Chapter Sixty-Four

Briggs

“Read ’em and weep, motherfuckers,” I taunt as I pull in my newly earned stash.

“Fuck you, Briggs,” Ortez barks, shoving away from the table. “I’m exhausted.”

Henley gives him a death stare. “Dude, you just want to call the Mrs. and play with your dick before we get to the cots. Do me a favor and use your own fucking sock this round.”

“Fuck yourself,” Ortez mutters. “You’re just mad because you’re ugly, and there isn’t a piece of ass on any continent willing to put up with your shit for longer than the fifteen seconds you last.”

“No,” Henley retorts, “my dick is scary, there’s a difference. Most can’t handle it…Ask your mother.” He puckers his lips. “Now come kiss Daddy goodnight.”

Ortez shakes his head, flipping him the bird as I shuffle the deck. It’s only after Henley stares a hole through me that I acknowledge him.

“I’m prettier, I agree,” I offer, breaking his trance. “But I’m not into the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell,’ so don’t get fixed on me.”

“We’re all wondering why you came back.” I was wondering how long it’d take for the questioning to start. Time to rip this fucking Band-Aid off so I can get back to trying to forget.

“You shouldn’t have wasted your time wondering,” I say, shuffling, “and just come out and asked.”

“What happened down there in that bunker?”

I light a cigarette and toss back some whiskey from my haul. Two rangers pull up seats at the table, telling me they were only hanging around for the same prodding conversation.

“It’s exactly what you’d expect,” I shuffle. “Pure torture. You starve a lot and lose every shred of your dignity, only to be pulled from a hole and realize you were being bullied by the dumbest fucking humans to grace the race.”

“What about Scott?” one of the rangers asks as he pulls at the cards I give him. “How’d she fare?”

“Better than half the hard-ons in my unit would have.” I toss another shot back. “Better than that. When push came to shove, she pulled rank on me and practically spit the creed in their faces.”

The rangers lean back, fanning their cards.

“No shit,” Henley says. “Then what?”

I fell in love with her.

Maybe it happened before or maybe after, but I know for certain that I’m a goner.

A table full of expectant eyes prod me, and I shrug. “You know I can’t jaw the details, but it’s what always happens,” I say, swallowing the last shot out of the bottle, anger bubbling to the surface. “They fucking failed,” I add with finality as I start tossing cards, trying my best to get past the burn in my throat that has nothing to do with whiskey. “If I win this hand, you ladies have to tell me what color panties you’re wearing.”

We’re four deep in a Humvee on the same road that altered the course of the lives of eight people, mine included. Henley looks over to me in the back seat and reads my posture.

“They’ve been calling for sweeps practically every day.”

“I’m good,” I say, making sure my M4 is strapped tight. Instead of letting Henley see my hesitation, I speak up among the rattle in the cabin. “I probably should have said this before, but I’m not in the fucking mood to babysit today. Keep close, watch your corners, and do not make me question you twice.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Roger that.”

We’re first in to clear the perimeter for the rest of the convoy, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. Bombings are becoming more frequent, and the radicals are getting bolder with their attacks, resulting in massive amounts of civilian casualties. As team leader, I need to keep them sharp, tight, loaded, focused, and alive.

Something Scottie said at the ranch flashes in my mind. “I’m going to need you to help me, help you. I—”

The three of them burst out laughing, and I’m instantly pissed.

“You think this is funny, Specialist?” I glare at Griffin in his rearview as a chuckle dies on his lips. “No, sir. Sorry, Sarge.”

“Then shut the fuck up and keep your eyes forward. When we land, watch my signal. Communication is key to keeping you vertical.”

“Yes, sir,” they all say in unison.

Casting my glare out the window, I study the rocky wasteland.

Please! Please don’t walk away from me! Not like this, please. These can’t be the last words we say.

The gnaw won’t let up. No matter how hard I try to distract myself, I still feel the ache, the longing, and I want to take it all back. Hurting her the way I did, with the things I said and the things I didn’t, is my biggest regret. Jealousy and anger won that day because I was trying to protect us both from making promises we couldn’t keep. I have to believe she knows I’ll keep fighting for her, that she’s my reason.

I’ll get them all for you, Scottie. I’ll make them fucking pay.

The pain is a reminder, and instead of willing it away, I decide to keep it close. I’ll use it over the anger because it keeps her memory fresh, it keeps me focused, and that’s enough.

Of all the things loving her has taught me, I know this much to be the truth: even when love is convoluted, it’s real.

Once the Humvee rolls to a stop, my boots are the first on the ground.

“Let’s do this.”