Текст книги "Because of The Brave"
Автор книги: ZA Maxfield
Соавторы: Laura Baumbach,Josh lanyon
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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 10 страниц)
into himself, more cock, more taste, more touch, until it seemed they were almost one.
Carson suddenly stiffened and cried out, the sound of his voice lost in the muffled shout of China's own orgasm, prompted by the glorious spasms of Carson's tight ass around his buried shaft. Cum shot onto their chests, thin streams of pale white fluid, almost lost against the fairness of Carson's flesh. Each gush of his own ejaculation bathed Carson's insides making his urgent thrusts deeper, almost to the point of being painfully exquisite.
Spent, China eased out, and collapsed forward landing on top of Carson, his weight carefully eased to one side to allow his still gasping lover a chance to breathe. The last delicious spasm shuddered down his spine.
China rolled onto one side and pulled Carson over to him, tossing an arm over Carson's chest and kiss onto his lips. It was chaste but tender, an unspoken declaration of affection from a man who preferred actions instead of words.
Carson responded in kind, his lips lingering over China's mouth then moving down to touch newly healed scars on China's chest and arms. Some scars were red, ragged masses of webbed flesh marking bullet holes and shrapnel wounds. Others were concise thin lines, dark pink and more faded made by surgeon's blades in an attempt to repair the other wounds.
China knew they weren't pretty but they were a fact of life and he'd stop noticing them a few weeks after the bandages had come off. This was the first time anyone beside hospital staff had seen them. Carson had been curious about them earlier but other things more pressing, like their hard-ons, had distracted them both.
“These were serious injuries.”
China had to concentrate to keep from squirming under Carson's light examination of one very long jagged scar. “Others got worse.”
Silence consumed part of the air in the room. He cursed silently, remembering Carson's recent loss. Carson's questing touch stilled for several
second then continued. Air eased back into China's lungs as he searched for something to say and came up empty.
“It looks like they had to do a lot of surgery. You're sure you're okay to go back to active duty?”
“They went back in three times. Docs said I could ask for a medical discharge and they'd grant it, but—”
“But what?”
China couldn't ignore the disbelief in Carson's voice but he had to tell the truth. “I finish what I start. I'm Army. That says it all for me.”
It was quiet for several moments before Carson sighed dramatically. “So we're back to that 'you're crazy' thing again aren't we?”
Carson heard the shower running. The slap of water splashed against the shower door as China moved and rinsed in the gentle hiss of the spray. Even the air smelled of soap and steamy warmth. It was comforting; so different than waking up to a still and lifeless room every morning.
He yawned and stretched under the blankets, noticing the pleasant ache in his ass and a lingering burn on his skin where China's five o'clock shadow had left a reminder of their lovemaking. Carson luxuriated in the reminder, hating the fact it would be a long time before it happened again. If ever. He had no idea how long China planned to stick around before he was due back on base. Before he went back to a life that Carson couldn't be a part of.
At least not openly.
But maybe…when China was formally discharged….Maybe.
The bedroom was normally chilly in the mornings but Carson could hear the furnace running. China must have turned up the thermostat to drive the chill
off before he got in the shower. That was nice. Coffee laced the air, making his stomach growl and his taste buds beg.
Giving in, he threw back the covers and rolled to his feet, grabbing his discarded jeans off the floor from under China's fatigues. The heavier pants clunked to one side, coins, a scrimshaw-handled penknife and a folded photograph tumbled out onto the carpet. Barefoot and bedraggled, Carson paused to scoop the items back up intending to return them to the pants. The coins and knife rattled back into the pocket of the fatigues but curiosity got the better of him.
What picture's so important you carry it in your front pocket, China-man? Or maybe—who is so important?
Insecurity reared. What if China had lover? They hadn't talked about things, they had both allowed the attraction between them to rule the moment last night. Who else would a guy carry around with him beside someone special to them?
With a guilty glance at the closed bathroom door, Carson couldn't resist unfolding the photo. He had to look. He didn't want to admit it, but he might be falling in love. If China was involved with someone else, Carson was going to have to deal with it. He rather do that on his own terms, in his own way without making a fool of himself in front of the other man.
He smoothed open the somewhat worn, wallet-sized photo, holding his breath, hoping to see a picture of China's parents. What he did see choked him on his next breath, his eyes blinking rapidly to be sure he was seeing right.
