“Fine.”
She sighed. “Which subjects did you like—and why?”
“History and math.”
When he didn’t continue, she coaxed, “Why?”
He drew a deep breath. “History because I liked reading about wars and military campaigns. I figured even as a teenager it was good to learn from past mistakes and not repeat them. Unfortunately, that’s easier said than done.” He paused a moment, lost in thought, then blinked himself back to the present. “Math because it’s like a puzzle, a challenge. I like finding ways to solve problems using predictable mathematical rules that don’t change on a whim. The way to the answer is the same yesterday and today as it will be tomorrow.”
Ah, so math was safe for Adam. No wonder he enjoyed running the club’s business so much. She imagined that skill had served him well in the Marines, too. Procedures. Duty. Code of Conduct.
“Why did you choose to join the Marines and not another branch?”
“Family tradition. There’s been a Marine in the Montague family since back to the Civil War when my great-great-grandfather served.”
“Wow, that’s a long history. I don’t think I know what my family did before World War I even.”
“Well, sometimes the blood gets watered down through the generations. You have to go further back to find someone to be proud of.”
Oh, here we go. Best to avoid his mother at this point, given his nightmare in the hospital. “Tell me about your dad.” His body grew rigid, and he went straight on the defensive.
“He was a dickwad. Drank too much. Abused my mother. Is that what you wanted to know about me, hon?”
Had his father abused Adam, too? “Oh, Adam, I’m so sorry you had to go through that. But you aren’t your father and you’re not responsible for the choices he made. Is that why you don’t drink?”
In a flash, he placed his hands around her waist and tried to lift her off his lap. He grimaced in pain at the exertion.
“Don’t lift me! You’ll hurt yourself. I’ll get up.”
She scooted off his lap and stood, then sat down beside him on the edge of the bed.
“I’m fine.” He gritted his teeth through the obvious pain, then stood and made his way toward the door. Why had talking about drinking set him off? “Get some sleep, Karla. I plan to do the same.”
But I want to sleep with you, Adam.
“Adam.” She waited for him to stop and turn toward her, his hand resting on the doorknob. “You might win this battle with your retreat, but you haven’t won the war—and you won’t.” I’m the most formidable foe you’ve ever encountered. “Run, if you must, but you can’t hide from me.”
He blinked a couple of times, then turned the knob and left the room, softly closing the door behind him.
Adam Montague, I am going to hunt down all your ghosts, including Joni, and put them to rest so you can get on with your life.
Your life with me.
* * *
Had Karla just declared war on him? Over what—not telling her more about his fucking childhood? Or how his drinking had turned him into the very monster he’d been running from his entire life?
Adam remembered the night he’d gotten drunk with some buddies at the enlisted men’s club and scared Joni so badly she’d threatened to leave him if he didn’t stop drinking then and there. They’d only been married a few months. Hell, they were still practically strangers, given how quickly they’d married after meeting. He wasn’t even sure what had set him off, maybe her telling him he had to quit drinking. He did remember spanking her, harder than ever before. Not an erotic spanking, but a damned near abusive one. He’d lost control and struck her in anger, something a Dom should never do.
He’d stopped drinking the next day, after he’d sobered up and had seen how hurt Joni was, emotionally, if not physically. He hadn’t touched a drop again until after Joni died, when the thought of life without her scared the shit out of him and sent him on a two-week self-pity drinking binge. In the early years of their marriage, Joni had pulled him back from the brink of disaster. She’d even helped him decide to make his career with the Corps, when he could have just finished his first stint and moved on to something else. She’d sworn she was proud of him for making that decision, but he knew her input had a lot to do with it.
Adam made his way back to his room, reaching up to rub the back of his neck and finding a new scar from one of the cat bites or scratches. Imagining Karla’s delicate skin ripped open by the cat’s teeth and claws caused his gut to churn.
