He lifted his coffee cup and stepped around her, leaving her standing there as he went for the door.
She sure hoped that kiss was meant to convey the words he couldn’t say.
Wait. Did he just smirk?
“What are you doing?” she asked, following along after him, still stuck in that devastatingly sweet kiss.
“Walking you down to your ride,” he said, opening their hotel room door.
“You’re walking me down?” she asked dreamily, all warm inside at the idea of him wanting to see her safely to her car. Connor just kept getting better and better.
“Of course. I’d have driven you wherever you needed to be this morning,” he said when she stopped in front of him in the open doorway.
“That’s sweet, Connor,” she said and lifted on her toes to kiss his lips. He was silent as he trailed behind her out the door.
~~~
Connor saw the benefit of walking behind her. He got to watch the sexy way her ass swung as they headed toward the elevators. His morning hard-on still raged inside his shorts. His dick hadn’t given him a break since he’d first woken, angry that he’d followed his brain instead of his very clear desire while they were lying in that bed.
At the elevator, she reached out for the call button. The doors opened almost immediately. He took it as a sign that he’d done the right thing. She needed to leave almost as much as he didn’t want her to go. He had liked last night. Actually, the word like was a major understatement. He’d felt alive and real—almost normal—when with Julie. Something he hadn’t experienced in more years than he could consider.
Maybe the professionals were right. Perhaps he did have some sort of mental issue left undiagnosed.
“Why the third floor?” he asked when she pressed that button, not the lobby.
“It’s the secure exit,” she said, stepping toward him, that pretty face looking up at him. “You’re a very handsome man, Connor. And charming.”
“No, I’m not. You don’t have to say things like that.” His brow wrinkled as he caressed her cheek with his palm. No one had ever accused him of being very handsome or charming for one single second of his life.
“Hand to God. You’re one of the best-looking men I’ve ever seen. I remembered you through all these years,” she said, lifting on her toes to kiss his lips. He was really growing to appreciate the subtly of that move. The elevator doors opened, but she didn’t move away, even when he extended a hand to guide her out. “You need to know, I’m usually not even a sex-on-the-third-date kind of woman.”
“The doors opened, babe.” Connor hooked an arm around her waist, starting to move them, but she stayed rooted in her spot, laying a hand on his chest.
“Is that what’s wrong with you?” she asked, her tone turning speculative.
He played those words back in his mind, trying to understand what that could possibly mean. When he had absolutely no clue how to respond, he realized how intense and focused her gaze had become.
He’d totally missed something here.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he answered honestly as the doors closed shut with them still inside. The elevator didn’t move, and he reached around her to push the button again.
“Are you insecure or hurt?” she asked quietly, not letting him deter the question.
What? Where had that even come from? Confused, he stared down at her. Since meeting Julie, he’d been in a solid mental mindset. She eased him. What had he done for her to notice the fucked-up obstacles of his life?
Since all that was hitting way too close to home, Connor moved around her, keeping the doors open with his body while gripping her arm and pulling her out the door.
“We’re at your floor and someone’s waiting, remember?” He saw the moment of indecision on her face. Luckily, she let it go when she looked around. Julie ducked her head and seemed to instinctively know where her driver had parked. She moved quickly, and he found himself trailing behind her to the same car he’d seen last night. This time a driver got out and rounded the hood as Julie got closer. He made it to the back to open the door for her.
That life-long tickle of intuition spiked, causing Connor to take a closer look at the guy. Definitely not the average chauffeur. No matter what else was going on, Connor’s armed forces and special teams training remained alive and well, allowing him to assess and categorize potential threats and targets. The guy was big, rather built, looked a little scarred up, and carried a don’t-fuck-with-me air that would make most trouble steer clear. Connor sized him up…and found him lacking. He could take him if need be. No question.
After that initial thought, he decided the guy was probably more a bodyguard slash driver. Which meant he spent a lot of time with Julie. An unexpected spike of jealousy flared, reeling across his heart before he even had a chance to ridicule himself for such a stupid thought.
Julie never looked back as she slid into the backseat. He was a few steps away, his scowl trained on the driver’s equally critical assessment, almost missing when her hand came out to stop the door from shutting.
“Connor, come here,” she said, reaching for him.
That was all it took for the driver to take a step backward, allowing Connor room between the door and the backseat. Having his back to the guy wasn’t ideal, but he bent enough to stick his head inside the vehicle.
“It’s okay, Bruno. He’s good. I’ll shut the door.”
Connor looked back to see Bruno still focused on him, but he did step away to give her privacy. Connor squatted, balancing on the balls of his feet. “Are you more famous than I realized?”
“In this industry, it’s just safer to have someone around. I hired Bruno and his brother to be intimidators. And, well, I can’t get insurance to drive right now,” she confessed in a much quieter voice while reaching out to take his hand.
“Why’s that?” he asked, taking the bait.
“I have some road rage issues. I can’t drive for a while, but don’t think less of me for that,” she added quickly. He had to re-think each one of her words until he busted out in a solid grin.
“I think you’re messing with me. I can’t see you with road rage.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “That’s what everyone says and then they ride with me and never invite me to drive them again. So are you going to call me later?”
