Masters at Arms (5 page)

What a clusterfuck.

With reluctance, he turned and began climbing
the stairs to the porch, feeling each of the dozen steps in his
shaky legs.

Paxton caught up with them and opened the
door. To his wife, he said, “I’ll make some calls to Karla’s
friends’ parents and let them know she’s home safe.”

Inside, the house was warm. Smelled like
cinnamon. Karla’s mother led him to the kitchen, where she sat him
down on a chair at the table for six. Several pies were lined up on
the counter.

“Off with the shirt.”

Adam hoped his expression conveyed to her
that no fucking way was he removing his shirt. “I’m fine,
ma’am.”

She just laughed. “Don’t go there with me.
I’m a nurse. I’ve seen more naked bodies than you can shake a fist
at. Off.” Her fingers motioned for him to follow her order. “I am
going to take a look at that shoulder, one way or another.” When he
still refused to move, she added, “Now!” She’d have made a great
drill sergeant.

Adam looked over at Karla, who seemed to be
waiting for a show to begin, her eyes wide open, chin propped on
her palm at the island in the middle of the room. No fucking way
was he going to let her see his back. He did a half turn in the
chair.

Mrs. Paxton seemed to notice his discomfort.
“Karla, run up to the bathroom and get me the new first-aid kit.
There are some things missing from this one.”

He saw the disappointment in the girl’s eyes,
but she did as she was told. She seemed like a good kid. He
unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. God, the muscles in both
shoulders ached, not just the bruised one. He was getting soft in
his old age.

When Karla’s mother moved around to check the
damage from the back, he cringed when he heard her gasp. “You’ve
seen your share, haven’t you?”

“Mostly superficial, ma’am. I survived.”
Knowing she had a son in harm’s way, he didn’t add that two of his
men hadn’t made it out of that ambush alive. She traced a finger
over the spot where he had his tattoo, but he let her draw her own
conclusions. He wouldn’t talk about it.

Adam recalled the ambush outside Kandahar
that had taken out half his recon unit earlier this year as they’d
tried to establish a foothold in the area. Two men dead, seven
injured. Fucked-up mission. His shrapnel scars were reminders of
his failure—his inability to bring all his men home. He prayed he’d
never have a repeat of that day during his remaining time in the
Corps.

Thankfully, she didn’t ask. “I appreciate
this, ma’am, but it’s just a little bruise.”

“Please, call me Jenny. And that bruise is
going to be more than little. What did you run into?”

“Brass knuckles. Didn’t duck fast enough.
Getting old.”

She scoffed. “From what Karla said, you
fought off three guys. I just hope they look a lot worse than you
do.”

“Yes, ma’am. Two of them do, anyway. The
third ran.” He felt a need to assure her that Karla hadn’t been
harmed or in danger. “I didn’t let them near your daughter. She was
out of there before any punches flew.”

She stepped back to face him. “Adam, we can’t
thank you enough. When we found Karla’s bed empty an hour or so
ago—”

Adam heard the catch in her voice and looked
up to see tears swimming in her eyes. His gut twisted. He could
well imagine her fears.

“We panicked,” she finished on a whisper.
“The police wouldn’t even look for her for twenty-four hours. It’s
not much, but please know we’re forever in your debt.”

“Sorry, Mom. It took me a while to—”

Adam looked toward the entrance to the
kitchen to find that Karla had come to a dead stop, her jaw hanging
open. Her eyes homed in on his naked chest. Shit, he’d embarrassed
her. He reached for his shirt.

“Come on, girl. Don’t just stand there. Get
over here.” When Karla remained stock-still, Jenny barked, “Now!”
Then, to Adam, she stilled his movement to put his shirt back on.
“Don’t you dare! She’s seen her brother’s bare chest a million
times.”

* * *

Yeah, but Ian’s chest didn’t look anything
like Adam’s.

Karla crossed the room, holding the kit out
to her mom, but not taking her eyes off Adam’s muscular pecs and
biceps. His skin was evenly tanned, not a single hair anywhere on
his chest. She had a whole new appreciation for the anatomy lessons
she’d had in health class, because they allowed her a chance to
label all of his beautiful parts. Standing so close, she felt the
heat radiating from his body, even more noticeable than it had been
at the bus station.

