Yellow Ribbons (8 page)

“We need to go,” Greg told him. “The deputies have our statements, and you know how to get hold of us.”

“Sure, sure.” Pattison stepped aside. “I’ll let you know what we turn up.”

“Good. The general’s…anxious.”

“I can imagine.” Pattison broke into an easy trot on his way over to brief Shilling.

He started for the driver’s side of his truck, Cornwall dogging his heels. Once they were inside, Greg didn’t waste any time before driving off. Elbow braced on the door, chin on the tips of his fingers, Cornwall stared out the passenger window. He’d been somewhat quiet since they’d discovered…

Greg swallowed the lump in his throat. It hurt to think of the major as
remains
. Hurt even more to think of how they’d failed him.

“I know there’s nothing more we can do for him, but it still feels like betrayal to leave him alone,” Cornwall said.

Greg flexed his fingers around the steering wheel. He could barely acknowledge Cornwall, and he sure as hell couldn’t look his way. Emotions teetered on a razor’s edge of grief. “I know.”

“It sounds selfish, but I’m glad I didn’t see him like that.”

Greg had—the barest glimpse of Kenyon lying there in white boxers, vomit, and shit overlaid with the bloody murder scene from the night before. The sights and scents of both were going to haunt him for a very long time.

“Someone needs to call his wife. She needs to hear this from family, not official channels.”

“Lani will take care of it.” Greg cursed himself for the lapse and prayed Cornwall didn’t catch it. The slip gauged his level of upset. Grief nudged his control to the side. He needed the peace and comfort of Lani’s presence. She gave those to him with a look, a sigh, the sound of her voice, or merely the feel of her body heat when she stood beside him. He hated the walls and rules that kept them apart. Hated that he couldn’t cling to her in public when he needed her most.

Pain twisted his heart. A friend gone. A lover he couldn’t acknowledge. A life that suddenly felt hollow and much too short.

“She’s the provost marshal now,” Cornwall said.

“Unless the CG determines otherwise. He’s on a tear. Expect scorched-earth tactics, heads delivered on silver platters.”

“Captain Hollister doesn’t deserve that. She’s a damn fine marine.”

“Yes, she is.” The finest…in more ways than one. Another twist tied his heart in knots. Greg needed a distraction, something to keep his mind off the recent deaths and the burning need he had to be within touching distance of Lani. “So tell me a little about yourself. Hobbies, books, stuff like that.”

Cornwall turned his way. “Don’t you think that’s a little crass, all things considered?”

“We’ve got a thirty-minute drive back to base. I can’t spend it thinking about murders or the hell awaiting us at the office. I need normal, same as you. It’ll help face what’s to come.”

“You’re very intuitive, Master Gunnery Sergeant.”

“Sometimes.” It helped in a job like this and sucked when everything was so jumbled he couldn’t think straight.

“I hope one day I can be half the man you are.”

“Be careful what you wish for.” He managed a smile, though he didn’t trust the compliment.

“Now that begs for a story,” Cornwall said with a laugh.

“Not really. Still a work in progress.” And he wasn’t about to be sharing those details with anyone. “So…you.”

Once Cornwall starting talking, it took little to keep him going. The upshot was that he was a lonely man with no friends who kept to himself out of fear his secret would come out. His well-to-do family cut him off when he chose the Marine Corps over their plans.

The conversation managed to chase the shadows away from Greg’s mind. They returned the minute he pulled onto the Marine Corps base. The devastation lurking on the MP’s face as he waved them through the front gate told Greg the word was out. PMO was going to play hell, trying to get its people through this. Two of their own dead. Funerals, investigations, grief counseling, voids to fill.

Like the one in his soul right now. The need to get to Lani ate at his gut, as if he wouldn’t be whole again until he saw her,
felt
her near him. Then he could breathe again, think again, handle anything the world and the Marine Corps could throw his way.

“I appreciate you listening to me today, Master Gunnery Sergeant.” Back on base, back into the roles military regulation required.

“Not a problem, Lieutenant. I enjoyed getting to know you better.”

They left Greg’s truck at the same time, Cornwall’s stride speaking of a confidence that wasn’t there before. Greg wished his could be as sure. It felt like he was running in sand, trying to get inside and to Lani’s office. He and Cornwall went their separate ways: Cornwall to his office, Greg to Lani’s.

