Big White Lie (Storm's Soldiers MC) (8 page)

There’s nothing better than feeling a strong man lose control inside you.

He grabbed my hips and lifted me on and off him. I wrapped tight around him and whimpered in his ear.

The house lay completely still but we fucked quietly. The feeling was transcendental, beyond anything our voices could describe.

He moved me faster and faster. I might as well have been nothing but a ball of pleasure in his arms, but he was everything inside me.

I couldn’t think of anything but the strength of him around me, in me. Something in me felt dammed up, something I hadn’t felt in a long long time and never this strongly. He was cracking it with each thrust. Slowly, my voice picked up, rose into my ears like a soft keen.

Calix started to groan and his voice just sharpened the cracks. I started bouncing in his grip, growing the vibrations.

“Oh, fuck me,” Calix growled, sounding utterly defeated.

It all broke over me. I nearly cracked every window, setting off in a wail. I bounced over and over, spurring new waves of pleasure.

Calix crushed me into his body and then he shuddered. He kept using me even as thick wet spurts shot up and filled me.

Finally, we lay in a deep grip, just a soft, sweaty hug. I kissed him haggardly on the lips.

“You’re a pretty good cook,” I said, landing on his shoulder.

“I’m inspired.”

He stroked my bare back. I knew we couldn’t stay here, knew that soon I would have to let him out of my body and get my clothes back on, but right then, I felt like a caterpillar in a warm, silk cocoon, with no desire to become a butterfly.

Calix must have felt the same. He even lay on my shoulder.

“You got me,” he said. “You really got me.”

He sounded exhausted. He sounded broken, like a beast tamed.

It made me feel wicked. I smiled to myself.

Now, he was mine.

CHAPTER SIX

Calix

After a restless night in my quarters, I limped in to base to report for duty. Sgt. Lilton frowned deep the moment he saw me.

“You lied to me, you son of a bitch,” he growled. He looked like an angry grizzly - dark, round and packed with coiled muscle

My breath tightened. There was no way he could know a thing.

“That’s no damn graze,” he yelled directly at the wound. “It’s through your damn thigh, Corporal.”

I released my breath slowly. “It doesn’t feel so bad, Sergeant.”

“Uh-huh, yeah. I’m calling bullshit. Go check in with the medic.”

I did as asked. If I’d been told two years back that I’d be rolling over at the commands of a black man, I would have laughed. But Lilton took no shit. And I’d had commanders of all colors overseas that took no shit. I couldn’t have done well if I didn’t start listening.

In a way, the army had broken me down. Not completely. Not enough to make me forget the cause.

But at least enough to allow last night.

The pain in my leg was nothing compared to the scratch of that memory. I popped a pill to dull that more than anything else. The meds had led to this whole damn mess. The least they could do was help me forget.

Forget the feel of that raw dark skin damp around mine. Forget the feel of her body lush in my arms. Forget the sound of me suckling her full lips like I needed them to live.

I wanted to leave it all in the dust. But trying to forget just dredged it all up again. I’d have to drown it out by getting back to work.

McPherson had a dedicated medical building, though it was only about the size of a stable and manned thinly. The medic on site had just a chevron to his rank.

“Private Velez,” I said, reading his badge as I approached his desk. “I need you to clear me for duty.”

“What’s the injury?” he said.

He had an unlined face, slightly darker than a deep tan could reach. He was young, but looked severe as he gave me a one over.

I rolled up my pant leg.

He whistled at the bandage. “It looks deep.”

“Deepest there is. A round went all the way through.”

“Oh shit,” he said.

“I’m fine. Sergeant is not convinced.”

“Well, let’s take a look.”

He led to an exam room, had me sit on a chair and began unwinding the bandage. I only felt it as a slight release of pressure.

I looked down at his shorn black hair and the much lighter skin it speckled. This guy was Latino, no doubt. They came a little darker, a little lighter.

Rosa might be on one end of the spectrum. Someone on the other side, I might not even notice wasn’t white. But his culture would be closer to Rosa’s than mine.

It wasn’t the first time I’d had to notice that the lines between people didn’t cut so neatly, but I couldn’t ignore it now. I needed to know how deep I’d gone into enemy territory.

The military lingo came naturally to me, but it didn’t sit right at all. My stomach turned just thinking through the words.

What happened between me and Rosa was no war. It might have been a mistake, but there was no need to put it in such sharp terms.

After all, she had been soft through and through.

Velez released my leg and asked, “When did this happen?”

“Two days ago.”

“Sounds about right. They gave you something for the pain?”

“Vicodin.”

“Dosage?”

I gave him the pill case from my pocket. He clicked his tongue and gave me a soft look.

“Sorry, Corporal, I can’t clear you.”

My mind turned dark. “I’m sitting at a desk in the armory, not training.”

“Still, you’re in pain. You’re not going to maintain discipline under Vicodin. Which is fine. You should be taking it. You just need a couple more days to heal.”

“Private Velez.” His name turned to acid on my lips. “I am asking you to clear me for duty.”

He stood and looked at me with a face flat as the full moon. “I’m here to keep you healthy, Corporal, not be your friend.”

I shoved off outside into the smothering heat. This fucking Mexican kid thought he knew my body better than I did. He could only dream of being in my skin. I hadn’t gotten a purple heart for being unable to act under duress.

I’d hope to slink out of base, but Lilton chose the moment I was walking past his office to come out for a smoke. He gave me a grim smile.

