Yellow Ribbons

by Caitlyn Willows

  “Fuck you, Greg.” Calm and deadly made shrew sound like a spring shower.

  He grabbed her arm when she stormed by. “Where the hell are you going?” Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.

  Lani jerked free. “I have a date.” She sauntered away, her ass twitching with every step.

  Greg rooted his feet in place when all he wanted was to run after her, press her into the carpet, and fuck her until he died. “Who the hell with?”

  “None of your damn business!” The door slamming shot the final volley right through his gut.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The double date ranked number two on the list of stupidest things Lani had ever done. Holding the number one position was her relationship with Greg. She’d spent the remainder of the afternoon crying enough tears to supply water for Mars before anger took command again. In her fugue, going out with the terrible trio sounded like the perfect way to get even. Yeah, it had pissed Greg off, but she was the one hurting.

  Cheryl loaned her a sparkly blue little number that came a little short of midthigh. Four-inch platform shoes made her feel like a hooker and threatened to snap her ankles at the slightest misstep. On top of that, Lani had had the audacity to go sans hose. Freezing and vulnerable, her only defense “against the world” were her white satin panties and the scrap of lace that called itself a bra.

  Compared to the Dockers and Izods the men wore, she and Cheryl were overdressed. Too many eyes were on them. And if Hank Leopold’s hand cupped her ass one more time, he was going to draw back a bloody stub.

  “There’s a booth!” Cheryl shouted above the thud of bass. Reverberations echoed through Lani’s internal organs, threatening to regurgitate the so-so buffet dinner.

  Cheryl grabbed Tony’s hand and dragged him to the spot. Red fringe shimmied over her unfettered breasts and ass. The couple paused long enough to place a drink order before Tony whisked Cheryl onto the dance floor. Gyrations simulated raunchy sex everywhere Lani looked. Or maybe not so simulated. The music stabbed through her head; the bright lights made it worse.

  “Drink?” Hank’s voice too close to her ear startled her. Sweaty fingers curled over her bare knee.

  “No.” She clamped her hand over his wrist and pushed him away. His free arm surrounded her shoulders.

  “Dance?”

  No, she didn’t care to join the orgy. “No, thanks.”

  “Good.”

  He pressed into her, forcing her down on the booth. Lani scrambled to right herself. Her dress bunched to her pelvis. Hank moved in, taking full advantage of her half-splayed position. He wedged his hips between her legs and rubbed his erection over her crotch. Lani curled her nails and lashed out. She was free before she could follow through.

  Her eyes widened when she saw Greg standing there, fisting Hank’s light green shirt. Hank stared at him, mouth agape, like he couldn’t figure out what had happened.

  “Want to tell me what the hell you were doing, sir?”

  “I-I…” Fish gulps worked his mouth. “She’s so damn hot. You can’t blame a guy for wanting her.”

  “Don’t bet on it,” Greg ground out. “No one fucks with my captain.”

  Lani half expected Greg to shake him until his teeth fell out. Frankly, she wanted him to.

  “On duty or off, you are a United States Marine Corps officer. Act accordingly.” Greg threw him back into the far end of the booth. Hank wasted little time scurrying off.

  Greg swerved his head toward Lani. “You okay?”

  He’d found her, followed her, tracked her down. She didn’t want to know the how and why of it, just wanted to throw herself in his arms and never let go. Five o’clock shadow darkened his scowl. Dark trousers and a long-sleeve shirt added to the aura of dangerous man. Lani longed to cling to him and never let go, feel his heart thud beneath her cheek.

  “I don’t know.” Physically and emotionally, she was a train wreck. An apology formed on her lips. Lani caught herself in time. She had nothing to apologize for—well, maybe this godforsaken date.

  “I need to find the ladies’ room.”

  Greg reached to help her slide from the booth. Lani gripped the lifeline of fingers. He threaded her around the crush of dancers and toward the restrooms in back. His hand against the small of her back promised protection and dared anyone to touch her. Before they reached the hallway, he veered right at a door and, after using a key card, took her up a private staircase leading to the second-floor balcony.