The day of the attack, Adam and Marc had left the girls behind with Luke when Angelina had told them where to pick up her hogtied ex-boyfriend. Damián hadn’t been able to negotiate the steep trail as well and had stayed a little further up the trail. They almost met up with Karla’s group again when he’d heard Angelina scream, “Karla! Watch out!” His heart jumped into his throat as he dropped the ex and ran down the trail only to find Karla, scared and pale, pinned against a boulder by a cougar. She’d looked to him to help her. To rescue her.
He’d never get that image out of his head as long as he lived. All he knew to do was to distract the big cat and get it to go after him. It did. Thank God.
He wouldn’t have traded placed for the world, but just wished he hadn’t added to her hero-worship fixation that had begun when he’d fought off a pimp and his buddies in that Chicago bus station. He’d done what anyone would have done if they’d seen a young runaway in trouble like that. He had a long record reaching hero pay grade. Men had died because of him. Joni had chosen to suffer alone until the very end, rather than ask for him to return from Kandahar. He’d never been able to protect his mother, either.
But Karla just kept getting herself into situations where she needed rescuing. Looking to him to be her hero. Now he’d repaid that trust by doing what? Attacking her himself.
His dick throbbed as he slammed the door and walked over to the bed. Oh, Christ. The bloody stain showing the aftermath of his assault on her innocent body stared him in the face. He went to the bed, removed the blanket and comforter and stripped the sheets.
Cold water and soap removes bloodstains.
The voice of his mother invaded his head for the first time in…forever. Damn her, why had Karla made him think about his father and those dark days of his childhood? It was no one’s business where he’d come from. He’d left that nightmare behind more than three decades ago and had no desire to dredge any of it up.
He carried the bloodied sheet into the bathroom and scrubbed away the evidence of what he’d done to Karla. So why had she declared war on him? She should want him to retreat from her. Why the sudden interest in knowing more about him? About his past? Some things were better left buried.
Adam’s mother had been able to protect him when he was young, but as he’d grown older his father’s rages had grown more violent. He’d used Adam as a punching bag a couple nights a week. At least on those nights he wasn’t punching on Adam’s mom. A new image flashed across his mind. Even though it was there for only an instant, he knew the memory would be imprinted on his brain forever.
Blood.
The floor was covered in blood. Adam’s father lay face down on the carpet, his mother lying next to him, shaking uncontrollably, dazed. Adam looked again at his father’s lifeless body. This man once had pummeled Adam so badly his mother had to take him to the emergency room. Now he looked weak, inconsequential, his life’s blood draining from a gaping hole in the back of his head—and Adam didn't care.
He looked down at his side and saw the bloodied baseball bat gripped in his hand.
So much blood. What had he done? He let the bat fall from his hand.
Adam’s hands began to shake. Instinctively, he knew this wasn’t a dream or a fiction. Hell, he knew everyone in the scene. Jesus fucking Christ. What had he done? Had he killed his father? Not that the bastard didn’t need killing. But how could he have forgotten or blocked out a scene like that?
Is th
at why he’d been running his whole life?
At some point, he realized the stain on the sheet in his hands was long gone and stopped scrubbing. Twisting the excess water out of the sheet, he wadded it up and tossed it in the hamper, wishing he could discard the bloody memory as easily. He washed his hands, but the blood wouldn’t wash away. It never had.
He’d had blood on his hands for thirty-four years.
Too exhausted to make up the bed, he stripped off his shirt and sweats and stretched the top sheet out, easing himself down on the pillow and avoiding getting anywhere near Karla’s side of the bed—Wait. Karla didn’t have a side of the bed. It was his fucking bed. Only his. That was just the way he intended to keep it.
He covered his eyes with his forearm and tried to force himself to relax. To sleep. After a few minutes, he groaned and wrenched his arm down, pushing himself up as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. The pull of the muscles in his back told him to slow down.
But he knew sleep wasn’t going to come, no matter how exhausted he was. Just as well. The long-buried demons had been unleashed and would consume him if he dreamt anymore tonight. They were just too close to the surface. They’d even brought reinforcements this time.
