The Last Marine

by Cara Crescent

  She nodded and drew in a shuddering breath. “I suspect Randolph Parnell wants me back.”

  Merrick turned to Griffin. “Which is why you want to get back to Earth to kill him.”

  “In part, yes.” He reached up to rub his temples. “But also to help with the Rebellion.”

  “I wondered if you’d heard about that.” Merrick dragged his hand down his face. “I don’t know if my opinion will matter to you one way or another, but I’d appreciate if you’d hear me out anyway.”

  “What, then?”

  “You’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty. Let it go. The rebels have this. Randolph’s days are numbered. Concentrate on you. Get your head on straight and help me keep this town safe. We want you in our lives.”

  For a heartbeat, she thought Griffin might give in. The way he stared at Merrick suggested he was hearing the last thing he expected, but the expression of absolute shock twisted into something gut-wrenching. She’d seen that particular look once before. The day she’d told him he wasn’t a hero.

  Guilt tore through her. “Baby, I don’t understand why you’re still punishing yourself. You are a hero. Maybe you had to kill your CO, maybe you weren’t a hero to him, but you asked the questions that needed to be asked. To the men in your unit who were saved from having to kill those kids, you were a hero. To those kids, you were a hero. You’ve served your time. You don’t have to give your life.”

  “Christ, you never give up. Don’t you get it?” He held his arms open. “What do you think might have made me start questioning my CO?”

  “Don’t do this to yourself,” Merrick said. “Whatever happened, it’s in the past.”

  Griffin didn’t spare him a glance, though. He stood up, his attention resting on her. “Go on, ask.”

  She shook her head. “No. This isn’t good for you. Just—”

  Merrick eased to his feet, arms held open in a placating gesture. “Listen, man, we don’t need to—”

  Griffin’s voice rose to a shout. “Ask me why I questioned my CO!”

  Lucan walked into the middle of the tension, carafe in one hand, glasses in the other. “What made you question your CO?” Everyone turned to stare. “What? What’d I miss?”

  Merrick swore.

  “Since Lucan was nice enough to ask, I’ll tell you. See, I went out on border patrol with my unit and we got a call about a terrorist cell on the move—twenty-two of them headed our way in one vehicle, no civilians in the area—can we take them out? Hell, yeah. Ooh-rah. How do you want us to do it? My CO, he didn’t care, he wanted them taken out. So, me? I get this brilliant plan to plant heat-sensing IEDs across the bottleneck in the road.”

  Lucan set the carafe down on the table and put his hands on Prudence’s shoulders. He gave her a gentle squeeze.

  Prudence shook she was so scared. Not for herself, but for Griffin. He was torturing himself over things that were long over and done with. “Baby, you don’t have to do this.”

  “I do.” Agitated, he paced in front of them. “You need to understand, Pru. I didn’t half-ass the job, I had my team plant six of the damned things, there wasn’t a chance in hell anything could get through that bottleneck without hitting at least one of the bombs. And once they hit one, all of them were going off. Fucking. Brilliant. We all hunkered down and waited, smoking and joking. Next thing I know, here comes a hover-bus down the road. The driver was hauling ass, big plumes of dust cutting out behind the thing. And I’m thinking to myself, what a bunch of fucking pricks to hide in a school bus.”

  Prudence felt all the blood drain from her face. Sweet goddess, no.

  “And as they get closer, I’m hearing kids singing. At first, I thought they were fucking about—that the cocksucker terrorists were playing a recording or something—part of their cover. But as the bus is getting closer, I’m seeing shit flying around in the inside of the bus. So I grab my oculars and take a peek and you know what I saw? Do you?”

  Merrick cursed.

  Prudence swallowed past the knot in her throat. “Kids.”

  “Hell, yeah. Bus full of kids bouncing a holoball back and forth, singing.”

  For a long time he held her stare, so long she thought he might leave the story there. She wanted him to leave the story there. She already knew what happened. Could see it written plain in the agony of his expression. This was why he was punishing himself. He killed those kids and he couldn’t get past it. But she knew Griffin. She knew him and she loved him and there was no way he’d have knowingly done such a thing.