It was a photo of him. The one Jim had taken of him on his last birthday. It was shot outside in the local park, sunshine making his pale hair look white as it was tossed by the light wind. He'd been smiling, delighted in the impromptu outing, excited by the day with his usually absent brother.
Even he admitted it was a good photo. Jim had carried it with him all the time, torturing Carson by showing it to waitresses and cashiers whenever he could, bragging about his brilliant little brother.
It hadn't been in the personal effects the army had sent back. Carson assumed it had gotten destroyed when Jim was killed. His brother who had accepted him, raised him, and loved him. Who had been proud of him, proud enough to carry his picture with him all the time. But now, now that photo belonged to a stranger.
He dropped the photograph on the bed next to crumpled trousers. The clothes of a stranger.
A stranger who had entered Carson's life under false pretenses. China was just as bad as Steve. He obviously had known Jim and how close he and his brother had been. But here he was, stalking Carson, using him, making him feel comfortable and secure while he was being lied to and deceived.
The sound of the shower stopping jarred him out of his stupor. He needed answers but right now he needed space. Time alone to think things out. Grabbing his boots and a clean shirt out of the nearest drawer, Carson fled the room, dressing on his way to the front door. He pulled on his boots, swept his coat of the hook by the door and was gone.
The sound of China calling his name made him pause outside the closed front door but only for a moment. Shaking his head, he tossed all those school girl ideas of a lasting relationship back into the closet along with China. There was no future here. Not with someone who would deceive him like this.
How could he have been so wrong about the man?
“Carson?”
The bedroom was warm and silent. It smelled of sex and coffee. It was probably his imagination but China thought he detected the faint scent of cranberry he associated with the taste of Carson's kisses.
Towel partially over his head to dry off his hair, China walked blindly into the room, stopping when he felt the bed covers brush his naked leg.
“Carson?” He dropped the towel and peered out the open bedroom door. “If you're getting coffee, grab me a cup, too. Black.” Dragging the towel down his chest he turned to locate his pants.
It was then he saw it. The photo his sergeant and friend had pressed into his hands during his last few minutes on earth, along with a request China couldn't refuse. Didn't want to refuse.
But Carson wouldn't have known. He'd have recognized the photo and known who it had belonged to, known China hadn't be completely truthful to him. He should have explained from the start and now…now it was too late. The first time he'd ever meet a guy that made him think there could be a meaningful life outside the Army and he'd fucked it up.
The photo was worn a little rough in spots, places where his thumb had rubbed over the corners. He folded it and shoved it into his pants packet, making sure it was safely deep in the bottom. He dressed in a rapid tug and pull of pants, T-shirt, sweater, socks and boots, grabbing his jacket and cap on the way out the door, pausing only to make sure the coffee pot was off.
The snow had fallen most of the night and now, in the very early morning, the sidewalks were thick carpets of white undisturbed by the start of the day's usual traffic. It was easy for China to track the tread of Carson's chukka boots all the way to the church. He found the younger man in a small chapel off the main hall. He guessed it was used as a place for private grieving and meditation.
He sat down on the plain wooden pew beside Carson, slightly encouraged that Carson didn't move away or make a move to punch him. He would have stopped him from moving but not from throwing a punch. No one deserved to be socked more than he did.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and looked up, trying to catch a glimpse of Carson's face, desperate to see some sign he could fix this. Carson's
skin was paler than usual, his head bent, his blond curls blown around his face like a halo. China wanted to look into those green eyes and read Carson's thoughts but the other man keep them lowered, half-veiled with long eyelashes.
“Do I get a chance to tell you the truth?”
Then those eyes he wanted to see so badly were looking at him. Harsh. Accusing. Hurt. His chest actually ached when Carson demanded, “Why start now?”
“You lied.” It was hard, accusing and cut straight through China's carefully constructed neutrality. The amount of hurt in Carson's burning glare made him feel like a heel and gave him hope at the same time. Carson wouldn't be this passionate about hating him if he didn't have strong feelings for him.
“No, I didn't.” China sat up straight and slid his hand into his pocket. Despite the cold his hands were sweating. The edges of the photograph wedged in the crease of his palm, sticking. He let it stay there, needing an anchor to the reason all this happened. “I just didn't tell you everything. Yet.”
