Nobody's Hero

by Kallypso Masters

  Adam stood up. “This conversation is over.”

  “What do you plan to do about her?”

  Adam looked at Marc. “What I plan to do is go upstairs.” He needed to be alone, to think. He picked up the bag of hardware, hating the tell-tale sound it emitted and not sure what he’d do with the hardware now.

  Chapter Twenty

  In his bedroom, he threw the bag on the bed and headed for the deck, shucking his clothes as he walked. He needed a good soak in the hot tub. Maybe he could sort out what had sent Karla packing and what he was going to do about it.

  As he soaked in the tub, memories flooded his brain—of her screaming a passionate release, straddling him, kneeling at his feet, washing him, wrapping her lips around his dick—of all the ways she’d submitted to him totally and completely.

  He’d never expected Karla to embrace being a submissive so wholeheartedly, but she had seemed to take to it like a ship to water, especially after they’d gotten beyond that ridiculous Master/slave arrangement. Then she’d inexplicably tried to go back to that agreement on what turned out to be their last night. Then she’d left him.

  Later, long after he’d heard Luke saying goodbye to Angelina in the driveway and Marc’s Porsche speed off a short time after, he grabbed a terry-cloth robe from the heated bin beside the hot tub and stepped out of the overheated water, donning the robe to ward off the cold chill. All he’d gotten out of his hour in the tub were pruny feet and a hard-on from thinking about Karla submitting to him. Back in the bedroom he struck a match to the fire he’d laid last night, but hadn’t gotten to burn because Karla hadn’t joined him after the club closed.

  Sitting in front of the fireplace, staring into the flames, he ached to have Karla’s body cradled between his legs, wrapped inside his arms. He missed her, but the answers he sought still weren’t forthcoming. With a grunt, he stood up and looked at the bed where the bag of hardware mocked him. He’d been looking forward to restraining Karla to his bed tonight.

  Now he wouldn’t even be able to hold her. The loneliness that descended on him pierced his chest with as much lethal force it was as if he’d fallen on his own sword.

  She’d left him. Every woman he’d ever loved had abandoned him in some way. Joni didn’t leave him intentionally, but the others had. His mother had kicked him out at sixteen, not that his home life was anything he should have missed. But he’d missed her in those first few years. Even went back to find her after boot camp, but she’d really disappeared by then.

  His mother had kicked him out in the heat of an intense moment, though. Somehow Karla’s calculated decision to leave him was worse yet. Left him hurting.

  Raw.

  She had stripped his defenses over the past few months until his emotions had been laid bare, exposed at the surface level. The loss of Karla hurt more than any physical pain he’d ever felt. Even losing Joni failed to compare, because his self-defense mechanisms had been firmly in place then. He’d been able to block or deflect most of the pain of her loss, then spread it out over the next few years until he retired from the Corps.

  Aw, who the fuck was he kidding? He’d been so fucking numb since Joni died. He’d really only begun to face her loss in the last few weeks, when he’d gone back to Minnesota this year.

  He hadn’t even been able to start facing Joni’s loss until Karla had come back into his life and forced him to deal with his emotions; obliterating all of his defenses.

  Yesterday, after listening to the tapes, for the first time he’d been able to say goodbye to Joni without the weight of all the guilt he’d carried over the years. Maybe Marc and Karla were right. He had loved Joni, even if he’d never been able to say the words to her. She’d apparently understood and accepted that, which eased some of his guilt. All these years, he’d thought he’d let her down. That he hadn’t been the man she deserved. Hearing that Joni didn’t see it that way helped.

  Joni and Karla were so much stronger emotionally. Adam had been crippled in that area, probably because of his fucked-up childhood. But he didn’t want to think about that now.

  But how had he missed the signs last night that she was so unhappy? That she was getting ready to leave him? Abandon him?

  Aw, kitten. Why’d you go? Don’t you know I’m lost without you?

