Nobody's Hero (41 page)

Marc sat down at the table. “You’re more
family to me than my own, Adam.”

“Don’t turn this into a sappy coffee
commercial. We all bonded on the battlefield. That’s what Marines
do.”

“Adam, you took Karla in, too, when she was
hurting and lost. Maybe you didn’t intend for anything romantic to
come of it, but I’ve seen you two together. She’s so fucking right
for you and you know it. How can you just let the best thing that’s
happened to you in a long time walk out your door?”

Adam stood up. “This conversation is
over.”

“What do you plan to do about her?”

Adam looked at Marc. “What I plan to do is go
upstairs.” He needed to be alone, to think. He picked up the bag of
hardware, hating the tell-tale sound it emitted and not sure what
he’d do with the hardware now.

In his bedroom, he threw the bag on the bed
and headed for the deck, shucking his clothes as he walked. He
needed a good soak in the hot tub. Maybe he could sort out what had
sent Karla packing and what he was going to do about it.

As he soaked in the tub, memories flooded his
brain—of her screaming a passionate release, straddling him,
kneeling at his feet, washing him, wrapping her lips around his
dick—of all the ways she’d submitted to him totally and
completely.

He’d never expected Karla to embrace being a
submissive so wholeheartedly, but she had seemed to take to it like
a ship to water, especially after they’d gotten beyond that
ridiculous Master/slave arrangement. Then she’d inexplicably tried
to go back to that agreement on what turned out to be their last
night. Then she’d left him.

Later, long after he’d heard Luke saying
goodbye to Angelina in the driveway and Marc’s Porsche speed off a
short time after, he grabbed a terry-cloth robe from the heated bin
beside the hot tub and stepped out of the overheated water, donning
the robe to ward off the cold chill. All he’d gotten out of his
hour in the tub were pruny feet and a hard-on from thinking about
Karla submitting to him. Back in the bedroom he struck a match to
the fire he’d laid last night, but hadn’t gotten to burn because
Karla hadn’t joined him after the club closed.

Sitting in front of the fireplace, staring
into the flames, he ached to have Karla’s body cradled between his
legs, wrapped inside his arms. He missed her, but the answers he
sought still weren’t forthcoming. With a grunt, he stood up and
looked at the bed where the bag of hardware mocked him. He’d been
looking forward to restraining Karla to his bed tonight.

Now he wouldn’t even be able to hold her. The
loneliness that descended on him pierced his chest with as much
lethal force it was as if he’d fallen on his own sword.

She’d left him. Every woman he’d ever loved
had abandoned him in some way. Joni didn’t leave him intentionally,
but the others had. His mother had kicked him out at sixteen, not
that his home life was anything he should have missed. But he’d
missed her in those first few years. Even went back to find her
after boot camp, but she’d really disappeared by then.

His mother had kicked him out in the heat of
an intense moment, though. Somehow Karla’s calculated decision to
leave him was worse yet. Left him hurting.

Raw.

She had stripped his defenses over the past
few months until his emotions had been laid bare, exposed at the
surface level. The loss of Karla hurt more than any physical pain
he’d ever felt. Even losing Joni failed to compare, because his
self-defense mechanisms had been firmly in place then. He’d been
able to block or deflect most of the pain of her loss, then spread
it out over the next few years until he retired from the Corps.

Aw, who the fuck was he kidding? He’d been so
fucking numb since Joni died. He’d really only begun to face her
loss in the last few weeks, when he’d gone back to Minnesota this
year.

He hadn’t even been able to start facing
Joni’s loss until Karla had come back into his life and forced him
to deal with his emotions; obliterating all of his defenses.

Yesterday, after listening to the tapes, for
the first time he’d been able to say goodbye to Joni without the
weight of all the guilt he’d carried over the years. Maybe Marc and
Karla were right. He had loved Joni, even if he’d never been able
to say the words to her. She’d apparently understood and accepted
that, which eased some of his guilt. All these years, he’d thought
he’d let her down. That he hadn’t been the man she deserved.
Hearing that Joni didn’t see it that way helped.

