Madison sighed. He’d already retreated into his own little world again, where everyone was against them and he could please nobody. She’d learned quickly that when this happened, there was no fighting it. Best to just give up for the day, reboot overnight, and start all over the next morning. “Fine. Walk me the rest of the way?”
“Of course.” He continued on, and when she reached for his hand, he didn’t pull away. The feel of their fingers laced, his slightly rougher skin between hers, brightened the moment. It was progress, however small.
And she felt zero guilt about pulling the waistband of her shorts down a little lower than necessary to dig her apartment key out of the inside pocket. Tit for tat, and all that.
He growled, but she already straightened the shorts before he could do anything more. Laughing, she opened the door and gave him a smile.
“Thanks for walking me home, Marine.” She patted him on the cheek in a sarcastic move meant to keep the moment light. But he shocked her by grabbing her wrist in a loose grip, two fingers over her pulse. Against the light pressure of his touch, she felt her beat thud in a too-fast rhythm. Then he turned, pressed a soft kiss to her palm, stepped back, and left without a word.
Madison stepped into the apartment on wobbly legs, shut the door, and sank down to the carpet.
Veronica popped her head around the wall that separated the entry from the kitchen. “Hey. You’re back. When I came home from the movie I wondered where you were, since your car was still here. Oh, you worked out. Was it a good one?”
Madison shook her head, then nodded. “Yeah. It was pretty freaking great.”
***
He was an idiot. Certifiable, undeniable, incompetent moron. He deserved to have his ass kicked. By anyone willing to stand in line.
Jeremy let himself into his own apartment and wondered what in the name of Hades had possessed him to act like that. Humping against Madison on a fucking workout bench, in the middle of an open gym where anyone could walk in.
Where someone did walk in.
And not shutting down the entire idea of sleeping with her once some blood managed to migrate its way back up above his belt buckle. He’d let her think there was a chance they’d sleep together. That he would ever let it happen. That he could…
He was a moron.
And thanks to that one taste, that one moment of pure Madison-infused passion, he was never going to sleep again. That one moment—and the fact that he couldn’t follow through—would keep him awake for life. God dammit. He tossed his helmet on the couch, debated falling into bed fully dressed, then decided he needed a cold shower after all.
The bathroom was as tiny and pathetic as the rest of the apartment. But it had running water, and most days the water actually looked clean. So he wasn’t going to complain. After a quick rinse off, he grabbed a pair of shorts and slipped them on, not bothering with a shirt. Then he took a turn around the apartment. Too wired to sleep now, but not quite done with Madison.
He grabbed his jacket from the couch, unzipped his pocket, grabbed his cell from the zippered chest pocket, and flipped it open. One text. From Tim.
Speaking of a cold shower…
How did it go with V’s furniture?
Oh, Veronica’s furniture was just fine. All set up and ready for her to start moving things in. Not a single problem there.
The rest of the day was the definition of the word SNAFU.
Between best friends and bar benches, nothing had gone exactly how he’d expected it. His emotions had run the gauntlet from jealousy to anger, lust, and fear. And he’d left Madison’s apartment—the second time—with the most painful case of blue balls he’d experienced since his teen years.
All in all…
Great. Everything went great.
There. Vague enough to answer the question. Not a lie, at least when applied to putting together the jigsaw puzzle that was Veronica’s bedroom set. The rest of it, well, Tim didn’t ask how the day went.
He sat on the couch and waited, then flipped his phone open again as it buzzed with an incoming text message.
Thanks for watching over my girls.
His girls. All three of them. He was fucked.
No, not fucked. Not yet. They managed to avoid that, at least so far. But God, he’d been tempted beyond belief in the gym—the gym, of all fucking places—to just tear down those tiny little shorts she wore, yank up her tight tank top, and go to town like a starving man at an all-you-can-eat buffet.
And yet, it almost seemed like he was fighting an uphill battle with no weapons and only a half-assed motivation. Telling himself he didn’t want her was just straight-up lying. Who was going to benefit from that? Nobody.
He sighed, stood up, and went to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. His eyes spotted the notebook he brought home with him every weekend from the office. The one with notes both on work and on writing in it. Stretching his neck to one side, then the other, he realized only one thing was going to get rid of the tension bunching his muscles.
He had to kill someone.
Chapter 9
Jeremy waited until he was finished killing off his next victim before surfacing enough to grab a water and a power bar. Hunger gnawed at his belly, a reminder that he’d been writing through the night and well past his normal breakfast time. He really needed to stop doing this to his body. Too little sleep and not enough fuel made him a cranky bastard, even he knew that.
Well, crankier than usual, anyway.
And despite the bloodshed and the gore of his latest murder, the uncertainty of his hero, and the devastation of the victim’s family, he still couldn’t get his mind off Madison.
Time to resort to a fail-proof way of forgetting anything in his life besides pain and torture.
Time to call Dad.
He dialed, knowing the old man would be up even though it was before nine on a Sunday morning. The guy kept time better than ten Swiss watches averaged out.
