The Final Line (23 page)

Sean didn’t hesitate. He slid up Corey’s body and pressed their mouths together. The rhythm of his hips and his hand were erratic. Corey wasn’t any better. He licked at Sean’s tongue as they rocked and thrust against each other, breathing harshly through their noses.

Corey’s orgasm slammed into him and come abruptly shot from the end of his dick. He tore his mouth away from Sean’s with a shout as he keened, high in his throat. His muscles clenched as wave after wave of ecstasy rolled over him. Sean buried his face against Corey’s throat and swore harshly. Hot come coated the insides of Corey’s thighs and splashed across the back of his ball sac. Sean’s body vibrated against Corey’s, even as Corey shuddered his way through the end of his climax.

“Oh, fuck,” Corey panted as he fell back against the pillows, totally spent. He knew he should clean up but he couldn’t even get his eyes to open.

Beside him, Sean moved sluggishly, jostling the bed as he climbed out. He was back moments later, warm cloth in hand. Corey did his best to cooperate, giving Sean access to all the places come had begun to dry.

Corey drifted in and out of sleep, only just aware when Sean closed the blinds on the large window. The room was plunged into semi-darkness. When Sean’s warmth settled against him again, Corey snuggled back against him.

“Now we can sleep without bright sunlight in our eyes,” Sean said drowsily.

Corey meant to thank him, but he didn’t stay awake long enough.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

On Monday, during his first break of the morning, Corey called the J.A.S. offices on base. The Marine who answered the phone put him right through to Captain Hirata. Corey was surprised. He’d expected the attorney to be elsewhere, conducting interviews for Kellan’s investigation.

“How can I help you, Staff Sergeant?” Hirata sounded friendly.

Corey was again surprised at that friendly tone. He kept expecting anger and accusation. “Captain, sir, I might have done something stupid on Saturday night.” He and Sean had discussed the events of the previous evening over Sunday brunch. They’d agreed that Corey probably hadn’t done anything wrong, but was treading enough of a fine line he should get ahead of any possible repercussions.

“Is this in regard to either the investigation into Ghazni or Sergeant Nygaard’s arrest?” the captain asked.

“Yes, sir.” Corey walked in a circle, hoping it would ease some of his agitation. He buried his free hand in the pocket of his trouser pocket and clutched the bottle of Xanax. “I think Nygaard might be trying to blame what happened in Ghazni for the murder of his girlfriend.” Corey told himself he didn’t need the Xanax, but it was reassuring to know they were within easy reach.

Captain Hirata had Corey tell the entire story, starting with Tyler Howe’s phone call and ending with their stormy exit from the Nygaard home. He left out the details of his anxiety attack, but owned up to his own angry, physical reactions to Nygaard’s words.

“I think you might be right, Staff Sergeant,” Hirata said as if considering the different implications. “He’s going to try to throw everyone involved in Ghazni under the bus and then claim those events caused him to commit murder.”

“That’s how it seems, sir,” Corey said, sighing inwardly in relief.

“Did Sergeant Nygaard, or any of his family members attempt to garner your sympathy or pity?” Hirata asked.

Corey snorted. “Begging your pardon, Captain,” he said sheepishly, “that was the whole point of having us over to talk.”

“Understood,” Hirata said indulgently. “But did you get the impression that you or Corporal Howe were being recruited as actual character witnesses for Sergeant Nygaard?”

Corey stopped walking as an icy wave of realization and dread washed over him. “I was thinking he was trying to get one or both of us to let something slip.” Corey replied. “Then he could tell his lawyer and they’d use it against us.” His mind raced. “But now that you mention it, sir, it would be in his favor if either one of us would be willing to blame the Corps.”

“I’ll have a talk with Nygaard’s attorney,” Hirata said with anger. “It’s treading a very fine line but it smacks of witness tampering.” The captain sighed heavily. “I didn’t want to have to do this but I have to protect the integrity of Mr. Reynolds’ investigation. As a witness in that investigation, Staff Sergeant, I’m instructing you to have no further contact with Sergeant Nygaard.”

“Yes, sir,” Corey answered briskly. Now he had the perfect excuse to never talk to Nygaard again.

“I’ll notify Corporal Howe of the same thing,” Hirata continued. “I don’t want any of our witnesses tampered with while we’re still getting to the bottom of this.”

Corey rolled his shoulders to ease the accumulated tension. Thankfully he still held witness status. “Yes, sir. And I apologize for any trouble we caused.”

