Semper Fidelis (26 page)

Jamie supposed it was wise to keep his mouth shut.

“I’m surprised you still have your license, Captain,” the cop said as Jamie signed the ticket, promising to appear at his court date. “If you don’t lose it this time, you might think about talking to someone about what’s going on.”

Jamie just needed time. He needed to get more time between himself and his last deployment and he’d be fine. He’d settle back in, eventually.

The Highway Patrol officer was very respectful when he finally cut Jamie lose. Sedately, Jamie retraced his path until he reached home. Tucker’s car was in the garage and when he saw it, Jamie realized he’d expected Tucker to be gone.

Tucker had showered and was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a tight T-shirt. Jamie’s cock twitched, even as his heart ached. Tucker looked good. He always looked good, but he was dressed up just enough that he was mind-bendingly sexy. Jamie watched Tucker gather up his wallet, cell and keys, realizing he was going somewhere. He hadn’t planned on waiting for Jamie to get home.

“I’m having dinner with my brother and sister-in-law,” Tucker said tightly. “I’ve hardly seen them since you’ve been back. You’re invited, but I know you won’t come. You don’t want to go anywhere, anymore. Not even just the two of us. You never want to have anyone over. Stay here and be a hermit. I miss my brother and his family.”

Tucker left. He didn’t say goodbye, he didn’t give Jamie a kiss. Jamie’s blood turned to ice in his veins.

He missed Chris and Aurora too. Chris and Jamie had been second lieutenants in the same company. Chris had introduced Jamie to his older brother, Tucker.

The sound of Tucker’s car faded away. Jamie headed for the bedroom to change into sweats before he tried to eat. He stopped at the broken bathroom door. The sight of it, splintered and hanging crooked on its hinges, made Jamie’s stomach plunge sickeningly.

Tucker had cleaned up the towels and the slivers of wood, but he’d done nothing to repair the door. Curious, Jamie opened the linen closet in the hallway. All of their bath towels were neatly folded and evenly stacked. The bed sheets were folded and stacked with equal care. An irrational rage made him want to pull everything out of the closet and dump it on the floor.

Inhaling deeply, he closed the closet and went to change clothes. Jamie discarded what he’d been wearing in the dirty clothes hamper. He pulled on a pair of cotton pants, tugging on the drawstring just enough to keep them from sliding off.

In the kitchen, Jamie grabbed a beer. He stood at the sink and drank down half on the first go. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, staring sightlessly out of the window. Taking a deep breath, Jamie finished the beer.

With another cold bottle in hand, Jamie collapsed onto the sofa, reaching for the remote. This was a fucked up Saturday night. He’d wanted to make dinner with Tucker, drink some beer, watch some television then crawl into bed. Maybe they wouldn’t even make it into bed. They’d been like that in the beginning—not caring where they were when the urge struck. They’d been together in every room of this house.

Jamie flipped through the channel guide, selecting mindless show after mindless show. He had no idea what he was even watching. He drank another beer, keeping an ear out for the sound of Tucker’s car. Jamie was impatient for Tucker to come home. He wanted Tucker to be over his anger. Jamie needed to distract Tucker, to get him talking about other things.

He needed to touch Tucker and show him how much Jamie hated what had happened earlier.

Getting another beer, Jamie noticed they were running low. He was vaguely surprised, thinking he’d just brought some home earlier that day.

Settling on the sofa, Jamie let a mindless martial arts movie play. His eyelids grew heavy, but he wanted to wait for Tucker. He didn’t usually stay this late at his brother’s house, even when Jamie had been able to go with him. He closed his eyes for a moment.

He came immediately awake. Jamie sat up, expanding his situational awareness. His heart slammed violently in his chest, his hands and feet tingled with the rush of adrenaline. Jamie’s skin was stretched too taut over his bones. A garage door activated. The room was dark, except for a television. Jamie reached for his sidearm, not finding it. He ran his hands over a nearby table, knocking off empty bottles and other debris. No Berretta.

Jamie leaped to his feet. He crept silently toward the kitchen. A vehicle pulled in, fell silent, and the garage door reversed in its track. His blood rushed in his ears and Jamie shook out his hands, flexing his fingers. Someone in the garage struggled with the door lock. He considered getting a kitchen knife, but there was no time. The hostile was making entry.

Jamie let the hostile get all the way inside to make his retreat difficult. His enemy reached for the light switch. Jamie tried to get to him first.

