Laura's Wolf (Werewolf Marines) (43 page)

“I can’t do that,” DJ protested. “I’ve always called him Roy. Except when we first met, and I called him Farrell and he called me Torres.”

“If he’s Roy, I’m Laura. But as a favor, seeing as how you’re Roy’s best friend, I’ll call
you
whatever you like. Would you prefer DJ, or Lechon, or Torres, or Dale?” Laura gave him her sweetest smile. “Or I could make up a special nickname for you.”

“I’ll pass, thanks. And nobody calls me Dale. Except—” The knife stopped tapping, and Laura once again spotted a flash of sadness. Then DJ laughed. “Okay, you got me. Laura. And I prefer DJ. Unless you come over to my parents’ house, and then it’s Lechon. And don’t try to get my folks to not call you Lemon Meringue. I was teasing you, but when they do it, they’re welcoming you as family. They’ll be hurt if you try to stop them.”

“Ash and Basil may call me Lemon Meringue,” Laura said graciously.

“What
can
you tell me, DJ?” Roy asked.

“I can tell you why I didn’t pack-bond with you. I assume you know enough now that you’ve been wondering.” DJ reached up behind him, fiddling with the window blinds. “I don’t know, maybe I should have. I’ve been second-guessing myself on that ever since.”

“You could’ve done that?” Laura asked.

“Oh, sure.” DJ turned to Roy. “I could feel you instinctively trying to bond with me. But you were so weak, it was easy for me to block it. I felt awful shutting you out, but I thought it would be better for you to have no bond for a while than for you to bond with me and then be separated. That’s traumatizing. The shape you were in, I was afraid it might even kill you.”

“You did the right thing,” Roy said. “From what I’ve heard, I did better with no pack at all than if I’d had one and been cut off from it. But how
did
we get separated?”

Sunlight flickered over DJ’s face as the blinds opened and shut, opened and shut. “I told you everything you needed to know—that you had to bond with my family, why you couldn’t bond with me, and so forth—over and over, hoping it would sink in. I had a feeling it might not have, but I thought I’d call my family and tell them what happened—we have codes for werewolf-related stuff—and they could visit you in the hospital.

“You were unconscious by the time medevac arrived, and you weren’t breathing that well. As soon the helo took off, you got a lot worse. They shoved me out of the way so they could work on you, and then you came to and started struggling.”

“I remember that,” Roy said. “Sort of. Did I actually change?”

“Yeah, you did. I practically threw myself on top of you, and you changed back. But for a couple seconds, you were a wolf.” DJ jabbed an accusatory finger at Roy. “And by the way, you shouldn’t have been able to do that. Changing takes focus. You can’t do it when you’re asleep or unconscious. But I guess you were conscious enough.

“All I could do was hope that I’d blocked most of the view, and they’d figure their eyes had played tricks on them. I kept on yelling to try to cover up and distract them. I hoped they’d think I was having some kind of combat stress reaction. I guess I overdid it, because one of them jammed a needle in my arm.”

DJ got up and paced, twisting his fork between his fingers. “I woke up in a lab. Not the same one you were in. They told me straight off that you had died, I’d been declared killed in action, they knew what I was, and I could either work for them in black ops or stay in the lab and ‘help with their experiments.’ I was there for a while, and then I broke out. Let’s leave it at that for now.”

“Who was running the lab?” Laura asked.

“Secret government-within-the-government agency. I wouldn’t worry about them coming after you, though. They had their chance, and they blew it. Oh, one more thing. I found my mate!” DJ’s face lit up with an astonished, giddy smile.

“Congratulations,” Roy said.

“She’s awesome,” DJ said proudly. “You guys would love her.”

“You should’ve brought her,” Laura said.

DJ let out a long sigh. “Yeah, well, some other time. She had stuff to do. Important stuff. I’m sure if I’d told her about the mission, she’d have been thrilled to come along, but I didn’t want to distract her. Like I said, she had… stuff.”

Roy’s eyebrows went up. “Did she? Or did you open your mouth once too often, and she kicked you to the curb?”

“Yeah, kind of—No!” DJ started talking so fast, he sounded like a sports announcer. “No, no, no! She didn’t kick me out, she really did have important stuff going on, it’s complicated,
she’s
complicated, we mutually decided it would be better if we split up. Not ‘split up’ like ‘break up!’ ‘Split up’ like ‘don’t physically occupy the same space.’ For a little while! Not forever! She’ll be back, I know she will.”