Joni and Karla were so much stronger
emotionally. Adam had been crippled in that area, probably because
of his fucked-up childhood. But he didn’t want to think about that
now.

But how had he missed the signs last night
that she was so unhappy? That she was getting ready to leave him?
Abandon him?

Aw, kitten. Why’d you go? Don’t you know I’m
lost without you?

Like Joni, Karla had become his anchor over
the years, from the time she’d helped him reset his compass nine
years ago and get back into the war with his head on straight,
through all those years of faithful correspondence, right up until
she’d declared war on his heart, then submitted to him in such
sweet ways over the past month or so. His young Amazon had not only
laid siege to his heart, she’d captured the damned thing. No great
prize for her. No, this was a case where the captured won it
all—but was too damned bitter and blind to even realize what a
prize he had.

Even the thought of spending time in the club
without her singing to him didn’t interest him. Marc had been
right. He’d thought back over the months since she’d arrived at the
club in July and she’d sung at least one song to him every night
expressing her feelings for him. Some weren’t particularly
flattering, like the one describing him as poison; but filled with
truth, nonetheless. How could he be so fucking blind?

And how was she supposed to know how much he
needed her? Did he ever tell her?

So now what? Now what?

If he could get Karla back, would he make the
same mistakes he’d made before? Could he tell her he loved her—as
well as show her—every fucking day they had together? Maybe, if
only she’d come back to him.

Maybe isn’t good enough for her,
jarhead.

He didn’t need Joni’s other-worldly head
slaps to get his head out of his ass. He knew what he needed to do.
But first he needed to get some intel. He pulled out his phone and
texted, “Do U know where she was going?”

Seconds later, a beep as Marc replied.
“Chicago.”

Adam smiled.
Good girl
. He knew
exactly where to find her. He texted back, “UR n charge while I’m
gone. Leave business matters to Grant.” He hit send.

The phone beeped. “No fucking problem.” Adam
grinned. No one hated bookwork more than Marc.

Adam crossed the bedroom to his closet and
pulled out his seabag. He’d have plenty of time to figure out what
he was going to say to Karla while on the road, because there was
no way in hell he’d be able to get a flight the Sunday before
Thanksgiving without special connections. Adam was sure Karla’s
father had pulled strings with his airline to bring his daughter
home on such short notice.

Adam just hoped Jenny’s invitation last July
to join them for Thanksgiving still stood. At that time, they’d
probably just wanted to be sure he brought her home to them for the
holiday. He wasn’t sure what Karla would have said to her parents
about their relationship, but had a feeling she’d play it close to
the vest.

He didn’t want to show up at the Paxtons’
home until Wednesday, when he knew Jenny wouldn’t be able to turn
him away. Karla's mom had a thing about bringing in lost souls to
eat at her table for Thanksgiving. No one was more lost than he was
this year. He wasn’t above grabbing at any advantage that could
help him win Karla back.

But this time of year, he also needed to take
advantage of clear driving conditions. The closer he could get to
her location geographically, the better. He’d call and see if he
could swing by East St. Louis and check on Sarge’s wife and kids
first. He hadn’t visited the Millers on the way home from
Minneapolis this year, because he’d needed to get back for
Damián.

Just as well Karla wouldn’t be with him. He
didn’t like to broadcast his failures, including the one that put
Sarge’s unit on that rooftop in Iraq, making them sitting ducks for
the incoming grenade and mortar attack that killed Sarge and nearly
killed Damián and Marc, as well.

Total clusterfuck.

Now he needed to engage in the war to win
Karla back. If she’d still have him, he was ready to go to the mat
for her, even with her parents, who probably wouldn’t be thrilled
to know a man twice her age was pursuing her, let alone that the
two of them already had a sexual relationship.

But Adam knew no one could cherish or protect
her as well as he could. There still was the matter of her thinking
she wanted to be his slave, but they could discuss that and agree
on some compromise. Maybe there were some aspects of that type of
relationship that appealed to them both. As long as the two of them
could both have their needs met, they’d be fine.