Or was it just that her face was
overheating?

Her mother worked to open the latch of the
new kit while Karla continued her observations. His pectoral
muscles bulged, hard-looking nipples protruding from dark brown
areolas. Karla just stared at his nips. No, not the scientific
term, but that's what her friends called them when they ogled the
juvenile boys in their gym class. None of those boys had nips that
looked like stone, though. Nothing like Adam’s. 

She itched to reach out and touch one to see
if it was as hard as it looked, but her mother would have made her
leave the room if she did that. She wouldn’t risk that happening,
so she clenched her fists at her sides.

Her gaze went lower. His abdominals
were…well….
Oh, my!
Now she knew why they called them a
six-pack. She’d probably be able to bounce a quarter off them if he
were lying down. There was this valley between his abs she wanted
to lick.

Oh, no, Kitty. Don’t think about licking
him!

Too late. Her face grew even warmer. What
would Adam be like as a lover? Gentle, tender, forceful? Not that
she had any experience with lovers or sex. None of the boys her age
attracted her, and she'd always been more interested in her music
career than in dating. But she’d watched lots of love scenes in the
movies and on TV. Adam truly had the most beautiful upper body
she’d ever seen in her whole life—real or make believe.

“Open this and hand me one of the swabs.”

Her mother handed her a cellophane package
with two Q-tips inside. With great reluctance, Karla tore her gaze
away from Adam's chest, then, realizing how important this was,
went to work with a new sense of purpose. If only her hands would
quit shaking. She wanted to do this right. What if she didn’t and
he got an infection and a fever and maybe even died, all because
his cut lip wasn’t cleaned properly?

Without touching the cotton ends, she handed
one swab to her mom and watched her dip it in a bottle of alcohol.
She knew from experience that was going to hurt like a mother.

“This is going to sting,” Mom warned.

You’d better believe it
. Her mom
rubbed the wet cotton over his split lip, holding his chin to keep
him steady. Karla wished she could touch him like that. He closed
his eyes, but didn’t make a sound. Her stomach muscles clenched, as
if she were experiencing the pain for him.

“There.” Her mom laid the Q-tip on the paper
towel she’d placed on the table. “Now let’s get some antibiotic
ointment on that lip.”

Karla saw the tinge of pink on the Q-tip.
Adam’s blood. Tears sprang to her eyes. He’d been hurt because of
her stupidity. She wished there was something more she could do to
help him. She certainly couldn’t kiss his lip and make it better.
Although the thought caused her stomach to flutter again, like a
flock of the butterflies was trying to escape. She flushed in
embarrassment.

What would her friends think when they heard
about her adventures with an older man tonight? And a Marine.
Oh, my!
They would be so jealous, especially when she told
them he looked like Mark Harmon. Only Adam acted much more mature
and noble than the Dr. McNeil character did.

Her mom brushed her thumb across the red
marks on Adam's shoulder. “Not much I can do for the bruising, but
I don’t think there’s a hematoma.”

Karla’s attention went to the long, thin mark
where he'd been jabbed by something with evenly spaced points. Then
she remembered that one of the guys he had fought with had been
wearing brass knuckles. Her knees buckled at the thought of them
tearing into Adam's shoulder.

“Whoa, hon!” Adam reached out and grabbed her
elbows to hold her steady. “Not too fond of the sight of
blood?”

Karla felt her mom’s scrutiny, but couldn’t
take her eyes off Adam. Where he held her arms, a tingle of
electricity zinged up to her shoulders and neck, then down to her….
Oh, my!

“What's the matter with you, Karla?” Mom
asked. “You've seen plenty of blood. Ian was always getting patched
up.”

"I’m okay,” she whispered, because of the
frog lodged in her throat. He smiled at her and she felt tears
dripping down her face. He’d taken that hit on his shoulder for
her. She ached to press her lips against it, the way her mother had
kissed her boo-boos as a kid. Usually, the pain magically went
away. She wanted to take Adam’s pain away.

He reached up and wiped the tears away from
her face with his thumbs. She caught her breath, then totally
forgot to breathe for a moment.