  Like Joni, Karla had become his anchor over the years, from the time she’d helped him reset his compass nine years ago and get back into the war with his head on straight, through all those years of faithful correspondence, right up until she’d declared war on his heart, then submitted to him in such sweet ways over the past month or so. His young Amazon had not only laid siege to his heart, she’d captured the damned thing. No great prize for her. No, this was a case where the captured won it all—but was too damned bitter and blind to even realize what a prize he had.

  Even the thought of spending time in the club without her singing to him didn’t interest him. Marc had been right. He’d thought back over the months since she’d arrived at the club in July and she’d sung at least one song to him every night expressing her feelings for him. Some weren’t particularly flattering, like the one describing him as poison; but filled with truth, nonetheless. How could he be so fucking blind?

  And how was she supposed to know how much he needed her? Did he ever tell her?

  So now what? Now what?

  If he could get Karla back, would he make the same mistakes he’d made before? Could he tell her he loved her—as well as show her—every fucking day they had together? Maybe, if only she’d come back to him.

  Maybe isn’t good enough for her, jarhead.

  He didn’t need Joni’s other-worldly head slaps to get his head out of his ass. He knew what he needed to do. But first he needed to get some intel. He pulled out his phone and texted, “Do U know where she was going?”

  Seconds later, a beep as Marc replied. “Chicago.”

  Adam smiled. Good girl. He knew exactly where to find her. He texted back, “UR n charge while I’m gone. Leave business matters to Grant.” He hit send.

  The phone beeped. “No fucking problem.” Adam grinned. No one hated bookwork more than Marc.

  Adam crossed the bedroom to his closet and pulled out his seabag. He’d have plenty of time to figure out what he was going to say to Karla while on the road, because there was no way in hell he’d be able to get a flight the Sunday before Thanksgiving without special connections. Adam was sure Karla’s father had pulled strings with his airline to bring his daughter home on such short notice.

  Adam just hoped Jenny’s invitation last July to join them for Thanksgiving still stood. At that time, they’d probably just wanted to be sure he brought her home to them for the holiday. He wasn’t sure what Karla would have said to her parents about their relationship, but had a feeling she’d play it close to the vest.

  He didn’t want to show up at the Paxtons’ home until Wednesday, when he knew Jenny wouldn’t be able to turn him away. Karla's mom had a thing about bringing in lost souls to eat at her table for Thanksgiving. No one was more lost than he was this year. He wasn’t above grabbing at any advantage that could help him win Karla back.

  But this time of year, he also needed to take advantage of clear driving conditions. The closer he could get to her location geographically, the better. He’d call and see if he could swing by East St. Louis and check on Sarge’s wife and kids first. He hadn’t visited the Millers on the way home from Minneapolis this year, because he’d needed to get back for Damián.

  Just as well Karla wouldn’t be with him. He didn’t like to broadcast his failures, including the one that put Sarge’s unit on that rooftop in Iraq, making them sitting ducks for the incoming grenade and mortar attack that killed Sarge and nearly killed Damián and Marc, as well.

  Total clusterfuck.

  Now he needed to engage in the war to win Karla back. If she’d still have him, he was ready to go to the mat for her, even with her parents, who probably wouldn’t be thrilled to know a man twice
her age was pursuing her, let alone that the two of them already had a sexual relationship.

  But Adam knew no one could cherish or protect her as well as he could. There still was the matter of her thinking she wanted to be his slave, but they could discuss that and agree on some compromise. Maybe there were some aspects of that type of relationship that appealed to them both. As long as the two of them could both have their needs met, they’d be fine.

  The only question was how to give Karla what she needed most—his love.

  Yeah, they had plenty to talk about, that’s for sure. So, he’d better get a good night’s rest so he could hit the road early tomorrow and he could get to her so they could start planning their future together.

  But, after lying awake in his bed for hours, he’d given up and walked across the hall to sleep in Karla’s old bed. Her scent lingered on her pillow, helping him feel closer to her.

  God, he just hoped he wouldn’t fuck things up with her in Chicago.

  He needed her.

