Bound to Break: Men of Honor, Book 6 (7 page)

“The Navy’s here?”

“There are two MPs outside, waiting to make sure we get you on the plane.”

“Is Dash with the Navy?”

“I don’t know. He’s definitely not a civilian.”

And he hadn’t been defending him against Nate at all. He’d been planning with him, waiting, to make sure Lucky didn’t leave. He’d known Rex was coming.

He’d known Lucky would be leaving South Africa today, and that he might not ever be able to come back.

“I’m sorry, Lucky. It must be hard not knowing who to trust. But you can trust me. You always did. And the three of us, your team, we’ll take you back.”

Three men he’d lived and died with would escort him.

Three men determined to yank Josh out of the grave and resurrect him.

Lucky packed while Rex, Nate and Uncle—and the MPs—waited outside, like they were guarding him.

Because they are.

The urge to fight was strong—he recognized it, the same way he’d thought about breaking out of the hospital the night he’d been found on the beach. The same urge had been there that night he’d first seen Nate.

He was capable of fighting. And winning. And because he knew that somewhere deep inside him, he kept his anger tamped down when he found out that Dash had betrayed him.

He kept it in check purposely, because he didn’t know exactly what else he was capable of. But he’d done some research on SEALs after texting Emme and asking her to come see him. He wanted to explain things to her himself, and the MPs agreed to let that happen.

He’d done the research in the desperate hope of triggering a memory—any memory. But there was still nothing. He’d also researched the FBI and CIA. He was pretty sure Dash was the latter. Why else would he be involved in this, especially if he wasn’t Navy?

Why the hell would he care who Lucky was if he wasn’t Navy?

As always, there were more questions than answers.

The bar was open for the afternoon beach crowd, and the music began to drum up under his feet. He sat on the floor, the way he’d done countless times before, and let the music soak over him. Stared up at Dash’s framed photographs that lined the walls of the bedroom, like he’d been doing for years and realized that, as a SEAL, he must’ve worked in some of these areas.

He stood like a shot at that thought. No memories but hell…was that why he’d been so drawn to the photographs? Why he’d taken such comfort from them?

He ran his hands over one of them. Tried to picture Dash taking all of them, trying to rectify the man who’d saved him from Nate, the one who’d given him amazing sex with the man who’d turned him in to Nate and Rex. And the Navy.

“Lucky?” Emme called. He heard male voices mingled in, looked out the bedroom and saw Dash coming into the apartment with her.

Last person he wanted to see.

“You’re packing?” she asked.

He couldn’t take his eyes from Dash’s, wondered when the hell the guy would have the guts to admit what he’d done. “I know you turned me in. What I can’t figure out is why you didn’t tell me?”

Dash didn’t answer, and Lucky was prepared to wait him out.

Emme, of course, wasn’t. She looked between him and her brother. “What do you mean, turned you in? Are you running from the law?”

“From the Navy,” Dash said, never taking his eyes off Lucky.

“You’re a deserter?” Emme asked him.

“He didn’t know,” Dash said. “Technically, that would make him UA—Unauthorized Absence.”

“How gallant, making excuses for me,” Lucky told him. “And if you believe that, why the hell didn’t you just leave it alone?”

Dash’s expression softened for a fleeting second. “No one should be forced to live a lie. Figure out who you are, and then if you want to come back, you come back.”

“Why are you making him go, Dash?” Emme asked, stopping Lucky from spitting more angry words at him. “If he has no memory…”

“You knew?” Lucky asked, dragging his eyes from Dash’s. Her blue eyes were darker than Dash’s, her hair just as blond. She was so pretty. So good to him. And she’d known he’d been lying to her all this time.

“I did,” she admitted. “Your story was good. But the way you arrived…the doctor said the scars were fresh.”

“You knew and you didn’t care that I lied to you?”

“I figured you had your reasons. And you’re a good guy, Luck—that much I knew, and that’s all that mattered. I’m sorry. Maybe I should’ve said something.”

“Not your fault, Em. You helped me. Saved me. I won’t forget that.”

“Do what Dash says—figure it out then come back here.”

He hugged her and tried to pretend he didn’t feel like it was the last time he’d see her.

“Mom and Dad are going to be upset,” she said, and he saw her glare at Dash.

“Sorry I couldn’t say thanks or goodbye to them.”

Emme turned her attention back to Lucky. “Well, call as soon as you can. Tell us where we can find you.”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t I believe you? Don’t make me hunt you down. You know I will.”

He knew. “I’ll call when I can. Not sure what’s going to happen.”

She was looking over his shoulder. He turned and saw Nate, Rex and the other man from the photo.

The word
Uncle
couldn’t get any more ironic.

“They’re arresting you?” Emme asked.

Rex came forward. “Escorting him home safely, ma’am, like we weren’t able to do before.”

Lucky turned back to her. “They’re my team. They were with me…thought I died.”

And I did.

“Oh, Lucky.” She put a hand on his cheek. “I’m so sorry, for all of you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Lucky told her, which was the biggest lie ever. He didn’t know about the rest of them. He glanced at Dash and then back at Rex. “Ready.”

Rex grabbed his bag before he could.

“I can do that.”

“I know. Fuck, I left you behind once. Let me at least carry this for you.”

Lucky swallowed a lump in his throat, and he didn’t fully understand why he’d gotten choked up to begin with.

Dash got Lucky and his team to the private military plane that awaited them, complete with MPs and JAGs to make sure all of this was by the book.

