Deploy (31 page)

It was hard the first few weeks with Declan. His touches were too cautious, he’d glanced away too much when they spoke, and the silence wasn’t nearly as comfortable as it used to be.

Sex sucked.

There was a gaping hole between them and in the gap her fear and his anger swelled. Neither emotion was meant for the other. She told Dawson about it, and after Dawson cussed her out and threatened to fly to where she was and kick her ass, Justice came up with a plan.

When Declan came home from work that afternoon, she had all the furniture moved and was standing in the center of the living room in boy-shorts and a tank, in a stance that said she was ready to fight.

~

D
eclan’s gaze was full of confusion and anger. More of the first.

He’d been as delicate as he could with her, and done his best to keep his anger in check, something he figured out was far easier to do on the phone, or even when they Skyped for hours at a time.

Being in the same room with her, feeling how different her energy was, feeling the space between them—what his career, the loss of Nolan and all the other shit had done to them only made it worse. Declan was sure he felt like an obligation to her, a mountain, a challenge she had stubbornly chosen to climb.

Loving someone shouldn’t be hard. And they had always been
hard
.

“Let’s go,” she said, loosening up.

Declan recognized this philosophy, it was dished out to him his whole life, and when it wasn’t, he was dishing it out. On the surface, it seemed more physical than anything, but the truth is it was all-emotional. This exercise burned away all the bullshit that had been clogging your head. It proved to you and yours that you were stronger than before, whatever jacked you up was a gift.

What happened to Justice was not a fucking gift. It was a curse. The curse of him. She’d never see it that way. His girl walked through hell her whole life, had only poked her head out of it for moments across her life. To her this was how life rolled. Declan knew she deserved more. She deserved to feel safe and he couldn’t give that to her, no matter how hard he tried.

Declan’s stare stayed the same as he emptied his pockets like he did at the end of every day. When he reached for the remote as if her standing half nude in front of him wasn’t interesting, she kicked it from his grip.

“Stop it,” he snarled when she engaged again and he blocked her. “
Not
right.”

“Why? Because I’m a girl?”

“Yeah,” he roared. His girl had been hit one too many times before she reached the age of six. This. Was. Not. Right.

Delicate rose. A delicate,
wilted
rose. One he had let down. One he could never understand.

She charged him again and his anger boiled. “Back off!”

Again.

“What are you? Two? I’ve had a shitty day. I don’t need this.”

Again.

She didn’t even hear what he was saying.

It was all games at first then her blows hurt.
Shit, Tomorrow—you created a warrior...

Understanding he was in debt to his brother’s ex distracted him long enough for her to get another blow in.
Fuck!

A sly smirk ghosted across her lips. Declan could see her adrenaline building across the lean tone of her body. How had he missed this? Fuck him, she had never looked more sensual. He felt his own body flex, a raw need to let loose come over him. There was no way he was going to hit her but he was positive the raw fuck he heard calling his name was the last thing she needed—the last thing he was willing to put her through. No matter how strong she was on the outside, he saw her demons sleeping in her eyes, heard them growl when they woke her at night.

Declan managed to pin her arms. “Stop this shit, get dressed. We’ll go get some beers.” He needed something to get him out of this cage with the only temptation he’d ever met that he could not best.

Justice slipped his grip and circled him, charging him again.

“Fucking fine,” he growled. She wanted a punching bag—bring it. Maybe it would make him feel better.

He turned and blocked her. Declan let her hit him; God knew he deserved it, if not worse. He should’ve done something about her daddy long before the storm, long before he dared to ask her if he was right about that fucker. The second he realized how corrupt his town was, he should’ve pulled her from there. He should have told her he didn’t give a fuck about her independence, that she could go to school where he was, build a life there. He should have been a bigger ass.

Instantly, Declan figured out that it would be best for him to pay attention to her blows. They were fierce and had far more power than he assumed they would. She was only playing before.

