Buried Flames (23 page)

“I honestly don’t know the answer to that, but the unmanned locations are highly classified and hidden away from the general public. Only a handful of people are aware of the coordinates and Ace was always my handler between us and our contacts higher up.” Truman met each of their gazes before landing on Mason. It was apparent that what he was about to say wasn’t going to make any of them very happy. “Ace has been drifting in and out of consciousness, so all we have is your word to go on regarding those men you took out. Fairfax told you they were NSA and you apparently agree with his assessment. Someone up the chain of those bloody scumbags was given orders to terminate those with the coordinates of these sites. It won’t be long before they come for us.”

Well, Mason couldn’t very well say he hadn’t asked for the truth. The casual murmurs of the townsfolk outside the office could be heard from down the hall. They’d come to look upon Tank as their leader, with Mason, Mav, and Owen as his team of fellow Marines. These good people trusted Tank and his team to keep them safe.

“All we’re asking is that you allow Ace to heal enough to walk out of here on his own two feet,” Truman urged with Ann nodding in agreement. “We’ll leave immediately afterward.”

Tank looked Mason’s way, gauging his reaction. He appreciated the respectful gesture, especially since Ernie could have made the call on his own.

“No.” Mason stood up, despite his protesting muscles. He walked toward the door, intending to collect Brenna and head back to the bunker to get some much-needed sleep. “Tank and Mav think you add something by being here. I’m not going to get in the way of that and we’re certainly not going to let the NSA invade our area when it’s clear they have access to their own supplies, or at least the government’s provisions. We now know what we’re dealing with. We’ll handle whatever comes our way.”

“My team and I appreciate that.”

“Don’t,” Mason said, entirely meaning it the way it sounded. Brenna would have given him her notorious sideways look of exasperation, but he couldn’t change who he was. “Because it won’t be your weapon I shoot with my .45 if I find out you’re withholding any other important information that will place this sanctuary in any more danger than it already is.”

B
renna stared into
the darkness as the day’s events played over and over in her mind. She was still troubled over what had taken place this morning and why she hadn’t reacted quicker to Truman’s threatening actions. Prue had mentioned it might have been because she was aware deep down that Truman’s misconceptions could be rectified. Brenna still wasn’t so sure. She flipped her pillow, wanting the coolness of the sheets against her face. Maybe that would help her fall asleep.

Mason was lying next to her, his breathing rather even. How could he sleep so easily? He hadn’t even completely undressed and Brenna had a feeling it wasn’t because it was during the day and this could be considered a nap. It had everything to do with his scars. Did he really think so little of her?

“I’m about to make you trade places with Sam or just send you back up to the lodge.”

Brenna had considered numerous times moving to another room. There were still a few available in this corridor, but she wasn’t about to give up on Mason so easily. At some point, she’d made up her mind that friendship wasn’t enough for her anymore. She never should have left him alone for so long, sulking in his own self-induced isolation. She’d been complacent about occasional sightings here and there in town, hoping each time he’d finally reach out to her. They hadn’t been strangers, after all. They’d been intimate for an extended period of time prior to his departure into the service.

“I’m good here, thank you.”

Brenna didn’t care if that came out a little sarcastically. He was a grown man and he didn’t have much of a filter either. Hell, Mason been tense all evening and rightly so. He’d explained what the outcome had been of the discussion in the office and now they all needed to be prepared in case the NSA came knocking at their door looking to assassinate some of their guests.

“Then go to sleep.”

Maybe the reason Brenna couldn’t fall asleep, despite the exhaustion coursing through her, was because she’d always nestled against him in the same bedroll. He hadn’t wanted to take any chances knowing someone was hunting them down. Now? He was practically hanging off the side of the bed and it was starting to piss her off.

“You’re the one who got me into the habit of having someone hold me.”

The heavy silence only seemed to become denser as Brenna held her breath, waiting for Mason’s response. She swore they lay deathly still for at least two minutes before he finally made the first move.

“Nothing has changed, Brenna.” Mason’s words caused an ache in Brenna’s heart she hadn’t experienced in a very long time—most likely since the death of her father. Being rejected, whether by words or fatality, still acquired the same devastating reaction. She dug her fingers into the ends of the pillowcase. “I still prefer being alone.”

“Prefer? Is that what you prefer?” Brenna finally flipped over, grateful for the rising anger inside of her to replace the hurt. She couldn’t see him in the dark, considering there were no windows. It wouldn’t have mattered if there had been, considering the light ash coming down around the protected area. The darkness gave her the courage she needed to say what she’d been wanting to for a while now. “That’s bullshit and you know it. No one
prefers
to be alone. It goes against our basic instincts. I watched you with the residents of this town, greeting them by name and asking about personal details only someone who cared would know. I saw how you were around your team members. That’s not a man who prefers to be alone.”

“You don’t know what you’re—”

“Did I say I was finished talking?” Brenna asked, tossing the covers off of her as she scrambled out of bed. She turned on the bedside light with a little more force than necessary and had to stop the lamp from falling off of the small bedside table. She finally spun around and pointed an accusing finger his way. “You don’t want intimacy. You don’t want to allow a woman to get too close to you in case she sees how damaged you are, is that about right?”

Mason currently had his hands laced behind his head, the long-sleeved T-shirt still covering his upper body while his jeans took care of the rest of him. His dark gaze was fixated on the ceiling while the muscle alongside his jawline ticked in anger in its usual manner. Well, that was too damn bad.

