The Officer Breaks the Rules (5 page)

Veronica stood in the middle, spinning slowly, Then she ran a hand over the screen
of the elliptical machine.

“We’ll move that out of here, of course,” Madison said. “Frankly, I should just sell
the thing. I run outside or on the treadmill in the weight room anyway.”

Veronica said nothing, just continued to turn, staring at the ceiling, the walls,
the closet.

“It’s not the Taj Mahal or anything, but it’s a safe complex and I’ve never had problems
with the neighbors.”

Still nothing from Veronica, only wide-eyed staring around the room and her lips slightly
working, as if speaking to herself.

“Uh, you okay?” Madison wondered if she’d spoken too soon. “If you’re not interested,
I promise I won’t be offended.”

Finally, she stopped spinning and faced Madison. She could see tears gathering in
the other woman’s eyes. “No. I mean, yes, I’m interested. I’m very interested.” She
sniffed, then gave a quick laugh. “I don’t know if I can afford half the rent.”

“Whatever. We’ll say a third, since my room is bigger and has a private bath.” Frankly,
she’d have let Veronica move in for free, but Madison had a feeling saying so would
hurt her feelings. Or her pride, which Mad could relate to. “It’s not the money that
I care about. We can work that out so you’re comfortable. I just want someone else
here. Living alone doesn’t really work for me.”

“And you won’t mind someone else in here, taking up your space?”

“It’d be our space.” She stepped forward and held out a hand. “Roomies?”

Veronica stared at the offered hand for a long moment before a smile broke out on
her face and she wrapped her fingers around Madison’s. “Roomies.”

***

Jeremy did his best to occupy himself. He tried going for a run, but the POS gym at
his complex already closed for the evening and there was no safe path to take at night
in the area. Such was the problem with living in a crappy apartment in a not-great
area. Next came writing, though that was a wash since his mind wasn’t in the game.
He hated spending time putting down words he knew he’d delete later. It never worked
out for him.

In the end, the only thing he could do was sit there and think about Madison. That
hug. The way she glanced at him through the afternoon. Her subtle flirtation using
game cards.

Apples to freaking Apples, for the love of God. Who flirted using a card game?

And why the hell was it so effective?

He even went so far as to clean his kitchen sink, which somehow morphed into scrubbing
down the entire kitchenette, even removing the two burners and wiping under them,
though he’d probably cooked on his stove a total of three times. When he was finished,
the entire area sparkled, cleaner than the day he moved in. But there was zero satisfaction.

No, the only satisfaction he wanted right now came in the package of a five-foot-five
Navy nurse who drove him insane. Which basically equaled no satisfaction at all. And
thanks to his own stupidity, he had only himself to blame. What the heck was he thinking,
brushing up against her under the table? Right in front of Tim, no less.

Clearly, Jeremy had a case of the stupids and it was Madison-induced. Nothing else
could explain exactly how he could totally lose his mind and his resolve when it came
to avoiding Madison O’Shay the minute he saw her in person.

His phone rang, and he resisted picking up. But it could always be work—a Marine was
never truly off duty—and he glanced at the caller ID just to make sure it wasn’t the
OOD calling with an issue.

His father.

Jeremy felt zero guilt hitting the ignore button. Now was really not the time for
another lecture on whether he’d filled out recommitment papers or if he’d been thinking
which duty station he’d like to try next. Or if he’d talked to his monitor about career
options from here.

No. No. And no.

Quick convo from his end. Long argument from his father’s. Easiest to just pass, at
least for now. Next weekend he couldn’t avoid the old man.

Jeremy fell to the rickety couch and grunted as his back hit the support wood below
the cushions. Time to get another cheap couch. Surely some Marine was moving or something
soon. He’d just keep an eye on bulletin boards and yard sale sites. Fastest, cheapest
way to acquire new furniture.

What would his father say if he mentioned he was dating someone? Probably jump for
joy. Just another piece of the career Marine puzzle in place. A nice, simple girl
who would love to follow along in his footsteps as he moved from one side of the country
to the other. One duty station to the next. Keep the kids in order while he deployed.

Someone like his mother. Or at least how his mother would have been, had she lived
long enough. A mom he barely knew. Did anyone really remember anything before they
were four?