With each hit she was testing his mindset. She was waking him to the reality that shit happens no matter where the fuck you are. It’s how you deal with it that matters. Justice had prevailed. Declan felt confidence he had never known her to have before.

~

J
ustice knew he was taking it easy on her. The maneuvers they were doing were basic, and he was more or less her punching bag, blocking her arms and feet at just the right time, but not engaging.

Pride glinted in his eyes, then he started to coach her. “Block. Again. Move. I could’ve had you.”

He used the same positive but forceful tone that Dawson used with her; only it meant more when it came from him. So much more.

When he said, “Good,” she felt herself swell with satisfaction. The virtual demon became even smaller.

“You don’t want it bad enough,” he taunted. They were both soaked with sweat by then, out of breath, and starting to have too much fun with the hand-to-hand, adrenaline-building combat.

She flung herself on him then, but not in attack mode. Her lips crashed into his and her thighs squeezed him as tight as she could. “I do. I want you more than life,” she said as her hands pulled his lips to her.

Declan froze, you would’ve thought she was holding a loaded gun against his head. Then he narrowed his eyes on her, then looked a bit deeper. Astonishment struck him, then something he had not seen in a long while, hope. He’d recognized the fearless passion they once had.

His eyes sheened as he whispered, “God I missed you,” before his starved kiss touched her lips.

Their clothes were ripped away beats later.

They had loved each other silently before, and they had loved each other fiercely. But they had never loved each other with abandon before.

As his hand glided over her slick flesh, he could have sworn he felt her soul pulsing beneath his touch, a raw power, a heated flame that stood strong in the wind.

“You’re all here,” he panted as his lips moved across her heaving chest.

She lifted his head, made him look her deep in the eyes as she wrapped her legs around his waist and guided him in, “So are you,” she said across a breath. She arched her hips holding his gaze. “I love you so much.”

He stilled inside her, his hand cradled her face as he searched her gaze. “Promise to never let me go, no matter what...” An hour ago he would have begged her to kick him to the curb. He was trapped by his own demons. Justice broke him free once more. Every kiss, the feeling of her palm gliding down his back just before her nails dug in, the way she moved to feel his hands with every thing he could ever desire, had set him free. Outside of his own prison the sensation of unconditional love, the promise no matter what fucked shit life dealt them made him grieve. He missed them when they were still right there, perfect.

He’d beg her any day to make this promise. Right then, as she silently stared up at him and he felt her body pulling him deeper, clenching around him, her answer was his only lifeline. 

“That’s a given, Rawlings,” she said just before her arms pulled him against her, holding on for dear life as they both let go.

Nothing was held back, they were hard, they were soft, and they were silly. They were everything they had not been since she left before. Justice was sure they were more than they ever had been. The boy and girl were left in the past. The scared man and woman were strong and able, ready to stare life in the eye and dare it to break them.

Hours later, when she woke on his chest where they both laid naked across the floor, Declan was swaying his fingertips across her back. When she sleepily looked up at him he didn’t smile. His lips met her forehead as his arms held her against him. “You are my everything...God knew what he was doing when he put you in my path.”

Declan could’ve told her he loved her a million times and it would not have meant as much as those words. It was truth she had known since she was girl...a truth she thought he’d never see at times.

D
eclan and Justice were right as rain. The rest of their problems were still there. Declan was still deploying, and Nolan was still missing. Right before Declan left all hell broke loose. She was positive their families could
not
have sent him off on a
worse
note.

Over the years, Declan had drifted from his family. He talked to them weekly but his tone was clipped and the conversation always about Nolan. Three weeks before Declan was to deploy, his dad showed up at their front door.

“We need closure, and you do, too,” Chasen said bluntly, right as Declan opened his front door, wearing nothing but his tags and jogging pants. Sleepily Justice emerged behind him wearing his shirt shocked and a bit embarrassed. Since she had been with Declan, she had begun to play things his way, kept to him and herself. When she was home it was different. The Rawlings were her family, they made up the walls of her life. 