“What’s the status?” he asked.

“Unfit for service.” There was no use in a naked lie.

“Ah, it’s for the best, Black.” He took a draw of his cigarette. “Don’t worry, the US Army isn’t going anywhere. Head on downtown and find some place to watch pretty girls for a while. You’ve earned it, son.”

Son.

He clapped me on the back. I had the sudden urge to snap on him and unleash vile things. I wanted to collapse the reputable image I’d constructed for myself.

Rosa’s face flashed over Lilton’s head. He was darker than her, but I couldn’t say what I wanted without meaning her, too.

The words remained as breath in my lungs.

“I’ll go to my father’s for a bit,” I said. I wasn’t angry at him anyway. I was just burning up inside with nowhere to breathe flame.

“Sounds alright, too. Just stay away from that gun.”

He gave me a severe look, then burst out in a laugh. “Sorry, Corporal.”

“I deserved that,” I said.

It hadn’t even upset me. It was good. Let him buy deeper into the lie until it became a well-worn truth.

I caught another taxi back to my father’s place. I wasn’t worried for my bike in the garage, but I did miss the feeling of its power under me. The Storm’s Soldiers might have become a thing I didn’t understand, but my bike stayed true to its nature.

The pills helped me doze through the ride, but dozing just brought Rosa back into my mind. I could almost open my eyes and see her face on the other side of the window.

Maybe it was a good thing that it lay so fresh. Her memory had saved me from destroying my career.

But not by reminding me who I was. It hadn’t even made me forget who I was.

Thinking about her made me wonder who I’d become.

True rest was hard to come by with that thought in my head.

The driver deposited me on a quiet tree-lined street northwest of Atlanta proper. I unlocked the house door, but stopped to look around and remind myself of all the ways it was different from Rosa’s street.

All I could notice was the sunlight. This was day, and that was night.

I went in and squeaked the door shut. The entrance greeted me with a wall of photos big and small over floral wall paper. I looked left towards the musty living room.

It looked much like the one where I’d fucked Rosa.There key difference was the white flag with the blood drop that was mounted on the far side. Underneath, a hand stitched banner read, ‘White pride, worldwide.’

Low murmurs rustled down the hallway - men’s voices. It seemed I’d stumbled in on a strategic session.

I took the long path to the back porch, through the living and dining rooms. I glanced over the flyers and images that blanketed the walls.

‘Close the gates.’ A picture of the statue of liberty with bars over it.

‘Stem the flood.’ The US map with a brown wave washing over it.

‘Will you fight for them?’ A dated picture of some white family.

There hadn’t been a single new one added since I’d been gone. The Soldiers may have changed. I might be something different than before I left. My father stayed constant.

My father’s organization was purely a political entity committed to the nationalist cause. They had suffered setbacks, too, but they continued unwavering.

That was the key to this, I realized. Not the obstacles or the diversions, but the choice to continue down the road once committed. All I had to do was refuse the seductions the world offered.

The storm clouds in my head lightened a bit.

I came out in the kitchen. Past the screen door, the sliding glass leading out to the porch lay open. My father and the Storm’s Soldiers president, Homer, sat on plastic chairs and spoke in soft voices.

They made an odd pair: my father, a white-haired, soft-spoken professor and Homer, a thick denim and leather lineguard, his bald head burned red by the sun. They were the soul and the body of the nationalist movement.

Right now, that made me the heart - the thing that keept us from dying.

I yawned open the screen door. They both snapped to me.

“Calix.” My father reached for my arm. “My boy, how are you doing?”

“Surviving,” I said, aimed at Homer.

He just tipped his head. I couldn’t even see his eyes through his dark shades.

“Good,” he said.

Good. That’s all he had for me after nearly sending me to my death. My calm erupted right back into flame.

“Are you in pain?” My father stood. “Come, sit. I’ll get another chair. Would you like some sweet tea?”

“Sweet tea never hurts.” I sat as my father went in for it.

“Diabetes, brother,” Homer said, chewing on tobacco even as he said it.

He held out a hand.

I stared at it for a long while before clapping my hand down.

Brother.

I would have said that word without hesitation before I served. But it was becoming almost impossible.

It felt very close to another lie.

I was grateful when my father came back and handed me a glass of cold tea. He clacked down another chair next to me.

“There’s no permanent damage, I hope,” he said.

“I doubt it. It missed the knee.”

“Then we are lucky.” He clapped my intact leg. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more supportive over the phone. I was praying for you.”

“Yeah, brother,” Homer said. “We were both worried. I’m glad it all worked out. They even released you early.”

“I asked for that.”

“Why?”

“To get back on base on soon as possible. We have our next window to move guns next week and I wanted to be prepared.”

“Ah, there’s no rush for that. We have no buyers for those and we’ve got enough hardware for our operation.”

I had the urge to smash my glass on his ball head.

“No rush?” I measured out my words. “Will your money be worth a thing when this nation falls apart and we have to stand for ourselves?”

“We understand,” my father cut in. “I think Homer just meant we don’t want to risk your health over reaching this deadline.”

Homer spit a wad of his tobacco in a tumbler resting on the arm of his chair. “One missed load ain’t gonna make or break us in the long run. We should focus on what we can get.”

It wasn’t what he said that was wrong. It was the way he threw the matter aside with his tone. This was how people lost their way, taking short term pleasure over long term achievement.

Even as I indicted him, my brain flashed an image of Rosa’s face slack with ecstasy.