Lucky turned to him before he boarded the plane, stared at him with a look Dash couldn’t place.

It was probably hatred, and Dash could understand that…but a part of him, the wishful-thinking part, thought it was more than that. And then Lucky turned and got on the plane and his team followed.

Dash left the airport before they went wheels-up, spoke to his supervisor as he drove back to talk to Emme, who was no doubt furious with him.

“We’ll have to interview your family—you realize that,” his supervisor told him. “The CIA and the Navy both want a piece of this.”

He’d figured as much, which was why he wasn’t on the flight with Lucky.

His supervisor continued, “I think you might have to let them know everything now. You know I don’t say that lightly.”

Dash had been thinking that as well, all of it. His job depended on secrecy, as did the lives of his family. Shielded for their own good.

Now, all that was going to change. But he couldn’t leave them open to danger. “I’ll talk to them. They’ll cooperate fully.”

“And we’ll put a team on them until this is straightened out. Your pick.”

That would help, but it wasn’t perfect. Dash would also call in some private contractors who knew the area well to supplement the CIA. The more the merrier or some shit like that.

“Once that’s set up, we need you in Virginia to oversee what’s happening with Josh Kent.”

He’d been planning on it, but not officially. He didn’t want official and Lucky in the same sentence. “I got him there—job over.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It was never an official mission.”

“No. But I told you to go with your gut. You were right. You can’t just end it here. You can’t tell me you want to.”

Dash couldn’t tell him that. He should want to end things, but what he’d actually thought about was taking Lucky and running with him, bringing him someplace where he could test his memories.

Maybe he was going soft. Maybe he should retire.

Or maybe he’d fallen for someone for the first goddamned time in his life. “He’s got amnesia.”

“Or he’s an excellent liar. Trained, just like you.”

Dash winced internally at his supervisor’s words. “The shrink can parse that out.”

“With your help.”

“How?”

“Any way you can, Dashiell. I know how far you’ll go for the job. So go there.”

Dash couldn’t argue, so he didn’t.

Emme was waiting for him in the kitchen. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she was tapping the table like she always did, right before she exploded.

She stared up at him. Didn’t say anything. And that wasn’t like her at all.

“I’m really sorry,” he started.

“Who are you?” she asked. “What’s your job, Dashiell?”

It could only be worse if she middle-named him. “I’m with the CIA.”

She stared. Blinked. Shook her head and muttered to herself and then pointed at him. Said nothing. Pointed again, then put her hands together on the table.

“I tried to shield you from this shit forever, Em. Didn’t want you to worry.”

She turned to him. She looked stunned, rightfully so, and no doubt angry and scared, and it was everything he hadn’t wanted to do to her.

“I’m sorry, Em,” he said quietly.

“You’re a CIA agent.”

“Yes.”

“Like on TV.”

“They don’t always get it right,” he offered lamely, and when she glared he nodded. “Yes, like that.”

“And you came here to find Lucky.”

“No. That was…coincidence. I was following Nate, the SEAL from his team.”

“You think he was coming here to hurt us?”

“He said he was coming here to surf. He seemed as surprised to find Lucky here as I was.”

“And you think Lucky was sent here to hurt us but lost his memory instead?”

“I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

“I need some time,” she said quietly, her arms wrapped around herself. “I need to just take some time and absorb all of this.”

“Look, I get that, but we have to talk first,” he said.

“About Lucky?”

“Yes.”

She dropped her arms to her sides and slumped into the kitchen chair. Their parents wouldn’t be back until that evening—he wouldn’t leave her alone until then.

Nate had seemed surprised that Lucky was living with Dash’s family, but they were all skillfully trained liars, and Dash was trained to not believe anyone.

And yet, he believed Lucky. So fuck his training to hell.

“What do you want to know?” she asked.

“Hate to say it, but can you start from the beginning?”

She did, told him the story of finding Lucky, her tone flat the entire time, a monotone monologue. Everything she said matched Lucky’s timeline to a T. She talked about how balanced the books were since he got here. How he split his tips because he said he didn’t need anything. She told him that the majority of the tips were Lucky’s, which Dash could easily see. She talked about his demeanor. His general habits.

Dash had already swept the apartment, house and bar and found nothing out of the ordinary. “Relationships?”

“One-night stands. He was lonely, but he wouldn’t let himself get involved.” She sounded so defensive.

“Did he ever meet with anyone who made you feel uncomfortable?”

“Are you kidding me with this?”

“No, I’m not.”

“I never saw any terrorist at the bar.”

“This isn’t an interrogation.”

“Feels like it.”

“It’s part of my job, Em. I’ve got to protect you.”

“Wouldn’t need to if you didn’t bring the danger to us.” She stared at him like she’d never seen him before. “So what else is a lie?”

“Nothing.”

“The photography is.”

“No, it’s not. That’s a separate job that happened to work perfectly with this one. It’s what I’d be doing anyway. I’m just lucky I can combine the two.”

At the mention of the word
lucky
, she blanched. “When can I talk to him?”

“I really don’t know.”

“Could the answer be never?”

“I don’t want it to be.” Truth be told, he’d love to clear these guys. They were American heroes, best of the best.

And if one or all had been turned, it meant they could easily be the worst of the worst.

He turned the empty bottle of Fanta in his hands at the table he’d grown up at.

He’d been sitting here alone when the call had come in. He’d been twenty at the time, home from college in the States for summer break. And the man on the other end of the line had wanted to talk to him about his future.