“Give me a status report of where we are, Corporal Mathias,” he heard Cornwall ask. Greg didn’t wait to hear the answer.

His pace quickened, past his office and on to hers. She juggled phone calls, paperwork, and a stream of people coming and going. Kenyon’s office had been taped off with yellow tape. He stepped to the door and found CID combing through the place, most likely looking for anything that would help explain what had happened. Greg doubted Lani had run this past NCIS or higher command. Good for her.

Returning to her door, Greg poked his head in. “We’re back. When you’re ready, ma’am.”

Phone pressed to her ear, she glanced up, started to wave him in, then froze and covered the mouthpiece. “I’ll come to you.”

Sweet words, sweeter salvation. He closed the door behind him when he went into his own office, hurried to dress in his cammies, and then sank into the nearest chair, head buried in his hands. The door opened and closed, the lock snicked. He could smell her, feel her.

Lani brushed her hands over his back. Her breath tickled his ear right before she rested her chin on his shoulder. A kiss to his cheek crashed the last barrier to his emotions. Greg let go, pulling her into his lap and holding on for dear life. She said nothing; she didn’t have to. She maneuvered until his head rested against her bosom, then brushed the grief into submission with slow caresses over his back. Finally he lifted his head to her lips for a simple kiss that healed the rawness and spawned an erection that embarrassed him for its ill-timed appearance. He drew away, desperate to put some distance between them before he did something stupid. Lani held on tight.

“No no.” She cupped his face. “It’s okay. When faced with death, it’s natural to need to reaffirm we’re alive. You know that.”

He did…until it happened to him. “All I want to do is bury my cock in you. Right here. Right now.”

“Then do it,” she whispered against his lips. “Do it.” She crawled from his lap and stood between his knees.

His brain shut down when he saw her wiggle her cammie trousers and panties down her hips. She turned and bent over, shoving the clothing to her ankles and giving him a damn fine view of her ass. The scent of her arousal screamed his name.

“Take me,” she whispered and knelt before him.

“You’ll get rug burns.” He wrapped one arm around her waist and hoisted her to her feet while his other hand worked frantically to get his cock free. “Desk,” he ordered, and they fumbled to reach it. It was going to be a tight fit with Lani’s ankles trapped. Just what he needed. Tight, hot, quick, risky.

She raised her hips as high as she could, searching for a handhold on his cluttered desk. Greg grabbed his cock and aimed for her slick pussy, both of them gasping when he plunged deep. He cupped his fingers over her clit.

“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “This is for you. We both need this. Take it. Do it. Fuck me.”

God help him, Greg did. Fucking her hard and fast, like his life depended on it. At that moment, he was fairly sure it did.

He came quick, the force snapping his pelvis forward and cracking the vertebrae in his spine…maybe even a molar or two from locking his jaw to keep from crying out. He brushed his thumbs over her hips, worried he’d left bruises because he’d held her so tight. Her hard breaths matched his, a fight to keep sound in and their liaison hidden. Her pussy throbbed around his spent cock. Slick, hot, and tight. He couldn’t leave her like this. His days as a selfish lover were long gone. She needed release as much as he had, and he was going to see she got it.

Greg eased from her body and tucked his dick away. Lani started to stand before he finished buttoning. He stayed her with a palm to her back, another over her warm ass. He expected protest, but she merely sighed. Greg leaned over her, nipping at her earlobe and slipping his hand between her legs. She lifted and spread as far as her clothing allowed and succeeded in trapping his hand between her thighs. He fingered her clitoris and slid his thumb into her pussy.

Her lips moved on soundless words, her body rocked into his touch. Beautiful. Perfect. His. At least for now. And that was all that mattered.

Lani clamped her lips against the orgasm that drenched his hand. Greg rested his head against hers, breathing in the moment.

“It’s Friday,” he whispered. “Stay with me this weekend, Lani. I need you.
Need
you.”

She pulled in a short breath, held it, then nodded. It was all he could do not to fuck her again.

