Bound to Break: Men of Honor, Book 6 (18 page)

“Yeah, leukemia. Went into remission when I was six,” he said. “I’d been clear for twelve years when I enlisted, so I was able to get a waiver.”

“And you get checked for it regularly?”

“Yeah, Doc checks for me,” Sawyer said quietly.

“And everything’s okay?” he asked, surprised how calm he sounded because he swore his heart nearly dropped to the fucking ground.

“It’s fine, yes. Tests just came back yesterday. All clear still.”

“I’m glad you told me.”

“I didn’t want to freak you out.”

“I’m trying not to,” Rex admitted. “But it’s better that I know.”

Sawyer looked like he had something else to tell him. “It kind of runs in my family. Skipped my dad but my grandfather…same thing happened. Only his came back when he was an adult.”

“How old was he when it came back?”

“Twenty-eight.”

Sawyer’s age. Jesus Christ. “I’m guessing you left that bit of family history out when the Navy asked?”

“
I
didn’t know, Rex. At the time I enlisted, I didn’t know, so yeah, I left it out.” His voice sounded raw. “My mom didn’t want it hanging over my head and my grandfather died long before I was born—his medical records are somewhere in Europe. She thought I’d been through too much. And she figured that I shouldn’t spend all that time worrying about it. When I was younger, she kept bringing me for tests and she knew I’d have to be in the Navy so…”

“When did she tell you?”

“She never did. My stepdad finally did, about two years ago. He thought I had a right to know.”

“What do you think?”

“It’s not the reason I’m angry with my mom. You know what bothers me about her, but at the same time, I understand. She loved Dad. Couldn’t get over it.” He sighed. “I would’ve worried the entire time I knew. I almost wish my stepfather didn’t tell me.”

Rex tried to keep calm, because he understood what Sawyer was saying—there was no good choice there. “Like you said, you get tested. They didn’t have the same advances then as they do now.”

“Right,” Sawyer said firmly.

“Come here.” Rex put the line down. Sawyer did too and Rex just held him tight for a long time.

“Not how I wanted to tell you,” Sawyer said. “Didn’t want to ruin the first night we’ve both been able to get away from all the shit.”

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t want to get away from anything that has to do with you, understand?”

Sawyer nodded, and Rex held him tighter to make sure he did. “I wish we could stay out here all night.”

“Your wish, my command,” Rex told him, because he couldn’t think of a better night to keep Sawyer all to himself, away from the reach of the world. “We can pull the inflatable mattress and sleep right out here, under the stars.”

Sawyer finally smiled.

“Wait here. Let me fix everything.” Rex was well aware of how badly he wanted those words to apply to everything in Sawyer’s life. For tonight, he did what he could, got the mattress and blankets and radio and food, put everything near them. Anchored so they wouldn’t drift too far out. And then he tucked Sawyer in next to him. The man shivered against him, the strain of the past obviously weighing heavily on him.

“Tell me what I can do to make it easier.”

“Just knowing you know helps. I can tell Doc you can check with him about my tests too.”

“That would help me,” Rex said. “But that’s not what I asked.”

Sawyer still looked so troubled. “When my dad drowned…he didn’t die right away. The Coast Guard found him. Pulled him out and revived him, but he never really came back. They got his heart started but the docs determined he’d been under water for at least twenty minutes, based on his distress call. They were able to start his heart because the water was really cold and the medics at the scene were hoping that was enough to preserve brain function but he didn’t have any DNR papers in place, and…”

They lived on the edge of life and death most of the time with their jobs, but this…

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

“She kept my dad alive longer than he would’ve wanted. I was young, but I knew that. He was really active. I remember all the wires. She wouldn’t let him go. Things got ugly with my mom because I talked to my gram about it later on, because I didn’t understand why she’d let him suffer. And then later, after my mom got remarried, things got bad because my mom and my stepdad were always fighting.”

Rex held him tighter. “We’ll sign papers that detail exactly what you want. And if it kills me, I’ll make sure they’re followed to the letter. And we can look at the papers as a good-luck thing—if they’re in place, means we’ll never need them.”

“Thanks,” Sawyer said quietly. “I know we’re not supposed to have that in place…”

Because they were never supposed to go into a mission thinking of their own mortality. That was a terrible mindset.

Some guys wrote a letter before every trip. Some didn’t. But plans like this…

“I’ll make one too,” Rex told him.

“You don’t have to.”

“Do I ever do shit I don’t want to?”

“No.”

“Then don’t argue.”

“Okay.”

Rex stroked a hand through Sawyer’s hair. “I know it couldn’t have been easy telling me. Especially with what’s happening with Josh—Lucky—but I don’t want you to worry about us. I’ve got to help him. I know you understand that. But I’m not going back to him, Sawyer. You’ve got to believe me.”

“I do, Rex. I think my issues were way more about us than they ever were about him. But being with you like this…it makes me realize that it’s okay that we still have a lot of learning about each other to do.”

Rex slid a hand down to finger Sawyer’s ass, watched the man smile and move against his hand as his fingers got more aggressive. “Still so goddamned tight.”

Sawyer bit at Rex’s shoulder as he added a second finger, then a third. He urged Sawyer’s leg up, hooked it over his shoulder as he continued to play with the younger man’s ass. Sawyer groaned against Rex’s chest, his breath warm, his body trembling as he fought to stay still after Rex added the fourth finger.

He wouldn’t go further—not out here and not tonight, but seeing how responsive Sawyer was to just the mere suggestion of it made Rex put fisting on his list of things to try. And soon.

For now, he contented himself with turning his four fingers inside Sawyer as a unit, filling him, holding him captive so all he could do was take what Rex gave him. His body had stilled, even without Rex telling him to. The look in Sawyer’s eyes was a mix of lust and peace, and he continued, keeping Sawyer in his semi-trance, not letting him rub his cock against Rex.

