Justifying Jack (The Wounded Warriors Book 2) (17 page)

“Oh Mari!” he exclaimed as he positioned himself between her legs eagerly. He wasted no time in directing her body, pulling her further back, sheathing his throbbing shaft in her sweet well.

This is nice,
he thought, admiring the view of her whole body before him. Her breasts bounced each time she rocked back against him, causing maximum penetration.
Leave it to Marithé to understand… everything. To come up with a solution that would be so… WOW! How did I get so blessed?

He grasped her hips and guided her movements as they increased their tempo and force. Another thought occurred to him, and he immediately tried it. Keeping one hand braced on her hip, he ran the other around her belly and down, slipping his fingers through her folds to help her find her orgasm. No sooner did he touch her swollen nub, than her body clenched in ecstasy, little cries of the sweetest pleasure rewarding his every caress, his every thrust.

“Oh, Jack! Jack!” she cried, clawing into the bedspread.

“That's it, honey. Let it happen. Let me feel you come.”

Marithé's body twisted and writhed as the flames of pleasure engulfed her. The rippling of her passage milked him sweetly until Jack too groaned in completion.

When they were finally spent, she slid forward and rolling onto her side, shifting to make room for him to join her on the bed. He curled up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close.

As wild passion ebbed to utter contentment, a soft prayer of thanks rose from Jack's heart and floated upwards toward heaven.
If this is my reward for service, I'm much more blessed than wounded.
Thank you, Lord. Thank you for Marithé, for her courage, her passion, for everything this is, for everything we'll be together.
Gently, Jack brushed his wife's hair aside and kissed her shoulder tenderly, lovingly. She turned her face towards him, smiling.

“I love you, Jack,” she whispered.

“I love you, Mari,” he answered. “Forever.”

Dear Readers,

I am proud to say I served honorably in the United States Air Force. My family has a rich history of service to our country, particularly in the Army. I have dealt with mental health issues as a healthcare worker, friend, relative, and patient myself. Not only does this give me a unique understanding of the military elements and medical data in this book, and its series, but it endears them to me in a very personal way.

Each book is meant to honor our warriors and their families, but this book in particular was designed to show the hardships the families endure. Simone and I wanted to represent a forgotten casualty of war, which is just as vital to the operations of our military forces as training and weapons are. The support of our loved ones keeps the human spirit from fading and we salute the families that encourage our soldiers, so they can perform their duty.

The series is designed to cover the different ways war wounds. We wanted to show the importance of family and their necessity to help heal the warriors, as well as their own struggles to heal the wounds inflicted upon them.

SAVING SAM is a tale which covers the mental scars of war, specifically post-traumatic stress disorder.

JUSTIFYING JACK focuses on the family and how the physical wounds inflicted can shape one's life.

MAKING MIKE is about the emotional wounds and it's meant to show how resilient the human spirit is and how our troops reclaim their civilian lives after the devastation of war. 

My husband noted that all of the members of our detachment were males. He was confused by this, given my status as a veteran, so I felt I should comment on this. As I told him, gender was not a consideration when we wrote the members of the squad. It was coincidence they happened to be all men, but ultimately, it worked nicely for our series over all. Plus, I believe the narratives transcend and you can easily reverse gender roles in each tales without changing the integrity of the story lines.

Simone and I hope you enjoy The Wounded Warriors Series. We hope it is entertaining while honoring the men and women who have sacrificed so much so we don't have to. We also want to let you know that a portion of our personal profits gained from this series will be donated to the Wounded Warrior Project! (
http://www.woundedwarriorproject.org/
)

Sincere thanks,

J.M. Northup

I would like to thank my readers. I am truly grateful to each and every one of you!

Thank you to my friend, colleague, and co-author
Simone Beaudelaire
. You are an inspiration and my life is truly richer for having you in it!

Thank you to our amazing publishing team at
Creativia
– Miika and Petteri Hannilla.

I want to say thank you to all of our amazing beta readers! A special thank you to my personal beta readers: Dale Northup, Kirsten Hammood, and Barbara Strong-Nelson. I appreciate you all!

And, of course, to my loving family, Dusty, McKayla, and Katerina – I love you more than life itself!

I would like first and foremost to thank our troops. While I've never served in the military, I recognize that freedom isn't free. So for your service, your sacrifice, and all you do to keep us safe, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

My beta readers and Creativia publishing. Thanks, Miika, Petteri and our family of authors.