“Yet? Kind of late isn't it?” Carson spun to face him, braced for a fight, a white-knuckled grip on the pews in front of and behind them.
“There's time if you give it to me. And it will take time. The situation is…complex.” His gaze never left Carson's face, studying, searching, looking for that one shred of hope this could work out. That at least Jim's brother wouldn't hate him when the truth was out.
So far all he knew was that Carson could go white as snow and still be alive and angry as hell.
“Looks simple from here.” Carson's voice broke, but he took a deep breath that let him finish fairly steady. “You somehow got my brother's picture of me,
tracked me down, stalked me, then made me think we had something between us. That's sick.”
China suddenly understood Carson wasn't bracing for a fight. He was holding on to the pews to literally stop himself from shaking. For a little guy, he had a big temper. He turned on the pew and faced him head on.
“Okay. I understand you're angry.”
“Angry? Try betrayed, used, fucked-”
“Stop!” China moved closer, grabbing Carson's wrist on the front pew just to connect better. Carson liked actions more than words. Tremors ran through the arm under his grip, but he suspected hurt fueled them more than hate. “You have a right to be angry, but most of that other stuff isn't true. I didn't betray you or use you.”
He touched the side of Carson's face, his chest aching at the unhealthy coolness of the porcelain-like skin. He lowered his voice, longing slipping out along with the truth. “And it was more than fucking for me.” His thumb brushed lightly over Carson's lips. “Not that it could work out between us, but—”
Carson jerked his head to one the side, brushing off China's caress. “Just tell me where you got the photo.”
This was the hard part. Reliving it in order to tell it. He took a deep breath, trying to sweep away the memories, at least the hardest ones. He reminded himself that what he felt was nothing compared to what Carson would go through. “Jim gave it to me.”
“What?” Anger drained away in an instant. Carson was left looking frightened and lost. “When?”
A hesitant knock on the door frame heralded the arrival of a young woman to the chapel doorway. She glanced in, anxious eyes studying their faces before she gave them a nod and a small smile. China pegged her for a curious church worker timidly investigating raised voices. Apparently, they were non-
threatening enough to satisfy her. She left even more quietly than she had arrived.
“Just before we got hit the hardest with a ton of enemy firepower.”
“You were with him when he died?” China was sure the young man would keel over if he got any paler. “Is that how you were injured?” Shaking hands ransacked his clothing, touching his chest and arms, remembering where all the deepest wounds lay. “All the ragged scars?”
Carson jumped to his feet, still holding on to China. Both his hands were fisted around large folds of jacket, hanging on for dear life. “How did it happen? Tell me!”
“Sit down and I will.” China grabbed hold of Carson's forearms and forced him to sit. He kept his grip firm to ward off his own crazy thought that if he didn't Carson would disappear like wisps of smoke. “But you have to listen. I can't give you all of the details. They're classified, and they don't really matter anyway.” Carson made to rise up, but China pulled him back down beside him. “But you have to sit!”
It took a moment, but Carson finally relaxed back into the pew, trepidation shrouding his expression. “So talk.”
China was shocked to realize he'd give anything to take away the mistrust in Carson's eyes. The trip really hadn't turned out the way he had planned. Not by a long shot. Christ-on-a-pogo-stick, he wanted this over with.
“I joined the fire unit at the end of March. Fifth man in. I replaced a guy who went stateside. Your brother was sergeant, along with three others guys. Wilson, Vincent and Bradley. All good guys. Fair. We fit, like a team is supposed to.”
China looked off toward the candles burning on the center table. Memories, good and bad, came to life in the flickering light. The faint sound of a chorus singing drifted through the open chapel door, a sweet counterpoint to the nightmare playing in his head. “It can be hard when you're the new guy, but the Sarge and I clicked from the start. We got to be good friends pretty quick.”
He tore his gaze away to meet Carson's expectant stare. “Facing death together everyday can do that.”
Carson didn't comment. “Your brother was like that. Easy going. Quick to take to most people. Friendly, accepting, perceptive. Too perceptive, in my case.”
“How?”
