The Final Line (10 page)

“No shit?” Tyler laughed. “He get drunk and punch somebody?”

“He beat his girlfriend to death,” Corey said angrily. “Did you guys even know he had a girlfriend since we’ve been back?”

Tyler instantly sobered. “Fuck. Yeah, the guys have been giving him shit for moving in with her a couple of months ago. He pretty much just met her, so we’ve been calling him pussy whipped. He killed her?”

“That’s what the cops say,” replied Corey. “What are you doing right now?”

“Nothing important, why?”

“Meet me at the one-oh-one Diner,” Corey said firmly, making it clear Tyler didn’t really have a choice.

“Give me thirty mikes.”

Corey finally let his mind wander to where it had wanted to go since he woke up; Sean. He ran his fingers over his lower lip as he remembered how it’d tingled at the feel of Sean’s mouth sliding over his. Corey wanted to feel that again. He wanted to pull Sean against him and not have to stop and leave.

The 101 Diner was a greasy spoon on the south end of Encinitas, right on the 101 where it passed through the city. It wasn’t much to look at but they made a spectacular roast beef sandwich with green chilies on it.

Corporal Tyler Howe walked in looking like a blue-eyed surfer kid, dressed in board shorts and a tank top. His buzzed haircut was the only thing that gave him away as a Marine.

“So how the fuck did you find out about Nygaard before command did?” Tyler said, sliding into the booth opposite Corey.

“I’m sure command knows about it now,” Corey replied. “I just wondered if the scuttlebutt had reached troop level, yet.”

“Not a fucking peep,” Tyler said. “How the fuck did you find out?”

“He asked them to call me when they booked him.” Corey glanced around to make sure no one was paying them any attention. He caught sight of the waitress heading their way so he held on to what he had to say next.

They each ordered the roast beef and green chili sandwich and a soda. After the waitress had brought their drinks, Corey continued.

“He wanted to talk to me ‘cause, as he put it, I knew what happened to him and I knew why he is the way he is.” Corey shrugged. “I went to see him as a friend and told them to call your command.”

Tyler stared at him, wide-eyed. In so many ways he was still a sweet kid from Texas, not yet completely hardened by combat and the Corps. “What the fuck did he mean by all that?” Corey watched as Tyler paled. “He’s not talking about Ghazni, is he?”

“It started to sound like it.” Corey rubbed at the tension in his neck. “He never really said anything completely lucid. He said things like I knew what we were ordered to do. I knew what the women are like over there, as if that justified his beating his civilian girlfriend to death stateside.”

“Jesus. With his bare hands?” Tyler asked incredulously. “That shit ain’t right.”

“He looked like he’d been in a firefight, but it was a Marine against one civilian woman.” Corey shook his head in disgust. “I don’t think I want to know what she looked like.”

“I still don’t understand why he had them call you, man. You’ve made it obvious you hate his guts since we’ve been back.” Tyler was playing with the condensation on his glass.

This surprised Corey. “I have? I didn’t mean to. I tried to hide it. I don’t want to hang out with him like this but that shouldn’t affect how we function as Marines.”

“I always knew you didn’t like him a whole lot when we were in Afghanistan, but you put up with him.” Tyler sat back in the booth and leveled his gaze at Corey. “But after that day, after we got home, there’ve been times I thought you were gonna pull your Ka-Bar on him. The best thing that ever happened was your promotion and transfer to BRC.”

Corey stared at Tyler in stunned silence. He hadn’t realized his dislike of Nygaard had escalated after the events in Ghazni. He said nothing when the waitress brought their food and refilled their glasses.

When they were alone again, he said quietly, “Nygaard said I ordered him to do it. Do you remember what I ordered him to do except secure the perimeter of the house?”

“Nope,” Tyler answered around his food. “That’s all you told him to do.”

“Did anything happen with the transporting of bodies that was out of the ordinary?” Corey’s stomach finally eased enough he thought he could eat.

“We ran out of body bags again.” Tyler shoved a French fry into his mouth with a shrug.

“That I remember,” sighed Corey.

“Did he say anything else?”

“Not really. He laid hands on me and they dragged me out of the cell.”

Tyler snorted. “Nygaard never was very bright. It sure sucks to be you, right now. First this investigation hanging over your head, now Nygaard is trying to suck you into his bullshit drama.”