  * * *

  “What’s going on, Karla?” her mom asked. "You seem so lost." Karla should have known keeping anything from her mom would be impossible. The woman’s radar could match anything the military had in its arsenal.

  “I made a huge mistake, Mom. I fell in love with a man who doesn’t want me the way I am.” Mom’s arms came around her shoulders and Karla felt the waterworks start. She hadn’t cried this much since Ian died.

  “Unfortunately, we can’t choose who we love—and we certainly have no control over who loves us back.” Her mom pulled back and looked her dead in the eye. “But if he can’t accept you as you are, then kick him to the curb, Karla. You deserve someone who loves you for yourself. Don’t try and mold yourself into some impossible ideal."

  Her mom didn’t know the half of what Karla had done trying to get Adam to love her. And yet, even though she knew they were wrong for each other, she still wanted him.

  “Oh, Mom. I love him so much. How am I going to go on without him?”

  “You’re sure there’s no hope? You’ve always been a fighter. You just usually chose your battles more wisely than did your brother. He usually managed to get his butt kicked more often than not.”

  “Well, I'm afraid I got my heart kicked, Mom.” Then stomped on. Karla shook her head. “I fought hard, but even though I put up my best campaign ever, I still lost the war.” She couldn’t mention the whole Master/slave fiasco, not to her mother anyway, but that wasn’t the only problem Adam had with her. Karla looked down at the chenille bedspread and pulled at the threads. “He thinks I’m just a kid.”

  Mom put her finger under Karla’s chin and raising her gaze to meet hers. “How much older is he?”

  Relax, Mom. It’s over anyway. Still Karla tried to break away from her Mom’s scrutiny. Not a chance. “Twenty-five years.”

  Her mom’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, honey, that’s a huge age difference. Maybe he’s right. You’d be setting yourself up for a lot of years alone with someone that much older.”

  Karla couldn’t believe her mother would take Adam’s side, even if she didn’t know she was. “Mom, no one has guarantees about how long they’ll live and love. Ian’s proof of that.” At the pained expression that crossed her mother’s face, Karla reached out. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive. But, Mom, no one knows how much time they have. We just need to grab life by the…um, hand…and run with it.” She’d been around Adam so long that she’d almost said balls to her mom. If her mother heard half the words that had become part of her vocabulary since she’d moved in with Adam and started hanging around his Marine buddies.

  “But you can’t force someone to run with you, honey, if he doesn’t want to.”

  Ouch. Karla’s breath choked on a sob and she laid her head on her mom’s shoulder, giving in to the ache consuming her alive. Her chest felt as if someone were squeezing the air from her lungs with an iron fist. To say nothing of the nausea. She felt like throwing up all the time since she'd left Denver. Eating had become impossible, which is probably what tipped her mom off that there was a problem and sent her in here to check on her. She’d left Adam Sunday because he wouldn’t allow her to be his slave, even though that’s clearly what he wanted from a woman. Just not from this woman.

  But lying alone in her twin bed upstairs the last two nights, there had been times when she’d reached for her phone to call or text him, to beg him to give her one more chance to please him.

  Good Lord, she had it bad. “I don’t know how I can go on without him.”

  Her mom patted her hair. “I know it hurts now, but time will ease the ache. This was your first love. There will be others. Trust me.”

  “I’ll never be able to let him go totally, Mom. He’ll always be the one love of my life. He’ll always have my heart, even if he left it bruised. I'd be content, if he’d only give me a tiny part of his.”

  Her Mom’s gaze shot daggers at her. “No, Karla. You aren’t going to settle for a fraction of a man’s heart. You deserve all or nothing. Promise me you’ll accept nothing less than one-hundred percent of a man’s love. Obviously, you just haven’t met the right one yet.”

  Maybe her mom was right. She knew she'd accept even a small piece of Adam's heart, if only he'd offer it. Good thing Adam was a thousand miles away, because she wasn’t in any position to deny Adam anything right now.