He pictured telling his father he was dating a Navy nurse. And watched as the mental
picture of his father’s face turned purple, steam rolling out from his imaginary ears
like the smokestack of a train.

Yup. Ignore was the best option for now.

He glanced around once more at the apartment, then knew he couldn’t stay here any
longer. Time to get back on his bike and go for a ride. He needed to clear his head,
and stewing wasn’t going to do it. Plus, having just gotten his bike back from the
shop, he couldn’t deny the need for a little speed, test her out. Get back on the
horse—or rather, the hog.

Twenty minutes later, he was at the one place he never thought he would be. Madison’s
apartment complex. How the hell did he end up here? This wasn’t the plan. It wasn’t
even remotely where he’d intended to go.

“Stupid bike,” he mumbled as he kicked out the kickstand and stood, shaking out his
legs. He had two options. Either go knock on her door—which would be the wrong choice—or
head back home without telling anyone he’d been here—the smart one.

Clearly, Jeremy was done being smart. Intelligence was overrated anyway.

He knocked on the door, and Madison answered almost immediately, shock in her eyes.

“Jeremy. Hey…”

She had her sweatshirt on and a bag in her hand, like she was about to go somewhere.
“Where you headed?”

“Where am I… oh.” She tossed her bag toward the couch, not caring when it fell to
the floor instead with a clash of keys and change and who knew what else a woman’s
purse could contain. “No, I just got back from dropping Veronica at the townhouse.
Walked in the door five seconds before you knocked.”

“I see.”
Yes.
That’s right. Impress her with your awesome verbal skills. Woo her with your…

No. No wooing. None of that. “We need to talk.”

“Oh. So serious.” She smiled but stepped back and let him in. “Want a water?” she
called as she left him in the living room and went to the kitchen.

“No, I won’t be here long.”
I
hope.
He listened while she rummaged around in the fridge and walked back, carrying a bottle
of water. “Thought Skye gave you one of those filter pitcher things.”

She glanced ruefully at the bottle of water. “I know. I’m addicted to the convenience
though. Don’t tell her. It was sweet, and I use it when she’s over. And I try to use
it when I think about it.”

His lips quirked. She was, at the end of the day, fiercely loyal to her family and
friends. “I won’t say a word.”

“So, what’s up?” She cracked the seal and took a long drink. He watched her throat
work as she swallowed twice, and his own mouth watered in response. “Jeremy?”

That snapped him out of it. “Yeah. Right.” He cleared his throat. “I just wanted to
clarify something. I know what you’re up to.”

“Up to?” An innocent
who, me?
look crossed her face. So very unnatural for Madison. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
She set the water bottle on the end table and unzipped her zip-up hoodie.

“Ah.” His eyes tracked the zipper’s progress, like Pavlov’s freaking dog. “Specific.”

The metal rasp filled the silence until it popped free. “Yeah. You said I’m up to
something. What?”

Her hands crept back up to her shoulders and pushed the sweatshirt off, letting it
droop down to her elbows, shoulders covered in thin jersey T-shirt material.

When was the last time a thick, old, battered college sweatshirt and worn T-shirt
had been so sexy?

“Jeremy.”

Her voice sounded hoarse, like she’d been running outside and the cold got to her
throat.

He couldn’t look at her, not like this. Turning, he made a big deal out of inspecting
her couch. “This is nice. I need a new couch. Where’d you get it?”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. No.” He rubbed the back of his neck. This was not how he planned the conversation.
Actually, he hadn’t planned it at all. Time to put the cards on the table. “Are you
coming on to me?”

She chuckled behind him. “You came over here, not the other way around.” He thought
she mumbled something that sounded like “this time,” but he wasn’t sure so he ignored
it.

“I meant earlier. With the game.” This was stupid; he couldn’t stare at her couch
the whole time. Bracing himself, he turned and took the full punch of Madison, in
just her T-shirt and shorts, bare feet, arms raised while she shook out her ponytail.

“That was a game. Apples to Apples. You play the cards you have.”

He blinked twice. “What about now?”