  “This is one of Oliver’s businesses,” he said. “Dance club for the public, something extra upstairs for those of us in the know.”

  Which might explain how he’d found her. Someone would have reported having seen her at the buffet without Greg. Greg would be called… She laughed at her delusions. Why would any of it have mattered? But it must have, because he was here.

  “Remind me to tell him the buffet sucks.”

  “Duly noted.”

  The thrum of music hit her anew when they crested the staircase and came out on the balcony. A sea of bodies spread out below. A mosh pit of sex. Up here, the cacophony of red, black, and bright lights shifted into gold and cream-colored elegance, weaving seduction and promising privacy for in clientele.

  Greg shoved a door open to a lounge with adjoining bathroom facilities. Two creamy leather sofas, mahogany tables, and a minibar awaited guests. Lani took two steps inside, then flung herself around him when she heard the door click shut.

  He clutched her tight, arms shaking. An instant later she was off her feet. She gasped and sealed her mouth over his. His tongue thrashed against hers, deepening the kiss with every sweep. The sweet cradle of leather comforted her back. Fingers rasped up her thigh, taking her dress with it.

  Greg’s growl rumbled through her throat. He kneaded her lips and hooked his fingers over the waistband of her panties. One yank pulled them down her hips. Lani wiggled them the rest of the way off and jerked her legs free. She fluttered her hands over his shoulders and back, desperate to feel every inch of him beneath the soft material.

  Greg broke the kiss, captured her wrists in his hands, and pinned them over her head. He locked her in place with his eyes, then took both wrists in one hand. Gaze on hers, he slid his free hand under her dress, over her hip, and into her bra. A gentle tug freed her breast to his fingers. He twirled her nipple between thumb and forefinger. She arched into him, needing skin-to-skin contact so badly, she thought she’d die if she didn’t get it. Too soon he moved, his callused palm grazing her belly, his fingers seeking the juncture of her thighs. He thrust deep and hard, thumb dancing over her clitoris. Wantonly, she fucked his hand. Wanting release. Needing it. Again, he stopped too soon for her liking. Her whimper of displeasure fell on deaf ears.

  She felt him fumble to release his erection and widened her thighs as far as the sofa allowed. One stab seated him to the hilt.

  She gasped. Her muscles melted around his cock, loving every pulse with a contraction of her own guaranteed to make him come. Nails raked up her torso, then clamped around her nipple. She thrashed against him, wishing he’d move. He remained rigid and still, his cock getting hotter and harder with every second that passed. An attempt to lock her legs around his waist earned another pinch to her nipple and a tighter grip around her wrists. That’s when she realized he was silently demanding she relinquish control.

  Lani relaxed and gave it to him. Greg’s sigh thanked her. He tickled his fingers down her arms, traced her jawline with his tongue, then eased from her and onto his knees. She looked from those dark eyes downward to the pulsing erection waiting to take her again. He lifted her hips, urging her onto her knees. Lani did so, lifting her ass high. His thighs molded to hers, his heavy erection probed her entrance. She curled her fingers around the sofa cushion, bit her lower lip between her teeth, and counted the seconds that passed.

  He slid in slow and sweet, his fingers flexing over her hip bones in his struggle to take his time. When he was as far as he could go, when
she was stretched to the limit and his cockhead plugged into her cervix, Greg reached around to cup her clit.

  “Fuck me,” he ordered. “Make us come.” He shoved the dress to her shoulders and squeezed her breast, thumbed her nipple. “Do it, sweetness. Do it.”

  Lani rocked with him, lost in the feel of Greg’s possession. They came in silence, then collapsed together on the sofa. No kisses. No caresses. It hurt. The distance. The walls. She didn’t know how to make it go away. Not when his lie hovered over them. Not the lie so much as her confusion over it.

  “This is all we’ll ever have. Stolen moments and secret sex.” His voice was raspy when he finally broke the silence. “The hiding. The secrecy. I can’t touch you in public. Can’t dance with you. Can’t comfort you. I can’t even steal you away for a private vacation. I hate having to hide my feelings. I hate having to see other men… I can’t live like this.”

