Yellow Ribbons (6 page)

She crawled astride his hips and rubbed her pussy over his erection. Greg grabbed his cock with one hand, raking the tip over her clit while his other hand tweaked her nipple. Now she was on the brink, so close to coming, she could taste it. Hands braced on his chest, she rode the oncoming wave.

Greg grabbed her hips and lifted her slightly. “Put it where you want it, sweetheart.” He rubbed his erection over her slit. They found each other at the same time and eased together as one.

“Damn…” He ground into her. “I swear I could fuck you a thousand times and your pussy just keeps getting better and better. So tight. So hot. So wet.” He thumbed her clit. “Ride me. Make us come, baby.”

Her brain shut down, and her body took over. He moved in time with her frantic gyrations, each thrust harder and hotter than the one before.

Lani’s orgasm built, stoked by the relentless drive of his thumb and cock into her, her clenching vaginal muscles. They climaxed at the same time, straining into the force, letting the tension rattle their bones and the blessed release sag their muscles.

Emotion hit her from out of nowhere. A gasp. Her heart squeezed. A sob. Tears.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Greg hugged her close and rolled her beneath him, kissing her, caressing her, soothing as only he could. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

If only he knew how true that statement was. If only she could tell him.

Lani rolled into her parking spot in front of the Provost Marshal’s Office at sharp. Major Kenyon’s spot beside hers was vacant. That meant he was either not at work or standing tall before the commanding general, answering the volley of questions swarming around the deaths of Regina Whittaker and Roger Tipton. She had a sinking feeling it was the former, and the person called on the CG’s carpet at any moment would be her.

The oatmeal she’d had for breakfast congealed in her stomach. Cutting the engine, she tried Kenyon’s cell and home numbers. Both rolled over to voice mail. More worry churned her gut. At this time of day, Nerine would be getting the kids ready for school. Someone should have answered the home phone. Despite the fact she knew she didn’t have Nerine’s cell phone number programmed into her phone, Lani scrolled through the numbers anyway. Nothing. The major would have emergency contact numbers somewhere in his desk. A desk he kept locked.

Nothing a tire iron won’t fix.

The question remained: how desperate was she?

Lani tapped her fingers on the console. One of their marines found murdered with his presumed mistress. One commanding general’s explosion imminent. One provost marshal missing and unaccounted for. Pretty desperate.

She exited the vehicle and retrieved her tire iron from the trunk. There was no sense trying to hide the thing in her duffel. In under five minutes everyone within earshot would know what she was doing. She had nothing to hide. The major, however…

Loyalty had edged out common sense too much the last several months. Kenyon was on a downward spiral that seemed all too clear at this point in time. Lani had lied to herself that it was nothing, that she was mistaken, that what she suspected of the man couldn’t be true. He was gone more times than he was here, leaving at all hours of the day, only to return smelling of booze and—she hated to think it was true—sex. She’d covered his ass for the last time. Doubt crept in, just as it always did.

She clutched the tire iron in her right hand and her duffel bag in her left. Shoulders squared, she donned an air of confidence she didn’t feel and marched into the building. She passed no one, though the rumble of voices near the coffee mess told Lani she wasn’t alone. She didn’t expect to be. Law enforcement was a twenty-four/seven operation. By now someone would have heard about Tipton. His fellow marines would mourn, speculate, cast blame to the four winds. God only knew what would come out of all this. Who knew what and when. They’d be doing damage control for a while.

Lani stopped in front of Kenyon’s door long enough to twist the knob. She wasn’t surprised to find it locked too. If the major trusted anyone with a key, it might be Greg. They’d known each other a long time. But Greg wasn’t here yet, though she doubted he’d be much later. If breaking into Kenyon’s office and desk was a royal fuck-up, it was going to be hers, not Greg’s. Kenyon would still be able to trust Greg when it was all said and done.

She dropped her duffel on the floor, stabbed the end of the tire iron into the doorjamb next to the lock, and pried it open. The door splintered, the
crack
popping down the hall. That’d bring marines out to investigate. Sure enough she heard, “Ma’am?” as she crossed the threshold.

