Zeke

My fist connected with the bag hanging from my warehouse rafters and I felt my skin pull taut, close to splitting. I didn’t care. I needed to pound the fuck out of something until I couldn’t move, couldn’t walk, couldn’t goddamn think anymore. The faces of my men, what was left of them, flashed thought my mind like a strobe—then Sunny’s face again, the sound of her cries . . . shit, I was positive I could smell her scent, feel her hair trailing down my chest. My subconscious was showing me like some morbid, torturous film what I’d done, what my punishment was. Because walking away from her felt like a punishment, one I deserved, for losing focus, for allowing myself to be happy for the hours I’d spent with her.

I roared, hitting the bag harder. This time the skin did split, and still I kept wailing on it.

It had been two weeks since I’d seen her. I knew now I’d fucked myself good spending time with her, allowing myself to have her. Before her, I had direction, I knew where the path I chose would lead. I was more than okay with that, it was all I’d thought about for the last eighteen months. Working, taking down the bad guys, making up for what I’d done in some small way. I got up every morning with purpose, with focus, I went through the motions of living, I got the job done. I had my pain, a goal, an eventual end in the not-too-distant future. Because the jobs I’d been throwing myself into, the risks I’d taken, guys like me didn’t last long, and I was more than okay with that. Shit, I’d wanted it, sooner rather than later.

Then I’d met Sunny and it had fucked me up, because I wasn’t okay with it anymore. I wanted, shit, longed for things I had struck of my life’s to-do list.

I threw one last punch and sunk to the bench seat along the wall, downing the bottle of water I’d left there. I would beat this. I would get her out of my head. Then things could go back to the way they were . . . before Sunny blew into my world and sent me into a tailspin.

My phone beeped beside me, alerting me to a text message. I checked the screen. My mother, again.

Made any room in your busy schedule for us yet?

Fuck. She was relentless.

I will.

My short answer would more than likely piss her off, but I didn’t know what the hell to say. I’d been making excuses for over a year to avoid going home. The phone beeped again and I quickly read it.

If you’re worried about seeing that bitch Diane, don’t be. She knows better than to come anywhere near me.

I hadn’t really thought about Diane since I found her sucking some other asshole’s dick. Before my last deployment, I would have been cut up over what she’d done, cheating on me, getting rid of our baby like she had without even telling me. I’d wanted a wife, a family, to be happy like my own parents had always been. That’s what I’d always seen for myself. I’d looked forward to it. Now? I was relieved she did what she had. I sure as hell wouldn’t make a good husband or father to anyone. I wouldn’t be around long anyway. The last thing I wanted was to hurt my own child by checking out on them. I’d hurt enough people already.

I tapped out a reply. Don’t care about Diane, Ma. I’ll let you know as soon as I have something sorted.

I felt shit for lying to her, but I couldn’t go back there.

Someone banged on the roller door to the garage and I climbed to my feet. Only one person came here and I wasn’t in the mood for company, but Van had been there for me, had come through when I had nowhere else to go.

I dragged up the door and raised a brow at the guy standing on the other side.

Van was holding beer and a pizza. His eyes dropped to my hands. “You forgot your gloves. You’re bleeding all over the floor.”

I glanced down. Shrugged.

“You hungry?”

“Sure.” He followed me through to the other side of the warehouse, and through the door to my living space. I carried on up to my room and Van hit the couch. I heard the hiss of a beer opening and the TV flick on behind me. I changed and went down to join him. One of the things I liked most about Van was he knew when to shut up. We sat in companionable silence and watched a game, ate pizza, and drank beer for over an hour before he said anything more. Van didn’t like useless chatter, either. I think that’s why we got on so well when we met in high school.

“You want another beer?” Van asked when he stood and headed to the fridge.

“Yeah.”

He grabbed them and handed me one. “So that night, up on the roof . . .”

I stilled, I knew exactly the night he meant. When he found me on my knees all but begging some asshole to shoot me. The night I met Sunny. I’d hoped he’d leave it, that he’d let it drop. I was obviously wrong, instead he’d been biding his time, waiting for the right moment.

“Did you even try to disarm him?” Van asked.

I took a sip of my beer. “He had a gun pointed at my head.”

“Never stopped you before.”

He was right. I hadn’t even tried and Van hadn’t missed it.

“The guy wanted me dead. Nothing I could’ve done.”

It was bullshit and we both knew it.

“Zeke, man, you are one of the deadliest motherfuckers I know. Your kill record as a sniper proves that and then some. You don’t have those kinds of stats if you aren’t observant. Jesus, brother, I’ve seen you take the enemy out at eighteen hundred yards with a single shot. You knew he was coming and don’t try to tell me otherwise.” Van cursed under his breath. “You need to talk?” he said.

“Nope.”

Van sat forward, beer hanging loose from his fingers. “When I first got home, I found it hard for a while . . .”

Shit.

“Had trouble sleeping, nightmares, even had a few panic attacks. Shrink said I had PTSD. Talking to someone helped.”

I had no idea Van had seen a shrink when he came home.

“Happens to a lot of us, Zeke. I’m here if you need me. I can give you a name, someone you can see . . .”

I shot to my feet. “I’m sorry you went through that, brother, but I don’t need to talk to anyone.”

Van just stared at me, not buying one word out of my mouth. But what he didn’t know that I did was that there was no help for me. I didn’t want to feel better. I didn’t deserve to feel better. And I sure as hell didn’t want some stranger telling me that what I did that day wasn’t my fault.

Van nodded, but didn’t look convinced. He stayed for another couple beers then left, and I was finally on my own again.

I showered and climbed into bed on autopilot, but as soon as I closed my eyes I saw her. Sunny, straddling my hips that first night, eyes bright, full of desire . . . for me, and happiness. Happiness that I was there with her. So fucking trusting, so beautiful. I wondered what she was doing right then. If she’d remembered to engage her security alarm. If she was out with friends, or if she was home in bed . . . if she was alone.

I woke a couple hours later, sweating, twisted in my sheets, but not from a nightmare this time. No, I was so hot from the dream I just had about Sunny, I ached. My hand dropped to my cock, unable to stop myself, and teeth gritted, I jerked off thinking about her, about Sunny riding me. Her wild blond hair falling around my face like a curtain when she kissed me, of her feeding me her cries when she finally came with me. Hot come splashed my stomach, throwing me back to reality, and I lay in the dark, staring up at the ceiling, panting, feeling like shit, like I’d somehow tainted her by doing what I just had. She deserved better than that. She sure as hell wasn’t some nameless face I pulled from my spank bank when I wanted to get off.

Grabbing a shirt, I cleaned off and walked to the window, staring out.

No, Sunny wasn’t that.

She was the past, and that’s all she could ever be.

Pulling on some shorts, I headed downstairs, across the floor, and back to my gym. I spent hours in here most nights, wearing myself out when the nightmares got too much. Tonight, I was in here for a different reason.

I would beat this. I had to.