I would also like to thank my co-author, JM Northup, without whose encouragement and military expertise, I could never have completed this book.

Daisy came bounding into the trailer house like a giddy antelope. Her braid, as long as Starla's hair unbound, bounced on her back, a bit more bronze than silver, but fading fast. The skin around her green eyes crinkled and deep smile lines bracketed her mouth. “Where is he? Where's my handsome nephew?”

“Hey, Aunt Daisy,” Mike waved shyly; already uncomfortable, knowing his aunt was going to shower him in kisses the way his mother had.

“There you are!” she squealed in delight and leapt at him.

Though Mike accepted his fate heroically, he wasn't used to such displays of affection and truth be told, he had never been comfortable with them. Still, he knew his wacky family meant well, so he just couldn't find it in himself to resent them or their oddities. They embarrassed him plenty, but he loved them nonetheless.

“Oh, you look so good! “ Daisy gushed, smacking loud kisses across his cheeks as he blushed deeply.

“He looks too skinny,” Brenda commented, winning a scowl from her aunt.

“You look perfect!” Daisy assured him and then she danced away to investigate the new collection of herbal concoctions set up across the counter beside her sister. “Oh, Starla, you and Pam have been so busy. Show me what you've made!”

As the sisters entered an animated discussion of the new remedies and how Starla could sell them under consignment at the hookah shop she worked at part-time, Mike's attention was drawn to his uncle. Jeff had entered the room behind his flouncy sister and he was trying to endure the usual backhanded compliments of his parents. Once again, Mike was struck with admiration at his uncle's strength of character and endless patience.

“Jefferson Starship, you could at least have changed before you came over,” Pamela scolded him, fiddling with the woven headband which held her fully gray, frizzy hair back away from her corded and wrinkled neck. “You know how we dislike that hideous uniform of yours.”

“Jeff, Mom,” he corrected her. “Please, for the hundredth time, call me Jeff.”

“Your name is Jefferson Starship, not Jeff, just like my name is Pamela and not 'mom', 'mother', or some other socially mandated label.”

“Ugh,” James scoffed, wrinkling his freckled snub nose. Though over seventy, his shoulder length hair still retained touches of its original gingery color. Now it looked almost pink.
What a future I have in store,
Mike thought sourly.
From torch to… that. Ugh. Maybe I'll get lucky and go bald young.
His grandfather continued speaking. “How did I raise a child who was so willing to work for 'The Man'? Don't you know that the police department is just another arm of the institution that's trying to control us, man?”

Pamela patted her husband's arm consolingly.

“Yes, yes,” Jeff sighed. “I know. You tell me every time you see me in uniform, but I didn't have time to go home and change.”

“See, I told you,” Daisy interjected looking smug. “I told you, you should have
made
time.”

“Or maybe carry a change of clothes with you,” Pamela suggested.

Jeff cleared his throat and responded. “I'm not going to carry a change of clothes with me on the off chance I'll be coming over. You all know I'm a cop and you just need to get over it already.”

“Jefferson Starship!” his mother boomed. “Please, there's no need to be rude.”

“I wasn't being…” Jeff ran his fingers through his neatly trimmed strawberry blonde hair and sighed.
So that's where I got the gesture from,
Mike thought.
No wonder. This family would drive any sane person to… well, messing up your hair is pretty mild compared to what we could be doing, I guess.
“You know what, you're right. I'll try to remember to bring a change of clothes with me next time,” Jeff caved and Mike knew from experience he just wanted the conversation to end.

There would be no winning with James and Pamela. Had Jeff brought a chance of clothes with him, they would have found something else to complain about.
Probably how he was a materialist for having so many articles of clothing and how he shouldn't be so interested in consumerism
, Mike thought, unconsciously shaking his head.
Sort of like they consider me a fascist for having entered the military.

Trying to rescue his uncle from his torture, Mike walked over and shoved his hand out in greeting. “Hey, Uncle Jeff, long time, no see, huh?”

“Hey, man!” Jeff beamed, grasping his nephew's hand firmly.

Disgruntled, Pamela grumbled as she walked away from the two young men. “Handshakes, really? You boys haven't seen each other in what, four years?”

“Two years, Ma,” Jeff called after her. “Mike came home before he was shipped overseas to Afghanistan, remember?”

“Whatever, you know I don't care to measure my life by conventional standards,” she retorted. “And my name's Pamela.”

