Semper Fidelis (33 page)

“No,
no
. I lost him, dear Jesus, let me go back, I can get him—”

Robert, his fellow rescue swimmer grabbed his chin, forcing Shane to look at him. Robert was attached by his harness to another line and dangled just above Shane as he worked to hook Shane in. But the man had paused to demand Shane’s attention.

“He’s already on board. We took him from you already.”

Joel’s safe?

He thought he’d said it loud, but Robert didn’t respond.

“He’s going to be okay?” Shane still had to yell.

Robert nodded. It appeared that his only concern for the moment was whether or not Shane was hooked up properly. Shane had a vague notion that Robert was perfect for the team and should work on advancing to a higher level swimmer. It was the last thought he had before everything went to black.

* * * *

Kirk had already vomited up everything he and Shane had eaten the night before. He had since progressed to the dry heaves. It had only been about eight hours since Shane had gone out to rescue his boy and Kirk was teetering on the precipice of worry-driven crazy. There had been very few times in his life where he’d been so emotionally overwrought—it wasn’t anything he indulged in on any kind of a regular basis.

The only other events where he could recall coming so unglued had been the night Cindy had gone into labor and when his dad had been struck by a heart attack. He tried to reassure himself that in both instances everything had turned out okay, that it was how things would turn out again for Joel and Shane. His stomach clenched up, but he fought it.

He’d spent the night in the cab of his pickup, parked in his usual spot at the museum whenever he waited for Shane to come ashore. It wasn’t even possible to wait with the mother of his child. The boyfriend was there with her and he hated Kirk. There was little doubt in Kirk’s mind that Barry was responsible for Joel’s attitude toward Shane. They’d gotten along great until he’d entered Cindy’s life. Kirk wondered how much homophobia might be involved, and what sort of influence it was having on his son.

Lights.

It was difficult to tell if it was the cutter for sure. Even with dawn close to breaking, the only slightly less violent storm still kept the skies dark. Kirk tracked the movement of the lit object as it gradually became larger and larger—until it was clear that it was the Coast Guard ship. He didn’t have any sort of comparison to draw from as to whether their return could be considered too soon or too late. Did it mean they’d given up? Or that they’d been successful? He could only continue to wait.

As the vessel prepared to dock, Kirk released the white knuckled grip he had on the steering wheel, then took a deep breath as he exited the truck. Typically he would patiently wait until the ship had completed docking, but he had no patience left. All he wanted was to verify that Joel and Shane were okay.

With a purposeful stride, he bowed his head against the sideways rain. He was on the dock that ran past the museum and gift shop, but a shrill sound that pierced through the noisy storm brought him up short and he turned around.

Emergency vehicles. Flashing lights.

His body went numb and he stood there gaping at the frantic scene, his hands stuffed in his pockets. There were two ambulances, a fire engine, fire and rescue and two sheriff’s cruisers. As the trembling in his body increased, a large SUV pulled up—Astoria law enforcement had joined the party.

Ambulances were good, right?

It meant there was hope. But who were they for? What seemed like hundreds of questions tumbled through his mind, and the crazy he’d fought off all night beckoned to him. He didn’t dare go that route. Staying strong for the men he loved was vital. They were okay. They had to be.

Kirk trotted alongside two tarp covered gurneys guided by the EMT’s. They appeared to take no notice of him, their expressions purposeful, impossible for Kirk to decipher. He felt a hand on his shoulder. It belonged to a Clatsop County sheriff.

“You need to stay back, sir. Let these men do their jobs.”

“My son…”

And my lover.

“I understand, sir, but you still need to stay back.”

No you don’t. You don’t understand at all.

The officer placed himself between Kirk and the group of men near the plank waiting for the mysterious patients who would appear at any moment. Dozens of coasties exited the ship, all of them sheathed in protective raingear, each man blending into the next, impossible for Kirk to distinguish.

Then he saw them. Figures prone on boards, covered to protect them from the elements and being carried by what appeared to be several recruits. There were three, but there were only two gurneys. He kept trying to swallow, his breath caught in his throat. The first two were transferred to the stretchers, while the other remained supported by the men holding it. He had no idea what was going on.

