“You’ve perplexed me,” he answers.So yes.
I slip my hand out from under his and extend it for shaking.
“I agree to take the job,” I say evenly, trying to keep this as professional as possible.
He accepts my hand, his eyes never leaving mine. The feel of my small hand in his large one, the way we fit together, it’s a comfort I feel familiar with already. And I can’t deny our touch makes me feel like there’s a live current rushing back and forth between us.
“Let’s get my number in your phone then, yeah? I like to have my trainer on speed dial.” He smirks.
I pick my phone up and unlock it. “Just one thing.” I set my phone in his hand. “I’m used to looking after myself. And so we’re clear,” I say, throwing his words back at him, “I don’t ever beg anyone for anything.”
That hauntingly beautiful smile takes over his face as he enters his number into my phone and then hands it back, stroking his wide jaw.
“We’ll see, little dove. We’ll see.”
I shake my head and smile. The way he’s so convinced there’s something deep, something otherworldly, between us almost makes me believe him, but I remind myself I have no idea what kind of darkness lurks in his world, or the things he’s seen and done. I decide maybe I owe it to myself to at least find out, though, because damn, the way he’s looking right now sitting across from me is almost enough to make me give in.He could change his mind tomorrow, says the little voice in my head, and Iknow it’s right. Men like Sean always like the chase. And if that’s what I am, at the very least I’ll help him work on his chronic pain and earn some extra cash. If he loses interest after that, so be it. I’ll just remain prepared and professional. I can do that; I can fight whatever this is I’m feeling.
“Looks like we just made a deal. For now, you belong to me,” Sean says, low and even, holding his hand out. I take it and question my logic and my sanity, because the prospect of belonging to him doesn’t scare me as much as it should, and nor does the feel of my hand in his.
A strange memory I haven’t thought of in a very long time comes to mind as we get ready to leave the restaurant. My mother, just days before she died, out of nowhere said to me, “The devil never comes dressed as your worst nightmare, he comes dressed as everything you never knew you wanted.”
Sean looks at me with that satisfied smirk, as if he alreadyknowsI’m his, and I can’t help but feel like maybe I did just sell my soul to the devil himself.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sean
It’s always fucking Eric Clapton. After a hundred and thirteen days out here, you’d think this motherfucker would listen to something else, anything else. But he never does, and I’m at the point where I’d rather listen to the incessant grunts of my newest bunkmate fucking his hand beside me at night than listen to my Staff Sergeant’s continuous Clapton tracks. As we drive through the desert on the outskirts of Kandahar, I glance at Private First Class “Buck” Buckman, beside me.
Fucker’s gone to the dark side, tapping his first two fingers on his knee and humming along to the opening strings of “Cocaine” as my Staff Sergeant, Keenan, sings the words out loud and off key from the front passenger seat. He spits some chew out the window so he can really get the lyrics out.
Telling my Staff Sergeant to shut the fuck up wouldn’t lead to a very good start to my day, so instead of doing that I just keep my mouth shut and look out at the same beige landscape I’ve been looking at for months. A mirage in the never-ending stretch of sand happens every four seconds at this speed. I count them as we drive. The closest we’ve gotten to anything green was when wewere stationed outside Herat for a few weeks, but it’s June now and that was April.
I glance ahead, seeing the city in the distance through the glimmer of another mirage. The sun reflects off every building and you can almost see the steam rising from them, like we’re about to enter hell itself.
It was a short ride in from our base to carry out this non-combat evac operation. We’re 11th Marine Expeditionary, Special Ops. We’re capable of handling anything, but today it’s our job to meet six embassy staff brought in from another city and offer them an escort to a deemed safe site. Standard procedure.
Standard Tuesday in the hottest fucking place on earth. Like I said—hell.
“Deep dish Chicago,” Buck calls over the music and the road. I cuff him upside the back of the head as my stomach growls just thinking about real food.
“Pussy,” Wolfe, my lifelong brother, says from the driver’s seat.
We all chuckle. On the list of things we miss, eating pussy is probably number one.
“Oh yeah, what I wouldn’t give for a big old plate of pussy right now,” Buck says, turning to face Wolfe.
“With a side of soft skin and cherry red lips,” Keenan says from the front seat. “Fuck, I love a woman with red lips.”
I stay in a sort of trance … one, two, three, four … listening to their chatter for the next few minutes. There’s no sense in chiming in.
Wanting something out here is both pointless and useless. Because out here we have nothing, we are nothing, and longing for the luxuries of home doesn’t help the days go any faster. Dust spews from our heavy tires to make a near constant cloud around us as the opening strings to the next song begins. “Layla.” For the millionth time this tour. We don’t even make it to the first verse before a deafening, vicious blast rocks our Humvee. It takes me asecond to realize we’ve been hit, and by the time the realization settles in my head, we’re already airborne.
“Is this what you need me to tow?” A heavy voice cuts into my flashback the next afternoon. The past feels even more prominent now, and I blink to get my bearings then glance toward Layla’s open garage. Sometimes the memory is so vivid, so present, that I can almost feel the pain, smell the desert and the diesel fuel.
“Yeah.” I point to the Lincoln SUV waiting in her garage for a tow. “Thanks for taking it right in, Mikey. I’m pretty sure her alternator is shot, and the battery.”
He nods. “We’ll take a good look at it.”