  Lani’s heart twisted in a horrible combination of hope and dread. “What are you saying?”

  He swallowed and pulled away, cutting the bond between them. Lani felt naked, exposed…raw.

  “I’m saying we’re done, Captain.”

  Lani heard the scream in her head, imagined crawling after him and begging him to stay. Of telling him she’d do anything and everything to keep him. Dreamed those simple words I love you would make him stay. Instead, she lay there, too stunned to move until a burst of bass hit her when he opened the door to leave.

  She leaped to her feet, stabbing her legs into the panties while she raced to the door. Her hand was on the handle before she realized how futile it was to rush after him. Their relationship was doomed from the start. But it didn’t make it any easier to accept.

  Lani stumbled from the room and down the stairs, blinded by tears and fighting a bra that refused to cooperate until her foot touched the last step. She searched the crowd for Cheryl’s red dress and found her soon-to-be former friend sucking face with Tony. His hand was up her dress, her ass on view for the whole world to see. Lani pushed through the dancers and grabbed Cheryl’s shoulder.

  “I want to go home.” A sob threatened to burst out. Damn it all. “I want to go home now!”

  “Are you fucking crazy? We just started dancing,” Cheryl shouted. “Chill. Hank will behave.”

  “No! Now!”

  “Lani, will you—”

  “I’ll take you home.”

  A warm arm wrapped around her shoulder. Lani glanced up at Jordan and started to cry. “Thank you.”

  Jordan hugged her to his side and led her away.

  Fucking Jordan Beck. Of course. Greg should have known. He’d been watching from the balcony, cursing himself a thousand times over as he watched the devastation on Lani’s face. He’d done this—hurt her. How could he when he loved her so much?

  Through the flash of bright lights, he’d watched her tell Cheryl she wanted to go home. He could read the demand on her lips. Cheryl’s refusal didn’t sit well with him. It was yet another reason to dislike the woman. Greg had just pushed away from the railing, ready to rush to Lani’s side and take it all back, when he saw Jordan swoop in.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  Greg took the stairs two at a time. Jordan was driving off by the time he reached valet parking. He shoved his stub at the attendant and paced while he waited an eternity for his truck. He’d hunt them down. Jordan wasn’t going to get away with this. Upset as she was, Lani would want to go home. He was counting on that. If not, he’d beat Jordan’s door down to get to her.

  Fresh rage propelled him down the highway. Greg knew he broke every speed limit and didn’t much give a damn. He reached Lani’s house seconds after them. The door opened behind the two, casting them in shadow, wrapped in each other’s arms. They jerked apart when he squealed to a stop in her driveway.

  Greg shouldered the car door open and charged them. “What the fuck, Lani? Jordan? You go from me right to him!”

  “He was comforting me, you idiot!” she screamed. “Making sure I got home safe!”

  “That’s my job!” He thumped his fist on chest.

  “Then you’re fired.” A crisp pivot sent her into the house.

  Greg raced past Jordan to reach her. Lani met him head-on, freezing him in his tracks. She’d never know how much restraint it took not to toss her over his shoulder and haul her to the bedroom.

  “Get out.” She jerked her finger toward the door. “You’re done. Remember, Master Gunnery Sergeant?”

  “You heard the woman,” Jordan said.

  Greg whirled around. “Shut the fuck up. You have no idea what you’re dealing with here.”

  “Oh, I have a very good idea. PMO’s dirty from the top down. The general’s gonna love this.”

  A plunge in ice water would have had lesser effect. Greg took in Jordan’s appearance. He looked a little more rested than he had earlier, but not by much. He still wore the same dark gray trousers and white shirt. The only thing missing was his jacket and tie. They’d been outed.

  “You set us up,” Lani said in a rush of breath.

  “More or less.” Jordan shrugged. “Though not for the reasons you think. Considering Greg’s past, I also thought he might be a suspect.”

  “Have you lost your mind?” they said.

  Another shrug. “Covering all bases.”