“Jim could figure a person out and tell him things nobody else knew just by observing him for a while. Once all five of us were getting drunk and stupid. The guys are partying and chatting up the working girls. Blowing off steam and hoping for a blow job. At one point Jim and I both wander off to get rid of the cheap beer we're drinking. There's one light bulb in the shit hole of a latrine and the noise from the bar was so loud the door might as well have been open. It looks deserted except for us. To make a long story short, Jim says it must be hard, wanting some ass and not enjoying what was being offered by the working girls. I keep my personal life to myself but Jim had me figured out. Before I can answer him, some jerk from another unit stumbles out of the shadows and gets in my face. Calling me a faggot and threatening to make a report. Asshole is high as a kite.”
“What happened?”
“Jim told him if he said a word, he'd be peeing into a cup and on his way to Leavenworth before any other dishonorable discharge papers were signed. 'Don't ask, don't tell' may be official policy, but it doesn't keep you safe from assholes with guns in the field.”
“It's a stupid policy.”
“I'm not arguing with you there.”
“Finish. Please.”
“After the first month, Jim started talking about his younger brother, Carson. Sharing stories from your letters, childhood pranks and stuff. I got to know you pretty well. Jim says how proud he is, how smart and successful you are, and good-looking, too. Eventually, he says he'd like it if Carson found
someone special. Someone solid, hardworking, to share his life with. Then he hands me your picture and asks, 'Think you could do right by him? You're Carson's type.'”
“That's were you learned to pronoun my name the way he did.”
“It's the only way I ever heard it said. Seemed only right.”
Carson tugged and China let go of his arms, pleased when the young man didn't move away once he was free.
“He knew you were gay?”
China nodded. “I almost choked. I wanted to say he had it all wrong, but I guess having a gay brother tuned him into the subtle things. Anyway, he knew. I didn't argue with him. Just told him you were a looker.” China remembered that day, remembered the first time he'd seen those amazing, green marbled eyes.
“Jim laughed and said he'd introduce me the next time we had leave Stateside. Fix us up on a blind date if I wanted.” This time China laughed, a sad, tired chuckle. “Like I needed convincing after seeing your face. Hell, I was thinking the whole time that if you were half the person Jim was you'd have guys all over you. There'd be no room for me.”
The wariness had faded away but now Carson's mouth was pulled tight in a thin line, his eyes rimmed with moisture. China could see fine tremors shake Carson's shoulders. It was taking everything the young man had to hold it together.
“Jim was a good man, Carson. We only knew each other a few months but your brother was the best friend I ever had. Good man, good soldier, good friend with a good heart.” He rubbed his palm over the edge of the pew in front of him, the wood smoothe and warm, smelling of soap and polish. “My life is less with him gone. I miss him everyday. I can't begin to imagine how you feel.”
“No, you can't imagine. Without Jim, I'm alone. Totally alone. He was my entire family!” Carson hugged his arms to this chest, face ashen. “Last night– Christ, China! I was vulnerable, raw, my emotions were exposed and you knew
it. I needed to be with another human being last night. Needed to find some comfort. With someone who cared.”
China couldn't take the hurt in Carson's eyes anymore. He reached out to wrap his arms around the shaking man. Carson pushed him away with both hands. China rocked back dropping his arms to his sides. Carson's faltering words cut him to the bone.
“How could you? How could you lie and then make love to me?”
Grief, pain and guilt were written all over China. His face was drawn, the lines around his eyes deeper. For the first time since he'd meet the big man, his shoulders rounded, his height seemingly smaller at this moment.
Carson wanted to hate him—shout at him, lash out—anything that would release the pain waiting to explode from his chest. But he couldn’t do it. China was in as much pain as he was from the look of the man. He wasn't sure if the pain was grief over the memory of losing his brother or fear he was losing the chance at a relationship that had seemed so right for him.
Or both.
Or neither.
Maybe this was what a broken heart broken was like.
“I couldn't tell you. I came here to check on you. Like I promised Jim. You didn't need to know the rest. It wouldn't change what happened to Jim. But last night changed things. “I didn't expect to be so attracted to you. Not just a one night stand attraction but a real one. Like in a lasting relationship. But if that has a chance, you'll need to know the whole truth. I couldn't tell you before. Not sure I can now, but I need to try. Will you listen to me?”
Suddenly, he wanted to hear China explain, wanted a reason not to hate this man, this man he was sure he was falling in love with just a few hours ago. “What's worse than deceiving me?”
