Bound to Break: Men of Honor, Book 6 (9 page)

And Dash also sold him down the river. So maybe Lucky no longer knew when someone was bullshitting him.

He deplaned, followed by Rex, Uncle and Nate. Rex still carried his bag, but that was taken from him once they entered the main building. Lucky was being treated with a mixture of respect and suspicion, sometimes both at the same time, and it was beginning to freak him the fuck out.

It had happened during the stopover before the States, but not to this extreme. He’d been treated and checked for diseases—that was all the doctors would tell him—and he knew he’d have to undergo more extensive exams once he reached Virginia.

But now that he was here, he was given extra escorts into the building. Men in uniform who surrounded him like he was a bomb they were worried would detonate.

Am I?

He went through a metal detector and then he was wanded. As a final security measure, he was asked to take his shirt off.

They all were, so he didn’t feel so set apart. He noted the scars on all three men’s backs, identical to his, and his throat tightened.

He looked away, pulled his shirt back on and waited for his next directive. None came immediately, so he moved closer to Rex and Uncle and Nate.

“What the hell?” he asked Rex, whose face was unreadable. Rex glanced at Nate and Uncle, both of whom nodded.

“They’re worried about your abilities.”

“Like, psychic abilities? Did I forget I have those too?” Lucky asked, and Nate snorted.

“Same old Josh,” he mumbled, but there was a smile on his face. For that reason alone, Lucky’s nerves calmed. Until Rex continued, “You’re a weapon. You don’t remember your training or what you can do…”

“But when you came after me in the parking lot, I knew,” Nate added.

“Have you fought with anyone in the past years? I mean, an honest-to-God fight?” Uncle asked, a hesitation in his voice.

Lucky shook his head. “I bounced at the bar, but the furthest I had to go was dragging guys out or breaking fights up. I never became part of them.”

Rex nodded. “Makes sense. You’ve got that presence.”

Lucky wouldn’t have known what the hell he was talking about a month ago, but in the short time he’d spent with the men who’d been his team, he understood. Even retired, Nate and Uncle weren’t guys you fucked with—one look and you just knew to give them a wide berth. It was magnified with Rex. But the fact that they felt Lucky himself gave off that vibe, well, that shocked the hell out of him.

It made things more understandable to him, however, when there was the brief discussion as to whether he should be handcuffed during his physical after a ride in the elevator with two MPs flanking him.

Rex looked at Lucky and then at the doctor waiting and said, “I think he’ll be fine.”

Lucky couldn’t be as sure, but he didn’t want to be both handcuffed and pawed at unless there was an orgasm attached to the end of the experience. This didn’t look promising, as the doctor was maybe seventy and decidedly not gay, but at least he looked friendly.

Scratch that—he didn’t look terrified at the thought of spending time alone with a trained killer with amnesia. Lucky moved past him into the exam room, and the doctor shut the door quietly.

Everything he did was quiet and controlled.

“I’m Dr. Larkin. I’m going to be examining you today.”

“I’m Lucky.”

Dr. Larkin nodded and picked up the file from the countertop.

“I mean, I know the file doesn’t say that’s my name, but that’s what I go by.”

Dr. Larkin looked through the file for a few moments before saying, “Your name’s Josiah. But it looks like everyone called you Josh. I’m guessing you always went by it.”

He tried both names out on his tongue but nothing pinged in his brain. He shook his head, frustrated, and the doctor stared at him.

“Okay, I’ll just call you Lucky then, for now,” he said quietly.

“Thanks.” He stared down at his hands balled in his lap. “Are they sending me to jail?”

“I hope not. But a JAG will be around to talk to you.”

“They were on the plane with me but they told me to keep my mouth shut, not to even ask questions.” And he hadn’t.

“Let’s get through your medical reviews, okay? If you have nothing to hide, none of this should be a problem.”

Maybe that was wishful thinking, but Lucky wanted to believe it more than anything.

Dr. Larkin put the file down and said, “I’d like to give you privacy to undress, but I can’t. So I’ll get ready while you strip down. Put the gown on, opening in the front.”

Lucky stared at it. “Seriously? Isn’t it easier to go naked?”

“They have rules about these things for doctors.”

Dr. Larkin had some snark going and Lucky decided he liked the guy. So he stripped and put the gown on while the doctor washed up and lined up his instruments.

“Do you have any issues with touch or sound?” he asked before he started.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Do loud noises startle you more than you think they should? Are you hyperaware of noise, or when someone puts a hand on you? If I came up to you from behind and put a hand on your shoulder, would you react violently without thinking about it?”

Lucky just stared at him, the questions mixing up in his mind. “I don’t…no one’s ever really tried that.”

Dr. Larkin smiled a little. “I can see why. I won’t make any moves without telling you what I’m doing first. Fair enough?”

“Sure.”

The exam was standard doctor stuff except for the photographs he took of Lucky’s scarring. He asked about Lucky’s aches and pains, told him not to be a tough guy but to answer truthfully.

“The scars pull. My back and thighs ache more than they should from just scars. Other than that…you know, beyond the fact that I can’t remember anything before four years ago, I’m great.”

“The scars are deep. Lots of trauma to the muscle, which is why you’ll have the pain. If you need something stronger than ibuprofen, I can write you a prescription.”

“No thanks.”

“What about sleeping?”

“That’s not a problem.”

“Nightmares?”

He stared at the doctor, flashing back to his talk with Dash. “I don’t dream.”

“Interesting. I’m going to set up a CT scan and an MRI for you. See what we can find out. Any seizures?”

“No.”

“Good. Headaches? Blurry vision?”