  “I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t do anything to prevent the bombs from going off. I ran out there, waving my arms like a lunatic and the fucking driver waved back.” He blinked hard. “He stuck his arm out the window and waved like he was on a Sunday drive. Next thing I know, it was done. The singing stopped. There was glass everywhere, twisted metal. Toys and . . . bits”—his face twisted—“strewn all over. The air smelled of gasoline and cooked meat. I killed twenty-one little kids and their driver and you know what? I still thought we got a bum scoop. I thought they fucked up. I knew I fucked up. And when I returned to base, thinking I was going to the brig, your goddamned husband handed me a medal.”

  Her hand flew to her mouth. “I didn’t know, I—”

  “Your husband clapped me on the shoulder, and said, ‘I know that must’ve been hard, son, but you did well.’ Did I?” he shouted the question. “Did I do good? Somehow, I don’t think that busload of kids singing ‘Happy and You Know It’ in Swahili were planning to strap bombs to their chests and terrorize the spaceport.”

  Prudence got to her feet and reached toward him. “Come here, Griff.”

  He appeared stricken. “What are you doing? Didn’t you hear me?”

  She nodded, daring a step closer. “What you’re saying is awful, horrible.”

  “Then what are you doing?” His face bunched up. “You can’t want me.”

  “I do.” She nodded, urging him closer because she feared if he left, she wouldn’t ever see him alive again. “I still want you. I love you.”

  He cursed and strode out of the room.

  “Griffin!”

  Lucan stopped her from going after him. “Honey, give him some time.”

  “I’ve got his weapons.” Merrick held up the Lockheed Martin and the Swiss Army knife. “He’ll be okay for a few minutes.”

  She turned her face into Lucan’s shoulder. “Why does he do that to himself? He didn’t know.”

  “He’s always been like that.” Lucan shrugged. “For as long as I can remember, he always seemed to think he had a responsibility to take care of everybody.”

  Everyone but himself. “I’m afraid I’m going to lose him.”

  Lucan gave her a warm smile. “Nah. Griffin’s smart. He’ll think things over and realize you need him more than anyone else does. He’ll come around. And we’ll make sure he gets the help he needs.”

  Merrick smoothed her hair back. “And if he doesn’t, we’ll beat some sense into him for you.”

  Griffin strode down the street. What the fuck just happened?

  He’d explained in detail what a dishonorable bastard he was, and she still wanted him.

  He’d taken the lives of a busload of youths.

  He’d killed his CO and his escorting unit.

  He’d survived when his whole base had been destroyed.

  And when he’d tried to earn back a little of his honor by making things right, he’d made conditions worse for everyone.

  Why in holy hell did she want to even breathe the same air as him?

  Anxiety crawled under his skin. Every time he worked himself up to accept the punishment he deserved, no one would cooperate. Instead of going to the brig, he’d been awarded a medal. Instead of a courts martial, he’d survived his base being fragged. Instead of being looked at for the piece of shit he was, a woman far above him in morality loved him.

  And the thing was, while he didn’t want the medal and he didn’t want to b
e the sole survivor, God help him, he did want her love. But if he allowed himself to accept such a gift, wouldn’t that make him even more of a monster? Wouldn’t that mean he didn’t take his past mistakes as seriously as he should?

  The noise of Main Street grew louder as he approached and he couldn’t bear to be around people right then. Didn’t want to see the citizens of Diamond Fjord enjoying their community and the prosperous town they’d built. Doing so would remind him why they were here in the first place—because of him, and men like him, blindly following orders.

  Griffin turned down an alley. Even the narrow aisles between the shiny buildings were free from litter.

  There was no place for trash like him.

  He sat down on a step leading to the back of one of Main Street’s shops and stared at the wall across from him.

  What the hell was he doing, anyway? Even if he managed to steal a ship, get back to Earth and kill Randolph—who was to say someone else wouldn’t rise up in the bastard’s place? Who was to say the new PM wouldn’t be as adamant about possessing Prudence? Christ, he had to protect Prudence. Maybe there was no hope for him, but he’d make sure she survived.

