Masters at Arms

by Kallypso Masters

  When Karla’s mother moved around to check the damage from the back, he cringed when he heard her gasp. “You’ve seen your share, haven’t you?”

  “Mostly superficial, ma’am. I survived.” Knowing she had a son in harm’s way, he didn’t add that two of his men hadn’t made it out of that ambush alive. She traced a finger over the spot where he had his tattoo, but he let her draw her own conclusions. He wouldn’t talk about it.

  Adam recalled the ambush outside Kandahar that had taken out half his recon unit earlier this year as they’d tried to establish a foothold in the area. Two men dead, seven injured. Fucked-up mission. His shrapnel scars were reminders of his failure—his inability to bring all his men home. He prayed he’d never have a repeat of that day during his remaining time in the Corps.

  Thankfully, she didn’t ask. “I appreciate this, ma’am, but it’s just a little bruise.”

  “Please, call me Jenny. And that bruise is going to be more than little. What did you run into?”

  “Brass knuckles. Didn’t duck fast enough. Getting old.”

  She scoffed. “From what Karla said, you fought off three guys. I just hope they look a lot worse than you do.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Two of them do, anyway. The third ran.” He felt a need to assure her that Karla hadn’t been harmed or in danger. “I didn’t let them near your daughter. She was out of there before any punches flew.”

  She stepped back to face him. “Adam, we can’t thank you enough. When we found Karla’s bed empty an hour or so ago—”

  Adam heard the catch in her voice and looked up to see tears swimming in her eyes. His gut twisted. He could well imagine her fears.

  “We panicked,” she finished on a whisper. “The police wouldn’t even look for her for twenty-four hours. It’s not much, but please know we’re forever in your debt.”

  “Sorry, Mom. It took me a while to—”

  Adam looked toward the entrance to the kitchen to find that Karla had come to a dead stop, her jaw hanging open. Her eyes homed in on his naked chest. Shit, he’d embarrassed her. He reached for his shirt.

  “Come on, girl. Don’t just stand there. Get over here.” When Karla remained stock-still, Jenny barked, “Now!” Then, to Adam, she stilled his movement to put his shirt back on. “Don’t you dare! She’s seen her brother’s bare chest a million times.”

  * * *

  Yeah, but Ian’s chest didn’t look anything like Adam’s.

  Karla crossed the room, holding the kit out to her mom, but not taking her eyes off Adam’s muscular pecs and biceps. His skin was evenly tanned, not a single hair anywhere on his chest. She had a whole new appreciation for the anatomy lessons she’d had in health class, because they allowed her a chance to label all of his beautiful parts. Standing so close, she felt the heat radiating from his body, even more noticeable than it had been at the bus station.

  Or was it just that her face was overheating?

  Her mother worked to open the latch of the new kit while Karla continued her observations. His pectoral muscles bulged, hard-looking nipples protruding from dark brown areolas. Karla just stared at his nips. No, not the scientific term, but that's what her friends called them when they ogled the juvenile boys in their gym class. None of those boys had nips that looked like stone, though. Nothing like Adam’s.

  She itched to reach out and touch one to see if it was as hard as it looked, but her mother would have made her leave the room if she did that. She wouldn’t risk that happening, so she clenched her fists at her sides.

  Her gaze went lower. His abdominals were…well…. Oh, my! Now she knew why they called them a six-pack. She’d probably be able to bounce a quarter off them if he were lying down. There was this valley between his abs she wanted to lick.

  Oh, no, Kitty. Don’t think about licking him!

  Too late. Her face grew even warmer. What would Adam be like as a lover? Gentle, tender, forceful? Not that she had any experience with lovers or sex. None of the boys her age attracted her, and she'd always been more interested in her music career than in dating. But she’d watched lots of love scenes in the movies and on TV. Adam truly had the most beautiful upper body she’d ever seen in her whole life—real or make believe.

  “Open this and hand me one of the swabs.”