“No.”

After ticking off the doctor’s laundry list of items and finding out he was in damned good shape, Dr. Larkin closed the file. “Do you have any questions for me?”

“Can I see those?” he asked, pointed to the photos on the counter. Dr. Larkin looked reluctant for a second before handing over the Polaroids.

“Do you want to see the psychiatrist before you do that?” he asked.

“You think I’m going to freak out?”

“You might. Any drug allergies?”

“Not that I know of.”

He stared down at the pictures. He’d seen the scars in the mirror, of course, or at least as much of them as he could. But the photographs were different. It was like he was looking at a stranger. “Fuck.”

“Lucky, what’s wrong?”

“It’s just…I didn’t know they were this bad.” He rarely went shirtless, and when he did at the beach, he was always aware of the whispers behind his back. The scars on his legs only reached to right above his knees, so they were hidden. But they were thick and roped. “Why didn’t they heal?”

The doctor was silent for a long moment.

“You’re not supposed to tell me anything, right?”

“Right.” He turned around and then handed Lucky the file. “I suppose letting you read isn’t the same as telling you.”

Lucky took the file and stared at it, and then he handed it back to the doc. “I’m not ready.”

Dr. Larkin took it back. “They put salt in the wounds—literally—to make sure they scarred. It would make things more painful for you, both then and now.”

Unconsciously, he reached up to rub one of them on his shoulder that always seemed to pull when he got tired. Dr. Larkin smiled at him, a real smile.

“I think you’re going to be fine, Lucky. I think you deserve that.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

“Just wait here while I call for your escort. Not sure if you can go straight to the scans or if they have other plans for you.”

Rex came in past the doctor. “Everything okay?”

“Healthy as a horse.” He paused. “The doctor was nice to me. It’s like they’re scared of me, but they’re nice.”

“You’re a decorated SEAL. You were awarded a posthumous Purple Heart,” Rex told him. “I guess we can cross out the posthumous part.”

“Won’t they take it away?”

“Why? Just because you don’t remember what you did doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. I was there—I was by your side for just about every mission you ever did with the SEALs, including that last one. You more than goddamned deserve it. You deserve a hell of a lot more.”

Chapter Nine

“Sawyer, it’s your mother.”

“Hey, Mom.” He clutched the cell phone hard enough to leave dents in his hands. He dropped it to the table, put it on speakerphone and asked, “Where are you?”

Because she mainly called when she was close to Virginia, like she knew he couldn’t escape.

“I’m in Virginia, visiting some friends. Tonight, I’m going to the Scanlons’ party. Remember, I sent you the invitation last month?”

“Vaguely, but I’ve been away a lot…”

“And you told me you could go.”

“I don’t ever remember saying that.”

“I RSVP’d to the Scanlons for you.”

“Shit.”

“Sawyer, language. I’m not in the Navy.” His mother sighed. “Tonight at ten. I’m resending the invitation right now. Oh, and they’d like you to bring some of your friends.”

“Why’s that?”

“They want a nice showing of active-duty military. Wear your dress whites. Can’t wait to see you.”

She hung up before he could say anything. Damn, she was good.

He checked his email, found the invitation and stared at it for a few minutes. He couldn’t get out of going—and he’d drag Jace along. Rex wasn’t supposed to be back until…well, hell, he wasn’t exactly clued in to the details, for security purposes.

He looked down at his phone and saw his friend trying to Face Chat with him. He pulled up the app and saw Jace sitting on the couch. “Want to go out tonight?”

“I have to go out tonight and you’re coming with me. My mom’s in town.”

“I’m not great with mothers.”

“You don’t have to do anything but go to this party. She wants me to bring other uniforms. Wants heroes.”

Clint walked behind the couch where Jace was sitting and gave Sawyer a wave as Jace said, “So I’m like your date.”

“Keep being an asshole—see where that gets you.”

Jace pointed at Clint’s retreating back. “I was an asshole to him sometimes and it got me…”

“I can hear you,” Clint called over his shoulder. “Go with Sawyer to the party. Make connections. It’s good for both of your careers.”

Six hours later, dressed in their dress whites and ribbons, Sawyer and Jace entered the grand ballroom that was already crowded with socialites and a few members of the press. A woman came up to them, checked their names off a list and asked them if they preferred not to have their pictures taken.

“No ma’am, we’d rather not,” Sawyer told her.

“Certainly.” She walked away and spoke to the man with the camera. When she came back, she told them, “It’s been noted. If you show up on the video, your faces will be blurred. Also, your medals.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you both. Please enjoy the party.”

“How’d you swing an invite to this?” Jace asked when she was out of hearing.

“I told you my mom’s in town—she forced this on me and I forced it on you, because that’s what friends are for.”

Jace snorted, then said, “Your mom runs in these circles? Why am I just hearing about that?”

Sawyer shrugged.

“This is like,
this is your life, Sawyer Thomas
.”

“Sawyer Kirke Thomas.”

Jace’s eyes widened. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Wish I was.”

“Boy, you’ve got some explaining to do.”

“Couldn’t talk about everything when we were in that cave,” Sawyer shot back.

Jace stared at him and then looked around the party. “You hated it, didn’t you? Growing up in this life.”

“Yeah,” he admitted quietly.

Jace put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re free, Sawyer. This is just a visit. And I’m going to get us something to drink. Try not to get married to a socialite when I’m gone.”

“Funny. You’re funny. Can see why Clint keeps you around,” he called as Jace walked away. Watched many pairs of eyes follow his friend, because yeah, Jace was as all-American good-looking as they got.