Bound to Break: Men of Honor, Book 6 (21 page)

“I think he knows what you went through together. It’s a whole different level of friendship. Clint has a few of them, and so do I.”

“Yeah.” Somehow, that made Sawyer feel better when maybe it should make him feel worse.

Maybe if his mother had more in her life, she’d have been able to move on. Maybe she’d made love a crutch and that’s what had ruined her for other men.

Because you’re not empty
, he told himself. Out loud, he muttered, “I’m an idiot.”

Rex ran a hand through Sawyer’s hair, an affectionate, personal gesture that always made Sawyer hard, and Rex knew it, which is why he did it. Because he’d always look between Sawyer’s face and then down to his dick and back up with a small grin on his face.

Pride.

“Maybe we went too fast.”

“Or maybe we went just right,” Rex told him. “Work’s always going to get in the way. We’ve got to find out how to fit in more fishing trips.”

Sawyer smiled. “That’d be cool.”

“I’m glad you stuck with me through this, Sawyer. I know it’s been shitty.”

Tomorrow was Sawyer’s twenty-eighth birthday. And even though they both knew that cancer didn’t always mark itself off on an exact calendar, the fact that Sawyer had gotten past his grandfather’s age of when his cancer had returned was a huge milestone. Something that had weighed so heavily on Sawyer’s mind for so damned long. And he never wanted Sawyer to go through anything alone.

“Relationship shit’s hard,” Sawyer said.

“Guess that’s what makes it worth it. If it was easy, everyone would do it right.” Rex cut the engine, dropped the anchor and turned the lights on. They were in a cove, farther than they’d been the other night.

He motioned for Sawyer to sit on deck and joined him. He spread blankets out and had a picnic of cold foods, lots of seafood, like lobster rolls and potato salad, and as they ate, they talked about their days. Rex was jealous that Sawyer got to spend it outside and free, because he’d been stuck in meetings all day.

After he’d said that, he’d looked at Sawyer and said, “I fucking hate lying to you.”

“You weren’t in meetings all day?”

“I was in therapy sessions. Meetings with JAGs. Navy officials.”

Sawyer’s stomach tightened. “Because of Lucky.”

“Yes. And since there are no indications that I knew he was alive, no contacts made, I’m sure things will be fine. But right now, it’s hell not being one hundred percent believed. I can only imagine what it’s doing to Lucky.”

There was always a pause right before Rex used the name Lucky, like he had to try really hard not to let “Josh” slip out.

“But I didn’t bring you out here to talk about that. I brought you out here to…well, you shared your past. I’ve acted like letting you into what happened to me during my time in captivity made everything okay, like you said. And it’s mostly because I don’t want to deal with it, not because I don’t want to share it.”

Sawyer pushed his food to the side and lay down on one of the big pillows Rex had put out. Rex joined him and they lay side by side, the boat’s easy rocking reassuring. But Sawyer didn’t touch him, was afraid that if he did, they’d be having sex in seconds. Not that that would be the worst thing, but when Rex was ready to talk, Sawyer needed to listen.

“You never mention your parents,” Sawyer said after Rex had been silent for a while.

“Didn’t know them. I was left on the church steps. Brought to an orphanage. I stayed there for several years.”

“I thought babies got adopted pretty easily.”

“Girls more than boys, but yeah, they typically do. I was too serious, from what they told me later.”

Sawyer grabbed for Rex’s hand. “You were born that way then.”

“I didn’t cry or coo or any of that stuff, so everyone through there was something wrong with me. Obviously, I don’t remember that, but I was pretty much in group foster-home-type situations until I was twelve. Then a family took me in. They liked it because I didn’t cause trouble and they collected a paycheck. And they were nice enough. Disinterested. But I had my own room and food. Roof over my head.”

“And you think that was enough?”

“I didn’t know any better. And don’t feel sorry for me.” He smiled when he said it. “I thought life was serious and I like being quiet and serious. Observing. I learn a hell of a lot that way.”

“Basically, I drive you crazy because I move around all the time.” As he spoke, he realized he’d been jiggling his foot the entire time he’d been lying here.

“Not at all. You’re exactly what I need to remind me that I’d be missing out on so many of the good parts of life without you.”

“I really owe Lucky.”

Rex’s brow furrowed.

“Because I’m guessing he’s the one who showed you how to love. And then you were able to show me. So I definitely owe him.”

Rex smiled. “If you look at it that way, yes. Lucky and I bonded because we came from similar backgrounds. We had each other’s backs because of that, and it never stopped. Never will. And I need to know if you’re really okay with that.”

“I’m really okay with it.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Lucky sat in the familiar therapy room, Dash by his side.

Cooper was obviously shaken. Lucky rubbed his palms nervously on his thighs and noted that Cooper looked at him oddly.

“What? Josh wouldn’t have shown his nerves?” The added sarcasm didn’t help the already tense situation.

“No, he wouldn’t have,” Cooper answered, cutting a look to Dash.

“Can you just tell me what you brought me here for?” Lucky asked. Because Dash had been weird since he’d ushered Lucky into the car after receiving a phone call from Cooper.

It was two in the morning, not exactly prime time for a therapy session, which meant that Cooper had news. And Lucky might not remember things, but he knew innately that phone calls in the middle of the night could rarely bring good news.

Cooper held up an envelope, plain manila with no writing on it. “I found this in my car tonight. I brought it right back in here and played it.”

“No indication who it’s from?”

“None. I can send it to forensics, but I thought you’d want to see it first,” Cooper told them. He’d put on rubber gloves when he touched the envelope and the CD case and the CD contained within. He put it into the computer and turned the large screen around toward Lucky and Dash. Instinctively, Lucky sat forward, and next to him, Dash mirrored his actions.

