped, and that’s the part that bothers me. I never encourage him, and he never crosses the line. It’s his nature, and I’m not the only one on the receiving end of it. I sure as hell don’t want to be the woman who takes it for more than what it is. Briggs is being Briggs. At the end of the day, that’s what matters most. It seems he never lets the chaos of his job ruin his battle-side manner, which is fun and infectious. It’s one of the things that draws us all to him.
“Though seeing you blush is my new favorite pastime, Scottie, I wanted to tell ya we’re going out on a humanitarian mission tomorrow. Wanna come hand out some supplies and candy? Shake hands with the locals?”
Briggs knows how much I’ve been itching to get out of the clinic. Women aren’t allowed to accompany the convoys on combat missions but are permitted to attend the aid missions, which are deemed relatively safe.
“Seriously?” I ask, excited at the idea. I’m sure the smile I’m sporting is evidence enough.
He seems pleased with himself at the sight of it. “Yup. Go volunteer before someone else does…you’re welcome,” he adds, adjusting the brim of my hat.
I am so excited that I totally disregard my own pe
rsonal space rule, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Thank you, Briggs,” I squeal.
“Don’t mention it.” He snakes his arms around me with some hesitation, and I quickly release him, backing away. He clears his throat. “No problem. I can’t imagine being stuck in this cage for as long as you girls have. I’ll talk to you tomorrow mornin’. Goin’ to bed as soon as I wash this stink off.” He stalks toward the door in his dusty combat boots.
They must’ve just gotten in. He didn’t even shower before stopping by to see me. Something about that fact spreads warmth through my chest that I’d rather not acknowledge. Batting the elation away, I scurry around a table, putting some space between us.
“I’ve got a lot to do around here, so I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I can feel his eyes scouring the spotless clinic as I duck to unload one of the cabinets and rearrange the contents.
His reply drips with sarcasm. “I can see you’re swamped.”
I bite my lips to stifle a laugh while still hiding myself from his scrutiny.
“See you in the morning.” The creak of the door and his farewell has me letting out a shaky breath. “Oh, and Scottie?” he calls, peeking his head back inside just as I tilt mine and get a clear view of his boot holding the door. From the tip of that boot to the top of his head, he is solid man: etched muscles and endless amounts of testosterone. Briefly, I let myself drink in his tousled hair, watered-down whiskey eyes, and full lips. Briggs isn’t the type of man you pass over; he’s a double take that makes ‘tall, dark, and handsome’ seem like an understatement.
“Yeah?”
“Knew ya wanted me,” he quips quickly, shutting the door before I have time to respond.
I shake my head with a laugh before I go to find Mullins. I’m not wasting a single minute before securing those spots on the mission. Apparently, spending too much time on the base has been screwing with my head.
Noah reads to me as Gavin and I share a smile across the monitor. I’m having a hard time not tearing up, but I’ve never been so proud. Noah closes his book. “Was that a good story, Mommy?”
Heartbreak Warfare Page 3