Angel's Truth

by Liz Borino

“You told everyone. We thought you were…”

  “Crazy? In denial? Yeah, I know.” Aaron swept his hand through his hair and noted the passage of time since he left the hospital.

  “But you weren’t… you actually knew. How?” Chris pressed.

  “Do you want a formula? I don’t know how, except that nothing made sense. Didn’t feel right,” Aaron said.

  “The media said he broke out of the prison and got on a plane with rich Americans.”

  “Yes. It did.”

  Chris tilted his head to the side. “How did he manage that? Why didn’t he go to the embassy?”

  “All I know is what’s made public. So, I heard the same story you did.” Not completely true. Jordan had told him bits and pieces about the prison nurse helping him escape. However, he did not have a complete story. Nor could he offer one to his brother if he did. Because on his best day, Chris was not the most trustworthy or responsible person. Aaron shook his head. “I can’t blame you for not getting it, Chris. No one did. But I also don’t know who I can trust, since no one supported me when the chips were down.”

  “Except Troy,” Chris said, and Aaron had to fight not to puke. But again Chris didn’t know.

  “We’ll go with that,” Aaron spat out.

  “Did I miss something?”

  “Nothing I can share.”

  Chris stared at him for a few moments and nodded. “Please. I screwed up, and I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you. What do you need? There has to be something.”

  Aaron opened his mouth to refuse again, but then remembered. “Food. I haven’t gone grocery shopping. If I give you cash and a list, would you go?”

  “Absolutely,” Chris replied, following Aaron into the kitchen. “Um… Dad said—”

  Aaron tensed. “Doesn’t matter. Even if he is sorry or whatever, he crossed a line. I don’t want to hear it.”

  Chris patted his shoulder as Aaron handed him a very detailed list and cash. “All right. I’ll see you in an hour.”

  Sadness washed over Aaron as he watched his brother walk out the door, because he honestly had no one to trust, except for his struggling husband. And it would be unfair to complain about anything to the man who survived as a POW. So, Aaron would handle it alone. What choice did he have?

  Chapter Five

  “Where are you going?” Jordan asked, jolted awake by the creak of the bedroom door two weeks later.

  Aaron paused and took a few deep breaths before turning around. “I can’t sleep, so I was going to the living room to get some work done.”

  “Can you work in here?”

  “I don’t want to disturb you,” Aaron answered evenly. “You need rest.”

  “I can’t sleep alone,” Jordan told him.

  The truth was, Jordan couldn’t do much alone. Aaron thought sleep would be something he could handle. Not his fault. “Okay, let me get my computer and headphones. Do you need anything while I’m up?”

  “No, thanks. Angel?” Jordan called when he reached the doorway. Aaron glanced over his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he replied, the frustration melting at the sound of his nickname. Aaron gathered his computer from the other room, even knowing that work would be difficult with Jordan awake. Jordan’s PTSD was worse than they anticipated, but why they underestimated the effects of near isolation in a foreign prison was beyond Aaron’s comprehension. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, Aaron situated his laptop in front of him. Jordan placed his head on Aaron’s lap and raised his eyes in question. He required constant contact, or at least for someone, usually Aaron, to be in his sight, which was hard for Aaron to adjust to. But really, how could he complain? Aaron leaned down and kissed Jordan’s forehead. “Try to get some sleep.”

  Jordan nodded and shut his eyes. “Love you, Angel.”

  “Love you, too. Always,” Aaron reassured, stroking his husband’s face with one hand and typing slowly to minimize noise with the other. He felt like the most selfish human being in the world for getting impatient when Jordan needed him the most. Sometimes, though, he worried that things would always be like this. Aaron yearned for the ease of the past…

  Jordan feathered kisses on Aaron’s naked leg, pulling him from his thoughts. “For someone without a lot of padding you’re always so warm,” he murmured.

  Aaron pushed the computer to the side and stroked Jordan’s cheek. “Thought you were tired?”

  “I was, but you’re warm, and sleep is less appealing than that warmth.” Jordan’s lips changed direction toward his hip, his smoldering brown eyes alight with a passion Aaron had yearned to see.