“Your brother’s funeral is in forty-eight hours. Be there.”

They were home in six and Declan was anything but grief stricken, he was enraged.

This year, they had pushed the Rally deep into September. The Rawlings planned to use the Rally for the whole family near and far to say goodbye to Nolan. It was a plan Declan had shot down in the past. From what Justice heard from Boon, Declan had a knock down drag out fight with Chasen about the plan last time Declan was home.

If Justice had known, she could’ve done something about it. She knew a side of Declan no one knew. It would’ve taken her time, but she could’ve gotten Chasen and Declan on better terms. She could’ve prepared Declan and her for this. To her, it felt like someone had called the game with bases loaded and no outs. Every week, Providence had some kind of lead. Not all were promising. It was hard to believe a dead man would spur so many false leads, though. There had to be a truth out there that no one was looking for. At least if they were, they were not cluing Justice in on the gig.

The whole way home Justice had felt sick with dread and exhausted. Tested.

The Rawling’s wanted closure for everyone, including Declan. To them, him deploying and thinking Nolan was out there needing him was a distraction. A funeral would not erase the craving for revenge. However, Declan’s revenge and answers could be found when he came back.

Justice had a hard time agreeing with them. Every time she argued with them, they’d tell her something she didn’t know before. It was humiliating.

“I cussed your grandmother, Declan!” she raged as they stormed through the airport. “I told her she had no right to spring this on you and she said you
knew
!”

Declan turned sharply and glared down. “They’ve been trying to put the memory of my brother in the ground for years! They’ll put me there before I let ‘em.” Then he turned as if his words were not daggers, as if the dread of him leaving had not turned her emotions inside out, for some reason, more so this time than any other.

Once Declan showed up at his father’s bar, his long arm rushed across the bar top crashing the drinks, flyers and food—everything there—to the ground.

The bar was full of Rawlings’.

“He is
not
gone!” Declan roared. He lifted his chin in the stillness of the bar, as he peered into the aggression that soared through his blood. The people who made him strong, strong enough to not give up. “Do you think he’d quit on you?” Declan demanded. He kicked the stool. “Do you think Nolan would give up so it would be easier on him?” He glared at his dad, at his brothers. “Maybe if you fucks were not so busy trying to put him in the ground this shit would be handled by now.”

Chasen got in Declan’s face, and Declan slugged him. It was on then. Tobias tried to pull them apart, and instead took a hit he felt he had to return, then Atticus and Boon climbed in.

Even Nash was in the mix. Cousins, friends, military friends—it was an all out brawl.

Then all at once Missy Rawlings stood on the bar and yelled, “I’ve called the law. You know what that means!”

They did. If they were enlisted it wasn’t the local law that would be the issue in their lives, it would be the MPs.

A lot of people scrambled to leave then, but the core of Declan’s family stayed right there.

“It’s that easy for you?” Declan yelled at all of them. “Three years and that’s it,
forgotten,
don’t fucking matter anymore!”

“You know that’s not true!” Chasen said, willing to go at it again. He’d lost more than one son and the only way he was getting this one back was by kicking his ass a time or two. “You cannot be over there fighting, away from home, thinking of this shit. Shit that needs an end.”

“This isn’t about me!” Declan raged. “You’re going to nail my brother’s coffin shut so I can be at
peace
when I’m gone—peace! Are you fucking kidding me?” he said as he pointed right at Justice, making her flame with her famous blush.

He’d made her feel like dead weight. A burden he had to carry. Pointing her out, saying with her as his, he had no peace, he’d always be at odds. Justice didn’t hear the rest of the fight. She left. She gathered from Dawson hours later that no one went to jail. Missy had been bluffing.

The fight between Declan and his dad went on for hours, same with his brothers. At the end, his threat was lethal. “Stay away from me and my own.”