The screen started off with a jerk, as though someone wasn’t used to holding a video camera. The background was black and then got lighter and Lucky got dizzy just watching.

There were voices in the background. Spanish. English.

Next to him, Dash froze. Lucky didn’t have to look at Dash to know, but he felt it instantly. He kept his eyes trained on the screen, not wanting to miss a goddamned thing, because this was important. He knew it in his bones.

After several more minutes of nothing on the screen but dizzying movement, Lucky finally realized the person holding the camera down had been walking. Maybe hadn’t even realized the camera was on.

That was made clearer when the user put the camera down, sideways, and Lucky saw himself and two other men on the screen.

Cooper rotated the computer screen so they could watch the video right side up.

Lucky realized that he looked much the way he had in the lie detector video—the long hair, the beard, but he was thinner. Pale. Bloody.

He looked like hell on the screen. Could barely hold his head up. The men spoke to him, rapid-fire Spanish—had he known Spanish at one point? So many therapy sessions, so many points to remember.

Josh had known so many things, had been good at them all.

Lucky couldn’t decipher a word. It was like watching a movie for the first time. And even though doctors and Rex, Nate and Uncle had pieced together what had happened to him during his time in captivity, he didn’t know how things ended up for him, at least not after he was taken from the others and before he was dumped into the water.

Would he find out here? Or would this be just another frustrating piece in the incomplete puzzle of his life?

“You should turn this off,” Dash said through gritted teeth.

“He needs to see it,” Cooper answered quietly.

“Should’ve been vetted through me,” Dash continued.

Lucky never took his eyes from the screen. Dynamite couldn’t have torn him away from it.

There were bruises on his body and face, but no one hit him. Instead, they handed him a cup and he drank out of it. Asked for, and got, more.

In Spanish.

And then the men were talking to him and he was laughing with them. Nodding in agreement. And then he said something and one of them shook his hand and the other clapped him on the back.

“What did I say?” he asked Dash urgently as the screen froze and the tape ended.

“Lucky…”

“Tell me. Fucking tell me what I said.” But he knew from the look on Dash’s face that was a losing proposition, so he turned to Cooper. “You said you wouldn’t lie to me.”

Dash stood, like he’d bodily stop Cooper from saying anything, but he didn’t move toward the guy.

Cooper finally said, “You told them, ‘I’m ready to do anything I need to. Just let them go, like you promised, and I’ll do whatever you need.’”

He made Cooper rewind and continue to translate. This time around, Lucky heard “Dashiell” and “Africa” in the mix of the Spanish, and he insisted Cooper tell him every damned thing he said, even though he didn’t want to know.

“There’s no going back,” the disembodied voice on the screen said to Josh, the voice pinging something in Lucky. He couldn’t pinpoint it and so he shook it off as merely something that was making him sick, watched himself on the screen, staring at whoever the off-camera man was and telling him, according to Cooper, “I don’t want to go back. There’s no reason to do so now—I’m where I belong.”

Lucky was glad he hadn’t gotten out of his seat, not when his world spun and he got dizzy. Dash got on his knees in front of him. Lucky could still see the frozen computer screen over Dash’s shoulder, watched his expression of happiness on the screen.

“Listen to me, Lucky. We talked about what a good liar you are. You were probably telling them what they wanted to hear. For survival.”

“Rex told me that they used to promise they’d make it all stop, for all of us, if just one of us talked,” Lucky said slowly.

“Right. So you might’ve decided to trick them.”

That could be true, but he had no idea if it was or not.

“Jesus, Dash,” was all he could manage.

“He needs to stay here,” Cooper said.

“He’s going back with me. He’s under my care,” Dash responded, never taking his eyes from Lucky’s.

Lucky felt shattered, like if he stood, he’d break. But Dash helped him up, walked him out of the room and building and away from the goddamned video. He was vaguely aware of the car ride, hiding in the darkness.

He liked that. When they got inside his apartment he begged Dash not to turn the lights on, and Dash complied.

“Everything okay?” Clint asked. Normally, Rex would bitch at him, ask if he’d ask that every time Rex’s number came up.

This time, he said, “No. Is Sawyer there?”

“He’s not.”

Rex forced himself to remain calm, but the terrible feeling he’d had earlier intensified. “Has Jace spoken to him?”

He heard Clint asking Jace and then he was on speaker with both of them.

“I haven’t heard from him since I dropped him at the boat,” Jace said.

“We were going to spend the night on the boat, but I got called in. Sawyer dropped me off, said he’d grab some food at the diner and wait for me. I’ve been calling him and got no answer. I went to the diner. My truck’s there, but no sign of Sawyer. The waitresses don’t remember him even coming in.”

“Rex, what were you called in about?” Clint asked.

“That’s just it. When I got there, no one knew anything about me being called in.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Lucky curled on his side on the bed. Buried his cheek against the pillow that smelled like Dash and wondered if he was going into some kind of shock. He shivered, even though the room was warm and he was both grateful and worried when Dash pressed his chest against his back, spooning him.

They lay like that, silent, in the dark, for a long time. There was no danger of Lucky sleeping, because his mind was on overdrive.

“Even if I do fall asleep, it won’t matter. I’m too fucked up to even have nightmares,” he told Dash now.

Dash answered with his face pressed against Lucky’s shoulder. Rubbed the scruff of his cheek back and forth until the roughness made Lucky hard.

“Some people dream all the time and never get anywhere close to as good of a time in real life. I’d rather have the real life than the dreams, Lucky.”

His voice sounded husky.

“How, Dash? How can you still want me—this—after seeing that tonight?”