ROMANCE: Badass Boss (Billionaire Alpha Bad Boy Romance) (Western Mail Order Bride Calendar Contemporary) (31 page)

Chapter 11

Tattoos and Scars

Someone knocked on the door. Old habits keep soldiers alive. Stone’s pistol rested on top of the little table. It leaped into his hand, and he jumped behind a wall. He nodded to Delia, and she opened the door. She wore only a towel tied around her. She unwrapped it and held it against her chest. I didn’t hang wide enough to cover her completely.

Stone didn’t lower the pistol even though the person at the door was a kid about sixteen years old with a pizza, garlic bread and a big bottle of root beer.

The kid said, “Rockhauser?” then stopped talking and thinking when he saw the amount of skin Delia had on display.

Delia nodded and took the food. She paid the boy and included a five dollar tip. She closed the door and set the food on the table.

While she dressed, Stone stayed behind the wall to make sure the kid wasn’t one of the bad guys sent to scope them out. She came back and they sat down to eat.

They didn’t talk. The entire pizza disappeared; most of it inside Stone, but a sizeable portion inside Delia.

After the food was gone, Stone said, “Are you done thinking? Have you reached any conclusions?”

Delia smiled. “Yes. While we were fighting, I realized you were going to keep me alive and that I’ve treated you very poorly. I’m sorry. I was confused. I’m drawn to men like my father and my brother, but I don’t want to marry one. I’ve seen what my mother went through with my father and his PTSD. I don’t want that for my life. Frankly, I realized that I’m an adult who can make her own choices. Once I figured that out, I realized that I can be nice to you without having to marry you. You don’t deserve to be treated badly. I’m sorry.”

Stone nodded. “I understand. Could I make a small observation?”

“Is it something objectionable? I’m not sure you’ve truly forgiven me.”

“I have. No, it isn’t objectionable in any way. I fought alongside you. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. You have the personality of your family. You’ll have to be aware of that. You’re not going to be satisfied with a dull job or a dull man.”

Stone looked at her for the first time since he started talking. He’d kept his eyes away from hers because he wasn’t sure about her reaction. He looked and immediately regretted his words.

She looked upset. She said, with a hint of little girl in her voice, “But I don’t want to do that. Why can’t I have a normal life with a man who comes home every night? Why do I have to sacrifice for my country” I don’t want to.”

Stone said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. We don’t know much about each other. It’s your life. You’re in charge. You can do what you want.”

“You don’t know the pressure that comes to a woman in a military family. Whoever I bring home won’t be good enough if he isn’t military.” She sniffled. Stone got a box of tissues out of the bathroom. She dabbed at her eyes and nose. “I honestly don’t know why I’m crying. You’re right. It’s my life and I can do what I want.” The tears came in earnest. Stone stood up and opened his arms. Delia dove inside them. She cried for five minutes.

She pushed Stone away gently. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what prompted that. You were kind to hold me.”

Stone was quiet. “I know what it was. You’ve lost your innocence. You took on the responsibility of ending someone else’s life. I didn’t cry when I lost mine, but it was a near thing. It’s always tough the first time.”

Delia nodded. Her eyelids drooped and she yawned; a big, wide, open mouthed yawn with everything behind it.

Stone said, “You’re exhausted. Time for bed.”

“I’ll take the sofa.”

“No, you need to rest. You’re very gallant, but you’re tall. You’re going to need the extra length.”

Stone examined the sofa and mentally laid his six feet eight inch body on it. He lopped over by several feet. He reluctantly said, “I think you’re right.”

They got ready for bed. Delia made a circle in the air with her finger. Stone turned around. Wearing only her panties and bra, she grabbed a sheet from the foot of the bed and lay on the couch. She frowned. “You didn’t look at me. You should have looked or tried to look so I could have yelled at you for looking at me in my underwear.”

Stone’s voice didn’t have a lot of strength. “I’m sorry. You’re right, but I’m tired too.”

“I forgive you, but try next time.”

“I will.”

“That’s the spirit.” She brought the sheet up to her neck.

Stone undressed to his shorts standing next to the bed.

Delia sat up with her hands pressing the sheet to her body. “Come here. I want to look at you.” He did, sleepily and without compliant. She traced the little, round scars from the AK47 with her fingertip then the smaller scar on the front of his chest. “This is where you were shot.”

“Yes. The doctors did a good job of patching me up.”

She found the other scar; the one that ran along his ribs along the other side. “I have to ask. A man attacked you with a knife. Why?”

“I don’t know. It was just a bar fight in Cabul. I didn’t get a medal for it.”

“What happened to him?”

“I took his knife away from him and killed him with it.”

“That’s not easy.”

“I was close enough to smell him.” He wasn’t smiling when he said his next words. “He smelled like manure and old sweat.”

She turned him around to look at his tattoos. She said, “I like this one.”

“Which one?”

“The tattoo with the girl in the bikini, it’s funny. Here’s one that’s quite serious.” She read it aloud. “People sleep peacefully in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence at their behalf.” She looked at the other tattoos and found her hand running softly over his skin. She added her other hand. Stone didn’t comment or pull away. She could feel his muscles shifting strongly underneath his scarred tissue. She said, “Time for bed.”

“I agree. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

She watched him walk over to the bed. She saw a little of the tiger-like grace she’d seen earlier. She also saw the limp. She said, “Stone?”

“Yes.”

“I feel worse now. That quotation is absolutely correct. I’ll sleep well tonight knowing you’ll protect me. Don’t be too angry with me. I’m still a little confused.”