  Lani pulled in a breath and released it. “What will it take to make you forget the rest?”

  “Well…” The bastard had the nerve to give Lani the once-over.

  Greg cut between them. “You stay the fuck away from her.”

  “Or you’ll beat the hell out of me?”

  Lani skipped her hand over Greg’s shoulders. “He’s baiting you. Ignore him. I thought you were a friend,” she told Jordan.

  “There’s no such thing as friendship when murder’s involved.” Jordan’s eyes narrowed. “Neither of you are any better than me. You’d do whatever it took to find a killer. What did you expect me to do when there were no other leads, when you showed up so damn fast at the original murder scene and conveniently found Kenyon’s body?”

  “Greg was with me.” Lani’s chin came up. “All night.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Not all night. By your own admission, you arrived at the gym at the same time Regina Whittaker left. With his past—”

  “Leave his past out of this,” she snapped. “He was a kid with a temper and an unfaithful wife just back from a war no one wanted. What the hell would you have done?”

  “I would have at least let the woman I’m involved with now know about it.”

  Another below-the-belt hit from Jordan.

  “You don’t know shit, Beck.” Greg’s cell phone kept him from having to say anything more, not that he had much else to say. He yanked it from his pocket and checked caller ID. “Cornwall,” he told them and punched Talk. “Landess.”

  “I couldn’t reach Captain Hollister. There’s been another murder. This time on base.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  For the first time in his military career, Greg hated his job. Hated that he had to shave and put the uniform on to trudge off in the night to respond to yet another murder, this time on base. That’s when he realized it was over. It was time to leave it all behind. He’d promised himself long ago that he’d retire when it stopped being rewarding. At this point, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt any satisfaction in the job. The only lure in staying the last six months had been seeing Lani.

  He didn’t fool himself that meant they had a future together now that he’d decided to put in retirement papers. Lani’s career would be in jeopardy if they continued seeing each other. He remembered a similar case years ago. The couple had acknowledged their love months after the major had retired. His ex-wife complained of his having had an affair during his career, and command went after his new wife, a staff sergeant. Yes, there were other instances where people looked the other way. The current climate wouldn’t allow that. Greg didn’t want to risk hurting Lani. Had
n’t he hurt her enough tonight?

  He followed Lani and Jordan onto base. Both had gotten similar calls once Greg told them what had happened. Lani had turned on her cell to find five voice mails. If there was a snippet of doubt left in Jordan’s mind over the nature of their relationship before, there wasn’t once Greg and Lani moved in sync around her house as they prepared to leave. Greg had a spare set of cammies in his car, but it was the extras at Lani’s house that helped tell on him—underwear, shaving gear, toothbrush—and he knew the house well. Little things that told so much.

  Who was he kidding? He’d never see retirement. Once Jordan passed that tidbit up the chain of command, he and Lani were facing courts-martial. In any event, their relationship was over. He’d screwed up left and right tonight. Lani would never forgive the breach of trust. His heart didn’t want to believe it, but it wasn’t his heart he had to convince. It was Jordan. Maybe he could plead their case to him and get Jordan to cut them some slack. For the life of him, Greg didn’t know how he was going to get Jordan to budge. Didn’t know how he was going to survive without Lani in his life. If he stayed in the Marine Corps, he’d at least have the secret pleasure of seeing her, along with the agony of watching her move on. If he retired…nothing. Which was the bigger curse?

  Their small convoy wove through base housing. Emergency lights flashed ahead. Neighbors huddled behind crime scene tape. Sickening déjà vu deepened when Greg saw whose house it was—Corporal Jeanette Shepard, the marine with the cocker spaniel he’d spoken to earlier that day.

  He’d spent a good hour with her that afternoon, offering her comfort, petting her dog.

  “God, I hope she’s all right,” he muttered. A woman was dead, yet his heart latched on to her devoted cocker spaniel. Greg didn’t think he could walk through that door if Mita had been killed too. He forced myself to leave his truck but moved no farther than the driver’s door.

  “Problems?” Jordan asked. He and Lani stood a few feet away, waiting for him.