He stopped like a turned-off radio and sank back down into his chair. “I hope she will.”

Roy punched DJ’s shoulder. “Go after her, man.”

“Don’t chase her,” Laura advised. “Give her space to think about it and miss you.”

“Thanks for the united front. Now my path is clear.” Glumly, DJ started shoveling cold scrambled eggs into his mouth.

“I’ll make you some coffee,” Laura said, to give him some alone time with the eggs and his thoughts.

Roy joined her in the kitchen. Together they watched DJ from over the counter. He had his back to them, and was starting in on the second third of migas.

“So we’ll never fall out of love,” Roy said quietly.

“Do you believe that?” Laura pitched her voice low, so DJ wouldn’t hear over the coffee perking or at least wouldn’t feel obliged to respond.

“I did know when you were in danger. And I did feel a pull to come here.”

“But…”

“I know,” Roy said. “Psychic powers are one thing. Magically always staying in love feels too easy.”

“Even if it is real,” Laura said thoughtfully, watching DJ spinning a knife around and around in the hand he wasn’t eating with, “It doesn’t sound easy for DJ and his mysterious awesome mate.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Roy edged closer and lowered his voice to a murmur. “All the same, let’s not believe in it. Let’s believe that what we have depends on what we do. I don’t want to love you forever because of some mystic werewolf crap. I want to love you forever because you’re worth loving forever.”

“Shut up,” whispered Laura. “You’ll make me cry.”

She poured coffee for herself and Roy, and Roy emptied the rest of the pot into the biggest mug he could find.

They returned to the table, where DJ gratefully snatched up the mug. “Thanks. I couldn’t find a Starbucks for the last thirty miles.”

When he finally set it down, mostly drained, Roy asked, “Are you still MIA?”

“No. I called in and said I’d been in the hospital and I couldn’t understand how there could have been such a mix-up. I got booted up and up the chain of command, until I finally ended up talking to this secret squirrel.”

“Secret
squirrel
?” Laura asked, sure DJ was pulling her leg. “And he transferred you to the classified cow, huh?”

“It means someone involved in top secret stuff,” said Roy.

“The squirrel fixed my status, no questions asked. I asked about you, and she said you’d have to call in yourself, but once you did, she’d do the same for you. And she obviously knew what was up with you, because…”

DJ hesitated, swirling the coffee at the bottom of the mug. “She said that if you had medical issues, all you’d need to do was tell her what they were. She said she could arrange for you to get disability without having to show up in person to a medical board. I’m pretty sure she had your files from the lab on her desk.”

Roy stared into his untouched coffee cup. Laura could only imagine how much he must hate the idea of being officially declared to be disabled.

To give him space to think about it, she said, “Sounds to me like there was some kind of colossal screw-up, and now the cover-up is in full swing.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right. I doubt they were snatching US military personnel on a regular basis. Someone saw an opportunity and grabbed it, and it blew up in their faces.” DJ pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket and slid it across the table to Roy. “Here’s the squirrel.”

“I don’t need disability,” Roy said, ignoring the paper. “Laura and I are going to be private investigators who help werewolves.”

“Seriously? Cool. I’ll spread the word. But how much money is that going to bring in? You don’t want to be turning away poor, desperate werewolves because you can’t afford to work for free.”

“He’s got a point,” Laura couldn’t help saying.

Roy folded his arms across his chest.

DJ slid the paper closer. “Forget the disability. Just call the squirrel and say, ‘I’m Roy Farrell and I’m not missing.’ You can’t be MIA forever.”

“I wouldn’t be the first.”

“Yeah, but those are guys who are actually missing!”

Roy didn’t budge. Laura forced herself to say nothing. Pushing Roy was obviously only making him dig in his heels.

DJ gulped the last of his coffee, put down the mug, and squared his shoulders. “Listen, Roy, there’s something I have to tell you. That hit I took—” DJ turned to Laura. “Did he tell you about that? He probably didn’t tell you about that.”

“He did,” Laura said.

“Oh, right, mates, I forgot.” DJ looked envious. “You tell each other everything. That must be nice.”

“Is there anything you normally
don’t
tell people?” Laura teased.