“Yeah,” he replied and lifted her hand to his lips for a kiss.
“Good. I had fun. Thank you for last night,” she said, leaning toward him.
“Me too.” When he didn’t move far enough inside the vehicle, Julie gripped his T-shirt and pulled him farther into the backseat, far enough across the seat to softly kiss her lips without being seen. The kiss lingered, turning sweet before he pulled away.
“I’ll see you later,” he said to the sensual look she gave. He didn’t wait, not now that Bruno sat in the front seat, less than a foot away. He pushed himself out of the car and rose, closing the door tightly. He stepped back and slapped the trunk. Bruno didn’t seem to care if he was clear or not; the car had already started to roll. He stood there until she was out of sight.
He should probably google her. With a nod, he palmed his phone. Julie… Wait. Hell, he didn’t even know her last name. Connor shook his head in amusement. Okay. On that thought, he pivoted on his heels and started for the elevator, the smile solidly on his face. He had a lot to learn about her. Luckily, she seemed as into him as he was her. Not a bad turn of events. Maybe things were looking up for him after all.
~~~
Nothing felt right about his appointment. After hours of testing, Connor sat in the waiting room of his government-assigned second-opinion neurologist—the one he had demanded to see. The seat was hard, too small for his body, and all he’d had to look at for the last hour were four undecorated walls and a small, frosted sliding glass window leading to the back offices.
Not a fucking magazine in sight.
Bored out of his mind—technically nothing ne
w—he tried in vain to remind himself this was how he lived. The military way. A whole existence of large pockets of boredom mixed with extreme acts of intense activity where his life always hung in the balance, always feeling lucky when he and his team made it out alive. Then, they’d start the whole cycle over: waiting in extreme boredom until duty called again.
Nothing new, yet completely different this time. Honestly, just like everything that had happened since he’d been back from his covert mission in Syria, it seemed as if the noose around his neck grew tighter and tighter with each passing second.
Dropping his elbows on his knees, Connor leaned forward, lowering his head to study the plain dark carpet. He was having a hard time breathing. If he wasn’t careful, he would escalate into full-blown panic mode right there and ruin any chance he had of fighting this thing.
“Buck the fuck up, man,” he whispered, the mantra running through his head.
The worry of the last few weeks weighed heavily on his shoulders. Man, he wished he were back on Ty’s mountaintop, the last time his world seemed anywhere close to right. The minute he’d stepped foot back on base, his whole life began to crumble around him. One small fight with a known douchebag Turkish lieutenant and everything he’d worked his entire life to achieve was slipping through his fingers.
How could they even be serious? The Turk had clearly risked the entire mission on some ego trip. Connor had put up with that jerk for almost a month before he lost it, and honestly, the lieutenant deserved a better ass-kicking than what Connor had given him. The weak little douche KO’d after the first punch. Everybody on the ground applauded him for putting the guy in his place.
Connor grumbled as he spoke in clear disgust. “International incident, my ass.”
Frustration caused him to lift off the seat in a rush, tension flowing through him, and pace the small room until he stopped in the middle, dropped his head back and stared up at the ceiling. Defeat hung heavy on his heart.
Slow your roll, McDaniel.
Surely to God, if the powers that be had already decided to push him out of the military, his commander wouldn’t have put up such a fight to get him in to see this particular doctor. A small trickle of hope sent a shiver across his shoulders. He needed hope more than he needed anything right now. He knew his commander didn’t believe in the bullshit being spewed by the Turkish military. He’d fought hard for Connor, which was the whole reason Connor had taken this appointment so seriously. This morning had included rounds of testing. He tried hard to channel his inner reasonable human being, answering every question on those fucked-up tests and verbal evaluations like he hadn’t lived the last six years on the front line of every major skirmish all over the world. He could jump through ridiculous hoops if he had to.
Connor’s thumbnail went to his mouth as he took the closest seat. Somewhere along the way, he’d learned biting at his fingernails was technically a self-mutilation technique. He wasn’t sure he thought that way. For him, it was a simple habit to alleviate boredom. “Bored as hell” qualified right now, but he forced his finger from his mouth, not wanting anything to seem off when the doctor eventually came for him.
Again, Connor shoved out of the seat when Julie came to mind—like she’d ever been far from his thoughts. At this point, he had no idea how that might have factored into any of his answers today. Even through the stress of the day, anytime he thought of her, his mood seemed to immediately lighten. He had strategically allowed her to stay in the forefront of his mind anytime he’d been freaked out, worrying about his future. Just thinking about their time together—their incredible sex—calmed his ass down and reminded him to breathe.
Keeping his stern expression in place, the inner Connor chuckled. He’d been fucked good and happy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d experienced anything even remotely as amazing as Julie. That woman had been magical.
He was looking forward to their lunch. He’d given up his room at the hotel that morning, but maybe with some luck, he could talk Julie into spending the night with him again. He could head back to Coronado early in the morning.
Liking that idea, he palmed his phone to text her and ask that very question.
“Mr. McDaniel?”