  As Jordan nipped Aaron’s hipbone, Aaron’s cock jumped to life. “Ugh, Jor, please don’t tease.”

  “Promise, not a tease,” Jordan replied, nudging him down and kissing up his torso. “Fuck, Angel, you taste like heaven.”

  “Yeah? And what exactly does heaven taste like?” Aaron questioned.

  A devilish smile, unlike any Aaron had seen since prior to Jordan’s deployment, crept onto Jordan’s face. He stuck out his tongue, collected a few drops of Aaron’s precum, and leaned up to press their lips together. As he opened his mouth, Aaron savored his own juices. “That’s what heaven tastes like.”

  “Can we?” Aaron whispered.

  “My ankle is my only broken bone. I don’t see why not,” Jordan answered.

  Aaron’s gaze drifted to Jordan’s casted leg, which compromised his mobility. “Top or bottom?”

  “Top,” Jordan asserted, more forcefully than necessary.

  “Lie on your back,” Aaron said and assembled some pillows under Jordan’s foot. He stopped to stare at his husband, lying naked before him. Maybe Jordan had some extra scars. Maybe his muscles were less defined under his dark skin. But he was here. Ready to drive into Aaron’s waiting hole. Jordan’s hard cock bobbed in anticipation. Aaron smiled. “You’re gorgeous.”

  Jordan extended his arms to embrace Aaron. Against his ear, Jordan whispered, “Show me, please.”

  Aaron rooted through the nightstand and found a bottle of lube. Why it was there he couldn’t say. Then again, Aaron was not about to spend a lot of time contemplating it. He met Jordan’s eyes as he kissed over his torso, treating the smooth areas the same as his rough scars. “Perfect,” Aaron said as he reached Jordan’s face.

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  “I never have.” Aaron kissed his pillow lips. “Now I’m going to make love to you. Do you know why?”

  Jordan bit back his returning smile. “Because there’s no romance in fucking?”

  Aaron answered by caressing lube onto Jordan’s cock and straddled his hips, easing down until eventually he bottomed out. They locked eyes as Aaron’s channel hugged Jordan’s pulsing member. Neither moved for a long moment. Fusing their lips together again, Aaron knew this was real. For the first time since Jordan arrived home, Aaron wasn’t waiting to wake up. Had he been, the thrust Jordan gave would have done it.

  “Out of your head,” Jordan commanded. And that did it. They thrust in sync, ending with mutual eruptions. And following a cleanup, Jordan snuggled into Aaron’s arms where he fell back to sleep.

  Yes, I’ll take his clinginess to get that in return any day, Aaron thought with a kiss to Jordan’s hair.

  Chapter Six

  “Do you need help?” Aaron asked Jordan while he was dressing in his Army uniform on the day of a meeting with Bryant and other military officials three weeks later.

  Jordan offered a half-smile as he worked his pants over his cast. “You cannot get impatient with me when I ask for help, and when I don’t. Pick one or the other.”

  “I don’t—” Aaron began to protest, but stopped at the appearance of Jordan’s raised eyebrow. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Jordan responded. Now that his ability to move around with crutches was improving, he relied on Aaron less for daily activities, but not for peace of mind, something Aaron had been great about providing. The dep
endency of the first few days home from the hospital had been difficult for them both. Aaron had only left him a few times to run errands. Then his dad had stayed with him, which was as close to useless as one could get because Jordan was not about to ask his elderly father for assistance going to the bathroom. He had to keep that much pride. But staying made Elliot feel included.

  Aaron sat down next to Jordan. “I’m asking if you need help because showing up late to an Army meeting could have pretty severe consequences.”

  “What? Are they going to fire me? I quit, several times.” No, he would not reconsider his decision to resign after being held captive in the Middle East. He had to emphasize this to his commanding officer repeatedly. For some reason, Colonel Bryant thought the experience would endear him to the military. Jordan grunted at his pant leg. “Shouldn’t be this damn hard.” Though he could have been describing leaving military service as easily as dressing.