He put his sweats and shirt back on and walked to the French doors, opened one, and stepped out onto the balcony patio. The cold blast of mid-October air shocked him awake, which was just as well. He wanted to feel again, be on full alert for the first time since he’d been attacked on that mountain.
Adam toyed with the idea of getting into the hot tub to release some of this tension under the extreme pressure of the jets, but he’d be damned if he’d risk Karla seeing his old scars, much less the fresh ones. Fortunately, she bought the argument that Marc would be better at cleaning and dressing his wounds, with his Navy corpsman and SAR training, so he’d kept her from seeing them so far.
Standing at the wrought-iron railing, he looked up at the sky but could barely make out a few stars—or maybe they were planets—dimmed by the glow of the city’s lights. An ambulance siren sounded in the distance, sucking him right back into the nightmare of that night again.
Adam tried to help his mother up, but she screamed in pain. She’d been injured. He needed to call an ambulance.
“Just bring me the phone. Then take the money in the bureau and leave.”
Adam looked at his father again. No sign of life. Dead.
He’d killed his father.
No wonder his mother wanted him gone. He followed her instructions to a T and left.
He ran.
* * *
Watch over him. He needs you.
Sitting up in her bed a short while later, Karla couldn’t ignore the voice that had first come to her mind nine years ago. She knew it was a woman’s voice but didn’t recognize her as anyone she’d ever known. No matter. Getting out of bed, she pulled an oversized T-shirt over her nakedness and left the room to cross the hall. She knew what she had to do.
When Adam didn’t answer her knock, she eased the door open and her gaze swept the master suite. No Adam. Maybe he’d gone downstairs for something to eat or drink. She should have gotten it for him; some nursemaid she was turning out to be. An image flashed across her mind of Angelina in the sexy nurse’s outfit Adam had bought for her two weeks ago, following Marc’s explicit instructions in the man’s efforts to win back the woman he loved. What would Adam think if she showed up in his bedroom wearing something like that? She giggled as she imagined the strangled look he’d give her. And then he’d order her back to Chicago.
Seeing the bed had been stripped of its bottom sheet, her face grew warm as she realized she must have left a stain with her virgin's blood. She should have been the one to strip the bed and clean it up. Wanting to provide him with clean sheets to sleep on when he came back to bed, she went to the hallway cabinet and pulled a set out, then returned to the bedroom. Knowing Adam, he hadn’t wanted Marc to see the telltale bloodstains when he came in to check on his friend in the morning tomorrow. Good thinking. At least one of them was still thinking clearly.
Standing up after completing her task, she glanced toward the patio doors and saw the shadow of a tall figure. Her heart jumped into her throat for a moment, until she realized who it was. Adam. Where was his coat? Didn’t he know it was freezing out there?
She picked up a fleece throw from the back of the glider chair she loved to sit in, usually when Adam was gone, and carried it toward the balcony door. The door hadn’t been closed completely, so she pushed it open on silent hinges, slipped outside, and closed the door quietly before crossing the expanse of the balcony patio. Adam hadn’t acknowledged her presence, but he had to know she was there. He was always on full alert and his pain pills had to have worn off by now. He clearly just wished she’d go away.
No such luck, love.
Lord, it was frigid out here. Felt like snow in the air.
Karla placed her hand on his shoulder. In a blindingly fast and fluid movement, he turned and swung his elbow at her temple. Her self-defense training kicked in automatically. Before she realized she’d even moved, she had executed an up block, grabbing his arm in a firm grip, then pushed him against the wrought-iron railing. He winced, causing her to remember too laet his wounds. But knew if she let him go, he might still strike out at her blindly.
“Adam, it’s me. Karla.”
The glazed look in his eyes scared her, and he continued trying to escape her hold.
Fear. Anger. Disgust.