  She needed him so badly. Her emotional fragileness could spell disaster for her future. She’d been able to walk away from him once, but her heart wouldn’t withstand being stomped on a second time.

  Why did love have to be so painful?

  Why couldn't you love me back, Adam, even a little?

  * * *

  “Karla, answer the door. My hands are full of pie dough.”

  Karla put her notebook aside. The lyrics for songs flowed from her now so easily, she was never far from her pencil and paper. Why was it so much easier to write about unrequited love? Probably because she couldn’t think about anything else at the moment, but when she was with Adam, she didn’t want to spend time writing about her feelings. She just wanted to experience those feelings with him.

  More fucking tears. Enough with the waterworks already! She dashed them away with the backs of her hands as she made her way to the front door, wondering who would be visiting the day before Thanksgiving. A large man’s shadow filled the doorway and Karla’s heart beat an erratic tattoo a moment before she realized her mind was conjuring up images of Adam, who couldn’t possibly be here. She pushed the curtain aside and peeked out.

  But she was wrong.

  Of course, no one else had shoulders that broad. And where was his heavy coat? It was freezing out there. Karla hurried to open the inside door, then the storm one, and motioned him inside. “Get in here before you catch pneumonia, S…Adam.” Oh, God, she’d almost called him Sir. She gave him a quavering smile. He didn’t smile back. He didn’t reach out to touch her. Karla’s excitement dampened. “What are you doing here, Adam?”

  “Your folks invited me last summer. I accepted.”

  She hoped she hid her disappointment from him. Yes, dutiful Adam always kept his promises. Karla just wished he’d been able to make some kind of promise or commitment to her. He laid his duffel bag on the floor inside the door and removed his light jacket. She reached out to take it, then held it to her chest, breathing in the woodsy male scent that was Adam. She’d missed his scent almost as much as she’d missed him. Almost. Okay, in a moment of weakness, she’d even gone to the mall yesterday to buy a bottle of the oak-scented body wash she’d come to associate with him.

  She’d never been more pathetic in her entire life.

  “Mom’s in the kitchen. You know the way.”

  Adam reached out and stroked her cheek. “You’ve lost weight. Have you been sick?”

  “No. Just not very hungry.” Because I missed you so much I couldn’t eat. Yeah, she had it bad.

  “You need to eat more.”

  “I don’
t have to follow your orders anymore, Adam.” Great. Now she sounded like a petulant child. No, a brat. Only she wasn’t Master Adam’s brat anymore, which just left her feeling empty.

  She continued to clutch his jacket to her chest, wishing he were in it. The look of regret that flitted across his face sparked her anger, then she tamped it back down. Anger meant she cared. She didn’t want to care anymore. It hurt too much. Besides, if he cared, he would have accepted her the way she was and made a commitment to her. Instead, he chose to live with the cold memory of his perfect slave, Joni.

  Karla looked down at the floor.

  Adam reached up and stroked her cheek. “You left without saying goodbye.”

  Karla looked up at his face and definitely saw regret in his eyes—and maybe even disappointment. “Didn’t you find my letter?”

  “What letter?”

  “The one I left on your desk.”

  “I didn’t go back in my office after Marc told me you’d left me, kitten.”

  Please don’t call me that anymore, Sir. How could he have missed her in such a short time? Besides, she could never be the type of woman he wanted and needed. “Well, it was mostly a resignation letter.” She’d resigned from being the club’s singer, but hadn’t been able to write the words that would put an end to their non-working relationship, even though she knew it was over.

  “It was time. You helped me get over Ian and I needed to be with my folks for this first Thanksgiving without him.”

  “We’d already planned for me to bring you home. Remember? We were going to drive up here together.”

  I couldn’t face you after I embarrassed myself so badly at the club that night. “Well, it looks like we’re going to be together whether we like it or not.” His eyes narrowed and she wondered why her words would cause any reaction. Maybe he regretted they couldn’t remain friends, but being near him without being able to touch, hug, or kiss him was more than she would be able to stand. Lord, she hoped he wouldn’t be staying the entire weekend.