Warriors,Winners & Wicked Lies: 13 Book Excite Spice Military, Sports & Secret Baby Mega Bundle (Excite Spice Boxed Sets)

by Selena Kitt

“There’s a great pool,” she said cheerfully. “I was told you needed a place with a pool for your rehab.”

  “It’s a con. I tricked the therapist into saying that. I just like to swim.” It was a lie. The therapist had been adamant that swimming on a regular basis would help balance his muscles. His shoulder had been immobilized while his wounds healed, atrophying muscles on his left side. The occasional severe spasms that felt like razor blades were slicing up his left shoulder were supposed to ease too. He still had shrapnel in there—pieces the doctors hadn’t removed. Supposedly, they’d eventually stop bothering him.

  With time. No one ever said how much time.

  The truth was that he didn’t swim that much normally, but he intended to do whatever it took to recover. He needed to be one hundred percent. Besides, a pool often acted as a magnet for women in bikinis and that did appeal to him.

  Tina laughed at his answer. “Liar. You seemed to teasing me.” Tina opened the curtains and then the sliding glass doors that led out to a patio that overlooked the pool area. Each apartment had a patio separated from the others by low concrete block walls. Some of the tenants, obviously staking a claim on their privacy, had added potted ferns and flowers atop the walls. They disturbed the regularity of the layout but they gave it needed texture and personalized otherwise rather standardized spaces. Trevor had little interest in gardening, but strangely the idea of having a couple of large Mexican clay pots holding dwarf trees that sat on his walls appealed to him. He decided he’d get some, assuming he stayed long enough to bother.

  Although it was a gorgeous day, the pool wasn’t crowded. “There are no children in the complex,” Tina said. The gentle lilt of women’s voices drifted from the social area around the pool, suggesting that this complex might suit him well. The apartment might not be the most wonderful in the world, and although he didn’t feel the desire to accumulate the friends Tina was certain he’d meet, the pool held promise. Having a common area where he could meet women increased his chances of getting laid. That was a good thing.

  Trevor remembered something the chaplain had told him when he made his only visit while he was in the hospital. The man had chatted about nothing, establishing rapport, no doubt, and then, shifting into a voice that managed to be both consoling and sad, confidential and sleazy, began probing into what Trevor wanted next, how he saw his future after surviving combat and the hospital. “I see you have no family…”

  The way he eased into the personal shit pissed Trevor off. “Parents dead—check. No wife—check. Best friends left lying on a battlefield to rot—check. Not that I know of. An uncle or aunt or two somewhere, but…”

  “Not having support from people who know you can make it harder to resume your life.”

  That made little sense to him. “Really? What makes you think that?”

  “They can show you the way back to your life.”

  He had laughed. “What makes you think I ever stepped out of my life, or have any life to resume? I’ve been a soldier for over five years. For more than two of those, I’ve been in combat. Being alone and simply doing as I’m ordered is my life and what I’m doing now. I don’t have to resume anything. I never stopped.”

  “The trauma…”

  Trevor knew that they considered trauma to be the elephant in the room, but he also saw it as political bullshit, and nothing a soldier would bother himself with. You were alive or dead, wounded or fit. Everything else was crap. The government talked about its concern about how combat and trauma affected soldiers returning home, and paid special attention to those who’d been shot up. His wounds made him a special snowflake in an organization that did everything it could to stamp out individuality and mold them into units. So why it concerned them so much, why they wanted to probe that issue when they hadn’t given his mental health more than token attention before sending him into battle, made it seem bogus, hypocritical. The only reason that made sense was political correctness—the appearance of caring for our wounded boys. That was part of it. But he sensed there was more, that it ran deeper.

  Then, as he’d lain in his hospital bed, listening to the Chaplain, looking in the man’s eyes, he saw his fear. That made everything clear. They were afraid. The people who sent him into battle, were afraid of what they had created. No matter how thorough they made the training, combat, the real deal, changed a person in ways outside of their control. They were desperate to know how it had changed him, what came out of stuffing a man in that crucible. He had survived something they couldn’t begin to understand.

  The hero stuff wasn’t window dressing to them, but a pathetic attempt at appeasing him. They’d trained him and new he was capable of killing, and now they worried that his experience had given him some undefined super powers that could make him either greater or more terrifying than the average Joe. They were less interested in making him normal, whatever that meant, than figuring out if he was a danger to their safe little lives.

  That amused him.

  The look of terror the chaplain couldn’t keep entirely out of his eyes told him all that. Once he’d seen it, known what to look for, he could see it, in different forms in many of the eyes around him. When he saw something else, it was a pleasure even when the emotions were still wrong.

