Help Our Heroes: A Military Charity Anthology

by T. L. Wainwright

  “Mind telling me whose ol’lady this is, Chopper? Yours or Lochlan’s?” inked forearm dude says while I place my scalpel back down and sit to keep my hands busy with stitches. I’m actually thankful for the long-lasting period of silence that follows. And yes, I just carry on like nothing happened because the sooner his leg is taken care of, the faster I can leave for seven days of well-earned vacation time.

  “He’s delirious,” I mutter when I put in the final few stitches. “He’s been flipping out ever since they brought him in. No worries, though. I’m almost done, then you two can get him home.”

  “I just vouched for your ass, bitch.” The President leans into my space. “I don’t fucking know you.”

  I release an internal, very deep sigh while keeping an eye on what I’m doing. “They sure ripped open a can of assholes today,” I mutter to myself.

  Chopper chuckles. “Relax, Prez. She’s not an ol’lady, she doesn’t have any tits or pussy. Lochlan said so.”

  “No tits, or…what the fuck you idiot?” the President growls.

  Okay, that’s it. “I do have a pussy and stellar breasts that don’t even need a damn push up bra to glance over the edge of my shirt, thank you very much. Now if you idiots would just mention that I’m off-limits because you were buddies with my brother instead of the ridiculous thing Arthur thought up when we were kids; buddies don’t have dicks, sisters of buddies don’t have tits or pussy. Arthur is dead, this idiot’s leg is fixed. I’m going home and for the love of all that is holy or living in hell…stay out of my ER next time.”

  I tear off my gloves and walk out of the room.

  Chapter 03

  ***Chopper***

  “Dibs,” Lochlan shouts as he watches the doctor leave the room.

  What the fuck. Dibs? “You can’t call dibs, she’s Arthur’s sister.”

  “Why not, you heard her, right?” Lochlan crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Arthur is dead, she’s hot, and clearly wants it out there that the tits, pussy, and dick for that matter, are back in place.”

  Again, all my mind thinks is, “What the actual fuck?”

  “Okay, let me spell it out for you then, because clearly the hot chick forgot to check that head of yours.” Lochlan points into the direction of the door Ivy just left through. “I’ve called it. First dibs so I get to nail her first.”

  I stumble off the bed and grab the fucker by his cut. “Didn’t you hear me say she’s an ol’lady?”

  “I heard that, loud and clear,” Deeds quips, way too fucking cheerful if you ask me.

  “You telling me that’s yours?” Lochlan’s eyes are as wide as when I voiced the words the first time.

  “Yeah. If that gets you to back the fuck off, then yes, she’s my ol’lady.” I can easily claim her so Ivy is safe from any other brothers that want to fuck or go near her, because I have no intention of opening myself up, or committing myself, to a woman. Ever. I’m just not cut out for that shit because once you’ve seen what humans are capable of…let’s just say I lack the ability to unsee shit.

  Yet this one…this woman…she was branded in my head when I first saw her, sixteen fucking years old, and she even crawled deeper underneath my skin the last time we met…even if she was fucking bald. Then again today…how she handles herself and her actions just now? She fucking threatened a guy with a scalpel, defending me while the fucker pulled a gun on her and yet, she still didn’t back down.

  I’ve never met any other woman like her and that’s the only reason I claimed her on the spot. I’m a fucking moron who had a brain fart because with my background and mindset, I’m clearly not cut out for that shit. I’m not able to let a woman, or any human being for that matter, get close to me. A chick for a quick fuck, sure, but when the cum has left my body, said body will leave the room.

  I just simply can’t, not with the nightmares that haunt me, my fucking legs, and the damn scars inside and out. And surely because I flat-out can’t communicate, or connect for that matter. Women want all the right words and the actions that relate to the foundation of what they deserve and need. I tend to block and steer clear. Less disappointment, less chance to breach trust. I’m a cold-hearted asshole for a reason, so let’s keep it that way.