Finally, he could tell Sawyer was growing desperate, but it was such a goddamned good desperate. He whimpered. His neck corded.

“You can come from this—not letting you touch your cock.”

“Fuck. Rex.” Sawyer’s words were barely a breath.

“Come on, baby. Come for me.” Rex eased his fingers out, then slid one back in with his knuckle folded to brush Sawyer’s prostate with a light tap. Sawyer stiffened with that, and Rex hit his gland harder, several times quickly, and Sawyer came, spilling his come between their bodies.

After that, Sawyer slept while Rex held him and watched the stars. He didn’t wake the man up even when he piloted the boat back before dawn, but Sawyer stretched and rose just in time to see the sun come up.

Chapter Eighteen

The next morning, Dash listened as Lucky checked in with Cooper, as per the agreement made for his release. They had breakfast and then Lucky went to meet Cooper for a therapy session.

Dash didn’t see Lucky again until that afternoon at Lucky’s apartment. The man looked drained. Slightly angry and a little defeated.

Dash hated seeing him like that. “Bad session?”

Lucky shrugged. “Don’t want to talk about it. How’s Emme?”

Dash had promised him that he’d call Emme and let her know Lucky was okay. “She’s thrilled you’re okay. She’s still barely speaking to me.”

Lucky looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. Not on that subject. Instead, he pointed to the two large boxes Dash had carried in and set on the floor. “What are those?”

“My photos. My work. You can look.”

Lucky did, lifted the lids and pulled out a small stack of pictures. That one was simply labeled
Chile
. “What’re you doing with them?”

“I need you to organize them.”

“You’re giving me busy work now?”

“Do you have something better to do?”

“I could find something.”

“That pays?”

Lucky smiled. “Cash only. Small bills.”

Dash snorted with laughter. “Just don’t fuck it up. Each job gets its own book.”

“Any particular order?”

“Use your judgment. I’d like to see how the work speaks to you.”

“You trust me with that?”

“Yeah,” Dash said. “Besides, I can always change them around.”

Lucky absently shot him the middle finger, but he was already sitting among the stacks of pictures, engrossed in Dash’s trip to Chile.

“I’m going to head out for a little while—I’ve got a meeting to go to, okay?” Dash told him and Lucky barely nodded. Dash was grateful he was so caught up in the photography, because he didn’t like what he’d planned for Lucky.

But he told himself it was necessary, for both their peace of mind. For Dash’s family. The camera Dash had planted in Lucky’s apartment would capture reactions. And he felt like shit for doing it, but he knew Lucky had no expectations of privacy. Had been told as much.

So Dash sat in his rented house in front of the computer with the camera feed and watched Lucky working with his photos.

Dash held his breath when Lucky got to the stack he’d been waiting for. Lucky had taken his time with the first two batches. Both places Lucky had been as a SEAL.

Lucky took an interest in them, although Cooper had told him that wasn’t the right word. These places were a part of Lucky—he’d been drawn to Dash’s photos from the start and ultimately Dash, because of that.

“So wait…the feelings he has for me…you’re saying it might only be some kind of transference?” Dash had asked.

Cooper had shrugged.

“I fucking hate shrinks and their non-answer answers,” he’d told the man.

Now, that conversation was etched in his mind as he watched Lucky begin to lay out the photos on the floor as he’d done with the others. It looked like a big puzzle he was trying to make sense of…

He sat back on his heels and stared. Like he’d done with the other pictures, he hadn’t really looked at them until they were all laid out in front of him.

Lucky tilted his head as he stared, and Dash moved closer to the computer screen, looking for the recognition. A look of horror or satisfaction, the lift of a brow, a subtle change of expression. Anything.

But Lucky looked no different than he had when perusing the other photos. A look of appreciation, a look of frustration that maybe this scratched the wall put up between his past and present…but it wasn’t enough to slam through it. Not even close.

And if those pictures didn’t do it…

He sat back and breathed out, frustrated. Dash’s memories were coming to the surface all too easily and he hated it. He watched the pictures—how Lucky put them in an order Dash wouldn’t have picked himself but he had to admit it worked better—and he could point to each picture and retrace his steps.

This is where Jim and I infiltrated.

This is where Jim and I got captured.

This is the last place I saw Jim alive.

The difference was, Dash had seen the body. Escaped with Jim’s body bag…saw the DNA.

Twenty-four hours after Jim was killed, the SEAL team with Rex and Lucky had come in and Dash had escaped.

He’d seen Lucky’s scars.

He had them too. He just wore them on the inside.

Dash accompanied Lucky to his afternoon therapy session. Cooper looked less than pleased, but Dash didn’t give a shit.

“Hey Lucky, can you grab me a soda?” Cooper asked after the men had walked in.

Lucky rolled his eyes. “If you want time alone to talk about me, could just say that,” he called over his shoulder as he walked out.

“He really is a smartass,” Cooper muttered. “And what the hell are you thinking, spending time with him like this?”

“You’re not finding any evidence that he’s a traitor. I like him, Cooper. If he’s not a traitor, he’s a decorated naval hero.”

“That’s true. But it’s more complicated than that, and you know it. From all accounts, Josh Kent was an exemplary SEAL. Calm. Collected. Never showed violent tendencies. His testing from then and now, it’s eerily similar. I can’t see him suddenly turning violent, even if he remembers.”

“But you’re worried because he does have specialized training.”

“Maybe. He seems to sense that. I’ve confirmed that he never used excessive force at his job. He’s been briefed in that. It’s been demonstrated to him in a controlled environment in case it triggered something. I was hoping it would.”