Kenyon staged his desk at the far end of the long room and strategically behind the door, so that the open door blocked his desk from view when first walking into the room. Lani’s setup was similar. Hell, all of theirs were in order to better defend themselves. Cops were a paranoid bunch. With good reason. She shoved the major’s leather executive chair aside with her hip. One tug of the drawer revealed the desk locked. She thrust the tire iron into the top drawer of the locked desk just as a head peered around the door.

“Ma’am?” Corporal Mathias’s eyebrows inched upward on his forehead. “Uhm… Breaking into the major’s desk, ma’am?”

“Yes, I am.” She pushed the bar down, and the drawer popped open. “Now out. And shut the door behind you.”

“I…uhm…can’t, ma’am. You sorta broke it.”

“Then sorta make sure I’m not disturbed…by anyone.”

His gasp sucked the air out of the room. “Not even master guns?”

Lani would have laughed had the situation not been so dire. Greg’s rank gave him power. His experience and maturity helped him use it with grace and discretion. She tried her best to follow his example.

“Did I not just give you an order, Corporal?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He ducked out, pulling the broken door behind him.

The precision neatness in Kenyon’s desk drawers freaked Lani out. Everything was well-ordered and in its assigned place. He’d know if anyone had violated his space. A small stack of business cards lay in the tray next to his paperclips. Lani rifled through them but found nothing with Nerine’s cell phone number. She turned to the bank of drawers down the left side of the desk and finally found what she was looking for buried under two coffee cups, dental floss, mouthwash, breath mints, chewing gum, and a bag of lemon drops. A scrap of paper ripped from a steno pad with the word
Nerine
and a number slashed across the corner in black marker. It’s raggedness looked out of place in the pristine desk. Perhaps written in haste.
Or anger?

Lani tucked that thought away, sat in Kenyon’s office chair, and reached for the phone on Kenyon’s desk. Instinct made her pull her hand away. Instead, she used her cell, then leaned back and counted the rings. One. Two.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Nerine.” At least she hoped it was Nerine. It sounded like her. “This is Elaine Hollister. I—”

“Something happened. Didn’t it?” Her voice quavered. “Please tell me no one else got hurt. Oh, God. Is he dead?”

Stunned, Lani struggled for a response. “He didn’t come home last night?”

She heard the intake of breath, then a slowly released sigh. “I left Mick last November. Right after the ball. The kids and I are living in San Diego near my family. He didn’t tell you?”

“No.” Lani barely managed to get the word out.

Another sigh. “I had no choice. His drinking had gotten to the point where he… He wasn’t the man I thought he was. I did what I thought was best for us all. I filed for divorce and sole legal and physical custody of the children. The last time we saw him was at Christmas. Briefly. He indicated he’d moved on, found someone else, and was better off without me. I couldn’t agree more.”

“I-I don’t know what to say.” And that was the truth.

“I’m not surprised he didn’t say anything,” Nerine told her. “He’s very good at hiding things, and for good reason. He’s made some real career-busting moves and… Well, like I said, he’s not the man I thought he was. I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to realize it. The drinking… Is he…all right?”

Lani wouldn’t lie. “I don’t know. He didn’t come in.”
Again
. “We can’t reach him by phone. Do you know who this new person in his life is?”

Nerine took so long answering, Lani wondered if the call had dropped. “I can’t say.”

Can’t say, or won’t say?

“Let me know if he’s all right. He’ll hate that you did, but…” Her voice broke. “I still love him, you know. How stupid does that make me?”

“Not stupid at all. I’ll let you know.”

“Maybe you can get him help with the drinking and…stuff.”

“I don’t think he’ll have a choice.” There was no covering this up. Lani was ashamed she hadn’t acted on her suspicions earlier. Disbelief, fear of ruining a good marine’s career…neither were good excuses. There were no excuses.

Lani ended the call with another promise to keep Nerine informed and exited Kenyon’s office to find Greg braced against the wall, his arms crossed and a glower darkening his face. Mathias quivered beside him.

“Thank you, Corporal Mathias. Put in a request to have the door fixed.” She stooped for her duffel. “Master Gunnery Sergeant Landess, please get Lieutenant Cornwall and come to my office.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Heads ducked back into offices, but the whispered conversations didn’t die as she headed down the hallway. The news was out. Staff Sergeant Tipton was dead. Major Kenyon was UA. Another unauthorized absence.
Probably drunk again
, they’d say. Lani damned herself for letting it go on. What the hell had she been thinking? The man had a problem, and they’d ignored it.