Her breathing came in short, rapid bursts. “Adam, look at me.” When he quit struggling, she relaxed her hold. Both of them struggled to fill their lungs. She reached up to smooth the lines from his forehead.
Slowly, his focus cleared and he reached up to stroke her cheek. “God, woman, don’t you know you should never sneak up on a Marine? What are you doing out here?”
He’d called her woman. She smiled.
“I didn’t sneak; you were just a million miles away. I didn’t want to disturb you, but you need to stay warm. It’s freezing out here, and I don’t want you to get another infection.”
“I’m always too warm. Besides, I don’t need a mother hen.”
No kidding. What you need is a wife. You need me.
She wanted to wrap the throw across his shoulders, but he was too tall. “Bend over.”
“Come again?” He grew rigid and stood even taller, placing his fists on his hips, elbows jutting out, to further intimidate her, as if his six-two frame and broad shoulders didn’t already dwarf her five-ten skinny one.
She grinned. “Oh, relax, Adam. I just want to put this around your shoulders to keep you warm.”
“I said I’m not cold.”
Karla felt a shiver go through her own body, and Adam took the throw from her hands and cocooned her in it instead. Always taking care of her. She decided to take advantage of his nearness and wrapped her arms around him, forcing him to reciprocate to keep the blanket from falling off. She felt the scarred back under his thin shirt.
“Oh, God, Adam. I didn’t hurt you did I?”
“I’d like to see the day when a little thing like you can hurt me, kitten.”
She smiled, but was extra careful to hold onto his lower back, avoiding the bandages. She rested her head against his shoulder. God, it felt so good to be in his arms.
However, he remained tense. She slipped her hand under the loose tail of his shirt and rubbed the hot skin on his lower back. His skin always felt like an oven, but there was a hot spot just above the base of his spine that felt like a heating pad.
After the longest moment, his arms tightened around her and he held on tight, as if she were his lifeline.
Trust me, Adam.
“I’m here for you, Adam.”
“I didn’t hit you, did I?”
“Oh, Adam, quit worrying about me. I’m not made of porcelain. Remember, you made sure this woman could defend herself against anyone who might try to do her harm.” In one of his lett
ers after he’d returned from Iraq, he’d insisted she take martial-arts training before she moved to New York to attend college. She wasn’t sure if he was more worried about violent thugs on the streets or amorous boys in the co-ed dorms.
“God, if I’d ever hurt you, I… Just make your presence known next time, even if you have to hit me over the head.”
“Yes, sir.”
He tensed. Did he think she was calling him Sir as a Dom? She smiled. Maybe they should talk about that next—but not while she was standing out here freezing. “Let’s go inside. I’ve got your bed all made up. You need to get some sleep.”
“I can’t sleep.”
“Then we’ll talk.”
Adam stopped breathing. Ah, so he didn’t want to talk either. Too bad, because it definitely was what he needed to do.
“Talk about what?” His defensive tone made her grin, knowing he couldn’t see her.
“I’ll tell you when I get you inside.” She released her hold on him and took his hand, holding the throw together over her breasts with the other, and led him toward the door. The fact that he followed willingly surprised her. Whether he knew it or not, he needed someone to talk to. He’d been alone with his pent-up emotions for too long.
Inside the room, Adam stopped. “Maybe I could catch some shut-eye, after all.”
Karla bit the inside of her lower lip to keep from grinning and looked up at him. “Fine. I’m tired, too, but I don’t want to be alone right now. I’ll join you.”
The trapped expression on Adam’s face nearly sent her into a fit of laughter, yet she managed to keep herself from gloating over his growing discomfort. “Look, Karla, I don’t think—”
“You aren’t going to keep running from me, Adam. Talk or sleep. Your call.”
His gaze went from the empty bed to the armless glider. Yeah, the glider would be less threatening for him, because he didn’t know where Karla intended to sit. She took his hand and walked with him to the cushioned glider. “Come on. Sit down. We can start here.”
Nobody's Hero Page 5