His fear, the worry—it morphed into a new, stronger emotion. Anger. He was done waiting to find out what the hell was happening with his family. The sheriff who had stopped him was distracted as he spoke into a mic attached to the shoulder of his uniform. The gurneys were almost upon them and Kirk bolted forward.

The first one had a young man with brown hair, similar to his son’s, but he knew it wasn’t him. He recognized Rory, a long-time friend of Joel’s. A large bandage encircled his head and he appeared either asleep or unconscious. Kirk couldn’t see the rest of him under the cover, but he was struck by how wan he looked.

Right as he tore his gaze away from his son’s buddy, the next stretcher rolled by and he cried out.

“Shane!”

Ignoring the yells of the officer behind him, he jogged beside his lover’s unconscious form. Shane was as ghostly pale as Rory, small scratches on his chin, his cheek. Kirk wondered what other injuries might be hidden from view. He was prevented from going any further by the same sheriff that he’d already pissed off.

Where’s Joel?

There was still another casualty who needed an ambulance. Triage would’ve been performed aboard the cutter, so the EMTs would’ve taken the most critical patients first. He swallowed past a lump in his throat at what that meant about Shane and Rory. He’d discovered in the first frenzied hour after Shane had been called back to sea that Joel had been with two friends, Rory and Dean. An awful realization hit him.

“Officer, please. My son was out there and I don’t know if…” He fought to keep his voice from cracking. “I don’t know if he was even rescued, or if he’s the one still waiting for transport.” Kirk indicated to the group of men waiting. “Please…”

The sheriff considered him, then nodded. “Stay here. I’ll find out what I can.”

The answer he’d sought all night was within his reach and he was terrified to finally get it. Once he knew the truth, the hope for a different outcome would have been snatched away. He would be left with the reality in whatever form it might take.

The officer headed toward him at a fast clip. Thankfully the rain had dwindled down to an insistent drizzle. Everyone and everything was soaking wet already, but at least it wasn’t lashing against his face any longer. The sheriff stopped in front of him and Kirk held his breath.

“Are you Kirk Jansen?”

Please…

“Yes.”

“Joel is fine.”

Kirk released the air in his lungs, light-headed in his relief. “Is that him?”

“Yes. The medic aboard ship suggested he stay at the hospital for a day so they can keep an eye on him. All three of those young men are apparently very lucky. The medic told me that if Petty Officer Harper hadn’t gotten them out of the drink when he did, they probably wouldn’t have made it much longer. Between the cold and the boat they were on getting completely destroyed, it would have been next to impossible for them to survive.”

Kirk filed the loss of his boat away for later—after he’d made sure that everyone was going to be okay. “What about the third kid? Where’s he?”

“He’s still on the ship staying warm. He was deemed well enough to go home, so they’re keeping him inside until his parents arrive to pick him up.”

Kirk held out his hand and the officer took it.

“Thank you. I think my heart might be back to beating normally now.”

Kirk was still anxious to see his son, if only to verify that it really was him and that he was all in one piece. He stood in the drizzle, waiting again. As soon as another ambulance arrived to transport Joel, he would follow him to the hospital less than a mile away from where they were. He would call Cindy to let her know that their son was safe.

Then he would go to Shane and get word on his condition. The love he had for him was all encompassing. Kirk knew without a doubt that his future would be wherever Shane was.

Chapter Five

Shane rotated his hand, working through the ache. Even though it had been two months since he’d broken his wrist, it would still get stiff and if he overdid it, it would swell up. He snorted.

Good thing it was my left hand.

He barely remembered much of what had happened after he’d been brought back aboard the cutter. His next clear memory was waking to see Kirk looking down at him as he stroked Shane’s hair back. The expression he’d seen in his eyes had made Shane want to cry. The emotion there had been overpowering. In one day and night, their lives—all that they were to one another—had forever been altered. It thrilled him.

“Ow, dammit.”

He sucked some drops of blood off the end of his finger. If it wasn’t his achy wrist, he was being stabbed by the spiky shell of the Dungeness crab he was cleaning. Kirk had gone out to meet with the insurance adjuster regarding the loss of his boat. It seemed as if the pay-out would finally be deposited into his account. It wasn’t a fortune, but it was enough to start over—but not as a fisherman.