He slammed his body into the intruder, reaching for his right hand, playing the odds it was his weapon hand. The hostile shouted in surprise and swore in anger. Jamie’s momentum carried them both into the wall. Still holding his enemy’s wrist, Jamie wrapped his other hand around his neck.

The hostile had some training and fought back. The intruder broke Jamie’s hold on his wrist. He pushed off the wall, sending them both stumbling into the middle of the room. Jamie swore under his breath, shifting his weight, trying to regain his advantage.

“What the fuck, Jamie?” the hostile demanded angrily.

How the fuck did this guy know his name? Jamie hooked a foot behind the intruder’s leg, trying to over balance him. He failed. The hostile stayed upright and got Jamie into a partial thumb lock.

The pain made him angry. Jamie pulled free and landed a clumsy punch.

“Son of a bitch!” Tucker shouted. His foot found Jamie’s knee, his elbow connecting with Jamie’s cheekbone.

He saw stars. Tucker was somewhere in the house and Jamie had to get the intruder under control. Tucker knew how to fight, but unruly drug addicts weren’t as dangerous as armed insurgents.

Jamie landed a punch to the hostile’s gut. His enemy blocked him at the last second, so it was off center and glancing blow. The intruder grunted in pain. Jamie twisted his hips, took his enemy to the floor, coming down on top of him.

“Jamie! Jamie, knock it off! This isn’t funny, get off me!” Tucker’s voice was strained and angry. It didn’t come from above Jamie, as he expected.

“You’re hurting me, you asshole. Get off!”

Tucker’s voice was directly beneath Jamie. The body between his thighs was familiar. Tucker’s familiar scent drifted up from below.

Jamie froze, an icy chill flooding his body, dread settling like a sickness in his belly. “Tucker?” he asked quietly.

“Who the fuck else would it be?” Tucker shoved hard at Jamie’s chest. “Now get off me.”

Jamie scrambled up and stumbled to the wall. He hit the light switch and watched in horror as Tucker slowly rolled onto his side and climbed up off the floor.

“Oh, Christ, I’m sorry, Tucker,” Jamie said, wondering if he sounded as horrified as he felt. “I didn’t know it was you.”

Tucker’s expression was thunderous. “You have that many other men traipsing through the house, you didn’t know it was me?”

“No! Fuck no!” Jamie hastily crossed to Tucker and helped him to his feet. Tucker tried to shake him off but Jamie hung on. “I was asleep on the sofa. I heard noises. I don’t think I was awake yet.”

“You saw me leave, you knew I wasn’t home,” Tucker snapped, pushing Jamie away. His jaw was tight, his dark eyes flashing.

Jamie ran his hands over Tucker’s arms and chest, wanting to soothe him. Tucker stepped back, pushing Jamie’s hands away. A dark smudge was forming on Tucker’s cheekbone. Jamie knew it would bruise. The evidence of his bad judgment would stare back at him for days. Jamie reached for the mark, aching to comfort Tucker.

Tucker flinched and pulled away, the ends of his hair brushing his collar. He pressed his mouth into a grim line, staring warily at Jamie.

“You’re right, I did see you leave,” Jamie said imploringly. “I did know you weren’t home. Things were just foggy when I woke up.” His confession hurt, deep in his chest.

“That’s bullshit, Jamie,” Tucker sneered disdainfully. “You always wake up clear-headed and ready to go.”

Tucker was right, and that’s what was so scary. “I had a few beers, maybe they slowed me down.”

Tucker’s expression said he wasn’t buying it. “You had more than a few, didn’t you? You always do, now.”

Jamie blinked several times, surprised by the venom in Tucker’s voice. Of the things he thought Tucker would be angry about, drinking beer wasn’t one of them. “I’m sorry, Tucker. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you. Ever.”

“I used my key to get in,” Tucker said tightly. “Did you think about calling out to whoever
has a key to your house
?”

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.” Jamie couldn’t tell Tucker he’d thought he’d been under attack. He took a step closer, relieved when Tucker didn’t step back. “Are you okay? How bad did I hurt you?”

Tucker touched the bruise blossoming on his cheekbone. “I saw fucking stars. If I hadn’t blocked it, the punch to my gut might have ruptured something.”

Jamie winced. He ran his palms up Tucker’s arms. “Fuck. I am so sorry about everything. I fell asleep waiting for you to get home. I missed you. Then you show up and I jump you in the dark. The bad kind of jump.” He smiled hesitantly, hoping to distract Tucker with humor.