“Hello?” His father’s gruff, no-bullshit voice came through the speaker loud and clear.
Jeremy smiled and shook his head. “Morning, Dad.”
“Morning, son. Weekly report?”
He sighed. “Or we could just call it our weekly catch-up phone call. Or our bonding time. Or—”
“There a point buried here under all the extra words?”
“No, Dad. No point at all.” He stretched his legs, then wandered out to the postage stamp–sized patio off his living room for some fresh air. The cool morning air slapped at his bare chest, his tired eyes, jolting him to alert status better than three cups of coffee. “Just trying to say hey, see how you were.”
“Nothing unusual to report. Work as usual. Seems like they come up with more idiots to work under me every month. Don’t make quality employees like they used to, that’s for damn sure.”
Which, as Jeremy knew, was code for these aren’t retired Marines, so they mean spit. His father’s love of the Corps rose to levels Chesty Puller couldn’t understand. “Sounds frustrating.”
“Damn straight. Seen your monitor yet about your next assignment? Lejeune? Quantico? Okinawa?”
“Not yet. It’s been pretty busy at the battalion right now,” he hedged. Naturally his father would ask about the only other annoying thing in his life. So why not make it two for two? Hell, maybe his father could talk some sense into him. “I’ve been… seeing someone.” Sort of.
His father’s voice perked up immediately. Jeremy could easily picture him sitting up a little straighter—if it was possible—and leaning forward expectantly. Pleasure bloomed in his voice. “Is that right? Tell me about her.”
“She’s a nurse at the hospital here on base.”
“Good, good. Nice career for a Marine’s wife. Easy to move around. What else?”
Ha. M
arine’s wife. Madison would just love to hear that. As if she didn’t have her own life and identity. Jeremy smiled just thinking about what it would be like, watching his father and Madison square off in a battle of wits. God only knew who would come out the victor. But it’d be something to watch. “She’s actually military herself, sir. Navy nurse. I think—”
“Christ Jesus,” his father muttered, cutting him off. “You can’t be serious.”
He’d spent months trying to talk himself out of being serious with Madison. He did his best to avoid what was quickly becoming almost inevitable between them. Pulling back, resisting lighting that spark between them that would most likely send them both up in flames. And he’d started this route specifically for his father to talk some sense into him.
But the way his father said it just made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Made him want to push back against the censure.
“I don’t know how serious I am yet. But I don’t see a problem right now.” Minus the whole best friend’s sister thing. Not that his father knew that part. Now he was going purely on principle.
“She’s in the Navy. Is this just a phase for her? She going to be getting out soon?”
Jeremy scoffed. “I don’t think anyone joins the military on a whim. Sort of an important decision. But if you’re asking if she’s a lifer or if she’s only staying in for a few, no idea yet.”
“Get your head out of your ass, boy. You can’t get serious with someone in the military. What kind of life is that? You need a woman by your side. Playing her role. Supporting your career.”
And hello, nineteen fifties. Nice to see you again. “Dad. Come on.”
“No.” The word was like a blade, cutting through Jeremy’s argument. “There is no ‘come on’ here. Your spouse is a big decision. The mother of your children is a big fucking decision. Do you think I didn’t take my time and consider the ramifications, consider if she was cut out for the job before I asked your mother to marry me?”
A sliver of ice slid through his veins as the one subject he never wanted to talk about was once again mentioned. “I wouldn’t know, Dad. I was only four when she died.” His voice was cold, even to his own ears. But he wouldn’t apologize for it.
“I know it. And I did my damn best by you. But you better believe when your mother and I met, it was in the front of my mind, seeing how she would handle my career, be there for me, stand beside me, support me. There’s a certain kind of woman who can do that, and a certain kind who can’t. Your mother was one who could, God rest her soul.”
God rest her soul, indeed. Seems like she had enough of a hard time here on earth. She could use a little peace in the afterlife. “Dad—”
“Much as I wanted to be there all the time for you,” his father went on, voice softening a little, “the military made that impossible. If your mother had been here, she would have been your constant. That’s important, in my mind, to kids.”
And Jeremy agreed, at least with that much. Having his mom home while his father was gone would have made his life a hell of a lot less complicated, rather than being shuttled to his grandparents or whatever relative could take him that month.
Though he was in a contrary mood, that was one undeniable fact he couldn’t escape. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—do that to any kids of his own. Letting them drift while he was deployed or on a TAD, or just in the field for a week at a time. His childhood had been anything but ideal. And he wouldn’t repeat that cycle.
“Dad…” He stopped, wondering if he should wade in further. Then he figured he already was waist-high, so he might as well go for it. “If having someone by your side was so important, why didn’t you remarry?”
His father coughed a little, cleared his throat, then hummed. “That’s, well, that’s not something…” His voice faded away, and Jeremy regretted asking.
Then, quick as lightning, his gruff, unemotional father was back. “Pull your head out, son. Don’t pussyfoot around with this woman. She’s nothing but trouble, no matter how good she might look on paper. You need more. You need something stable. And you won’t get that in a dual-military marriage.”