  Her mother handed her a cellophane package with two Q-tips inside. With great reluctance, Karla tore her gaze away from Adam's chest, then, realizing how important this was, went to work with a new sense of purpose. If only her hands would quit shaking. She wanted to do this right. What if she didn’t and he got an infection and a fever and maybe even died, all because his cut lip wasn’t cleaned properly?

  Without touching the cotton ends, she handed one swab to her mom and watched her dip it in a bottle of alcohol. She knew from experience that was going to hurt like a mother.

  “This is going to sting,” Mom warned.

  You’d better believe it. Her mom rubbed the wet cotton over his split lip, holding his chin to keep him steady. Karla wished she could touch him like that. He closed his eyes, but didn’t make a sound. Her stomach muscles clenched, as if she were experiencing the pain for him.

  “There.” Her mom laid the Q-tip on the paper towel she’d placed on the table. “Now let’s get some antibiotic ointment on that lip.”

  Karla saw the tinge of pink on the Q-tip. Adam’s blood. Tears sprang to her eyes. He’d been hurt because of her stupidity. She wished there was something more she could do to help him. She certainly couldn’t kiss his lip and make it better. Although the thought caused her stomach to flutter again, like a flock of the butterflies was trying to escape. She flushed in embarrassment.

  What would her friends think when they heard about her adventures with an older man tonight? And a Marine. Oh, my! They would be so jealous, especially when she told them he looked like Mark Harmon. Only Adam acted much more mature and noble than the Dr. McNeil character did.

  Her mom brushed her thumb across the red marks on Adam's shoulder. “Not much I can do for the bruising, but I don’t think there’s a hematoma.”

  Karla’s attention went to the long, thin mark where he'd been jabbed by something with evenly spaced points. Then she remembered that one of the guys he had fought with had been wearing brass knuckles. Her knees buckled at the thought of them tearing into Adam's shoulder.

  “Whoa, hon!” Adam reached out and grabbed her elbows to hold her steady. “Not too fond of the sight of blood?”

  Karla felt her mom’s scrutiny, but couldn’t take her eyes off Adam. Where he held her arms, a tingle of electricity zinged up to her shoulders and neck, then down to her…. Oh, my!

  “What's the matter with you, Karla?” Mom asked. “You've seen plenty of blood. Ian was always getting patched up.”

  "I’m okay,” she whispered, because of the frog lodged in her throat. He smiled at her and she felt tears dripping down her face. He’d taken that hit on his shoulder for her. She ached to press her lips against it, the way her mother had kissed her boo-boos as a kid. Usually, the pain magically went away. She wanted to take Adam’s pain away.

  He reached up and wiped the tears away from her face with his thumbs. She caught her breath, then totally forgot to breathe for a moment.

  “I’m okay, hon. Believe me, this is nothing.”

  "You should see ..." her mom began.

  Adam reached out and placed a hand on Mom’s arm. They exchanged a look, as if they shared a secret Karla wasn't in on. Mom nodded. Karla felt the green-eyed monster of jealousy for the first time in her life.

  More tears welled in her eyes. Frustration at not being able to touch him, to comfort him, or even to get him to notice her as a woman, ate at her. She was still just a kid in his eyes. If she touched him the way she wanted, he’d think she was a freak.

  But that just made her want to touch him even more.

  * * *

  Adam tried to stay out of everyone’s way on Thanksgiving morning. He’d managed to catch a few hours
of dreamless sleep, which was more than he could say for the last few months. Then Karla’s relatives had started arriving—grandmother, uncle, aunt, cousins. Adam hadn’t been in a huge family gathering for Thanksgiving since he was a kid, and he was feeling a bit claustrophobic.

  Adam knew her family meant well, but he counted the hours until he could get on that bus tonight and start making his way home to Pendleton. He grabbed his jacket and slipped out the front door, hoping no one would notice. He needed some air. The jacket did little to keep the wind out. But, compared with the crowded, overheated house, the air felt good. After he’d walked a few blocks, the frigid wind began to seep into his still-aching bones and muscles. He’d known Chicago was windy, but when the gusts were fifty miles an hour and the air temperature barely twenty, it was god-damned frigid.

