Bound for Keeps (Men of Honor) (17 page)

Keith felt himself hesitate, but knew this could be the best thing for all of them. They obviously had chemistry, and it seemed like they had even more. It was time to put up or shut up. “I don’t remember my mother. According to what I pieced together, she was young—too young—and she dropped me off at a convent when I was a couple of years old. I didn’t know my own name, never mind my birthday, so they kind of estimated. Got me cleaned up, checked out—I was pretty dehydrated. Underweight. Sick. But I was young enough that getting adopted should’ve been a breeze.”

But it hadn’t been. For whatever reason, adoption hadn’t been in the cards. And he’d remained at the orphanage and things had been okay when he’d been three and four and five. Even six. But then came the series of foster homes, with their endless array of too many kids, too little food, hand-me-downs and abuses, both big and small. He’d hated every minute of them. Ran away as much as he could, because he’d actually preferred living on the streets most of the time.

“The last home…I was fourteen. Hadn’t shot up yet. Barely got enough food to keep me going and I had anger, but not a lot of muscle. “There were two sixteen-year-olds in the house. They’d been there for a year. They kind of ran the place, because the foster mother was barely there.”

“It was just about the money for her,” Shane said angrily. Keith nodded. It wasn’t fair to paint all foster families with that brush, but the kids who were tough to place…well, they were tough to place, and CSE couldn’t afford to get picky about them.

“One night, they came into my room. I hadn’t said anything about being gay but…they saw me, followed me one night when I went with this guy. He paid me for a blowjob and fed me and gave me money. So these guys…they took the money.”

His voice was almost ready to give out, and he stopped. Shane’s eyes looked wet but he didn’t say anything, wouldn’t have pushed Keith further. Which meant he had to go on. “They took the money. And that pissed me off but that would’ve been fine. But they didn’t leave. Locked the door. Held me down…”

His breath was shaky and he couldn’t finish now, saw the scene unfold and didn’t want to fight off a panic attack. There had been one too many in this house tonight.

“You were raped, Keith.”

Keith shrugged, like it didn’t matter, but fuck it all, of course it did. Shane bent down and kissed him lightly, then traced Keith’s lips with a finger. “You’re so fucking strong—Reed and I know that. But you don’t always have to be with us.”

“I know that. I like to be. I just want you to know what you’re getting. You might think that Reed’s the most fucked-up one of this group, but—”

“You’re the most quietly fucked up,” Shane finished.

“Brat.”

“Yeah. Your brat, though.”

“Yeah,” Keith echoed as Reed’s hand snaked across his chest and landed on top of Shane and Keith’s. It remained there even as Reed snored lightly. The three of them, connected.

“I can be there for you, Keith. Whatever, however you need it. Even when you think you don’t,” Shane told him.

“I can’t believe I shared that with you. Fifteen years with Bobby, and I could never…” He paused, caught his breath. “I don’t know why I thought he might not be able to handle it.”

“Maybe he couldn’t have. Sometimes, we tell people things because we think they want to know, but we’re really doing it for ourselves.”

“So I was selfish by telling you.”

“Yeah. But I like that kind of selfishness.”

Reed was still in a peacefully deep sleep between them. Keith covered him with a blanket, and he and Shane moved closer to him, neither one remotely tired. Or maybe they were just waiting up to guard Reed from his nightmares.

Either way, it was comfortable. Easier than Shane ever thought something like this could be. “He seems better,” he commented.

“He’s getting there.”

“He’s lucky to have you.”

“You helped, Shane. More than you know.”

Shane nodded, then asked, “What happened to him?”

Keith glanced at Reed. “You really want to know?”

“No, but I need to.”

Chapter Eighteen

Reed heard the men on either side of him, and even though he knew he couldn’t stop the dream from coming full force, he was safe between them. They would rescue him when it got too bad. But one thing about this dream, it always had to run its course.

And he felt his body go stiff, straight, mimicking what happened to him during that horrible time, locked inside a literal box of coffin-like proportions, a vent cut out above his mouth, covered with enough mesh so he couldn’t tell night from day. All six of them, plus seven hours, fifty-three minutes and twenty-nine seconds before the lid was lifted and a member of his Delta Team stared down at him with tears in his eyes.