“Guess what, Mason?” Brenna asked, walking around to the end of the bed. She’d changed into a pair of black running shorts and matching tank top Prue had given her, seeing as they were almost the same size. She wished she were wearing a little more for this argument though. “Everyone is damaged at some level. They just learn to live with it, which is something you haven’t seemed to master yet. You think I don’t know you suffer from PTSD? It’s written all over you, Mason, but that doesn’t make you unlovable.”

“Stop!” Mason barked, rising up from the bed faster than she would have thought a man of his size could move. Had it been any other person of his stature, she would have backed away. But it wasn’t. It was Mason, so she stood her ground and met him stare for angry stare. “You have no idea what I deal with on a daily basis, so stop while you’re ahead.”

“Tell me what you deal with on a daily basis, Mason.” Brenna crossed her arms, not going anywhere. That’s what he thought would happen…that she would leave. Everything was finally clicking into place. “Anger? Fear?”

“Damn it, just stop!” Mason took a step toward Brenna and then turned, running his hands over his face. He stayed that way, whether to calm himself down or to formulate his words, she didn’t know. His arms slowly dropped to his side and he finally faced her. Tears sprung in her eyes at the striking pain within his. She wasn’t so sure if he opened up to her because of pure exhaustion or he’d just had enough, but she was simply grateful. “People give this…thing…inside of me a name. It shouldn’t be labeled.”

“It helps others to understand.”

“Understand?” Mason slowly shook his head, his lips twisted in contempt. “No one can understand unless you experience it—the highs and lows. It’s irrational. Anger? It builds up inside of me for no apparent reason, at the slightest of things. It can’t be controlled. Fear? Try
feeling
a dumpster being unloaded from a truck. Not the sickening thud as it hits the cement, but the low frequency of the impact as it travels through the ground is exactly like that of a mortar shell hitting the land. My body is immediately covered in sweat and my mind is back there…where I should have never left.”

Brenna was afraid to say anything for fear that Mason would stop talking. She wrapped her arms around herself a little tighter, wishing she could comfort him the same. He continued to list the abundant emotional turmoil name for name, cutting into her heart little by little.

“Anxiety? There isn’t a second of the day that I don’t have it and I couldn’t even give you a solid reason why. Grief? I see every man’s face I wasn’t able to bring back with me. I used to go visit the graves at our local national cemetery, wondering who left them behind. Who missed them when they didn’t come home and how many of them had forgotten. A mother? A father? A wife? Their children? Guilt? Every time I open my fucking eyes.” Mason’s teeth snapped shut, almost as if realizing he’d said too much. He hadn’t even touched on his physical scars, which she could only imagine reminded him every day of his inner battles. Brenna would have given anything to be able to take away some of his pain, but she didn’t have that power. Just hearing the mental struggle he went through every single waking moment made it hard for her to breathe. “
That
is who I am, Brenna.”

“And what if I accept that? What if I want to share your load?” Brenna found herself holding her breath once more, dreading to hear Mason’s answer and yet not willing to accept anything else than his acquiesce. She lowered her arms and took a step toward him, close enough to feel his heat. “Your anger and fear? I’ll give you my hand to hold onto during those times. Your anxiety, grief, and guilt? I’ll hold you through those tough times. Those emotions don’t make you less of a man, Mason. They tell a story…that you’re alive to live your life any way you want. Do you really want to walk that path alone, sacrificing the life you’ve been given when I’m standing in front of you?”

Mason had started shaking his head but then he stopped, staring at Brenna intently. She braced herself for what he might say.

“Why?”

“Because I feel something for you I’ve never felt for anyone,” Brenna replied without hesitation. Something bubbled up inside of her—whether it was relief Mason hadn’t turned away from her or exhaustion from hardly any sleep, she didn’t know. “You make my heart race every time you turn those dark brown eyes my way, even back in high school. You were exciting and adventurous, always making the most boring day into a journey filled with exhilaration. I missed that so much and when you came home, I saw someone so different than that young boy who had left with dreams of serving his country. I saw a man who made my heartbeat accelerate for a totally different reason and you never looked at me twice. Now? You’re so exasperating to the point I want to scream. You’re so loyal it makes me jealous of these people you allow inside your family of friends. And as for damaged? Yes, you are no different than the rest of us, and it makes me want to be the one to help you heal.”

Mason was still shaking his head in denial and yet he reached for her, pulling her into his warm embrace. He didn’t kiss her. He didn’t make any move toward her sexually. He just held her against him and she couldn’t stop a tear from escaping. It rolled down her cheek and was absorbed into the dark material of his shirt. Would she be able to do the same for him? Would he allow her to be the one who helped in those dark moments when the demons came to dance on his grave?

M
ason went to
turn onto his right side when the firm yet supple form against him stopped his progress. He hesitated for only a moment before lowering his arm and pulling Brenna closer to him. The room was still pitch black, but he didn’t have to look at a watch to know they’d slept for close to nine hours. It had to be going on twenty-one hundred hours out there in the real world, which was about the time he’d told his team members that he’d meet them at the lodge. He and Brenna would need something to eat before resting again, as well as another debriefing on what may have happened during the day while they’d been catching up with their well-deserved sleep. Only he found that he wasn’t quite ready to leave this warm bed.