  He didn’t know where he was headed until he arrived. Standing on the shore of Lake Michigan, the wind blowing ice crystals from the lake onto his face, Adam braced himself against the gusts. Gray clouds hovered over the surface, much like they did over Lake Superior.

  He and Joni hadn’t had much money when they’d married and all he could afford for a honeymoon was an off-season cabin rental at a park along Superior. It had been colder than a mother that November, too. Not that they’d wanted to venture out much. They were too busy exploring their newfound mutual interest in sexual bondage and each other’s bodies.

  Adam got hard picturing Joni tied spread-eagle and blindfolded as he tortured her tits with ice and a feather. She had the cutest damned giggle. He’d tried to use his stern Dom voice, but knowing she couldn’t see him, he’d grinned every time she let out her little-girl giggle.

  Damned wind was making his eyes water. He reached up to wipe the moisture from them, then his mind returned to the cabin. After two days of nothing but sex and sleep—maybe a little food, he couldn’t remember—they’d bundled up and ventured out to walk along the icy shore, down to the lighthouse.

  Joni was curious about everything and they’d probably spent two hours talking with the lighthouse keeper. Adam accused her later of shirking her wifely duties by delaying their return to the cabin. Her screams of outrage as he reddened her ass during her first erotic spanking had turned them both on so much, they didn’t leave the cabin again the rest of the week.

  Cold wetness on his cheeks brought him back to the present. He wasn’t sure if they were brought on from the wind or his sorrow. He didn’t care. No one was around to see him cry. For the first time since learning he was going to lose her, he just let himself feel the gaping hole in his chest where his heart had once been.

  Joni had given his heart a safe harbor all these years, but he knew now it was time for him to haul anchor, reset his compass, and shove off into unchartered waters.

  “Safe journey, little subbie. We’ll meet up again someday.”

  The wind whipped the words away from him. He hoped they made their way to his dear, sweet Joni, wherever she was. He didn’t dwell much on spiritual matters, but knew in his heart he and Joni would reunite one day.

  Adam drew a ragged breath and pressed his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose. He now knew he was ready to resume his duties at Pendleton or wherever they sent him. While he’d never forget Joni, he’d be able to compartmentalize the memories and pain so they didn’t take his focus off the mission at hand. He would never put his units in jeopardy because he couldn’t let go of the past. Until this moment, though, he hadn’t been sure he would be able to do that.

  A sense of peace came over him. He almost thought he felt Joni’s lips brushing his cheek, the way she did before they curled up with each other and fell asleep. Then he became aware of the icy pellets pounding his face as a lake-effect squall whipped up. He turned around to make his way back to Karla’s house.

  Standing a few feet away from him, as if on guard duty, shivering inside her coat, stood Karla.

  “What the f…heck are you doing out here?”

  Her teeth chattered as she tried to answer. He took off his jacket and put it on her to give her another layer of warmth, then wrapped his arm around her, hoping to infuse some heat into her thin body. “Let’s get you back home.”

  “N-n-no, Adam. I have to tell you something.”

  Adam just pulled her along toward the house. “We’ll talk when we get you out of this squall.” She tried to dig in her heels, but he’d have none of it. Damned fool kid needed a caretaker.

  He’d been dreading going back into the chaos at her house, but now he just wanted to get her inside as quickly as possible. She’d catch pneumonia out here. They got as far as her front door when Karla wedged her toe against the door and turned to look up at him.

  “Wait! Adam, there’s something you need to know, and I can’t say this inside the house.”

  Adam tried to block as much of the wind from hitting her shivering frame as he could, but her black-and-pink hair lashed across her face. He reached out and tucked the wild strands behind her left ear because they distracted him from the conversation that seemed so important to her. What in the hell could she possibly have to say that couldn’t be said inside?

  Karla splayed her gloved hand on his chest, over his wounded heart, and looked up at him with those big sparkling blue eyes surrounded by that god-awful makeup and pink hair. She searched his eyes for a long moment, he didn’t know for what.

  Then he felt a niggling at the scar on the back of his neck—always a sign he wasn’t going to want to deal with whatever was incoming. Fuck. He hoped she wasn’t about to say what he thought she was getting ready to lay on him.