  In Tina’s eyes he saw himself reflected as something dramatically apart from her experience. She saw him as someone who done and lived things she couldn’t imagine, but she saw those in an admirable way. It attracted her and she had no clue about the darkness. The woman who flew him from the hospital, the hot Major, wasn’t afraid at all—not of him. That served to confirm his suspicions. She’d flown combat missions—she’d been there, done that, and didn’t need to guess what war did to a person. She might not have been shot, but that wasn’t necessary. Being in the middle of it, seeing people die up close and personal, losing the people standing next to you in a heartbeat, was what turned that crank. No, the Major could see him for what he was—just another soldier who’d drawn a tough billet and gone through hell. Like her.

  Once he’d seen the truth in the Chaplain’s eyes, he’d shut up. He had nothing to say to him. The Chaplain kept talking, but Trevor quit answering, dissolving his soft and pudgy face in the buzz of his words, experiencing his presence as a swarm of harmless yet annoying gnats until he left. Anyone who could understand wouldn’t need to be told, wouldn’t want to hear his lame theory. As a buddy of his had always said: “It ain’t a fucking word thing, amigo.” Now that buddy was dead—blown to bits by a bomb disguised as a garbage bag, but the incident made his point for him—there were no words to describe what passed for truth when a man was blown apart taking out the fucking garbage. There wasn’t any glory in it.

  Since that one-sided encounter, Trevor had begun dividing the people he met into two camps: They either knew or they didn’t. The division didn’t mean a damn thing, but it did help him understand a few things and gave him a new hobby. He caught himself putting everyone he met into those categories and then subdividing the ones who didn’t have a clue (the majority) into subcategories. Women like Tina, for whatever reason, looked at him and saw his super powers (he was beginning to enjoy that metaphor) and it excited them. Others looked and saw a blackness they couldn’t imagine and that repelled them. Yet others saw nothing more than he was not like them. Not any more.

  It was pretty fucked up, but he could see how that being different, having been identified as equipped with those undefined superpowers, had its uses when it came to attracting women. At least he’d found a use for it that suited him. The Army had put him in limbo, where he’d go through the motions of being in the Army with few actual duties. A man needed goals, and with this new attraction, if he figured out how to play it, he could make up for lost time when it came to getting laid. Under the circumstances that struck him as a worthwhile, or at least enjoyable, goal to pursue while he marked time.

  For once the world seemed to be cooperating. He could smell the government-issued Tina, feel the warmth o
f that hot and squeezable body, as she gave animated explanations of the wonders of his new kitchen and how the managers had even put food in the refrigerator. “Is there anything around to drink?”

  She grinned. “At General Meredith’s personal insistence. He said that a war hero deserved a welcome home drink even before the reception. There’s a bottle of Scotch in the living room.”

  “Then join me in a drink.”

  She looked flustered and that made her look even more like a girl. He found it appealing. “I’m working.”

  “I’m sure the general would think it only appropriate. A war hero shouldn’t have to drink alone should he? A drink in itself is nothing and only had social meaning if shared.”

  His logic collapsed her defenses. That was promising. “All right. One.” She led him into the living room and showed him the wet bar. Happily there were actually a couple of bottles of booze. He poured them each a drink into cheap glass tumblers. The Army was obviously shopping at box stores, even for officer quarters. He wondered if this was a subtle hint about his possible value in appropriations. No, that was far too nuanced for the Army.

  They clinked glasses and sipped their drinks. “You’ll get a proper welcome at the reception this evening at the Officer’s Club. First you’re scheduled to have dinner with General Meredith, his wife and some other brass and then they will take you to a reception at the Club.”

  He groaned. “That sounds incredibly tedious. Will you pick me up?”

  She grinned. “No. I’ve arranged for a car to pick you up at six. The Army is happy to provide transportation.”

  He faked a pout. “I don’t get to ride there in your hot little sports car?”

  “No. This is an Army shindig arranged by the battalion of Army wives that do such things. They put it on your calendar and didn’t think my presence was necessary. I’ll be at home.” She grinned. “With my husband.”

  “How dull. But why don’t you and he attend as my guests? If I say to let you in, I bet they will.”

  “I could, but it wouldn’t be a good idea. I’m working with them, and don’t want to intrude.”

  He noted the way she watched his face when she announced that she was married, trying to see if he caught the message. As if he hadn’t noticed the ring. As if she hadn’t already announced it at the helo pad. As if it made any difference to him at all. He returned her look, soaking up the uncertainty he saw flood her eyes whenever he teased her. She measured his words, tried to find hidden meanings. She was overcomplicating things and that worked to his advantage. When he smiled, she returned the smile, looking nervous.

  You’ve every right to be nervous, Tina. You are telling me about your husband because you already know I want to fuck you, that I want to strip you naked and use that petite body for my pleasure. I want to fuck you into a delicious oblivion. That was the message he programmed his eyes to send to her. She shifted her stance, getting some of the mental text. “If I won’t see you there, we should have another drink together now.”

  She ignored him. “You’ll have Sunday to look around, get a feel of the place, and just unwind.”

  “Come over Sunday and help me unwind. I need help. I don’t remember how to do that.”