  But all of this sentimental, complicated life shit apart…deep down I have an unexpected urge to protect this little gem, to tie her to me. Or maybe deep down it’s some form of guilt that flares up. I wasn’t there for her brother, so I damn well am going to be there for her.

  “You do realize that a claim made in front of two brothers stands, right? Not to mention the fact that the ol’lady in question needs to get fucking inked.” Lochlan chuckles.

  Shit. That might have slipped my mind. But I caught a glimpse of some ink peeking out from underneath the white sleeves of her coat so I know she’s not a Virgin Mary when it comes to ink. Maybe she wouldn’t mind getting another one, because that will give her protection for life. Kinda like a political immunity status that’ll come in handy at some point in life. Holy fuck, I’m screwed. No woman in her right mind would do that. I mentioned my lack of communication skills, right?

  “Ooooh, we have a new ol’lady, and I get to ink her? I need a name and I have time tomorrow. Is she a badass? She’s gotta be a badass. Although Roan was a little timid, but she’s fitting in so anything would work. Does she have a piercing? If not…I can,”

  “What the fuck, Prez? Why the hell did you call Lips and put her on fucking speaker?” Dammit, my Prez’s ol’lady is nosy as fuck. “Why don’t you run a nationwide commercial while you’re at it? Dammit man, the woman herself has no clue.”

  “Meh, we just went through some bad shit, this whole MC needs something to keep our minds occupied.” Deeds shrugs and says goodbye to his ol’lady before he hangs up and tucks his phone away.

  “At my, and mainly at this innocent woman’s, expense? Just get me the fuck out of here,” I growl and grab his cut for support.

  Deeds shakes his head. “Want me to get a wheelchair for you?”

  “One of the fucking perks we have of slipping in and out of shit is not to stick by the fucking rules. Fuck the wheelchair. I’m sure Stanley cleared the path for us, so shut up and get me home.” I wince at the pain that shoots through my leg when I put some weight on it. I’m gonna be sore as fuck come morning, that’s for sure.

  “Come on, fucker. We’ve got you.” Deeds throws his arm around me so I’m hanging in between my brothers as they gracefully drag me out of the hospital.

  My fucking leg is throbbing and is tainting my sanity when I finally have my ass on the bed. I’m lying here with my leg up and my laptop on my lap. Before I know what I’m doing, I’ve got all the information in different windows open on my screen. Ivy Demoroll. Every single digital piece of information about her just entered my brain. Oh, yeah…I’ve got the world at my fingertips with just a few hits on the keyboard.

  I didn’t start off a computer nerd. Sit behind a damn screen? Fuck no. I was the epitome of adventure and action. A SEAL, fly a fucking chopper, or fuck…jumping out of one. I could handle any type of situation I was thrown into or got myself into. That all changed eleven years ago during a standard jump.

  It wasn’t even a combat jump in a warzone. Nope, during training. Getting your air stolen, that’s what it’s called. It’s something that deep down you know and fear. Something that could happen. It did, and I should have pulled and slipped away. You’re trained for these things, know you have to glide apart by somewhat steering. It didn’t help one fucking bit because, yeah…I live to tell about it, but my legs were shattered and it took me months and months to be able to walk again. At first, they thought I wouldn’t be able to.

  The shit I saw and went through in Afghanistan…and then something like that happens during a fucking training and that’s it. Lying in a bed for months with no future, only the now you’re wrapped in and the vivid memories that haunt you day and night. It’s like your brain is set on a loop of all the bad stu
ff you went through and saw in life.

  And here I am a-fucking-gain…on a bed with my leg up and a damn computer on my lap. I know very well I can get up and go to the bathroom myself or do a fucking happy dance, but fuck…it triggers memories I thought I’d buried deep enough to walk the road they called living. Not balance on the edge just waiting to tip over.

  My fingers run mindlessly over the keyboard until I’m staring at a black and white blurry video. Guess just looking up all the digital information I could find about Ivy wasn’t enough. It’s not like I know her through and through from when we were teenagers. But because she was the sister of one of my friends, I saw her a lot during that time.