Standing room only in the commanding general’s waiting room. Lani knew this wasn’t going to end well. All the major players cooled their heels waiting for the summons to enter, each with their own report. In the end, Lani knew there was only one thing General Drake would want to know—what the fuck was going on. She couldn’t tell him.

Jordan looked like he’d been on a three-day bender. A long night and brutal crime scenes had taken their toll. He’d propped himself against the wall, sucking on yet another breath mint to cover his coffee breath. Though he’d remembered to shave and put on a fresh shirt, neither helped his appearance. He looked half-dead and rumpled. Every so often, Lani saw him pinch the webbing between his thumb and forefinger. Most likely trying to stay awake. His grip on the battered leather portfolio under his arm suggested it was a losing battle.

“Don’t forget to turn off your phone,” she whispered.

“Thanks. Want to go get a bite after we’re done here?”

Another invite? Maybe Greg was right to be suspicious. She glanced to where Greg huddled in the corner with Lieutenant Colonel Seaberg, wondering if he’d overheard. Thankfully, the two were engrossed in their own muted conversation and seemingly oblivious to the world around them. If they turned any farther, they’d have their backs to the room.

“I have plans tonight. Weekend plans, actually.”

“That’s presuming we’ll
have
a weekend.” He pushed away from the wall and stepped into her personal space. “Somehow I have a feeling you and I are about to be made examples of. Why else would the CG drag all these people into his office? He knows by now that we’ve got nothing new on these murders. Unless there’s something you’re not sharing.”

“It’s difficult to share information when you don’t have any and can’t look for it.”

“Exactly, and now we’re facing a trial by fire, and not only are we not on the same sheet of music, we don’t know what song’s playing.”

“Given the fact the victims are members of my section, and the fact any investigation on our parts would lead to suspect evidence, the only person who has anything to
sing
about is you.” Lani thought about ordering him out of her red zone, but his nearness hinted of attempts to coerce, possibly intimidate, and Lani refused to give him the satisfaction of doing either.

“Something tells me you’ve got plenty to sing about.”

Jordan’s lips thinned, and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly; he looked clever, like he had something on her. It lifted Lani’s hackles, put her on alert.

“I know you had Major Kenyon’s office searched. I know you’ve spoken to his wife. I suspect you’ve surreptitiously questioned CID personnel. It would be out of character for you to not get all your ducks in a row. Just make sure they don’t get shot down before you’re ready to fly them.”

“Are you threatening me, Special Agent Beck?” Lani kept her voice low and menacing. This was no one’s business but theirs. She could fight her own battles.

“No…” Eyes wide, he stepped away. “I didn’t mean to imply—”

The door to the inner sanctum swung open. “General Drake is ready to see you now,” his aide said.

They filed toward the door in the order of who stood closer. Jordan barred her way, bending too close again.

Lani challenged him with a lift of her eyebrow. “You do live dangerously, don’t you, keeping the commanding general waiting?”

“I needed to say I’m sorry. I’m tired. I’m frustrated. I could use a friend right now.” He followed up the low declaration by cupping her elbow, adding a quick brush of his thumb.

Alarm shot through her. A friend? No, he wanted much more than that. After all this time, the sudden move didn’t set right. “The general’s waiting, Jordan.”

He dropped his hand and moved off. Lani flexed her shoulders and followed the others. Lani hurried to snap to before the general with the others. Had everyone not been locked at attention before General Drake, all eyes would have been on them, and Greg’s gaze would have shot Jordan dead.

“So nice of you two to join us.” General Drake drummed his index finger on his glass-topped desk. “At ease. Everyone have a seat where you can find it.”

Lani knew that didn’t include her. There was no “ladies first” in the military. They were all supposed to be on an equal par. Her low rank precluded her from having an available seat, but she wasn’t the only one. Greg stood at the end of one three-seater sofa by Lieutenant Colonel Seaberg while the staff judge advocate took the other end. Ditto with Lieutenant Cornwall and Lani at the opposite sofa. Jordan was beside her, nearest to the door. The general’s aide squeezed in next to him and shut the door.

The general’s chair had the nerve to creak as he leaned forward and steepled his hands before him. He seemed in a much calmer state of mind this afternoon. Lani didn’t trust it would last long. He wanted answers, and they only had more questions.