Chaos (Havoc Series Book Two)

by Xavier Neal

  “So?” Glove cuts into the thoughts that are bare knuckle boxing in my brain.

  “What?”

  “Are you going to tell us about Scout Sniper School or just keep pretending we don't already know?”

  Confused, I put my beer that I've barely touched down, “How-”

  Lordy sigh giving his reddish, brown hair a scratch, “Come on, Grim, you know Glove.”

  “I'm like Gossip Girl,” he states arrogantly.

  “That's not something to be proud of,” Lordy pulls his beer to his lips.

  A little laugh comes from me as the subject circles the air, Glove determined to not let it die, “So?”

  “So what?”

  “You amped?”

  I shrug.

  “That's it? You always wanted to do different special forces kind of shit and now that you're headed that direction, all you have to say is a fucking shrug?” He jumps down my throat.

  My hands fiddle with the label on my beer. Glove's right. Since he's known me, that's always been my direction. My focus. My goal. The HEA at the end of my book. And it was. It was before Haven. Before living a long life was an option. Before I wanted to marry her. Before...I wanted kids. No. Not today. Hell not any time soon. But one day. I can't believe I want fucking kids someday.

  “It's Haven, isn't it?” Lordy slips her name into the conversation.

  I don't respond. My finger taps the glass. Tap. Tap. I pull at the label. Tap. Tap. Pull. Tap. Pull. The label is really stuck on there.

  “Come on, Grim, she's gonna be thrilled for you!” Glove makes arm gestures large enough to pull my attention off my drink.

  “It's not about her not being happy for him.”

  “Then what's it about, Dr. Phil?”

  Lordy glares at Glove before responding, “It's about him having to be away from her again. Am I right?” Lordy asks.

  I nod. Lordy gets it. I still don't know how, but I know he knows what it's like to have your heartache over choices you've made or are making. And Glove is right. Haven is gonna be thrilled until she realizes it's about thirteen more weeks away from her. 90 more days with me gone. Hell, chances are when I'm done, I have to turn around and complete another course at another school. She may be thrilled because she's proud, but how long is that gonna last? How long until my angel realizes she spends more time without me than with me? What happens when she cracks? What happens when she gets tired of dating my Google account?

  “Word of advice?” Lordy's voice pierces through me again. “Don't wait to tell her.”

  “Please don't wait to tell her,” Glove chimes in. “I can't handle a repeat of what happened last time. I thought I saw the white light of Heaven after I let it slip.”

  The memory pops back in my head. “You and you’re got damn loose lips.”

  “You know what they say about loose lips?” Glove points to the table at the waitress to bring him another beer. “They're put to good use once the girl strips.”

  My head tilts at his stupidity. Just when I thought he couldn't get any more moronic, he surprises. Impressive.

  “That's not how that goes.” Lordy begins turning to face him.

  “Yes it is.”

  “No it's not.”

  “Yes. It. Is.”

  “No, its loose lips sink ships.”

  “I prefer tight lips to make my ship sink. But if that's how you get down,” his response is followed by the waitress putting down his new beer and retrieving his empty one.

  The two of them begin bickering once more and my attention wanders back down to the wooden table we're sitting at. I gotta tell her. I know I do. I won't make the same mistake twice and wait weeks. But I can't tell her right when I get home that 'hey, I'm leaving in a month for another three. Great huh?’ That makes me a dick. God just thinking of her...I need to hear her voice.

  “Hey, I'll be back.”

  “Where you goin'?” Lordy asks.

  “What are you his mother?” Glove jumps in, his feistiness? not sure about this word?? 8up an extra level courtesy of beer 5. I appreciate that he runs like clockwork. Moves predictable. Moves easily anticipated. Makes it that much easier for me to cover his ass when needed. You know, I use to hate being his fucking babysitter. Now? Wouldn't have it another way.

  “Phone call,” I give Lordy the information anyway.

  He needs the security of knowing where his brothers are at all times when we're out. Usually he's within a head smack of Glove and I'm crashed out at the hotel by now, but I can't sleep. With the facts that are fighting for rights to be a priority, a drink with them seemed like a wise choice.