She regretted it when his bright eyes went blank and distant. It was only for an instant, but she recognized that look. She’d seen it on Roy, she’d seen it on the pack, and she’d seen it in the mirror. It was the look people got when they were wishing they could take a damp cloth and wipe away their memories.

“Yeah, what I’m trying to tell you guys right now. That ambush sure made me wonder how much good my awesome healing powers would have done if I’d been just a little bit closer to the blast, or if I’d been shot in the head like Suarez. And when the helo went down…” The silverware he’d picked up clattered in his hands, and he quickly laid it aside. “Roy, you kept trying to talk to me, and nothing but blood would come out of your mouth. I thought you didn’t have a chance. I don’t know how the hell you even lived long enough for biting you to do you any good.”

Roy looked up, meeting DJ’s eyes. “I’m one tough wolf.”

DJ laughed shakily. “Clearly. Well, when you turned into that huge fucking wolf, I figured I’d done enough. My time’s up, you know. I didn’t re-enlist. I’m done.”

“You’re out?” Roy asked incredulously.

DJ brushed his palms together:
finished
. “Alec didn’t re-enlist either. Said he was tired of taking orders. Marco wants to go back to school. He’s out too.”

“
Marco’s
out?”

“Yeah. He’s had enough. Everyone’s had enough. Don’t think we ditched you, Roy. Even before I heard from my folks, I told the guys I was sure you were alive. But I knew there was no way you were coming back, and I told them that too. That was it. Turns out that a lot of what held us all together was you.”

“You guys were all that was holding
me
together, by the end,” Roy said quietly.

“Were we? It sure didn’t seem like we were doing that great a job of it.” A quick succession of emotions flickered across DJ’s boyish face, almost too fast for Laura to catch: pain, bitterness, anger, guilt. Acceptance. Relief. “Well, I guess we did okay, because you’re still here. Anyway, it’s all over now.”

“I guess so,” Roy said slowly. “You know, I do realize even if we had all re-upped, the odds of us getting to stay together would have been pretty low.”

“Low?” DJ snorted. “Try non-existent. We had a good run, but you know what they say about all good things. You’ve got a new pack now. Take good care of them.”

“I will.” Roy spoke as if he was swearing a solemn vow. Then he picked up the slip of paper and handed it to Laura. “Dial the number for me, will you?”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

Laura got her phone, dialed, passed Roy the phone, and then took his hand and held him in the pack sense.

“This is Roy Farrell. I’m calling to let you know that I’m not missing.” There was a pause. “No. I’m asking for a medical discharge.”

Laura stared at him. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught DJ staring too.

Roy took a deep breath. Every muscle in his body tensed as he said, “I can’t drive a car. I can’t
ride
in a car. I can’t fly. I can’t use a computer. I can’t even be in the same room with a TV on. Electric lights give me migraines. It’s hard for me to talk on the phone with you now.” There was a pause. “No. I’m not working now. But I’m hoping I can be a private investigator, because I’ll have a partner to pick up my slack.” Another pause. “No, I haven’t started yet.”

There was another pause. “Hold on. I’m not done. I have nightmares about combat, and I wake up having a panic attack. The next day, I’m exhausted and my head aches and my body aches and my hands shake and I feel anxious and I’m sick to my stomach, and if I force myself to eat something anyway, I throw up. Sometimes it’s so bad, I can’t even drink water.”

Laura couldn’t believe Roy was saying all that—and in front of DJ, too, who sat with his eyes wide and his mouth open, not even fidgeting.

He went on, “The stuff with the lights and so forth dates from when I was reported MIA. The PTSD, from about three months before that. Yes, I have a partner. No, no children. Okay. Thanks. Hang on a second.” Roy turned to Laura. “What’s the address here?”

She told him. He repeated it into the phone, then hung up.

Roy rubbed his forehead, then straightened up. He didn’t look happy, but he didn’t look ashamed, either. “Never say the military can’t move fast when it wants to. I just got awarded one hundred percent disability. Backdated. So that’s that. At least I can pay my own way now. Honestly, I think I earned it.”

Laura put her arm around him. “You did earn it. And that was incredibly brave.”

A pink flush crept across Roy’s cheekbones. “Don’t make too much of it. Lots and lots of veterans have to give that sort of report.”

“Minus the electric lights,” said DJ.