One to Protect (One to Hold 3)

“More like being in the advance party.” Going ahead of the battalion into a location, no way of knowing what might happen or what surprises might be waiting. “It’s a little like that. Minus the IEDs.”

My partner exhales and pulls the glove back over his hand. Then he pushes off the floor and steps over to lean beside me against the counter. “You’re right. Military deployment is way fucking worse than this. This is plain old detective work, pure and simple.”

“Or police work. Waiting around for what’s coming.”

Glove back off, he starts with the quarter again, back and forth. “Why’d you become a Marine? Other than you were born to play the part?”

“That’s pretty much it.” I watch the quarter rotate over his knuckles and think about being a kid, waiting on my dad to come home, hearing my mother softly cry herself to sleep at night. “My dad was a Marine. His dad was a Marine—”

“Phew, sounds like a fun group.”

“They weren’t so bad.”

Patrick exhales. Both gloves are off, and he switches the coin to his other hand, continuing the trick. “When Stuart said he was joining the corps, I wasn’t a bit surprised. He’d been perfecting that fucking attitude for years.”

“Your brother is a great Marine. He had my back more than once.” Checking my phone, it’s after ten. I don’t know how much longer this could take or when to worry if they don’t show.

“You’d better keep the gloves on in case we have to move fast.” He stops fidgeting, and puts the quarter back in his pocket, nodding as he pulls on the gloves. We can’t afford to leave fingerprints.

I’m pretty sure I’ve asked before, but this wait is mind numbing. “What made you join the Guard?”

“College. I wasn’t academic enough for a scholarship, but my parents couldn’t afford to send four kids to school. It seemed like the safest alternative.”

I chuckle. “And then you got deployed.”

“Yep. Thank you, War on Terror.”

“I’m sure you were good at it. I’ve seen your work.”

He nods and for a few minutes, we’re quiet. Then he shifts and clears his throat.

“Look, I know what we’re doing is pretty raw. I’m sorry I couldn’t come up with a more elegant plan, but you’ve got to get some mud on you to slaughter a pig.”

I exhale a laugh. “How long have you been saving that line?”

He grins and his shoulders relax. “A few days.”

Then I shake my head, serious again. “I couldn’t control what took Allison from me. There was nothing I could do.” I pause remembering that sick, helpless feeling as she slowly left me forever. I’d never felt that way in my life, and it almost broke me. “I’ll be damned if I sit back and let something take Melissa. Especially if I have the power to stop it.”

Just then the outside door creaks, and we both jump. Patrick hits the lights, and I instinctively feel my body preparing to fight.

Patrick’s the only one armed. He’d insisted, strike that, demanded I leave my gun in my room’s safe to “avoid temptation.” I’d only agreed because he played the Mel card. It’s possible he knows me a little too well.

The door creaks again, and in a fumble of hands and staggering steps, Star backs into the room. Sloan’s plastered to her mouth, and from this angle, we can see his hands moving up her thighs, dragging the hem of her skirt with them, quickly revealing her thong. Shit. This again.

“Here we go,” Patrick says in a voice one click above inaudible.

The pair roll against the wall, and the outside door slams shut. The noise breaks their kiss, and Sloan looks up and around, surveying the small, empty conference room. It’s dim-lit by small, emergency lighting and the green glow of the Exit sign.

“How did you know about this place?” His voice is thick.

“Passed it on my way to the restaurant tonight.” Star’s back to breathy-high Marilyn. “I peeked my head in, and when I saw the side door, I thought of you.”

He turns back to her with a greedy smile. “Good call.” Then he covers her mouth again with his.

His hands return to her ass, and he lifts her against the wall. A memory of me lifting Melissa in a similar way knots my stomach, and I turn my back. We can hear it. I don’t have to watch.

Star’s voice. “What if I worked for your company? Then I could see you every day. Or every afternoon?”