  “Speaking of quitting, I refused to allow them to give you a ‘posthumous’ promotion.” Aaron inserted the air quotes, and Jordan’s smile turned genuine.

  He leaned over and kissed Aaron’s lips. “Thank you.” A promotion to major may have meant another three years in the Army. Not a chance Jordan was willing to take.

  “You’re welcome. The honor of the title was not worth the consequence once I found you.” Before Jordan could question again how he knew, Aaron gestured to his foot. “What happens if you cut the bottom?”

  “They don’t like the uniforms altered,” Jordan answered. The rest of the uniform was two sizes too big, but that did not help Jordan to fit the tapered bottom over his cast.

  “But… as you said, you quit. It shouldn’t make a difference what they like,” Aaron said.

  Jordan stared at the stubborn opening once more. “All right. Can you please bring me the scissors?” Standing up to hunt for them was not worth the effort.

  Kneeling in front of him, Aaron cut the fabric, and rolled it to the top of his cast.

  “That felt like such a rebellious act,” Jordan muttered, eliciting a laugh from Aaron. “Ready?”

  Aaron handed him his crutches and waited while he balanced on them. “Yeah, let me grab my computer so I can work in the library while you talk.”

  Jordan checked his pockets, wallet, cell phone, and military ID. He had spoken to Bryant and the military investigator twice each. Today Jordan and Bryant were meeting to address any remaining questions he had.

  “Any chance Troy will be there?” Aaron asked as they settled in his car.

  Fucking Hart. Jordan coached his pulse to steady after the mention of the asshole’s name. “Only Bryant and me.”

  Aaron reached over and squeezed his hand. “Are you mentioning him yet?”

  “No. I’m still hoping they figure it out on their own,” Jordan answered.

  “How long are you willing to wait for them to do that?”

  “I can’t go around accusing major generals of treason without proof,” Jordan told him.

  “They said lots without proof. Hell, Jordan, they held your funeral without proof,” Aaron ranted.

  Yes, they did. Jordan read all the news articles on it over the past few weeks since he arrived home. He also read the public’s reactions to the Army’s mistakes, most of whom were not forgiving. The whole thing was a surreal experience. “They have enough power to get away with that,” he said quietly. “Has Hart contacted you again?”

  “Yeah, letting me come to him lasted all of about a week,” Aaron replied just as quietly. “But I haven’t answered.”

  “What’s he say?”

  Aaron fished his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Jordan. “You can read the text messages. Nothing important. He’s begging for a chance to explain, telling me I don’t understand, blah, blah, and blah.”

  Jordan scanned the texts on Aaron’s phone. One hit him in the gut. “He called you Angel?”

  “Twice. Both times I told him that was unacceptable,” Aaron replied, pulling into the lot. He turned to Jordan. “I’ve only ever been your Angel. And that’s the way it’s going to stay.”

  Behind Aaron’s gaze Jordan saw a deep devotion and sincerity. He kissed his lips. “Do me a favor, and delete that text.”

  “Consider it done,” Aaron promised. He held Jordan’s face in his hands and brought their lips together again.

  “Have I told you today how lucky I am to have you?”

  Aaron shook his head. “It’s me who’s lucky.” He glanced at the clock. “Come on, let’s go in so you can finish, and then we can have crazy sex at home.”

  Jordan laughed and Aaron came around to help him out of the car. Crazy sex might be stretching it, but he was thrilled with the ease that they picked up their intimate relationship. He left Aaron in the library of the Pentagon and rode the elevator up to the fifth floor. Jordan blocked out the image of the word Angel on Aaron’s text message screen. One more reason to kill Hart if I get my hands on him. Like I need another reason. Jordan released a breath as he stepped off the elevator and knocked on the open conference room door where Bryant sat alone.

  “Captain! You’re looking well. Are you feeling better?” Colonel Bryant boomed.

  Always with the booming. Jordan shut the door and leaned his crutches against a wall. Taking a seat, Jordan replied, “Yes, sir, I am. Thank you.”