  Once I've left the table, I step outside into the cool D.C. air. Cold. Harsh. Almost like the warm and cold had a divorce on who won the earth. No remains that heat ever existed. It's so fucking cold my balls are trying to give themselves a new home in my rib cage.

  With the hit of a button, it connects me Haven's phone, which goes straight to voice mail. Odd. I shake it off and try again. Voice mail. Looking at the time I try to remain calm. Its 10 back home. She shouldn't be in class. Stay calm Clint. You know who to call.

  “You do know that some of us are trying to get some sleep before they have to pick up some jar head from the airport right?”

  “I know, dad,” my voice strains out. “Sorry.”

  “What do you need, son?”

  “Is Haven home? Her phone...it uh...went straight to voice mail.”

  “She went to dinner and the movies with some friends.”

  “Got it.” Dinner and the movies with friends. Well look at my girl. She's so...normal now. Never would've known she used to be a prisoner. Then again you would never think I was cold blooded killer. We've all got secrets. “Thanks.”

  “Sure thing. See you in the morning.”

  “Night.” My fingers hit the end button.

  Rubbing my nose in an attempt to warm it back up, I hit her number again. I'll leave a voice mail. She'll call back whenever she gets in. After a brief message about her not being able to answer I sheepishly leave a message.

  “Hey angel, I guess you're out doing something more exciting that waiting for me by the phone”—probably could've phrased that better— “whatever it is I hope you're having fun”— I can't tell her I'm so fucking paranoid I called my dad to see where you were— “and just call me when you get in. I love you.”

  I press the end button feeling like such a pussy. When did I become that guy who had to call his girl just to hear her voice? Who was devastated when she didn't answer? Was I this way before she was almost ripped away from me or just after? I give my face a scrub with my empty hand and try to shake it off. No need to give Glove extra ammo to annoy me.

  My return to the table presents me with a sight that's not a surprise. There are four girls surrounding our table, empty shot glasses on it. Looks like they've moved onto to Phase 2 of the evening. Phase 1 Subtraction. Drinking to remove all thoughts of the horrors we just faced and the possible destruction it’s done to them. Phase 2 Addition. Add liquor and girls. Phase 3 Multiplication. No explanation needed there I'm sure.

  The black haired one rocking a pair skin tight jeans and a sweater that looks anything but warm is in my chair. With a roll of the eyes, I sigh, “Do you mind? You're in my chair.”

  She whips her head around and a look of arousal flashes across her face. Like she just hit some sort of jackpot. Maybe she doesn't like the idea of competing against her friends. Doesn't matter. If she wants to go home with someone she's going to have to or relocate to another group of guys.

  “You're in the Marines, too, huh?” Her lips purse together, eyes on my tags.

  “Hey, Snow White, ” Glove's voice invades before I have a chance to answer. “In the words of our first lady of hip-hop, he liked it so he put a ring on it.”

  Bizarre. I'm not sure what frightens me more. That Glove just cock blocked for me or his knowledge of Beyoncé. Both honestly are leaving me with creepy chills down my spine.

/>   “Oh...” she nods and politely stands up turning her attention back to my best friends. Tossing a look over her shoulder she sighs, “Good for you.”

  I didn't put a ring on it. I put tags on it. But I may be putting a ring on it when I get home. God, look what Glove's done to me. Now I'm referencing it. I hate him.

  “But I'll be more than willing to take all the Single Ladies;” he follows up with as a blonde slides happily onto his lap; another round of shots is heading for our table.

  The girls giggle and Snow White invites herself to sit on Lordy's lap. Instead of complaining, he wraps an arm around her waist and shoots a remark at our own Hef, “First the Gossip Girl reference. Now Beyoncé. If you make one more girly ass reference, I'm canceling our cable subscription.”

  Laughter breaks out across the table including from me. While the girls clearly have banging them on the agenda, they stick around for a couple more drinks and chuckles. I may not have another beer and I may be checking my phone often waiting for it to ring, but I can say that for the first time, I don't mind being out with them like this. Even though Glove is only getting louder and his comments dirtier. And even though Lordy is becoming more and more a carbon copy of him with each passing sip. I don't mind. Not one bit.