“Are you sure you weren’t trying to punish me for something?” Tucker watched Jamie from beneath the strands of hair that fell rakishly into his eyes.

Jamie’s stomach soured. “No. Punish you? Tucker, no. When have I ever done something like that?” He tried to draw Tucker into his arms.

Tucker resisted. “You do a lot of things now you didn’t used to.”

“Let me get some ice for your cheek.” It was the least he could do, and maybe this would finally change the subject for good.

“No, I’ll do it.” Tucker pushed past Jamie. “I’m not in the mood to hear you bitch at me for keeping something someplace you don’t like.”

Tucker’s hostility shocked Jamie. He watched Tucker’s broad back, aching to touch him, make this all go away. Or at least forget about it for an hour or so. “What do you mean by that?” Jamie asked, easing closer so he could try to be helpful.

“I mean that since you’ve been back, all you do is give me shit about what drawers things are in, what hook they’re on, what’s in each cupboard.” Tucker took a plastic sandwich bag from a cabinet and Jamie realized it made more sense for storage bags to be in an easy to reach drawer. Tucker filled the bag with ice cubes then wrapped it in a paper towel.

Jamie took the open boxes of plastic bags from the cabinet and began searching for a drawer with room. “I don’t give you shit about where things are kept.”

The boxes were abruptly snatched from Jamie’s hands. Tucker threw them violently across the kitchen. They struck the wall with loud smacking sounds, hitting the floor with a single thud. “Jesus Christ! That’s what I’m talking about. If you’re not criticizing where I keep something, you’re just moving it where
you
want it, no matter what I want. I’m not a stupid kid!”

Jamie stood rooted to his spot. He didn’t understand why Tucker was so pissed off. He was being helpful. “I know you’re not stupid. And I know you’re not a kid. I move things to where they make sense.”

“To you.” Tucker breathed heavily. He looked at Jamie as if this should have been obvious.

“It’s more comfortable when a house is orderly and organized.”

“To you
.”

Jamie’s anger flared like fuel had been tossed on a flame. “Well, I do fucking live here, you know.”

“Not for an entire year you didn’t!” Tucker shouted, his anger palpable. His face flushed and his hands fisted at his sides. He shifted his stance, like a fighter waiting for the bell.

Jamie sucked in a harsh breath. He lifted his chin, as if Tucker was about to take a swing. Through gritted teeth he said, “I was fighting a war.”

“No shit,” Tucker scoffed. “I had to go on with my life, alone, while you were gone. Missing you was bad enough, I got to worry about whether you would come home, at all. And if you did, would you be hurt too bad for me to help you.”

Christ, Jamie hated the idea that he made Tucker scared and worried. “Well, I’m home now. What’s the problem with me moving a few things around?”

“A few things?” Tucker was incredulous. “Try everything. You were gone for a year. Then you came home one day and just started rearranging the house to suit yourself. Like I’m supposed to completely change my day-to-day life because it suits you.”

“You wish I hadn’t made it home?” Jamie lashed out, wanting Tucker to hurt too.

Tucker made a disgusted face. “Are you even listening to me? I already said I missed you while you were gone. But you
were gone
! You came back acting like you’d never left.”

Jamie had lost a year of his life to a desert. Now that he was home, with Tucker, he wanted to erase it.

“We live here
together
, Jamie,” Tucker said pointedly. “Some things are the way they are for a reason. You need to talk to me before you go rearranging the house we both live in.”

Jamie took a deep breath, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “So you can keep making me feel like a visitor in my own house?”

Tucker rolled his eyes, adjusting the ice against his cheek. “That’s not how it is. Remember when we first moved in together? We had to figure out what worked best for both of us.” He opened the refrigerator and stared inside for several, silent moments. “Most of the beer that was here when I left is gone.” The door rattled slightly when he closed it. “You hit me, Jamie. We live together, and you got drunk and punched me in the face.”

“That’s not what happened,” Jamie started to protest.

Tucker held up a hand, palm out. “Save it. I’ve heard all the excuses. I listen to them day in and day out, from better liars than you. What would have happened if I didn’t know how to defend myself, huh?”

Without warning, exhaustion rolled over Jamie. His shoulders slumped and his legs trembled. He leaned his hips back against the countertop, crossing his arms over his chest. “I could have really hurt you.” An icy chill ran down Jamie’s spine. He closed his eyes, pushing away the images of Tucker, lying in the sand, bloody and broken.