She opened her office door and blessed Greg’s consideration when she saw the large coffee from Carl’s Jr. in the middle of her desk. Office coffee sucked. This one would be the right temperature, have the right amount of half-and-half. She popped the lid, tested to make sure her assumptions were correct, then sucked down half of it and sank into her pleather chair.

“I can get you another if you’d like,” Greg said as he and their lanky operations officer walked in and sat in the chairs before her desk.

Like her and Greg, Lieutenant Cornwall had yet to change into uniform. Unlike them, he looked like he was dressed for prep school. The only thing missing was a school tie. Lani suspected the man didn’t own a pair of jeans. She’d never met someone more out of place.

“Breakfast sandwich too,” Greg added.

Tempting, but she didn’t think her stomach could handle it. “I already ate.” Besides, she had another mission for the two of them, one they wouldn’t like. Lani would do it herself, but…

“Lieutenant, I’m sure you’ve heard about Staff Sergeant Tipton.” She laced her fingers together on her blotter and leaned forward.

“Not the full details, but yes.” Long fingers absently picked at a white bandage on his forearm. He was constantly toying with something, a nervous habit whenever he was under stress. She imagined her breaking into Kenyon’s office had upset his rules’ radar.

“It could be a while before any of us have the full details.” She forced herself to lean back and appear relaxed and in charge when she felt anything but. “Right now, we have another problem to deal with.”

“The major.” Greg managed the calm facade Lani sought. One day she’d discover his secret. “Still can’t reach him?”

“No. Not on his home or cell phone. I got his wife’s cell from his office.”
Just spit it out
. “She left him last fall and filed for divorce. She couldn’t put up with his drinking any longer and indicated it had caused other problems in the marriage. Last time Nerine and the kids saw him was at Christmas. He’d apparently
moved on
.”

“Then he might be with that person.” Lieutenant Cornwall slid his palms over his thighs, leaving sweat behind on the navy blue slacks.

“Or he could be incapacitated at his house,” Lani said. “We have to exhaust all possibilities. Our major needs our help, and I’m embarrassed and somewhat ashamed that I’ve deluded myself into believing otherwise.”

“The blame isn’t solely yours, Captain.” Greg parked his elbows on the wooden armrests and templed his fingers before him. “I’ve known the man for many years. I should have been more diligent.”

A flush covered Cornwall’s face. He said nothing.

“I’m presuming you’d like us to go to his home and check on him,” Greg said.

“Yes. I need to be on hand for the CG.”

Greg pushed his thumbs against each other. “You could anticipate his demand and go to his office now.”

She considered that for a bit then shook her head. “Granted the major has a problem, but I’d rather give him every opportunity to show up for work. I don’t want to have to skyline him if I don’t have to, but I will advise Lieutenant Colonel Seaberg of the situation.”

Major Kenyon’s history with the Headquarters Battalion commanding officer was as long-standing as was the one he had with Greg. Seaberg would be able to help them with an intervention.

“Good plan, ma’am. I’ll call you once we get to his house.” He stood in one fluid movement. Cornwall wasn’t as graceful. Lani had never seen anyone stumble from a chair before. If his eyes got any wider, they’d pop out.

She waited until they cleared the door to call Lieutenant Colonel Seaberg. Corporal Mathias filled the doorway before she could punch in the last two numbers.

“Head shed called, ma’am. The general wants the major in his office now.”

Her back tensed. She’d known someone from the general’s office would be calling. There was nothing else she could do. “Thank you, Corporal.” She punched in the last two numbers. She’d covered Kenyon’s ass long enough. It was time to cover her own and admit her wrongdoing.

Cornwall wasn’t much of a talker. The man had a submissive streak a mile wide too. It irritated Greg more than he was willing to admit out loud. It took balls to be a marine, and as far as he was concerned, Cornwall didn’t have any. He did his job well but lacked leadership skills and was too soft-spoken. Some thought him sneaky. Greg considered him to be a ticking bomb. A man that subdued had hidden issues of some kind.