“Fuck, no.” The vet scowled out the window. “You haven’t heard?”
At the flatness of his voice, Ben felt his gut twist. “Heard what?”
“The team. Walked into an ambush. Lost…” he swallowed. “Three gone. Most were wounded.”
Ben’s mouth tasted like sand and blood. As he lifted his drink, beer sloshed over the rim onto his fingers. His hand was shaking. “Who?”
“Wrench. Petrousky. And Mouse. Mouse didn’t make it.” Danvers rubbed his face. “Fuck, I’m sorry, bro.”
The blow cracked Ben’s soul open, slashing a gap in the fabric of his world. The whole fucking room darkened. He and Mouse had been sniper and spotter, closer than some marriages. Under fire together. Bled together. Saved each other’s ass more than once. Could almost read each other’s mind.
But when Ben didn’t re-up, Mouse’d been pissed. Yeah, his friend had tried to understand, but killing insurgents didn’t eat at him as it did Ben. Mouse’s world was black and white. Us and them. Good and bad. Rangers and enemy. The spotter didn’t think of the enemy as men who were also someone’s father, son, brother. Men who loved and laughed and lived.
Still…Mouse’d talked about getting out after his term was up. Ben would’ve been there to help ease the transition. Would’ve…
Fuck. Just fuck.
He set his beer down. His throat was too tight to swallow anything.
Or to speak.
Rising, he clapped a hand on Danver’s shoulder and walked out into the black night and drizzling rain.
Chapter Eleven
On Friday, Anne stood inside the Shadowlands entry and studied the guard dog with a frown.
His gaze was on the desk. His shoulders slumped. He was unshaven and uncombed. In fact, Mr. Super-aware hadn’t even noticed her arrival.
Worry poured through her as if someone had left a faucet open.
She walked behind his desk. “Ben.” Not wanting to startle an unhappy vet, she waited until her voice registered and his head lifted before setting her hand on his shoulder.
A stressed-out soldier would probably have taut muscles. His weren’t. No, his body language read as if he’d checked out.
“What’s wrong, Ben?”
“Sorry, Ma’am. I didn’t see you.” Turning away from her, he made a checkmark on the attendance papers in front of him. “Got you down.”
“Good.” She pushed aside pity and steeled her voice. “Now answer me. What is wrong, Benjamin.”
“Nothing.”
She dug her fingernails into his thick deltoid and felt him jolt. “Inadequate response. Try again.”
“Fuck.” He turned his chair and gazed up at her, his eyes haunted. “Not your business.”
“I’m making it my business, subbie. Answer me.”
His eyes held defiance for a second, two, then his gaze dropped. “God, Anne.”
She waited, watching his endurance disintegrate with her silence.
“It’s not…” He swallowed. “My team. My spotter and I were attached to a team. They handled the perimeter. And…” His voice frayed, like a shirt ripping apart at the seams. “My spotter. Mouse. We worked together. For years. He’s—he’s gone.”
Tears burned her eyes. Not only for the loss of good men, but for the almost visible waves of pain from Ben. “I’m sorry, so sorry.” She moved close enough to lean her torso against his shoulder, lending him her body’s warmth, and then ran her hand through his hair. If only she could stroke his hurt away.
“Thanks,” he said and shrugged, as if rejecting her touch and her sympathy.
Her hand paused as she regarded his response, his posture, his averted gaze. This was more than mourning. What else was going on in that head of his?
Unfortunately, it could be anything. He’d been out of the military for years, but emotions weren’t logical. And healing marched to its own beat.
Her emotions weren’t rational either. She’d planned to avoid him, but now…now all she wanted was to take him into the club and try to help in the way a Domme sometimes could.
To get him out of his head and into “now” time.
“Well, Benjamin, you asked for a scene. I’ve decided to give you one.”
He shook his head. “Ah, no. Thank you, but—”
“I planned it all day long, brought special toys.”
Her lie silenced him. He didn’t want to do anything right now—at all—and yet, his own submissive nature wouldn’t want to let her down.
“Let me call Z and get you relieved.” She pulled her cell phone from her bag and moved out of earshot, pleased when three giggly submissives came in the door to claim his attention.