  “Wonderful to hear. I brought you here to discuss some aspects of your story with you.”

  Jordan considered asking the lieutenant colonel if he should lower his voice to talk about sensitive matters, but decided it would not be in his best interest, and the floor was empty anyway.

  “What can you tell me about Adeela Nadar?” Bryant asked.

  “She’s the nurse who cared for me in Afghanistan,” Jordan repeated.

  “Yes, what I don’t understand is why she helped you so much. You claimed she defied her husband several times to advocate for you.”

  “Because she disagreed with the way her husband ran the prison, and wanted me to live.”

  “So, she’s an American loyalist, then?” the lieutenant colonel pressed.

  “Can you please get me a Sans-serif Convention card to send to my government?”

  “I will ask,” Adeela replied.

  “Nadar is supposed to give those cards to any POW who requests them,” Jordan said.

  “I know what he’s supposed to do,” she answered, each word containing more venom than the last.

  The increased tension in the room prompted him to ask, “Who are you mad at?” Though Jordan was positive it was the Americans.

  “Everyone. The leaders. Mine. Yours. They’re all being stupid and treating life as useless,” she ranted.

  “Not exactly, no,” Jordan edged and Bryant raised a brow. “She did not agree with any of the leaders.”

  “You are a leader, Captain,” Bryant stated. “What made you the exception?”

  Jordan exhaled. “One of my previous decisions saved her life.”

  “I knew of you during your last deployment.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t remember us meeting,” he said.

  “We didn’t. You refused to run an aid mission. I was so relieved,” she told him, and he tilted his head to the side in confusion. “The Taliban knew about your plans. They planted suicide bombers – myself included – among the poor. But when the Americans never showed up, the bombers went home. You saved my life. I will do my best to save yours.”

  Colonel Bryant leaned forward. “How did you know you could trust her friends to get you home?”

  “What choice did I have, sir?” Jordan asked. “My method of transportation home may have been questionable. But there was no other way as far as I could see. And no time to develop one as I would have been executed eight hours after I climbed into the cargo truck. I trusted her because she gave me no reason not to.”

  “Why wouldn’t you have gone to the embassy?”

  “Because you thought I was dead, and I did not believe I would be well re
ceived in an enemy uniform. As far as I knew, an American representative ordered my execution, or at least did nothing to prevent it,” Jordan amended quickly.

  “The problem is we have not found any evidence that call was made.”

  Of course not. That isn’t the type of thing Hart would do out in the open. “Sir, I joined the Army to serve and protect the citizens of the United States and the values we hold dear. One of those values is life. Mine would have ended the next morning had I not left. I can’t honestly say I care what political stance was behind that decision. Maybe Anwar Nadar lied to the guards by misidentifying the caller, or maybe the caller misidentified themself. I don’t know. But after weeks of leaders who did not follow protocol to save my life, I hope you’ll forgive me for breaking protocol to survive.” Jordan stared at his superior until Bryant broke the eye contact and focused on the far wall.

  “I understand your position, Captain. However, what if the pilot of the plane had been carrying terroristic materials?”

  Jordan caught his gaze again. “You have trusted me for eleven years. I have been a faithful soldier every day of my service. If you’re going to question anyone, why not look above you to the people making the decisions that are ultimately damning us in our mission for peace and democracy in the Middle East?”

  “And how would you like me to do that?” Bryant asked.

  “If it were me, sir, I would start with searching for phone records from less than obvious sources.” After a moment of silence, Jordan asked, “Am I in trouble for the way I got home?” Whether Jordan received disciplinary action was ultimately up to Bryant.

  Colonel Bryant raised his eyes again. “Not unless we find something untoward during our investigation. We have scheduled a date with martial court to hear your case. If we find this record before then, it will be cancelled.”

  Jordan’s heart jumped into his throat, then fell to his feet. The consequences for accepting favors from an enemy ranged from dishonorable discharge to imprisonment. The thought stole his breath.

  “I trust that you’ll stay close between now and the end of our investigation, Captain?” Bryant questioned.