Corey shook his head emphatically. “He’s on his own with that shit. If he can get a doctor to say he was out of his mind with PTS, fine, but I’m not gonna say it.”

“Are you
sure
we don’t have anything to worry about with this investigation?” Tyler again seemed like the young kid he really still was.

“We didn’t do anything wrong and unless you lied in your after action reports about stuff you knew was happening, we have nothing to worry about.” Corey started to wonder if something very bad had happened that he was unaware of. It sure seemed like some people thought he knew all about it, though.

As they left the diner, Corey said to Tyler, “Keep your mouth shut about all of this shit. Keep your ears open and let me know what the scuttlebutt says about everything.”

“You want me to do recon on my own platoon?” Tyler seemed dubious.

“It’s starting to look like something happened that day that got covered up,” replied Corey. “Do you really want to be on the wrong side of that when Kellan Reynolds gets to the bottom of it?”

Tyler’s expression darkened. “Jesus, Corey, you’re talking about Marines we served with. Don’t they have any honor?” He glanced around, as if he was trying to come to terms with his shifting reality. “Right. Ears open, mouth shut. Got it.”

They embraced briefly, loud backslaps making it brotherly, before they climbed into their vehicles and left.

For the rest of the day, Corey resisted the urge to stop and buy several bottles of Jack. He was going to try this thing with calling Sean, even if it was just an excuse to talk to him. The very first classroom day Master Sergeant Whitfield scheduled, Corey was taking himself to the on-base clinic to get something appropriate to help him sleep.

He could feel the shit storm coming and he couldn’t afford to be caught out as a drunk. Besides, it was affecting his dick’s ability to get hard and that was a no-go.

Corey took a second shower, as warm as was comfortable to try to relax his tense muscles. He set his alarm and cell phone to wake him, and crawled into his rack. He wondered how long he should lay there not sleeping before he gave up and called Sean.

Thoughts of Sean triggered memories of that kiss. Corey still couldn’t get over how fucking arousing it had been. He never thought a soft, slow kiss could be so intimate. He was used to hot mouths, wet tongues and muffled noises in dark corners. Corey wanted more of the slow kisses, but this time without any interruptions.

Remembering the kiss made his dick stir in his skivvies. He was sober so maybe he could get hard. Coming would certainly help him get to sleep. He slid his hand inside his drawers and gave his cock a few experimental strokes. He kept his eyes closed and remembered Sean pressing their foreheads together, looking into his eyes and stroking his thumb over Corey’s lip.

Corey’s erection grew in his hand. It hardened beneath his fingers. He stroked himself harder and faster, deciding he might be able to come this time. He knew what it felt like to have Sean’s mouth on his and Sean’s tongue against his own. Now, Corey imagined what it would be like to feel that tongue on his cock.

The mental image of Sean’s hazel eyes staring up at him from between Corey’s legs was all it took. Corey’s back arched and his balls tightened as he came. His cock twitched in his fist and he felt warm spunk land on his skivvy shirt. Fuck, it felt good. His body just hadn’t been very cooperative since he’d been back.

Taking off his shirt, Corey chucked it across the room, glad he’d just done laundry and had plenty. As he settled back down against his pillow, Corey’s body relaxed. He was warm and languorous. Sleep crept over him slowly at first, before abruptly dragging him all the way under.

A part of him knew he was safe in his bed, but even that didn’t help.

The gunfire erupted around them and Corey fell out of the Humvee, scrambling for cover. All around him, Marines shouted and swore. In the distance, Lieutenant Adams shouted orders. Desperate screams nearby told Corey Marines were wounded. The smell of explosives was heavy in the air. AK47 rounds bounced all around and slammed into the sides of the Humvees.

Lieutenant Adams was beside him. He ordered Corey to punch out toward the house sitting on the low rise. Once there, he was to neutralize the threats he found inside.

Corey quickly made his way to the house. He took cover along the way behind shattered walls and blown out vehicles. When the small arms fire from inside the house slackened, Corey darted for the front door of the house. He kicked in the front door, lifted his weapon to his shoulder, and made entry.