  He focused on the wall in front of him. It wasn’t the same iridescent diamond-wood of the others, but had been painted a flat white as a base for a mural. With a glance, he knew his brother had created the painting. He must have circled around and now faced the back of Lucan’s shop. The left side depicted a war zone, homes and trees burned and Lucan had captured stark horror in the eyes of those fleeing. The scene was dark, the smoke blocking out the sun. Beneath the picture, read: “Society’s curse is to bring destruction to individuals.”

  The first scene blended into the second, the aftermath. The sunlight poured down on the broken remnants of buildings and the skeletal remains of trees. A blackened, twisted swing-set sat in the background and powdery ash covered everything. In the foreground a child poured water from a can onto a bright green sapling. The caption read: “Individuals are responsible for ensuring beauty grows from the ash.”

  A tremor ran through him and stuck, making him shake like a palsied old man. Tears pricked the back of his eyes. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with that? What’s that mean?”

  The empty alleyway had no answer, just his shout echoed back to him. He covered his face with his hands, shamed by his outburst.

  Behind him, a door opened. Damn it, now he’d disturbed Lucan’s neighbor. Without turning, he headed off down the alley.

  Someone grabbed him. A bag came down over his head, limiting his vision to tiny pinpricks of light streaming through the material. Struggling, Griffin reached for his weapon, but the Lockheed Martin wasn’t there. Well, shit, that’s why Merrick had been crowding into him earlier. He kicked out with his foot, connecting with his attacker’s knee. A male shouted.

  “Hit him.”

  Griffin twisted within the grasp of his attacker, arching back with the intention of head-butting the bastard holding the bag over his head.

  Something hard wacked him across his skull. Pain burst like fireworks in his head, reverberating down his spine. The tiny beads of light blurred. The hands around his wrists loosened. His whole body jarred as he dropped to his knees. He tried to stop his forward momentum, but his arms wouldn’t obey.

  The whole world went dark.

  Chapter 31

  Griffin came awake in degrees.

  At first, he noted dread heavy in his gut. He’d fought with Prudence. He’d hurt the woman he loved because he couldn’t get past his guilt. More than anything, he wanted to make things up to her. He’d find her, pull her into his arms and beg her forgiveness.

  But as soon as he tried to move pain shot through his head, his arms. He squinted his eyes open and after looking at pinpricks of fractured light for a moment, he realized he stared at the inside of a black cloth bag.

  Someone had snatched him off the street in broad daylight.

  He half-stood, half-leaned against some kind of A-frame. Metal bars rose up at angles on either side of him, meeting where his wrists had been secured over his head. Another bar pressed across his hips, keeping him from sagging and putting all his weight on his cuffed hands. His shoulders ached and his limbs felt as though thousands of tiny needles were being worked under his skin. His legs were spread wide, ankles bound and anchored to the bottom of the frame.

  This couldn’t be good.

  He cleared his throat. Might as well get this blanket party started. “Hello?”

  A voice answered from behind him. “Where is Prudence?”

  Griffin couldn’t see a damned thing, but he’d recognize that voice anywhere. Bronsen. The sick fuck was delusional if he thought he’d tell him anything. “Who?”

  A whoosh filled the air. Something thin and hard cracked across his back.

  Griffin’s lungs emptied of air as pain scorched over his skin. A shudder wracked through him. That would leave a mark. That’s karma for being an ass to Prudence earlier.

  “I’m going to ask nicely one more time. Where is Prudence Parnell?”

  “And I’m going to tell you nicely one more time. I don’t know who that is.”

  “Strip him.”

  Griffin snorted. “Might have been easier had you thought of that before you chained me up, genius.”

  Seconds later, he decided he should’ve keep his mouth shut. Two sets of hands went to work ripping and cutting his clothing away. One of the bastards cut a long line down his leg when he sliced through his cargos with a blade. Bit by bit they divested him of his clothes until he stood bare-assed against the A-frame. The only parts of his body even partially protected were his hands at the top of the frame and his stomach which pressed to the freezing cold bar. Blood trickled down his leg.