Shane heard the assured steps of his lover as he tromped up the stairs. He’d been rolling an idea around in his mind and wanted to approach Kirk about it. He had another month before he left on his next tour, and when he got back from that one, he wanted to really begin their new life together as a couple.

Cleaning the muck from the crab off the counter, he wrapped it up to be taken out later. The place reeked. He consoled himself at the thought of how tasty the creatures would be when they had dinner. The key turned in the lock then Kirk appeared in the doorway. Shane had been in the middle of a futile attempt to eradicate the exceedingly strong odor of fish that covered him—not that Kirk wasn’t overly familiar with that scent.

As if on cue, he breathed in deeply. “You picked up more crabs?”

“Yeah, two for one special. There’s been a great haul this season. That okay?”

Kirk had been advancing on him as he spoke until they were toe to toe. He pushed Shane against the kitchen counter with the force of his body then descended on his lips. Kirk tasted good. His kisses always hit Shane low in his belly, Shane’s balls tightening in response. Kirk used his tongue to explore Shane’s mouth, each swipe deepening their connection, demanding that Shane give Kirk whatever he wanted to take.

Shane stopped caring about fishy smells and what he’d planned for dinner or even the idea he wanted to share with Kirk. All he cared about was his lover’s touch, what Kirk would do with his body,
to
his body.

Kirk ground into him with force. Even though they were the same height and Shane had more than proved his strength, Kirk was tough, broader. Years of working long hours on the boat, hauling in fish, all of it had built a powerhouse of a man. The way he’d always used Shane during sex was shameless—until after the night of the storm. Once Shane had been hurt, Kirk’s tenderness and protective streak had manifested itself completely. Shane had sensed those qualities in the man he loved, and they’d been fully unleashed after the rescue.

But he wanted to be taken by Kirk the way he liked best. Hard. Rough. He needed it, needed to feel that someone else was taking care of everything for a change. Taking care of him.

Shane ran his hands up Kirk’s back, his lover’s muscles rippling as he undulated under Shane’s touch. Kirk moaned into the increasingly passionate kiss, both of them struggling to breathe in through their nostrils, reluctant to break the connection. Shane was the first to stop. They were breathless—Shane’s erection like steel, Kirk’s just as solid. It was incredibly difficult to stop himself from rutting against Kirk’s hip, and had Shane only wanted to get off quickly, they could have kept grinding into one another until they’d gotten what they wanted.

But Shane expected much more out of their evening.

“I need you Kirk.
You
. The way you hold me down, make me take it.”

At Shane’s words, Kirk circled his pelvis, pressed his hard length against Shane, a low moan in his chest. Yeah. Kirk wanted to make him take it too.

Shane struggled within Kirk’s arms, pushing at his chest. Kirk’s eyes darkened and he tightened his hold on him. As Shane twisted within his embrace, Kirk growled as he shoved his thigh between Shane’s legs, rubbing his dick against Shane’s leaking shaft. The restriction of the tight denim he wore heightened his pleasure, even as it increased his discomfort.

Shane mock fought Kirk some more, grappling with him, inciting him to go further than he ever had before. He bit into the crook of Shane’s neck and he cried out. It fucking hurt but Kirk soothed the spot with the wet heat of his tongue and Shane moaned his contentment.

“Yeah, babe. Like that.”

Kirk grabbed him by the nape of his neck before stepping away from Shane’s body. He took Shane’s arm, and bent it behind his back, capturing his uninjured wrist in a bruising hold. Pushing Shane out of the kitchen by his neck and arm, Kirk marched them both into the bedroom. When he reached the end of the bed, he threw Shane on it then landed on top of him.

The action forced the air from him again, but it didn’t matter because Kirk’s large frame covered him, kept him safe. They wrestled more, Shane doing all he could to make Kirk hold him stronger, more severely. He bucked, he writhed, every action designed to encourage Kirk to restrain him. But Shane also needed Kirk to fuck him, needed his thick cock up his ass.