Arms frozen overhead, she stared at him as if he’d suggested she were an alien. “Now…”

“Right now. Look at you. You’re undressing in front of me.” Heat crept up the back
of his neck, but he wasn’t going to give in, not now. He started, so he had to finish.
Damn his pride. “You’re doing that sex thing with your hair and you’re taking your
clothes off right in front of me and I’m not stupid.”

Her arms dropped to her sides and her eyes widened, then narrowed in a way that told
him he was in deep shit.

Madison crossed her arms over her chest and took a warrior stance. “Let me recap,
if you don’t mind.”

“Go right ahead.” He was safe with a recap… as long as she stood on her side of the
living room. If she got within lunging distance, he seriously wouldn’t give himself
the benefit of the doubt.

Whether he’d be lunging to strangle her or to kiss her, he wasn’t even sure.

“You came over here. All on your own.” She grabbed her sweatshirt that she’d draped
over the arm of the couch and walked to the hallway closet to hang it up. “I didn’t
invite you over, and I had no clue you were coming over.”

All true. And, despite his earlier claim, stupid on his part.

“I take off my sweatshirt because it’s warm in my apartment, and I’m still fully clothed
underneath.”

Maybe in the most technical sense. But her old T-shirt, from high school he would
bet, might as well have been missing for all it hid. The soft, well-worn material
curved around her breasts, the screen print job long since cracked and faded across
her chest, only drawing the eye to places it shouldn’t go. The ragged hem stopped
an inch or so before her jean shorts, revealing a pale strip of skin that he’d guess
was as soft as the shirt she wore.

Fully clothed, sure. But in his mind… she might as well be naked. Since that’s how
he was picturing her anyway.

But Madison clearly wasn’t aware of where his mind had drifted—thank God—because she
kept going. She started to pace behind the back of the couch, making sharp turns as
if she were in a parade, full uniform, rather than in the comfort of her own home.
Once Mad got her steam on, you didn’t have any choice but to ride it out. “Then I
take down my hair because I’m sick of having it up and it’s giving me a headache,
and suddenly I’m some sex-nymph?”

“Well, I never said nymph,” he argued, then wished he’d kept his mouth shut when she
turned hot eyes to his.

Damn, she was something to watch when she was pissed. He shifted his stance just a
little, hoping to ease the ill-timed rising pressure in the general vicinity of his
crotch.

No, no, no. That was definitely not what he needed.

“You never said nymph,” she repeated, expression stunned. “Jeremy, I think you owe
me an apology.”

So did he. But that didn’t mean he was going to feel good about it. “I’m sorry. I
don’t know what got into me. I’m gonna go.”

She met him at the door and put a hand on his arm. “Jeremy, we’re friends. Right?”

Friends. What a pale word to describe what he wished they could be. He swallowed that
down. “Friends, yeah. Of course.”

“Don’t go away mad, please? I’ll forget it; we’ll just go on from here, okay?” She
smiled so genuinely that he ached, knowing he was walking out the door instead of
getting to touch her again.

“Sounds good.” And though it took way more effort than it should have, he stepped
outside and closed the door behind him.

His duty to his father wasn’t something he could shrug off. And Madison… God love
her, but she just didn’t fit into that plan.

Not to mention he had a duty to his friend—his best friend—not to screw things up
with his friend’s sister. Hell, what would happen if they dated and it ended badly?
Nobody would be happy.

No, he couldn’t risk that. His friends were everything to him. And Madison was a friend,
as she said. He couldn’t risk losing one of his friends over something he could control.

He had enough issues in his life without pushing away people who supported him. No.
He and Madison, much as he wished, were never going to work.

***

This
is
so
working.

Madison propped her back against the door and slid down to the floor, butt plopping
on the carpet, grin spreading over her face. The timing of his visit was a little
ahead of her schedule, but who cared? She hadn’t expected to see Jeremy again tonight
after dropping Veronica off at Tim and Skye’s place. Still high on excitement from
the plans they made for the apartment while watching a movie, Madison was prepared
to come home and crash.

But Jeremy showed up. And apparently had something crawling under his skin, since
he came ready for a fight. Or confrontation. Or something.

Madison could think of several better uses for all that energy, but he wouldn’t be
ready to hear them. Not quite yet.