“I’m okay, hon. Believe me, this is
nothing.”

"You should see ..." her mom began.

Adam reached out and placed a hand on Mom’s
arm. They exchanged a look, as if they shared a secret Karla wasn't
in on. Mom nodded. Karla felt the green-eyed monster of jealousy
for the first time in her life.

More tears welled in her eyes. Frustration at
not being able to touch him, to comfort him, or even to get him to
notice her as a woman, ate at her. She was still just a kid in his
eyes. If she touched him the way she wanted, he’d think she was a
freak.

But that just made her want to touch him even
more.

* * *

Adam tried to stay out of everyone’s way on
Thanksgiving morning. He’d managed to catch a few hours of
dreamless sleep, which was more than he could say for the last few
months. Then Karla’s relatives had started arriving—grandmother,
uncle, aunt, cousins. Adam hadn’t been in a huge family gathering
for Thanksgiving since he was a kid, and he was feeling a bit
claustrophobic.

Adam knew her family meant well, but he
counted the hours until he could get on that bus tonight and start
making his way home to Pendleton. He grabbed his jacket and slipped
out the front door, hoping no one would notice. He needed some air.
The jacket did little to keep the wind out. But, compared with the
crowded, overheated house, the air felt good. After he’d walked a
few blocks, the frigid wind began to seep into his still-aching
bones and muscles. He’d known Chicago was windy, but when the gusts
were fifty miles an hour and the air temperature barely twenty, it
was god-damned frigid.

He didn’t know where he was headed until he
arrived. Standing on the shore of Lake Michigan, the wind blowing
ice crystals from the lake onto his face, Adam braced himself
against the gusts. Gray clouds hovered over the surface, much like
they did over Lake Superior.

He and Joni hadn’t had much money when they’d
married and all he could afford for a honeymoon was an off-season
cabin rental at a park along Superior. It had been colder than a
mother that November, too. Not that they’d wanted to venture out
much. They were too busy exploring their newfound mutual interest
in sexual bondage and each other’s bodies.

Adam got hard picturing Joni tied
spread-eagle and blindfolded as he tortured her tits with ice and a
feather. She had the cutest damned giggle. He’d tried to use his
stern Dom voice, but knowing she couldn’t see him, he’d grinned
every time she let out her little-girl giggle.

Damned wind was making his eyes water. He
reached up to wipe the moisture from them, then his mind returned
to the cabin. After two days of nothing but sex and sleep—maybe a
little food, he couldn’t remember—they’d bundled up and ventured
out to walk along the icy shore, down to the lighthouse.

Joni was curious about everything and they’d
probably spent two hours talking with the lighthouse keeper. Adam
accused her later of shirking her wifely duties by delaying their
return to the cabin. Her screams of outrage as he reddened her ass
during her first erotic spanking had turned them both on so much,
they didn’t leave the cabin again the rest of the week.

Cold wetness on his cheeks brought him back
to the present. He wasn’t sure if they were brought on from the
wind or his sorrow. He didn’t care. No one was around to see him
cry. For the first time since learning he was going to lose her, he
just let himself feel the gaping hole in his chest where his heart
had once been.

Joni had given his heart a safe harbor all
these years, but he knew now it was time for him to haul anchor,
reset his compass, and shove off into unchartered waters.

“Safe journey, little subbie. We’ll meet up
again someday.”

The wind whipped the words away from him. He
hoped they made their way to his dear, sweet Joni, wherever she
was. He didn’t dwell much on spiritual matters, but knew in his
heart he and Joni would reunite one day.

Adam drew a ragged breath and pressed his
thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose. He now knew he
was ready to resume his duties at Pendleton or wherever they sent
him. While he’d never forget Joni, he’d be able to compartmentalize
the memories and pain so they didn’t take his focus off the mission
at hand. He would never put his units in jeopardy because he
couldn’t let go of the past. Until this moment, though, he hadn’t
been sure he would be able to do that.

A sense of peace came over him. He almost
thought he felt Joni’s lips brushing his cheek, the way she did
before they curled up with each other and fell asleep. Then he
became aware of the icy pellets pounding his face as a lake-effect
squall whipped up. He turned around to make his way back to Karla’s
house.