A door opened with a short, pretty, smiling nurse standing in the center, looking about the room as if he weren’t the only person waiting. Connor absently pocketed his cell phone as he headed toward her. The quiet of the waiting room extended to the back office. One woman sat behind the frosted window, ignoring him as she stared at a monitor. The only other person he could see was the nurse who walked several steps ahead of him. A large clock on the far wall read a little past two in the afternoon. That surprised him. He’d thought it was closer to lunch. How had it taken six hours to complete a couple of tests, do a stress test, and lay inside an MRI machine? Man, this was such bullshit.
“Have a seat right in here. Dr. Berry will be here in just a minute.” He followed her through a door she pushed open at the end of the hall. She turned on the light in what was clearly the doctor’s personal office and pointed to a small table in the corner of the room.
For some reason, he imagined a lot of bad news being given at that table.
“I’m here,” Dr. Berry said from the doorway. He’d met with Connor for about two minutes first thing this morning, explaining all the planned procedures and that he’d requested a rush on the reporting. Dr. Berry didn’t have the best bedside manner with his no-nonsense attitude but he’d come highly recommended by his commander.
The doctor took the file from the nurse, effectively dismissing her as he skimmed through the pages. “Close the door for me.”
Connor took his seat, watching for any reaction from Dr. Berry as he looked over the file. He couldn’t read his expression, but watched as he anchored his ass against the desk and began moving the pages back and forth for several long minutes. After a minute more, Connor watched the doctor sigh, close the file, and tuck it between his chest and arms when he crossed them. His gaze was downcast, studying his feet.
Words didn’t need to be said with the clear message of the doctor’s body language. Dread filled Connor’s heart. No doubt the death sentence was coming. The knowledge made his brain go numb. What would he do? The military was all he’d ever known—all he had ever wanted. When other kids had been playing superheroes or cowboys and Indians, he had played G.I. Joe. He’d had a singular focus and worked hard to achieve his goals. Connor trained every day to be physically and mentally strong. A well-trained soldier… Fear had his heart hammering in his chest.
Finally, he steeled his spine and spoke when the doctor didn’t. “Just say it.”
“I’m going to recommend treatment at Walter Reed…”
What? Treatment for what?
“Why? That’s Washington DC. Whatever needs to happen needs to be right here,” Connor demanded, his fist slamming down on the table as he spoke.
“Son—” Dr. Berry started, but Connor cut him off, doing everything in his power to keep himself together when all he really wanted to do was ram his fist through anything, including the cryptic neurologist.
“No. I’m being set up on some bullshit PTSD diagnosis in order to force me out,” he said, his voice filled with venom.
“You’re a multiple-tour sniper, is that correct?” He moved enough to open the file again, thumbing through several pages.
“That’s correct,” Connor gritted out through a clamped jaw. He shoved to his feet, raking his fingers over his head as he paced.
“So why would they want to force you out?” he asked, stopping his pursuit of whatever he’d tried to find in the file.
“I went against a direct order which resulted in physical contact,” Connor supplied. He could feel the tic in his jaw begin. Only because the Turkish ambassador had gone to the press did Connor allow himself to expand on the classified incident. “He was an ass-hat from Turkey. My only duty was to train. I should have never been in the field or in Syria. I played a
long until I couldn’t. It’s caused ambassadors and shit to get involved. Apparently me being sent home wasn’t enough punishment for his country.”
“What caused the disagreement?” Dr. Berry asked in what was becoming a very irritatingly patient tone.
“I wouldn’t take a shot, because there was no clear weapon. The woman didn’t deserve to die,” Connor said. The anger of seconds ago fled, allowing the dread to coil through his gut. It had been this way for weeks. His emotions were all over the fucking place. That sense of defeat had him taking his seat again.
“Did there turn out to be a weapon?”
“No. Of course not. I told the fucker there wasn’t one with my fist,” Connor said and leaned back in the chair. The doctor just stared at him until he left his place by the desk and came to the table.
“And you believe if I label you PTSD you’ll lose your security clearance forcing you from your position?” The doctor clarified the obvious.
Duh!
“You know I will,” he shot back.
“Son, this is much more serious than a simple mental health diagnoses. The scans show some frontal lobe damage. Without further testing, we have no way of knowing the extent. I can say, as of right now, I only see one significant darkening, but we’re learning that’s enough to cause serious concern,” he stated calmly.
All Connor could do was stare at the man. What the fuck was this?
The sole goal for this second opinion was to debunk his first fucking bullshit PTSD diagnosis. No one had said anything about brain damage. Why would that even come up?
Connor let that new intel sit between them, staring at the doctor who stared back at Connor. Finally, he decided it didn’t matter. He had to fight. He was mentally strong and well-adjusted, no matter what they fucking kept throwing his way. He was a soldier. A damn good one and didn’t deserve to lose his job. Combat injury—fuck yeah! He went into direct combat three or four damn times a year.
“I wasn’t in any sort of real direct combat this time around. That was a simple Turkish raid we provided overwatch for,” he stated, beginning to build a case for his fight.
Mission Happy (A Texas Desires Novel Book 3) Page 8