“I'm…I….” China stopped to gulp a lung full of air then tried again. It took three tries before he managed to make a few words string together. “I'm the reason your brother is dead.”
The only thing keeping Carson from throwing a punch was the tortured, haunted stare balefully burning him. It spoke volumes of unshared pain and the heavy burden of guilt. It showed how deeply China had cared for Jim as a friend. How deeply he cared for Carson now.
The silence was heavy, pushing down on Carson until he was sure his ears needed to pop. The muffled sounds of the choir practice faded to nothing while the hiss of the burning candles took on epic portions.
Hands and lips numb with an unnatural chill, his heart hammered against his rib cage so hard he was sure it would be bruised. Carson shook his head. His jaw moved but words wouldn't come.
“Our unit was sent out on a mission. Details don't matter. It was an easy designated target. Quick in, quick out. We'd done it a hundred times. Jim and Vincent would team up while Wilson hooked with Bradley. One team would create a distraction. The other would cover my ass while I slipped in and did my thing.”
“What's your 'thing'?” He hated pieces missing from puzzles. As much as he didn't want to know, he needed to know.
Hands spread wide China studied them for several long seconds. He flexed them once and lowered them to his lap. “Let's just say I'm good with my hands.”
“This would be a skill that translates well to the personal security sector.”
“Yeah. Among others.” China slipped his hands into his jacket pockets. “At the last moment, word came in that changed things. Two guys would have to go in. Jim picked himself to go with me. Bradley would take our six. Wilson and
Vincent would create a diversion. There was a second unit as back up if things got heavy.”
“Which they did.”
“Yeah. But not right away. We did what we came in for but it took too long. There was more activity than we expected and we got pinned down. There was unfriendly activity all around us. We knew the guys were coming in for us, but we were out numbered. Jim took a bullet in the chest. I got the ragged one in the shoulder first. We held out as long as we could but it didn't look good. That's when he gave me your photo and asked me to check on you if he didn't make it. He made me promise. I had to talk to you. He didn't care what I said, I just had to promise. And I did. Just before the lights went out. Last thing I saw was Jim's smart-ass grin.”
“When I woke up I was already stateside. We all were. Bradley came to visit. Tried to apologize but Wilson had already told me what really happened.”
“Don't tell me it was friendly fire?”
“No, not exactly. It wasn't Bradley's fault. His back up decided to take their sweet time coming in. Seems one of their men turned out to be the drugged out asshole from the latrine. He knew I was usually first man to go in on this kind of mission.”
China hunched forward, elbows on his knees, his big, capable hands, one fist tucked inside the other like a catcher's mitt, restrained violence in every line of the man's powerful body. “So he moved slow, letting the faggot get caught in the crossfire. Suddenly, I'm a designated target.”
He shook his head, his voice sounding so raw Carson wished he'd stop talking. But China trudged on, pain pushed aside. Carson reminded himself this man was a Ranger, part of his brother's team. Jim always had the best men.
“He didn't know Jim had gone along at the last minute. I don't even know if that would have made a difference to him. I hope it would. But anyway you look
at it, I'm responsible. If it hadn't be me out there it wouldn't have happened. Jim would still be alive.”
It took some time to take it all in. The horror, the pain, imagining what Jim must have been feeling when he knew he wasn't coming back.
How much did getting shot hurt? A lot he'd bet. From the look of the man's scars, China knew all too well. Maybe he'd ask. One day, not now.
Slowly Carson weeded through the dozens of thoughts flashing through his mind like a hyperactive slide show until only one seemed important to him. “Jim wanted you to meet me?”
“Made me swear to God I'd come here. I think he was trying to make sure you had someone to lean on if he was gone. I think he was hoping we'd fit.”
There was something in China's dark eyes that pulled Carson closer, some element of strength and hope that called to him. It wrapped around his insides, comforting and strong, like a hug from a friendly bear.
“At least become friends. Someone you could call when you needed it. He was sorry he hadn't talked to you for so long.”
Three months. That's how long it had been since Carson had actually talked with Jim. But he was often out of contact for long periods. Carson didn't think anything about it. Now he couldn't remember what they had talked about the last time they spoke. Ordinary things he guessed.