But his reaction to her normal, everyday actions, like taking off her freaking sweatshirt,
was the real triumph. She hadn’t planned it, hadn’t even meant for that to happen.
Who the hell could predict a guy would drool over a freaking sweatshirt? But he clearly
couldn’t help himself. And she wasn’t going to argue with that. If he got
sex-nymph
from her unzipping a hoodie and shaking out her ponytail, who was she to say no?

He wasn’t ready yet, she reminded herself as she stood and walked back to the bedroom
to get ready for bed. Still battling some unseen demons. That was just like Jeremy,
to be in his own head and not able to separate what he imagined and what was real.
The man was so internal compared to the other guys it threw her off.

But she’d work that out with him if it killed them both. Which, God knew, it just
might. He wasn’t one to give up once he dug his heels in. But she wasn’t one to give
up a fight once she picked the battle.

It was war. And all was fair game.

***

Jeremy waited for his supply guy to call back. And waited. And waited. After calling
the office and getting the Marine’s voice mail, he let the phone drop back to the
cradle with a small clash.

“Damn. He knows I can’t move forward without his say-so.” Jeremy doodled on the notebook
in front of him, then let his wrist go lax and sketched a little, free form, letting
the pen move as it wanted.

Nonsense shapes started taking form, connected and interlocked somehow. And then he
saw a profile. Profile of a dead woman. Trying his best to stay zoned out—something
he’d never done before—he let his hand work, let the scene take shape. Let the pen
capture as many details as possible before he couldn’t stand it any longer. He ripped
the drawing out, set it aside, turned to a fresh page, and started scribbling down
as many notes as possible.

Her hair. Her eye color. The expression on her face as she’d died. Body placement.
Who killed her? He didn’t know yet. He’d figure that out when he got back to his apartment.
But he wasn’t about to let this moment pass him by. This subconscious, glorious moment
that gave him the perfect idea for a murder.

Who found her? He wasn’t quite sure.

Where was she? That much he knew, without a doubt. And he grimaced as he wrote.

In the shadows, the unlit areas behind the O Club. The place where he and Madison
first kissed, so many months ago. Where he got his first taste of the forbidden fruit
and realized it was sweeter than he’d ever imagined. And now that he knew, he would
crave the one thing he couldn’t have like it was oxygen.

Finally, his hand started to cramp and he sat back to shake it out. Writing at the
office wasn’t something he made a habit of. But with nothing to do and nowhere to
go until the supply guy called, he didn’t feel guilty for taking five minutes to jot
down some plotline notes.

He checked his watch.

Okay, fifteen minutes.

He stood and walked to the kitchen area down the hall to grab a bottle of water from
the main refrigerator. As he walked back down, he saw someone slip into his office.
Walking up, he watched as Tim circled the desk for a minute and started to shift through
papers.

“Looking for something?”

Tim jolted at the sound of his voice, startled rather than guilty. “Yeah, I wanted
to see if your supply guy got back to you yet.”

“No, I’m still waiting for the…” Jeremy’s throat closed up as Tim’s hand hovered over
his notebook with his plot notes. Shit. What the hell…

“If you wanna head back to your office,” he said casually, pausing to take a sip of
water and wash the dust from his throat, “I’ll call down at you when I get word.”

“I can wait here. Nothing going on back there.” Tim walked back around and fell into
one of the chairs opposite his desk. “I hate feeling useless. The longer this year
goes on, the more I feel like a desk jockey and not a real Marine.”

As his friend settled into the seat, Jeremy breathed his first full gulp of air in
minutes.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. No action and all paperwork makes Jeremy a—”

“Crab ass?”

He lifted a brow at that. “Close enough.”

“Then what’s the difference when you are getting some action?” Tim laughed a little.
“That came out wrong, but I guess it amounts to the same.”

Jeremy’s hands shook a little and he balled his fingers into fists. Keeping his steps
calm and unassuming, he went to his own desk chair and sat down. Then, as if just
now noticing how messy his desk was, he started collecting papers seemingly at random,
piling them all together.

Naturally, the notebook ended up on the bottom of the pile, well hidden by the rest
of the forms. Funny how that happened.