Jeremy sighed. “Roger.” He hung up a few minutes later, not sure if the phone call had served its purpose or not.
Well, he wanted something to take his mind off of Madison. But this wasn’t exactly how he’d expected to do it.
A shrink could take three minutes and know exactly what his problem was. Jeremy was split into two parts. The half that wanted—with almost naïve hope—to keep pleasing his father. The man, the only parent he knew, who raised him as best he could. To thank him for not simply awarding custody to his grandparents and moving on after his wife died, though that might have been easier in his position.
Naturally, the other half—the less naïve half—wanted to chafe against the guidelines passed down to him by the man who looked at life as a sort of battleground to navigate, with military precision and no consideration for emotions.
Hell of a thing, when your own adult mind couldn’t decide whether to honor your father or give him the figurative middle finger.
Jeremy stepped back into his apartment and glanced toward his bed. He could take a nice, long nap. That would clear the cobwebs out. Sundays were for napping, really. And the fact that he didn’t sleep the night before basically meant he was due some shut-eye. But something pulled him back to his jacket and helmet. Something that said he needed peace as much as—if not more than—rest. And though it might cause him a world of hurt later, he knew exactly where to get it.
***
Madison kicked her foot in a hypnotic rhythm over the back of the couch as she tried to find something—anything—on television that wouldn’t make her weep with boredom.
No. Click. No. Click. No.
“Um. Do you want to watch a movie?” Veronica asked from the love seat.
“Oh, crap. I’m sorry, I still forget I’m not the only one here.” Madison sat up and tossed the remote on the cushion next to Veronica. “Here, you take it for a spin. See what looks good to you.”
Veronica grabbed the remote and immediately turned it to MTV, where a Jersey Shore marathon was playing. She sat forward, popcorn bowl balanced precariously on her lap.
Madison’s eyes widened with shock. “Oh my God. You have got to be kidding me. You, of all people, watch this crap?”
“What?” Veronica asked, not taking her eyes off the screen as someone who appeared to have been painted Oompa Loompa orange fell off a bar stool and her supposed “friends” cackled with laughter.
“You seriously like this show?”
“It’s interesting,” she said, still not looking in Madison’s direction. Whatever was on the screen held her captive, and Veronica tilted her head to one side as if trying to make out exactly what was going on.
Madison watched for a minute, trying to see the appeal. No wonder Veronica was concentrating so hard. These people didn’t speak any version of English Madison knew. When the show had to use subtitles for English, she knew it was nothing she could ever watch.
Her phone vibrated next to her on the couch and she grabbed at the lifeline. It was a text. From Jeremy.
She checked from the corner of her eyes to see if Veronica was paying attention. As if it mattered, since she couldn’t possibly read the text from the love seat at that angle. But something about him contacting her made the entire thing feel more sneaky.
Grab a jacket, wear boots. Come downstairs.
She desperately wanted to sprint to the window to see if he was outside or if it was all some cruel trick. But she would play it cool if it killed her.
And it just might.
And why would I want to do that?
There. That sounded somewhat nonchalant. Which was the total opposite of how she felt. Her hands shook as she set the phone back down b
eside her, like it didn’t matter if it buzzed again anytime soon.
And then she grabbed at it like a dying man grabs a lifeline when it buzzed once more.
Just trust me.
Three short, relatively simple words. And yet, they held a wealth of meaning behind them. And she was going to do it. Time to fling herself off the cliff and see what happened.
Standing, she stretched and stuffed the cell in the pocket of her jeans. “I think I’m gonna take a walk or something. Get some air.”
“Do you want some company?” Veronica tore her eyes away—reluctantly—from the TV and gave her a look that said I’ll go with you if you want, but please don’t want me to.
“Nah,” she said with a smile. “Go back to your weird orange people and their bizarre shore.” She wandered back to her room, grabbed a jacket, and slipped on a pair of simple boots with low heels, and walked back out the door, all without Veronica so much as blinking.
Walking down the steps, she paused as she saw Jeremy leaning against the side of her car, his motorcycle parked next to her. His eyes were shaded by aviator-style sunglasses, and he wore his leather jacket, arms crossed over his chest. His snug jeans and thick black boots only added to the whole picture. A picture she salivated over.
Damn, the man made it look good.
She hopped down the last step and strolled over to him, running one finger over the handlebars of his motorcycle. “So, what was so important you couldn’t come up to the front door?”
He smiled. “Just thought you might wanna take a ride with me.”
“A ride? I get to ride the bike?” she asked, all but clapping in her excitement. Then she stepped back, laced her fingers behind her back, and coughed a little. “I mean… eh. I wasn’t doing anything. So I guess if you’re bored and need someone to hang out with…”
“Uh-huh.” His mouth twitched at the corners, but he kept the poker face otherwise. “Here.” He tossed her something that hit her in the stomach before she could react. Glancing down, she grimaced and held up the simple black helmet.
Officer Breaks the Rules (Semper Fidelis. Always Faithful.) Page 11