“Here,” James bellowed. “This is a proper greeting.”

Before either of the younger men could respond, James latched onto Jeff. He gave him a healthy kiss on the lips and then embraced him warmly. At first, Mike thought it was funny, but when he realized he was next, he struggled to make his escape. Unable to scamper away before his grandfather laid a wet smooch on him, his eyes grew wide with horror. It was now Jeff's turn to laugh as he watched Mike squirm.

“Grandpa!” Mike sputtered, catching a glimpse of his sisters as they darted from the room, avoiding the potential of being pulled into the family kiss fest.

“James,” his grandpa corrected, “and you boys need to stop acting bothered by male intimacy.”

“We aren't acting, Dad. We really
are
bothered by it,” Jeff replied in seriousness, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Well,” James scoffed, unaffected, “get over it.”

“And you thought the worse thing they could do was to name you after their favorite band,” Mike chuckled, nudging his uncle.

“Yeah,” Jeff rolled his eyes. “Just shoot me now. I know you know how.”

“Don't be so dramatic, Jefferson Starship,” Pamela told him. “Now, come help me in the kitchen. I have to siphon this new tea infusion into bottles so it can chill before I can take it to the store tomorrow.”

As they started to head out into the kitchen, basically an extension on the living room, James casually lit up a joint he had just rolled.

“Dad!” Jeff sounded shocked. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, sorry,” James said, not looking sorry in the least bit. “Did you want to take the first hit?”

“No, I do not want the first hit!” Jeff raked his hair again.

“Then what's got you all frazzled?” James seemed genuinely confused by his son's behavior, but not enough to keep him from taking a long, deep drag on his smoke.

Mike and Jeff glanced at each other askance. “He's kidding, right?”

“I wish,” Jeff replied, walking briskly over to snag the joint from his dad, then headed to the toilet. “Damn it, Dad! How many times do I have to tell you? I'm a freakin' cop, for goodness sake!”

“So? Just because 'The Man' signs your pay checks doesn't give him the right to dictate your life to you,” James protested. “Now, if you aren't going to take a hit, give me back my doobie.”

“No,” Jeff's voice carried through the trailer. “I am a man of the law and this is an illegal substance.”

“Hey! What are you – Jefferson Starship!” James shouted, sounding distraught as the sound of the flushing toilet reached Mike's ears.

Mike suppressed his smile as Jeff came back into the open-concept living quarters with his dad grumbling at his heels. “You had no right to do that!”

“Dad, you're lucky I don't just arrest you,” Jeff threatened.

“Jefferson Starship!” Pamela gasped as Daisy and Starla moved in next to their mother, showing support by offering a united front.

“Do it!” James ordered, thrusting his clenched fists out at his son. He was holding his wrists together, hands palms up, gesturing the way a person does when they're actually wearing handcuffs. “Take me in now. Oh, 'The Man' would love that!”

“Dad, there is NO 'Man'!” Jeff sighed, exasperated. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Brainwashed!” Starla accused her brother, pointing a finger at him in disapproval.

“Oh,” Pamela wept. “I can't believe 'The Man' has infiltrated my own family!”

“Oh, Pamela!” Daisy cooed, trying to comfort her mother as Starla glared at her brother.

“It was bad enough when you went to work for 'The Man', but now I see it so clearly!” James sobbed. “The government has indeed brainwashed my son.”

“Grandpa, no one's -” Mike couldn't even finish his sentence before his mother interrupted him.

“You're the worst of all!” Starla screeched. “You killed for the government!”

“I defended innocent people,” Mike retorted.

“Oh, where did I go wrong?” Starla wept, Pamela embracing her in shared misery.

“I helped to contain and eliminate hostile governments,” Mike tried to explain his life choices in a way he thought his elders could best relate. “I thought you'd be proud of that.”

“Proud?!” Starla shrieked, unable to say any more due to the intensity of her crying.

“If that's what you do then why haven't you killed anyone in our government?” James demanded to know. “What about the injustices our government perpetrates on us?”

“What?” Jeff and Mike asked simultaneously.
What the hell?

“Yeah!” Daisy chimed in. “Why aren't you defending our innocent people?”

Jeff and Mike just looked at one another, uncertain what to do or say. Finally, Jeff patted Mike on the shoulder. “Welcome home, man.”

“Oh yeah,” Mike said sarcastically. “Thanks. It's good to be here.”