  29 Days Til School

  On active duty, there are often cold nights with time to think. Think about your regrets. Think about the mission. Your decisions. Your failures. Time to wallow in self-pity. Time to be accessible to the shit you're afraid of. The shit that is slowly driving you insane. There's also time to think about all the shit you got right. The people who matter. The woman you love. There's all this time to think about how perfect their smile is. The glow from their eyes. Complexion flaw free. You start remembering their laugh sounding like a necessary melody to function. What it's like to have their arms wrapped around you. Body warming yours. Sometimes you get so wrapped up in the thoughts of them, your mind starts to play tricks. Have doubts. No one could possibly be that beautiful. No one could possibly smell that great. No one could possibly be that perfect. Yet somehow, Haven is.

  The sliding glass doors of the airport release us to the warm September air and into the arms of the one person I couldn't spend the rest of my life without.

  “Clint!” Her arms fly around my neck.

  Waiting for her to be back in my arms was like waiting to breathe. My bag drops to the ground as I cradle her close to my chest, my arms encompassing everything that matters in my life. I squeeze tighter. With a long inhale, I enjoy the simplicity of just having this angel back in my arms. Fuck. I'm such a sap.

  I pull away, slide my fingers through the back of the hair on her neck, and tug her to me, lips mounting hers. Fuck that's good. She pushes her body further into me, lips moving slowly. God they're softer than I remember. Sweet. Sticky from lip gloss. Our lips stay touching until her mouth opens inviting me in to dance. To twist around and sample every inch of what I've been missing. Her tongue teases mine. How the hell do I ever leave this girl?

  Someone clears their throat and the warmth of her body and the heat of her tongue leaves me. I don't know how long I can hold out on keeping my hands off of her, especially now that I've had the chance to taste her again.

  “Slugger!” Mindy reaches out for me.

  Dragging myself out of Haven's grip, I hug her softly. Her small frame that's cloaked in an expensive designer burgundy suit, expensive designer black heels, and from the smell even more expensive designer perfume nestles against my chest. Comfort. Gratefulness.

  I open my mouth and she points at me, “Mindy.”

  “Mindy.” My smile is huge. Genuine.

  With that, I turn to my dad who is in his uniform, arms folded across his chest, a stern look on his face. Prepared for the cold welcoming I usually receive, I extend my hand towards him.

  “I see you're still a good Marine.”

  “Yes Sir.”

  And once his hand in his mine, he pulls me to his chest, giving me a heavy pat on the back filled with emotion. Appreciation. Affection. In a tone so low I know no one else can hear he says, “Glad to have you home, son.”

  Taking a step back, I see Mindy wiping tears out of her eyes as she crosses her arms across her chest. “Michael. Jody.”

  “Mrs. Mindy,” they recite together. What are they twins now?

  “Just Mindy, boys. Mrs. makes me feel so...old.”

  “Sorry.” Again. Together. They need to learn to spend time apart.

  After picking up my bag, I drape my arm around Haven's shoulder, tugging her beside me, her body completing mine, “Mind giving these two a ride home?”

  “Well, who else would?” she rolls her eyes dangling her keys from her hands.

  The six of us head to Mindy's brand new black SUV in the parking garage. According to Haven, she picked it up a few months ago anticipating our arrival. Apparently, something told her that she would be making plenty more trips that needed the extra room. Personally, I think she needed more room for her shopping bags.

  Haven and I crawl in the very back, Glove and Lordy in the middle, and dad riding shot gun. In the back seat, we buckle up, and I toss my arm around the back of seat letting Haven's head fall on my chest. I need these moments in life. More of them. All of them.

  Conversation in the front of the vehicle commences yet doesn't hold my attention for long. How can it? Haven's sweet sugary smell is so overwhelming. So invigorating. So enthralling that my attention to just falls on her. The changes I see in her. Physically and emotionally. She appears more confident in her own skin. She radiates a level of confidence that rivals with Mindy's own. Looks like she's proud of herself. And damn that's sexy. Speaking of sexy my eyes wander over what has become of the body that I claimed as mine what seems like just yesterday. I drink in her face that is slightly fuller than I remember, painted with a faint bit of makeup. The way her curves have expended has to be the sexiest goddamn thing I've ever seen. Her dress is clung to them like they are desperate to be a part of them. Like they are desperate to be welcomed by them. The tags I got her for her birthday look at home on top of her breasts that are calling my name.