“It’s understandable that you and the corporal need to understand why Nygaard did what he did,” replied Hirata. “We just can’t allow our search for the truth to become a casualty.”

“I agree, sir. Thank you, sir.” Corey disconnected the call and gripped the prescription bottle in his hand. He rolled his head to stretch his neck. It was easy to take a deep breath. His heart was still beating a little fast but his chest didn’t hurt.

Corey left the bottle in his pocket and returned to work.

§ § §

Corey darted across the clearing, sliding to a stop behind the bombed out truck. He slammed his back against the over-sized rear tire. The radio chattered in his ear but Corey couldn’t make out the words.

Mortars landed nearby and Corey startled. Gunfire raged all around him, AK47 rounds kicked up small plumes of dirt. The heat was sweltering. Sweat rolled down Corey’s face and the back of his neck, pooling in his uniform.

Corey struggled to get enough air into his lungs, but he couldn’t catch his breath. The air around him reeked of garbage, burning oil, fresh blood, and singed flesh. When Corey could finally drag a harsh breath into his lungs, he gagged.

Tyler Howe appeared out of nowhere and slammed into the tire next to Corey. “Where the fuck is Nygaard?” Tyler shouted over the raging sounds of battle.

“No fucking idea,” Corey shouted back, struggling to breathe through his open mouth.

“You gotta go after him, Sergeant.” Tyler darted glances all around them.

“I can’t.” Corey’s heart slammed in his chest.

“You gotta figure out what he’s up to, Corey,” Tyler pleaded.

Before Corey could argue, a brusque order rang out. “Sergeant Yarwood, you need to make entry into that structure!”

Corey whipped his head around at the sound of Jonah Carver’s voice. It vaguely registered with him that he’d never served with Tyler and Jonah at the same time. Corey looked around. This was Afghanistan. Jonah didn’t belong here.

“Sergeant Yarwood, make entry into the structure,” Jonah ordered. “We’ll cover your six.”

“We gotta know what he’s doing in there, Corey,” Tyler said.

Corey startled again as a mortar landed just a few feet away. The truck behind him shuddered as it was peppered with bullets. He waited for the gunfire to ease up. Corey darted a glance around the tire, at the single family dwelling just a few meters away. He was driven back behind cover by AK rounds striking nearby.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Corey banged the back of his head against the truck tire, over and over. His Kevlar protected him, but the sound was deafening and his teeth rattled in his skull.

“Sergeant Yarwood,” Jonah barked, “man up and make entry into that structure!” His words were sharp and stern, but when Corey looked over, Jonah’s expression was encouraging.

Corey gathered his feet beneath him, sitting back on his haunches. His legs shook, his knees were weak. Leaning his head against the truck again, Corey looked up at the sky, unseeing. Sean would be pissed with him for not facing this shit and dealing with it.

Ignoring the constriction and pain in his chest, Corey sucked in a harsh breath. With a last glance around the tire to confirm his route was clear, Corey broke cover.

Hands wrapped tightly around his M16, he ran the short distance. Reaching the structure, Corey slammed his back against the wall beside the wooden door. Seconds later, Jonah was beside him. On the other side of the door, Tyler took up position.

Corey panted desperately, suddenly lightheaded. His legs trembled, hands aching from his crippling grip on his weapon.

“On three, Corey,” Jonah ordered, shouting over the raging battle.

Corey looked over. Jonah’s expression was implacable. He tilted his head toward the dwelling. The casual gesture was incongruous with the chaos around them.

Corey gathered his courage. He stepped in front of the flimsy wooden door. He took a deep breath, lifted his leg and slammed his heavy boot into the lock mechanism. Wood splintered. The door swung inward, slamming against the wall.

It was pitch dark inside. The unmistakable smell of death wafted toward him. Corey retched.

“You gotta go find out what he did,” Tyler said.

Corey lifted his weapon to his shoulder and cautiously stepped across the threshold. Bile rose in his throat, so he swallowed rapidly several times. He clenched his jaw as the odors of piss and shit assaulted him. These were the smells of evacuated bowels and recent death.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” Corey chanted through his teeth. He peered through his rifle site, searching for a threat; a target.

The room flooded with light, blinding Corey. He blinked several times then squinted, struggling to make anything out.

“Right on your six, Corey.” Jonah was directly behind him. Corey knew his words were meant to be reassuring.