Tim grimaced. “How the hell you get any work done around here when your desk looks
like that, I’ll never know.”

“Easy there, Mr. Clean. Your stick is showing.”

Tim just rolled his eyes as Jeremy laughed, the last of the tension seeping out of
his shoulders and gut.

Tim was known for being anal, even earning the nickname Lieutenant Stick in TBS—for
having a stick up his ass about regulations and rules. He’d relaxed considerably since
his marriage to Skye, but he still had his moments of compulsive organization and
super-cleanliness. But his wife usually eased those rough moments, and he’d become
even more easygoing in the last few months.

“Are you all ready for your week out in the field?”

Tim grunted. “It’s action, at least. A little notice would have been nice, though.
I feel like we’re always playing catch-up around here.”

“Nature of the beast.”

“Hurry up and wait,” they both intoned at the same time, then chuckled together.

“I’m ready,” Tim went on. “I just hate not having a warning. Forty-eight hours isn’t
much.”

“That’s not exactly uncommon. We rarely have that much notice before heading out to
the field. Plus, you’re only gone for eight days,” Jeremy pointed out.

“Yeah, but I like to let Skye know as soon as possible if I’m gonna be gone.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. A year ago, heading out to the field at the
last minute wouldn’t have given Tim a second thought. As organized as he was by nature,
he could have been set and ready to roll in an hour. Shit changed when you added a
wife to the mix.

“Can I ask you a favor for while I’m gone?”

Jeremy sat up straighter but smiled. “Only if it’s not paperwork,” he joked.

Tim smiled and shook his head. “Nah. It’s easier than paperwork. I promised to help
Veronica set up a new bedroom set for her over the weekend, but now I’ll be gone.
I don’t think she wants to wait a second longer, but she’s too polite to say so.”

New furniture? Piece of cake. “Sure. No problem. Do you need help dismantling what
you’ve got set up now?”

Tim shook his head. “No, the furniture in the guest bedroom stays there. We would
have let her have it, but she’s got new stuff coming in. Skye’s parents bought her
a new bedroom set… something about making up for years without her own. No clue what
that means, but whatever. She’s moving into Madison’s guest room. They’ll be roommates
now.”

“Madison’s place. Roommates. Really?” Jeremy’s throat did that uncomfortable closing-in
thing again. Damn, could he just not catch a break? He made mental plans to avoid
her whenever possible for the near future, and suddenly he’s right back at square
one.

“Yeah. I think Madison works all weekend, but Veronica has keys now. So if I give
her your number, can she text you to come over when she’s ready?”

“Absolutely.” He’d scoot in, assemble in record time, and scoot back out again. Like
a thief in the night… only during the day. And without stealing anything.

“Great.” Tim slapped his palms on his knees, then pushed to stand up. “I’ll let them
know you’re able to help. Thanks.” And before he left, he leaned back and said, “And
keep an eye out for my girls while I’m gone. All three of them. Yeah?”

Jeremy scoffed. “Corny, dude.”

Tim smiled lazily. “Probably. But I’m not used to leaving someone behind. Just in
case, you know. Makes me feel better knowing they have someone to call if something
comes up.”

“Sure. No problem.” Yeah, he’d keep an eye out… for ways to not act like an idiot.
Prime example, the other night.

Impressive, really, when a guy managed to insult a woman by claiming she was seducing
him, when all she was doing was taking off a sweatshirt.

But
she
wants
me.

He knew it as sure as he knew the Marine Corps Hymn. And he had no clue what to do
with the information, other than ignore it.

Because he’d been doing such a fantastic job of that so far.

But this time he had no more chances to screw up. He and Madison were flammable together.
Lighter fluid and a spark. He couldn’t afford to go after her, and she wouldn’t give
up coming after him.

Just like in battle, he’d play it by ear. Planning only took you so far. After that,
instincts kicked in. He’d prepare, steel himself against the effect she had on him,
and hope for a good show of resolve.

***

The only thing worse than being alone with your own thoughts was being alone with
your own thoughts for days at a time.

And therein lay the problem with Madison’s three days on, two days off shift schedule
at the moment. If she didn’t make the effort, she’d spend way too much time with herself.
God knew that was a recipe for disaster.