  “I’ll come over on Monday morning at 0800 to go over your schedule.”

  “My schedule?”

  “Of course. You have a lot on your plate. Besides the rehab work and miscellaneous meetings there are a lot of public-relations events. I need to brief you on them so that you know what to expect, what to do. The Army has big plans for you.”

  “That’s never a good thing.”

  “No? I’d think you’d be flattered.”

  “You’d be wrong.”

  “Most of the events are just things they want you seen at. You show up and salute someone or something for the photographers and news channels and go home. But they always want you to testify before a Congressional Committee, give them an update on the war effort. I’ll have background papers in time for you to study them before the important things.”

  “I would think I’d need to give you one.”

  Her head snapped back. “What do you mean?”

  “Background papers. Why would you be writing one? What do you know about the war? What could you possibly tell me about the war? If they want to know about the war, what’s actually going on, well I’m the one who was on the ground.”

  She nodded. “Sorry. I didn’t mean I’d give you background on the war. No, my brief would cover the people you’ll meet with…what their agendas are, their political bias and so on. Honestly, I don’t think the congressmen and women care what you saw and heard over there, or even what you think about it. I can’t imagine the Army wanting you to tell them any of that anyway.”

  The idea baffled him. “Then what’s the point?”

  “This is a chance for them to be seen caring how the fighting is going, and show that they get feedback from the courageous troops. From the other side, it lets the Army pretend they want the civilian leadership informed. In practice, members of Congress will take turns outdoing themselves congratulating you on your valor, so the voters will know they are in favor of patriots, even if they can be a pain in the ass. My backgrounder will just help you anticipate the kinds of questions they’re likely to ask, which ones might be snarky with their questions, and give you an idea of why they are asking.”

  “Damn! You are quite the little cynic.”

  Clearly she was on her turf now, surprisingly confident. “I worked for a lobbyist for two years before I joined the PR firm. In my experience, the bottom line is that some politicians are, unfortunately, hostile to the military. They can ask seemingly innocuous questions and if you don’t know where they are coming from you might accidentally give them ammunition to fight our budget requests. That’s one reason the Army hired us… to prevent that kind of… miscommunication from happening.”

  “So you load the dice more in favor of the military?”

  “I suppose so. The way I see it, we just try to level the PR playing field by making sure you are prepared.”

  “Briefing me on potential hostiles before I go back into another kind of combat?”

  She let out a relieved laugh. “That sounds better than loading the dice.”

  He sighed. The idea of taking part in these inquiries and committees bored him. The fact that they didn’t bore the people who constantly sat on them seemed to him to say rather unflattering things about the country’s leadership. People willing to undergo terminal boredom on a regular basis were frightening. Even if it made them look good. Maybe especially if it made them look good.

  On the other hand, Tina obviously would be pleased if he didn’t give her trouble over doing his part as the Army’s trained war hero. She couldn’t know that he didn’t give enough of a shit about whatever the party line was to even want to misbehave. If he did act out, it would be to get something out of it for himself. Just crossing swords was pointless.

  He wondered again about his spin doctor. She was ambitious and was eager to get him in front of the public. Both of those were useful to note, and might be important when he started focusing his energy on getting Tina where he truly wanted her—in bed.

  Even his attraction to her amused him. She was a type he seldom met and never had spent time around. In college he had studious avoided what he saw as her type—the upwardly mobile, multitasking trendy bitch, who knew everything there was to know about all the things he didn’t give a shit about.

  But now… they’d be spending time together whether he wanted it or not. She had a hot body and bedding her would make the time more enjoyable. It would also be a challenge. That she was married gave her a stronger reason to resist him, but then he had his super powers. As he watched her finish her drink, he let his gaze run over her body, trace its curves while imagining how her flesh would feel pressing against his. He sighed. His imagining gave him a nice warm feeling. Too bad he needed to move slowly. The real welcome home he wan
ted involved throwing her on his brand new bed and fucking her. But then he wasn’t in the right place in his head to even attempt a seduction and she was clearly braced to repel any such attempt. When he was in a better frame of mine, breaching her barriers would be fun.

  Tina put her not quite empty glass down and stood. “I need to get back to my office.”

  “Rushing to escape me?”

  “Rushing to do what needs to get done so that we can spend more time together.”

  The flash of her smile made him wonder just how intimate she expected that time to be. Undoubtedly he’d want to be closer than she was thinking right now.

  Watching her head for the door Trevor found himself struggling to find an excuse to get her to stay. The idea of being alone in this new apartment, his new apartment, alone with whatever would happen next, suddenly gave him a chill. But his brain seemed to freeze up; nothing came to mind and, feeling oddly helpless, he followed her to the door, trying to absorb as much of her presence as he could, trying to store it up to experience when she was gone. At the door, which he held for her, he watched her leave, and was only able to muster up a gentle caress of her ass as she went past him. A caress that she pretended hadn’t happened.