The only question was how to give Karla what
she needed most—his love.

Yeah, they had plenty to talk about, that’s
for sure. So, he’d better get a good night’s rest so he could hit
the road early tomorrow and he could get to her so they could start
planning their future together.

But, after lying awake in his bed for hours,
he’d given up and walked across the hall to sleep in Karla’s old
bed. Her scent lingered on her pillow, helping him feel closer to
her.

God, he just hoped he wouldn’t fuck things up
with her in Chicago.

He needed her.

* * *

“What’s going on, Karla?” her mom asked. "You
seem so lost." Karla should have known keeping anything from her
mom would be impossible. The woman’s radar could match anything the
military had in its arsenal.

“I made a huge mistake, Mom. I fell in love
with a man who doesn’t want me the way I am.” Mom’s arms came
around her shoulders and Karla felt the waterworks start. She
hadn’t cried this much since Ian died.

“Unfortunately, we can’t choose who we
love—and we certainly have no control over who loves us back.” Her
mom pulled back and looked her dead in the eye. “But if he can’t
accept you as you are, then kick him to the curb, Karla. You
deserve someone who loves you for yourself. Don’t try and mold
yourself into some impossible ideal."

Her mom didn’t know the half of what Karla
had done trying to get Adam to love her. And yet, even though she
knew they were wrong for each other, she still wanted him.

“Oh, Mom. I love him so much. How am I going
to go on without him?”

“You’re sure there’s no hope? You’ve always
been a fighter. You just usually chose your battles more wisely
than did your brother. He usually managed to get his butt kicked
more often than not.”

“Well, I'm afraid I got my heart kicked,
Mom.” Then stomped on. Karla shook her head. “I fought hard, but
even though I put up my best campaign ever, I still lost the war.”
She couldn’t mention the whole Master/slave fiasco, not to her
mother anyway, but that wasn’t the only problem Adam had with her.
Karla looked down at the chenille bedspread and pulled at the
threads. “He thinks I’m just a kid.”

Mom put her finger under Karla’s chin and
raising her gaze to meet hers. “How much older is he?”

Relax, Mom. It’s over anyway
. Still
Karla tried to break away from her Mom’s scrutiny. Not a chance.
“Twenty-five years.”

Her mom’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, honey, that’s
a huge age difference. Maybe he’s right. You’d be setting yourself
up for a lot of years alone with someone that much older.”

Karla couldn’t believe her mother would take
Adam’s side, even if she didn’t know she was. “Mom, no one has
guarantees about how long they’ll live and love. Ian’s proof of
that.” At the pained expression that crossed her mother’s face,
Karla reached out. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive. But, Mom, no
one knows how much time they have. We just need to grab life by
the…um, hand…and run with it.” She’d been around Adam so long that
she’d almost said balls to her mom. If her mother heard half the
words that had become part of her vocabulary since she’d moved in
with Adam and started hanging around his Marine buddies.

“But you can’t force someone to run with you,
honey, if he doesn’t want to.”

Ouch
. Karla’s breath choked on a sob
and she laid her head on her mom’s shoulder, giving in to the ache
consuming her alive. Her chest felt as if someone were squeezing
the air from her lungs with an iron fist. To say nothing of the
nausea. She felt like throwing up all the time since she'd left
Denver. Eating had become impossible, which is probably what tipped
her mom off that there was a problem and sent her in here to check
on her. She’d left Adam Sunday because he wouldn’t allow her to be
his slave, even though that’s clearly what he wanted from a woman.
Just not from
this
woman.

But lying alone in her twin bed upstairs the
last two nights, there had been times when she’d reached for her
phone to call or text him, to beg him to give her one more chance
to please him.

Good Lord, she had it bad. “I don’t know how
I can go on without him.”

Her mom patted her hair. “I know it hurts
now, but time will ease the ache. This was your first love. There
will be others. Trust me.”

“I’ll never be able to let him go totally,
Mom. He’ll always be the one love of my life. He’ll always have my
heart, even if he left it bruised. I'd be content, if he’d only
give me a tiny part of his.”