  Although it was just some teenage crush back then that I had to keep to myself because she was off-limits, that doesn’t mean I never thought about her only as one of the guys. Hell no. I vigorously jerked off to her enough that I can’t even give you a rough number of how many times I did so.

  Seems like I’m right back down to where I was back then…because I found the location of her apartment. Across from her is a parking lot with cameras that have an angle that gives me the perfect view of her balcony. Stalker level, that’s what it’s come to. Again...hands off and just admire from a distance without anyone knowing.

  Zooming in, I see she’s sitting in a large chair that looks comfy with a book in one hand, a beer in the other. There are a lot of flowers and plants and shit crowding that small balcony. It looks like a tiny living room with a table and a candle, all romantic and girly. From the things I’ve found out about the past decade, it screams she’s career driven and has been very successful.

  She doesn’t have any loans and her apartment is fully paid for. Her parents come from old money and probably paid for her education. Although it’s none of my concern, I do think it’s amazing how she’s managed to climb up to being a highly respected ER doctor. From what I’ve discovered there is no history with a boyfriend. Like I said…career driven, hence the lack of information or anything about her private life.

  I watch how she stands up and places her book on the chair she was sitting in and walks inside her house. Damn. From what I can tell, she’s got the longest, finest legs I’ve seen in all my life. And that says a lot coming from a fucking black and white, blurry video stream. Seems like she’s only wearing a large t-shirt. After a moment, she strolls out again holding a beer.

  Movement at the bottom of my screen catches my gaze. There’s a guy in a truck. That’s not so special, except this one is leaning out the window holding a cup and his head is clearly staring in Ivy’s direction. Can’t blame the guy…if he’s on a coffee break and a stunning woman is standing on her balcony…dudes appreciate the view, simple as that.

  She grabs her book and sits her ass down before she places her feet up on the railing. Allowing me, and the fucker in the truck who’s staring at her, a straight damn open view of her goddamned pussy. Fuck. I grab my cell and tap in her phone number. I watch as she leans to her right and places the book and beer on the table before she grabs, and answers, her phone.

  Chapter 04

  ***Ivy***

  “Ivy,” I answer the phone and wait for the person to say something because it was an unknown number.

  “Put your fucking feet on the ground,” a voice barks.

  I’m actually shocked by the tone of anger in his voice and don’t even process the words until I’m standing with the phone still plastered to my ear.

  “Better,” the voice now tells me with a fragment less anger.

  “Who is this?” I demand while glancing around me.

  “Chopper,” the voice snaps.

  I’m still stunned, processing the whole phone call thing when it suddenly clicks. “Ah. Still the same grumpy one, huh? Thought you’d add a rude phone call and stalker issues to the pile now too? Where are you?”

  “I’m rude?” And he’s back to barking out his words. “You’re all legs up, cunt on goddamned show for all to see.”

  Legs up? For all to…see? Wait, back the hell up…he can see me? I hang up, grab my book and beer and speed walk into my house. Closing the door to the balcony, I make fast work to close all the curtains before AC-DC’s ‘Thunderstruck’ fills the room, indicating someone is calling me. I’m sooooo not going to answer that. Besides freaking out over the fact that he’s observing me, called to tell me…

  I glance down and check what I’m wearing. I’m not naked, but maybe it seems like it. When I got home I just took a long shower and put on a big t-shirt along with pink boy shorts. I’m not naked. Well, I’m not wearing a bra and maybe from his point of view…

  What the hell am I thinking? I’m in my own freaking house, not naked, and he needs to leave me the hell alone. My phone stops ringing and shortly after dings, indicating I have an incoming message. I’m actually growling in anger at my phone at this point when I open the message.

  Unknown: Answer the damn phone.

  I stalk over to my window and shove my hand behind the curtains and flip him off. If he’s watching, then that’s all he’s getting. Not only is Chopper grumpy and rude, he’s also lacking some major social skills. Totally not the boy I used to know.