Silence fell around him and Corey smelled blood. He smelled a lot of blood. Corey glanced around him in horror. The room was filled with bodies. Dead bodies. Their blank eyes stared up at him accusingly. Blood ran thick on the floor; it covered the bodies of the dead, splattered up the sides of the walls.

He was surrounded by the bodies of slaughtered women and children.

Corey sat straight up in his rack, a shout dying in his throat. He was drenched in sweat and breathing raggedly. His heart was beating out of his chest. Corey raised his hands to wipe the sweat from his face and realized they were trembling.

All he could remember was an endless sea of eyes staring at him with accusation.

He sat up and pushed the sheet away, swinging his feet to the floor. A glance at the clock told him it was two a.m.

Corey snatched his cell phone from the bedside table and called Sean. It was answered after a single ring.

“Are you okay?” Sean’s deep, smooth voice drifted across the connection.

Immediately, Corey felt soothed, the tension in his muscles easing slightly. “Bad dream,” he replied, resting his elbows on his knees and closing his eyes to just listen.

“But you’re awake now and nothing can harm you.” Sean’s voice was soft and reassuring. “I’m here with you now. Tell me about the dream.”

Corey sucked in a harsh breath. He didn’t want to remember. He didn’t want to say the words. He wanted Sean to distract him until the memories faded. “I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to forget it.”

“That’s fine,” Sean agreed easily, “maybe next time. Talking about it might help you identify what it was that caused all this. Writing it down, changing how the dream ends.”

The soft strains of guitar music drifted over the connection. “Is that you playing?” Corey asked, hoping for a distraction.

“Yep. I’m talking to you with my Bluetooth so I can be ‘hands-free’,” Sean replied.

Corey sat up, shifting his feet restlessly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. I’ll let you go.”

“You’re not interrupting anything,” Sean said quickly. “Lie down, make sure you’re relaxed and comfortable, and let’s talk.”

Corey gave a surprised laugh. “I didn’t call for phone sex, but if you insist.” He lay back in his rack and focused on slowing his breathing.

Sean’s laugh was husky and heat spread through Corey’s chest, even as his lower belly tightened with desire. He vividly remembered successfully getting himself off to a fantasy of Sean.

“Mutual orgasms weren’t on my agenda but I’m willing to consider it as a last resort. So, tell me about your day,” Sean said, the strumming of the guitar continuing in the background. Corey bit back a groan at Sean’s words.

“How did you sleep? Any news on Sergeant Nygaard’s situation?”

“No nightmare last night,” he sighed, letting his eyes drift closed. “I still didn’t sleep well, but it’s been worse. I had lunch with my corporal from my old platoon. They hadn’t been notified about Nygaard yet, so nothing new to report.”

“So you don’t hate everyone from your old platoon, if you had lunch with a corporal.” There was a pregnant pause. “You called him
your
corporal; do the two of you have history?”

Corey
knew
Sean’s casual tone was feigned. “No, I was a Team Leader in Afghanistan, and he was literally my corporal and Humvee driver. Strictly a military designation. He’s a good kid. A good Marine. He had my back during the FUBAR event that’s under investigation so I want to make sure to I have his now.”

The music paused. “Good. Glad to hear it.” Sean sounded distracted. The music started up again.

“What did you do today?” Corey asked, aching to feel Sean’s voice flow over him.

“I put together some audition pieces and started practicing a few of them.” Sean played the same series of notes over and over, as if trying to master the sequence. Corey thought he detected a slight change toward the end. “Yes, that’s it,” Sean said, just above a whisper. The music stopped.

“What are you auditioning for?” Corey was genuinely interested in the answer. He realized he was going to find out what of Sean’s previous work he’d be able to get his hands on to watch. He was certainly going to check out his future work, too.

The music began again. Corey liked the melody he could hear, even though he didn’t recognize it.

“Let’s see,” Sean said slowly. “I have an audition for a play at the Old Globe. I have a callback for a musical at the La Jolla Playhouse. I’ve got several readings for TV shows, but those will come down to whether or not I have the right look for them. And, an audition for a recurring part in an existing series.”

“Wow.” Corey didn’t know what else to say. “Aimee told me you graduated from USC. You’re good at this, aren’t you?”

“Pretty good, yep. Getting better with each job I do.” The song Sean was playing seemed to increase in intensity.