Corey released a shaky breath. Jonah had his six and wouldn’t let anything bad happen. Corey shook his head sharply, blinking to clear his vision. The light dimmed and he could make out shapes and figures.

It didn’t make sense. Several dozen bodies were laid out in rows. They took up nearly all the floor space. Sergeant Nygaard and several Marines loomed over the bodies, weapons trained on them. But they were dead, there was no need to cover them. There was no threat.

“What did you do, Nygaard?” Corey asked, voice quavering.

“They were a threat,” Nygaard responded in a flat tone. “I eliminated the threat.”

Corey looked around the room again. He saw no weapons.

“What did you do?” he demanded angrily.

“They were threatening us. They lied. They were hiding weapons,” Nygaard’s response was mechanical.

“Where did they hide the weapons?” Corey’s question was met with silence.

He looked around again. Horror overwhelmed him. The bodies were civilian. They were women and children. All of them. And they were unarmed.

Corey sat up straight in his rack. Someone was shouting and it had awakened him. He took a deep breath. His throat hurt, but at least the screaming had stopped.

Sweat rolled down Corey’s spine and pooled in the waist of his skivvy shorts. Fuck. The scream had been his.

The blanket was wrapped around his legs. Corey kicked it off. He swung his legs to the floor. He rested his elbows on his knees and cradled his head in his hands. Corey cleared his throat. He knew he’d shouted loud enough to be heard in other rooms. No one would check on him, though. Nightmares in the BEQ were common these days.

Corey’s hands trembled as he cradled his head. He struggled to catch his breath. Blood roared in his ears and his heart beat so fast, his chest hurt.

The image of dead women and children was burned into the backs of Corey’s eyelids. He couldn’t escape the memory of that scene. He ran a hand over his sweaty face. It was a dream, Corey told himself. It was only a dream. It couldn’t be a memory of anything that had happened in Ghazni. It couldn’t.

He swallowed against his dry throat and reached for his cell phone. He always slept better after he talked to Sean. There was no point in denying it any longer.

“Hey, you okay?” Sean asked the moment he answered.

Corey tried to swallow but his mouth was as dust-dry as his throat. “No,” he croaked, reaching for the water bottle on his nightstand.

“Corey, what’s wrong?” Sean’s worry carried clearly over the call. “It’s another nightmare, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Corey replied, voice raw from his shouts. “This one felt real. I can’t get it out of my head.”

“Tell me about it.” Sean’s urging was gentle but unrelenting.

“No.” Corey was emphatic. He didn’t want Sean exposed to this shit. He didn’t need to know about the ugliness in Corey’s world, or the heinous things Corey was capable of. “You don’t need to hear about this shit.”

“You need to talk it out. You need to confront it and deal with it.”

“I will, I’ll talk to my counselor on Saturday.” Corey dug into his fighting hole.

“Jesus Christ, Corey,” Sean said with frustration, “I’m not a fucking child. I know what goes on in the world. You can tell me about your nightmare.”

“I don’t want you tainted with this kind of ugly shit.” Corey’s anger flared.

“Tainted?” Sean was incredulous. “Telling me about your nightmare won’t harm me, it won’t damage me.”

Corey sighed explosively. “I’m afraid of what you’ll think of me.” His gut knotted painfully.

Sean was silent for so long, Corey checked his phone to make sure the call was still active.

“Wow, okay,” Sean laughed mirthlessly and a chill ran down Corey’s spine. “You know, just because I’m an actor doesn’t mean I’m shallow and insensitive.”

Sean’s anger was like a physical slap. “I know,” Corey answered hastily, confused as hell. “I don’t think you’re shallow
or
insensitive.”

“Then why the fuck do you think my opinion of you could drop so easily?”

“I don’t know,” Corey muttered. “Christ, you really shouldn’t be wasting your time with someone as fucked up as me.”

Silence again.

“Do you even remember a fucking word I said Saturday night?” Sean’s question was laced with icy rage.

The room spun and Corey gripped the edge of his rack with his free hand. It didn’t help. How had he managed to fuck this up so bad, so fast? “That’s not what I meant.” He couldn’t hide the defeat in his voice and was too exhausted to try. “I can’t do this. I keep fucking this up. My shit keeps fucking this up and I can’t deal with both, right now. You don’t need me calling you in the middle of the night to unload my shit and fuck up everything I try to say.”