  As if hearing that thought, Haven looks up at me, innocence dancing in her brown eyes at first. Suddenly, she licks her lips and nibbles on the bottom one. Fuck. Me. My body responds immediately. To my surprise, she slips a hand across my thigh onto the obvious bulge. She begins stroking me on top of my jeans. Slowly. Deliberately. Seductively. Holy. Hell.

  “Right, Grim?” Lordy tosses a look back at me looking for some sort of response.

  Unsure of what the question is I merely grunt in agreement, straining underneath Haven's touch. Seeing me speechless seems to make her happy. She's grinning at me. Playfully.

  I lean over to whisper in her ear, “Are you trying to kill me?”

  She smirks, flicks me a guiltless look and whispers back, “Yes. Is it working?” With a soft pull of her tongue, she tastes my earlobe and I feel my breath hitch. I can't keep on like this. I can't— Haven hushes the debate in my head by giving a gentle tug to my cock on the outside of the denim prison known as my jeans. My mouth drops as I stifle the sound that would like to squeak out of it and force my eyes shut. Self. Control. Marine. You've had months of it. You can have a few minutes more. Self. Control.

  Haven giggles and releases her touch placing her hands back in her lap. That might have been worse than enemy torture.

  I force my eyes back open to see Glove giving me a suspicious look. Part of me thinks he knows what's going on back here. And part of me couldn't give a shit. I don't care. The only thing I care about is this gorgeous angel and the fact I've been returned home to have time with her once again. And how I plan to spend that time showing her I missed her in and out of bed.

  After Mindy drops Glove and Lordy off, during which she invites them to the welcome home dinner tonight and they graciously accept, we route our way home, conversations full of Mindy's voice mostly. No wonder though. From the way Haven k
eeps licking her lips at me and not innocently touching me, it's crystal clear we both only have one thing on our mind.

  Pulling into the driveway, Mindy reminds us, “The party is tonight, Slugger, so please try to be on time.” She really hates when I'm late to my own get together. My suggestion for her to stop having them in my name has received a very firm scolding in the past, so no need to object to it now. “And Haven, I know you'll be in class almost right up until the party, but don't worry about anything, honey. I can handle the last parts of the desserts.”

  Haven smiles politely back. “Thanks, Mindy. And you said it was alright if Mandy and Michele come right?”

  “As long as Slugger doesn't mind...” her voice trails to me while my eyes are trailing down the small dip in the front of Haven's dress. The way it's like a tiny window to her breasts is starting to wear down on that self-control.

  Suddenly, Haven clears her throat forcing my eyes back up to hers and then to Mindy's. “What?”

  She does her best to hide her smirk as Mindy repeats, “Do you mind if Michele and Mandy come tonight?”

  “Of course not. Any friends of Havens are friends of mine.”

  Mindy looks vaguely surprised but I'm unsure why. Why wouldn't I welcome my girlfriends’ best friends? The two people who took care of her when I couldn't? I crawl out of the SUV and extend a hand to help Haven out as well. Wrapping an arm around her waist, I pull her in close to me as Sir announces, “I have some errands to run.” Thank God. “I'll be back late this afternoon.”

  I nod as acknowledgment before giving Mindy a goodbye as well. Afterward the two of us scamper across the street, wasting no time the second we're inside. My bag drops by the front door as I pull Haven into me, lips more desperate than before to taste her. To be a part of her. She doesn't resist. She melts against me, arms wrapped around me clutching onto my shirt, anxious I'll get away. Oh. No. I'm not going anywhere without her. Lifting her up by her ass, so her legs wrap around my waist, I carry her up the stairs, her lips sucking, nipping, and nibbling at my jaw bone line. My neck. My shoulder. I swear it's like she wants me to come where I stand.