They thought you were dead
, he realized, and at times he thought so as well, even though he’d never given up hope. But realistically, you could only survive like this for so long.

He’d been lucky to have been captured during the rainy season. The water gushed in, sometimes threatening to drown him, but it kept him alive.

He wanted to walk but his arms and legs wouldn’t work. Prophet, the FNG, lifted him out and carried him to the waiting helo where the medics declared him dehydrated and malaria-ridden but otherwise healthy.

Physically anyway. Because at first, the lack of sleep nearly killed him. The docs finally had to drug him in order to get him into REM. He’d hated it, because he couldn’t climb out of the nightmares, had to remain there, pathetic, scared, silently screaming for help.

He’d agreed to sleep willingly—fifteen-minute intervals at first. Finally, he worked up to an hour at a time.

Of course, he was declared unfit for active duty, and since riding a desk had never been his thing, he poured himself into med school. He hadn’t practiced much until Bobby and Keith encouraged him to work at the local hospital.

But they’d also brought him into their business of saving people, once they’d thoroughly saved him.

He was pretty well past panic attacks by the time he’d landed—drunk, sick, lost, on their doorway that Christmas Eve.

And he was for sure lost. Barely sleeping, pretending he had it all together when he was really white-knuckling it through every damned day.

Of course, they’d seen right through the bravado act that reappeared as soon as the fever fled. Bobby took him in hand first, let Reed think he was controlling the situation by initiating the sex. But Bobby had been in charge, had just proven it more subtly than Keith. Had handled him like the skittish animal he was, reeled him in and let Keith put the finishing touches on him.

After Keith fucked him and there was no mistaking that he’d been tied down and thoroughly fucked—Keith had untied him and made love to him.

For Reed that was harder than anything, because he didn’t think he deserved the tenderness Keith had shown him. He’d done it again the next night, spending time poring over Reed’s body until he shook and begged and came, and then slept against Keith for six hours straight.

He’d woken up in a haze of screaming, settled down with both men’s hands on him and spilled his story.

It wasn’t a total, instant miracle but a minor one—the sleeping and helping him get his shit together, along with laughter and sex. The offer of a job so he could be useful again.

And then he asked if he could stay in their lives. They told him they’d been planning on asking him anyway.

Reed started to yell almost as soon as Keith finished telling the story, but Shane followed Keith’s lead and touched him with a heavy pressure. Keith whispered, Shane caught Reed’s hand in his and within moments, the deep, easy breathing was back, along with the hint of a smile.

“Better,” Keith said.

“How long?” he asked then. He was trying to picture the scene but he couldn’t. It was torture—beyond, because they’d left him for dead when he didn’t break after forty-eight hours.

If you could survive that long, they felt as if the window of opportunity closed.

“Six days plus some.”

Keith knew the exact hours—Shane was sure Reed remembered it to the second but both men were still trying to spare him.

It was as endearing as it was frustrating.

“He’s okay, Shane. He really is. But you can’t get out of something like that without a lifetime of scars.”

“How did he get this far?”

“He kept moving,” Keith answered simply. “When things get really bad, you don’t have the luxury of choice. You just keep moving forward, like you did.”

At Keith’s words, Shane realized he smiled. “I guess I did.”

Reed finally woke and stretched a full twelve hours later. Shane and Keith had taken turns staying with him, and now it was Shane’s turn. He’d showered, his hair was still damp, and he wore the borrowed clothes as he watched a movie and Reed.

“Welcome back,” he said quietly, for lack of anything better.

Reed gave him a lazy smile and accepted the can of Coke Keith had brought in a few minutes earlier, like he’d known Reed would stir soon.

Obviously, Keith knew everything about everything.

Reed put a hand on his cheek and rubbed, murmured, “Don’t look so worried. I’m okay.” And then he added, “You okay with what happened last night?”

Shane couldn’t bite back his smile. “Hell yeah.”

“Good. And I’m guessing Keith told you what that PTSD crap was all about,” Reed said.