  Taking a breath to calm myself, I think of a way to annoy him, or better yet…treat him as a child that needs to learn some manners. The corner of my mouth twitches as I add his number to my phone along with his name so I know it’s him if he calls next time, and I reply to his message.

  Me: You didn’t say please; so, no.

  Chopper: Rude.

  What the? Is he dicking me? Remembering what he said earlier on the phone about me having my cunt on show...I click the camera app and hold the hem of my t-shirt between my teeth as I turn to the side and snap a picture of myself.

  Me: Between me and you, I’m the nice one and you’re the sociopath. And for the record, my cunt wasn’t on show. See?!

  I add the picture and when I hit sent and see the image again, my face flushes because I clearly didn’t think this through. It does however make the texting stop, so that’s a win, right? Nervously, I grab my beer and chug it down in one go. I’m about to grab a new one when my phone starts to ring.

  Checking the caller, I see it’s Chopper so this time I do pick up, trying to keep my voice steady because this guy is seriously making me nervous among a few other things. “Yes?”

  “Please tell me you don’t send pictures like that to guys on a regular basis, Ivy.” I think this guy isn’t capable of speaking normally because every word comes out like a stray dog who’s barking at everything he sees and doesn’t know.

  “I most definitely do not,” I gasp.

  “Thank fuck.” He sighs and with that, his voice changes into what I’m guessing is his normal one. “Just so we’re clear, you can send them to me, any time day or night.”

  I roll my eyes and realize he can’t see me so I add, “You wish.”

  “Actually, that isn’t far from the truth.” He chuckles.

  And dammit, that sound is so sexy I have to swallow and plant my ass on the couch. Pulling my knees up, I try to change the subject. “So...did you work out that ol’lady thing with the others?”

  “Nothing to work out,” he gruffly says.

  “Okay,” I reply, unsure what to say next.

  That is until he surprises me when he tells me, “Because you’re still considered to be my ol’lady.”

  I’m standing back on my feet with my next breath. Pushing the end call button, I throw my phone on the couch and stalk to the windows to shove my hands in between the curtains and flip him off again, both hands this time, before I go the fridge to grab and chug down another beer. I hope he was still watching, well…not so much, and even if he wasn’t, it soothes my anger in this moment.

  This is so not happening. The one who was annoyingly dominating like this was my brother, and my father too, for that matter. Come to think of it…Arthur’s friends were all like that when we used to hang out as teenagers. Even Chopper, although
back then I used to know him as Rigby. Ugh. All of them were protective and fierce, placing my needs above theirs but acting like Neanderthals in the process. Basically, they were the reason why I was never asked out on a date or even thought about making a move toward a guy. It’s been awhile since anyone acted like that on my behalf and I’m not sure what I think about all of this.

  My phone starts to ring again but all I do is watch the thing vibrate while AC-DC’s ‘Thunderstruck’ yet again fills the room. Taking a deep breath, I decide to focus on my vacation days. Meaning beer, a good book, and total relaxation. That certainly doesn’t include annoying issues with guys who think they can claim to be in some sort of a relationship with me before even asking or going on a date first.

  Grabbing my iPad, I order a pizza online before I snatch another beer from the fridge. With my phone on silent, book in hand, I plant my ass on the couch. Vacation mode: on.

  Chapter 05

  ***Chopper***

  My leg is throbbing like crazy and the painkillers I took do shit to mute the pain that is flaring up. I know…I should be in bed, leg up. Instead I’m knocking on this door with a bag slung over my shoulder. The door opens and the dark green haired beauty is standing in front of me. Her head is down while she fumbles with something and holds out her arm.

  “Here you, go. No anchovies on there, right? Because…” Her head rears back when her gaze hits mine. “You’re not the pizza guy.”

  “No,” I snap. “I’m not.” Stepping forward, she has no other choice but to step back so I can get inside.

  Closing the door, she walks over to the table and clears away two beer bottles. “What are you doing here, Rigby? I don’t remember inviting you.”