  “Adam, I n-n-n-know you have a wife and y-y-y-you think I’m just a kid, but I want to t-t-tell you that…I l-l-love you.”

  Double fucking damn. He’d need a minesweeper to navigate these waters. Joni, where are you when I need you? She’d know how to deal with a sixteen-year-old’s crush. She’d been surrounded by teenage girls at the Catholic school where she’d taught until last spring. Help me out here, baby.

  “Hon, I love you, too.” Crap. That didn’t come out sounding right, but surely she’d know what he meant.

  When her eyes lit up and she pursed her lips as if expecting him to kiss her, he turned his rudder hard to starboard. She’d definitely taken his words the wrong way.

  “Like a father, Karla. Hell, I’m old enough to be your father.”

  When tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, his gut turned to mush. He always came undone when a woman cried. But, hell, Karla was just a kid. Why did her tears rip him apart even more? How in the hell had he let this happen?

  Now, wait a minute there. He’d never given her any indication he wanted to be anything other than a guardian to keep her out of trouble. Fuck, he didn’t know anything about teenage girls.

  “Look, hon…” Quit calling her hon, you frigging asshole. “Look, Karla, I’m an old man. Your life is just starting. I’m sure there are lots of boys who’d—”

  “But they’re so immature. All they talk about is sports. I don’t have anything in common with them.”

  What the hell did she have in common with an old worn-out Marine? God, he wished they made tactical maps for situations like these. He was fucking clueless how to fend off this attack.

  “Nothing wrong with sports.” Oh, that’s profound, jarhead. Damn. He liked this kid a lot. Didn’t want to hurt her for anything. But he wasn’t a perv.

  Just tell it like it is, man. You’ve never had any problem doing that before. What’s different this time?

  She’s a kid! And a girl! I don’t want to hurt her.

  “Look, Karla. I like you a lot, but I don’t feel that way about you.” When the light left her eyes, he felt like a fucking heel. While he knew the words needed to be said, if it were physically possible, he’d have given himself a good roundhouse kick in the ass for whatever the hell he’d done to make her think he’d welcome this heartfelt declaration. How could he make it not seem like a rejection because there was s
omething wrong with her? She’d make a fine girlfriend and wife for some guy someday. Just not him.

  “I still love my wife.” Yeah, that’s good. Let Joni pull your prick out of the fire. He didn’t have to tell her his wife was dead. Besides, he did still love Joni. “You have some growing up to do. I’m sure you’ll meet someone one day who can love and respect you the way you should be loved.”

  Karla tore herself away, opened the door, and ran inside.

  He laid his forehead against the cold doorframe. What a fucking mess he’d made of that. Maybe it was a good thing he and Joni hadn’t had kids. He’d make a lousy father.

  That fucking bus couldn’t get here soon enough.

  * * *

  Karla tried to eat all the food on her plate, but the lump in her throat, and Adam sitting across the table from her, made that impossible.

  “Good news, Adam,” Daddy said, beaming. “I’ve managed to get you a ticket on a red-eye flight out tomorrow night. Direct to San Diego. You’ll be back on base in hours rather than days.”

  Karla saw the stricken look on Adam’s face. He must be horrified to think of being stuck with her another whole day. Her eyes brimmed with tears and she hung her head down, hoping they’d fall right into her burgundy cloth napkin without leaving an embarrassing trail.

  “That’s really not necessary, sir. I don’t mind—”

  “It’s done. The least we can do after all you’ve done for us.”

  Luckily, Daddy didn’t add to her embarrassment by spelling out to everyone at the table why they felt they owed this Marine something. But she and her parents knew. All her fault. A few hours ago, she’d have been thrilled to know Adam would be with her another day. Now she didn’t even know what to say or do with him.

  Karla had teetered on the verge of crying since she’d been rejected by Adam on the front porch. Of course, she didn’t want to break up his happy marriage or anything. But he could have at least given her a little kiss to remember him by. She’d never find anyone like him to love ever again.