“He did. I guess you understood my nightmares way better than I thought.”

“Then why do you still look apprehensive?”

“I don’t know much about you,” Shane admitted.

“You know what I look like when I come. You know I like to be spanked. I’d say you know some of my deepest, darkest secrets. The rest is just frosting, but hell, if you want to know, you’re welcome to the rest of my life.”

Shane smiled at the easiness with which Reed was going to give that information up, although he supposed after learning what he had, the rest of it will be easy enough. “I’d like that.”

Reed stuck out his hand for Shane to shake. “Johnny Lou Reed from Mobile, Alabama.” His twang was deep, his smile wide, and Shane could see the young boy, all legs and charm causing all kinds of mischief.

“What about your parents?”

“Alive and well and married for fifty years. My sisters and their babies live in Mobile still, right in the same neighborhood where we grew up. They know I’m gay, don’t know about Delta, and they love me. Wish I visited more. They’re both still practicing small-town medicine and my mom also got her veterinary license. She’s an overachiever.”

“Guess that runs in the family.”

Reed touched his nose and then pointed at Shane. “They visit here every couple of years. They’re actually due to come here this spring.”

A hit of nerves jangled through Shane. Meeting the parents had never exactly gone well for him. When Kyle’s parents met him, they’d acted like he didn’t exist, like Kyle wasn’t really gay, even though the man had been telling them so since he’d been fifteen.

“Kyle’s parents never liked me. They thought his being gay was a phase. They thought that I was stopping him from moving on to marry his high school sweetheart.”

“He had a high school sweetheart?” Reed asked.

“Yeah, Paul Nickels. Prom king.”

Reed laughed long and loud at that. “I know I would’ve loved your Kyle.”

Chapter Nineteen

“Time for more training—and this time, I’m not going to go easy on you,” Keith called in to where Shane had been sitting on the couch, watching TV, half bored out of his mind.

“Yeah, you’ve been so sweet to me,” he retorted, and the man quirked his lips.

He followed Keith into the training room. Three days had passed since Reed had come home and that had been a whirlwind. Reed and Keith spent two days helping someone through their mission, and Shane had remained on the periphery, watching and waiting, in case they needed help.

They hadn’t. He’d felt slightly disappointed and more than a little unsure of himself. They’d come pretty far in a short time…and now, he felt as though they’d taken several steps back.

Reed had been out all day on house calls. And Shane had actually been surprised that Keith had called for him.

Surprised, but the command wasn’t unwelcome. He trudged toward the training room, wearing shorts and a T-shirt, feet bare and found Keith only wore shorts. Hadn’t bothered putting on protective gear but he’d insisted Shane wear it. And Shane did, put it all on and then stripped it off just as fast.

“What the hell’s going on, Shane?”

“You’re still going easy on me,” he said, realizing his frustration was coming from a totally different place.

“I like rough,” Keith told him.

“What makes you think I don’t?” Shane demanded. “You’re acting like I can’t handle you.”

“Can you?” Keith folded his arms and waited.

“Why are you always testing me, goddammit?” he roared suddenly, without warning. Pushed Keith hard against his chest with both hands and then used his leg to take the man to the ground. Keith went down hard, cursing, and he retaliated instantly. Within seconds, the men were brawling, military style. Wrestling. Fighting for their reputations, fighting through their anger.

He flipped Keith and straddled his back. And Keith went still, turned his head and rested it on his arms.

“You might be able to handle me,” he commented blithely, and just like that, the anger went out of Shane.

He stared at the man’s broad back, had wanted to trace the muscles in Keith’s back for weeks. Now, that opportunity presented itself, and he wasn’t stopping. He put his hands on Keith’s shoulders as if to hold him down, trailed kisses down the man’s neck and spine, stopping to run his tongue along his shoulder blades.

Keith’s body shuddered under the touch. After Shane finished there, he continued along, licking, sucking, biting.

He bit the man on the shoulder, hard enough to leave a nice red mark…and then he sucked it so it stood out more.

“You’re marking me?” Keith sounded surprised and pleased. Shane figured he’d leave the other shoulder for Reed, and there was so much more he wanted to do.