And during that time, Jim had made a good friend, a best friend. Bonds made in the service were sometimes stronger than family ties. China wasn't responsible for this. Maybe not even the other guy. These men led dangerous lives. Jim had taught him that survival needed trust. Jim had died doing something he believed in for his country. The fact that China had survived meant that Jim hadn't died alone. He'd had a friend beside him.
The same friend that was beside Carson right now. Jim had trusted this man. Maybe it was time he trusted him, too.
China stood up. Carson automatically rose beside him. Taking the photo from his pocket, China held it out toward Carson, offering it back, but obviously reluctant. “I'd like to keep the photo. It'll be a nice way to member both of you.”
“You don't need it.” Carson took it, holding it carefully, aware this was the last thing Jim had touched of his before he died.
“Oh.” China dropped his hand to side, fingers curled and empty. “I understand.”
Disappointment flashed across his rugged face then it was gone, replaced by a neutral mask that barely hinted at the pain in his eyes. Carson couldn't stand it.
“I don't think you do.” He took slipped his fingers into China's s empty hand and held on tightly. “You don't need it. You'll have plenty of time to take more. Ones with you in them, hopefully. I'm cold. Take me home.”
The shower was precisely what he needed. What both of them needed. Neither was in the mood for more than getting warm and tentatively feeling their way back to each other. Trust had to be rebuilt a little at a time.
Carson luxuriated in the opportunity to explore China's body without the distraction of sex. Soaping up his palms, he traced the planes of hard flesh and hills of muscles that defined the big man's towering frame. His fingertips gently outlined the vivid wounds.
There were tactile differences to them. The surgical sutures were smooth and neat, like the seams of his jeans. The bullet wound felt like irregular lumps, raised, twisted, as if the horrors that caused them were too much to be contained solely within the man.
With a tug and a murmured word, Carson drew China under the spray, rinsing away the rivers of suds until his hands caressed only firm, wet skin. He
pressed up close, his chest to China's back, his arms slipped around his lover's waist, his forehead resting on the curve of China's ramrod straight spine.
China turned in his arms and swept Carson into a tight embrace, cradling Carson's head to his broad chest, his breath sweet puffs against Carson's cheek. Carson chuckled, the sound lost in the splash of water. Even in the shower, the big man was all soldier—defender and guardian. Carson impulsively rose up on tiptoe and kissed China, a caring but chaste caress of mouths. China accepted it, asking for nothing more, seeming content to let Carson make the first moves.
The water sputtered to lukewarm and they retreated to the bedroom where several comforters and an electric blanket waited for them. Wrapped in flannels sheets and layers of down-filled linen, they lay in each other's arms.
Against China's chest, Carson raised his head so he could see China's face, read his reactions to what Carson was pretty sure would be an unwelcome idea. “Do you have to go back?”
“What?”
It was hard to take China by surprise but Carson could see he had done just that. But there was no turning back now. He had to ask.
“Go back. To active duty. Do you have to? Can't you still ask for a medical discharge?”
China stared, a frown giving Carson his answer. He was feeling too vulnerable to care. He'd been handed a shot at happiness and he wasn't go to let it go easily. He knew China took is obligations to the Army seriously, just like Jim had, but he wanted the man to consider things from Carson's point of view, too. “I don't want you to get hurt again. Or worse.”
China pulled Carson up to lay more fully on this chest with an ease that startled and thrilled him. They were near eye-to-eye and he saw every weathered line on China's face, saw the slight beginning of that dimple on his cheek, and got caught in the intensity of China's understanding but determined stare.
“I can't do that, Carson.”
It was the answer he had expected but he felt compelled to fight it. “Why not? You said you only have a few months to go. What's a few months?”
“The difference between being where I'm needed, where other's lives depend on me, and not. I couldn't leave the rest of my unit hanging. They lost enough.”
“What about—”
“But I do promise this. I won't re-up at the end of my tour.”
“Anything could happen in five months.”
“Carson, I'm not the kind of guy that quits. I'm an Army Ranger. A Ranger doesn't run from danger, he looks it square in the eye. I have an obligation to Will, Brad and Vincent to see them through until my times up. It's what I do, Carson. Who I am.” China ran a hand through Carson’s tangled hair, dark eyes intense and determined. “But I plan on you being a part of my life from now on. That won't change.”