“‘I’m not. Go to sleep.”

Chapter 12

The Truth

A sleepless hour later, Delia took her cell phone to the bathroom. She sat on the toilet and called home. She said, “Mom? It’s Delia. I’m sorry to wake you up, but I’ve got to know something. I might get involved with a veteran who has PTSD. His hip and knee are prosthetics. How bad was it with daddy. I watched you work so hard with him. Was it something you think I could handle.”

There was nothing but silence on the line. Delia said, “Mom, are you still there?”

“Delia, you’re wrong. I’ve never seen you be this wrong. You usually have such a good grasp of things. I don’t see how you screwed this up so much.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Sweetheart, I never sacrificed anything to take care of your dad. I love him. When he came back home, I was overjoyed because I could touch him and hold him again. He was still alive. He needed help with everyday things, and I wasn’t about to let anyone else take care of him. But I didn’t mind that. He was mine. I love him more now than I did then. Do you understand?”

Delia paused. “I thought you were being dutiful when you wouldn’t let anyone else help him.”

“Every time I helped him get dressed or took him to the doctor at the VA, I was important to him. There’s something else you need to remember. You and your brothers were all born after he got back. That’s something else I appreciated. If he’d died, I would have spent my nights alone.

“I guess I never thought of it like that. I understand more now. I love you, Mom. Good night and thanks.”

“Sorry, you can’t go yet. Tell me about him. Mother’s need to know who their daughters are getting involved with.”

“He’s huge, six eight, at least. He spent two tours in Afghanistan. He’s handsome and caring. Like I said, He’s got a prosthetic hip and knee. It makes him limp. He has PTSD like daddy.”

“Does he treat you well?”

“Yes. He cares for me and protects me. I can’t talk about it in detail, but he saved my life today.”

“Wonderful. That’s what I needed to know. Thanks dear. Call me when you’re back home.”

Chapter 13

Life Choice’s

It happened at three in the morning. Delia woke up to a noise like a quiet scream. She sat up and listened. Stone was sitting up in bed. His mouth was wide open, and he was trying to scream. Sleep stifled the sound except for a weak noise full of desperation and fear. He held his hands out in front of him and pleaded, “No, don’t shoot.”

Abruptly, he violently fell back on the bed, his hands clutching his chest. He moaned and reached for something at his side. His hands held an imaginary pistol. He sat up again and fired the non-existent gun five times before falling backward. He thrashed around, muttering, “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. It’s important to me, doc.” One of his hands leaped up in the air and grabbed somebody’s lapel. He pulled it down. “I mean that. Cut whatever you have to cut off, just keep me alive.”

He fell back on the bed again and began to weep. Deep sobs made his huge body tremble.

Delia couldn’t take it. She’d seen it before with the brother and father, she had to help. She walked over to the bed and slid in. She pulled his massive body over on his side and held his head against her neck. “Stone, this is Delia. You remember me. You’re with me. You’re having a dream. Can you hear me. It’s Delia.”

The sobbing stopped after a few minutes. She glanced at the sofa and shook her head. She whispered in his ear. “Stone. I care about you. I really do. Please rest,I’ll protect you. While you’re with me, you won’t have any more bad dreams. I won’t let you. Stay asleep. You’re safe.”

Stone mumbled, “I will.” It was odd to watch this mammoth man with the manly tattoos and multiple scars meld gracefully into her body. She stroked his soft.

The next morning. Delia woke up with a very comfortable feeling. She wiggled around for a few moments enjoying the warmth of the strong arm around her and the hard body holding her. It touched her from just below the back of her neck to her toes.

Her eyes jumped open when she remembered where she was and who she was with. She listened to his rhythmic breathing for a few minutes while she tried to find a way back to the sofa.

His body held hers with a security she hadn’t found anywhere else, except when she was a little girl and her father carried her off to bed. She sighed and thought, “Just a little longer. I’ll be alright.”

She wasn’t. Stone woke up with his nose in her hair and his arm under her head. He blinked a few times. “Delia?” then somewhat ungallantly, “What’s going on?”

She tried to scoot out of the bed. He held both her shoulders and turned her around facing him and pulled her back into him. His chest hair tickled her nose, and his masculine odor stormed into her body. He had awakened enough to make his next words diplomatic. “Did we do anything?” His hand touched the fabric of her bra. “No, we didn’t. You wouldn’t be wearing anything if we had.” He took a deep breath. “Are you alright? Did you have a nightmare?”

Delia made the decision she’d look back on as the turning point in their relationship. If she’d said that she had a nightmare and had crawled into his bed for comfort, they would have parted after a few months. She didn’t do it. She knew she was going against everything she thought she wanted. She did it anyway. She leaned back so she had eye contact. “No, Stone. You had the nightmare. I couldn’t watch you suffer, so I tried to help. You were crying. I came to your bed and held you against me to help you calm down.”

“Did the dream include me begging not to be shot?”

“Yes. It also has you killing the man who shot you.”

“That’s the only thing that keeps my male ego intact.”

Delia rose up on one elbow to look at his face. He wasn’t being sarcastic or cynical.

He watched her study him and said, “That wasn’t one of my shining moments. I should have done it like a French soldier I read about. He’d been captured by the terrorists. They kept him overnight then put him up against a wall. His final words were ‘Now, I will show you how a Frenchman dies’. He did. I didn’t. I pleaded for my life. No dignity.”

“You killed the man. That gives you back your manhood.”

“I guess.”