  “You two can wait outside.”

  The men who had stripped him left the room, the door closing behind them.

  “Now, Chief Payne, we found the escape pod you landed in. Prudence was with you; we found her sweaters. I spoke to the men at the Outpost.”

  “Gee, boss. You seem to know everything. You must already know that the woman I was with took off while I talked to the men at the Outpost. Haven’t seen her since.”

  “The men said you claimed she was yours.” Bronsen made his way around Griffin, his shoes clicking on the floor. “Tell me, how long have you known Prudence?”

  “I told you, we met on Genesis V. She took off after we landed on Asteria. I haven’t seen her since.”

  “This,” he tapped a thin rod against Griffin’s hood, “is a bamboo cane.”

  Griffin heard the thing hiss through the air as Bronsen reeled his arm back. Then he heard it come back. His whole body tensed. Fire blazed across his ass cheeks.

  “It’s hard not to tense up when you hear the cane sing, isn’t it?” Bronsen’s chuckle sounded flat, cold. “Thing is, tensing up makes the bite harder.”

  Sweat broke out over Griffin’s skin. “Hey, Bronsen?”

  “Yes?”

  “Fuck you.”

  Amusement laced Bronsen voice. “Maybe later. Randolph thinks you helped her plan her trip here. He thinks she fed you information to aid you in assassinating Alfred.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Without warning, the cane lanced across his shoulders.

  Griffin grunted, clenching his jaw tight. “I acted alone. And how the hell would I have helped her from prison? I couldn’t even talk. I was never alone.” The accusation didn’t even make sense, Randolph made sure he was locked down tight during his stint in jail. “I think those reports I read about Randolph being psychologically fragile are making more and more sense.”

  Bronsen made no response, but he did pause in his endless walk around Griffin. It wasn’t much, a missing beat of the clack of his shoes on the floor, but it was a reaction.

  Griffin snorted. “Now why does that bother you? Surely, it’s no surprise. You were head of Alfred’s security. You work pretty close with Randolph. Hell, there were times whil
e I was in prison I was sure the two of you were fucking and—” Well, shit. He’d been ready to kill the wrong man. Again. “Christ, it’s you, isn’t it? You’re listed as the Parnell’s head of security, but what . . .? You’re their advisor?”

  “Nope. Just security.” Bronsen continued his circular pacing, and when he stood behind Griffin, he let the cane sing.

  A line of fire crossed his back. Holy hell, that stung. His body was starting to react, to shake.

  “And Randolph’s lover. Alfred didn’t mind Randolph being around at first.” Though he couldn’t see, Griffin followed Bronsen’s voice, knowing what would come when he reached his back again. “The show of a united family was core to Alfred’s purpose. He needed Randolph and I made sure Randolph stayed . . . content.”

  Whack.

  A gasp broke from Griffin’s lips as the cane scored his calves. He inhaled a deep breath. “Didn’t Randolph mind? I mean his brother was emptying out the loony bins and sending all the mental health patients off-planet. Wasn’t Randolph worried he might be next?”

  “No. Randolph isn’t crazy. It’s more of an anxiety thing, but I took care of him. And for a while, Alfred seemed to forget his brother had any problem whatsoever.”

  The cane sang, striking against Griffin’s hip. His knees had turned to jelly and his gut roiled. It took every ounce of energy to keep his weight off his arms. He blinked away reflexive tears. “For a while?”

  “Toward the end, Alfred wanted to clean up the loose ends. He planned to send Randolph away.”

  Griffin bit his lip, his whole body tensed for the next blow, but Bronsen walked past without striking. Fucking bastard. “But you couldn’t allow that.” Griffin shook his head. “It wasn’t coincidence that there was no security the night I assassinated Alfred, was it?”

  Bronsen chuckled. “No. You were tagged, soldier boy. I watched a handful of those who survived. Kept tabs on where you were, what you were doing. It wasn’t hard to figure out what you had planned.”