Bound to Break: Men of Honor, Book 6 (16 page)

“You’re a Navy SEAL.”

“No.”

Josh the SEAL wasn’t even blinking. Lying. Passing. “I was that good.”

“Are you still?”

Lucky shook his head. “I’m guessing being a good liar’s something you’re born with. But this…Josh…he’s enjoying himself. He’s relaxed when he’s lying. That’s his tell.” He glanced up at Cooper, who gave him an odd smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You’re right. I’ve been watching your old training tapes. Watching you. Looking for that goddamned tell. And I haven’t seen it yet.”

“What’re you saying, Cooper? I’ve forgotten how to lie?”

“Have you?”

The tapes might be able to clear him—or Cooper could simply point out that Lucky was lying about not knowing how to lie. This all began to feel so goddamned impossible.

The tape went on for an hour. Several different tests on different days and Lucky watched himself beating the lie detector test. Every single time. He studied his movements on the screen, his eyes, looked for any little twitch or eyebrow wiggle.

There was nothing. Nothing, except for Josh’s completely relaxed attitude, even as he remained friendly and professional to the man administering the test.

“I don’t fucking understand that,” he said, heard the anger in his voice and wasn’t sure where it was coming from. “Only people who are psychotic can beat that. Unless I’m wearing something that throws it off…”

“You’re not.”

“Then I’m fucking psychotic,” he muttered.

“No, Lucky, you’re not. You were trained to beat lie detectors. Your body language tells lies. What the terrorists did to you was virtually the same thing—they forced you to believe the lies. It’s how the CIA and Special Forces train their operatives to beat lie detector tests.”

Cooper almost sounded sad, and Lucky knew how he felt.

They forced you to believe the lies.

Was he believing his own lies now, believing that he didn’t have any memories when he really did?

Was he simply a product of his own training? A warning?

“I don’t want to watch this anymore.”

“That’s not an option you have.”

Lucky frowned, rubbed his palms against each other, then entwined and twisted his fingers together so hard that he swore they could break. But it was better than throwing the computer against the wall and getting shoved back in the small, windowless room again.

Dash had followed Lucky for several blocks. He found it easy to keep an eye on him. Probably too damned easy. Take a man whose life was once hand-to-hand combat and mix him with a healthy dose of suspicion coupled with amnesia and that was Lucky, who slammed him against the wall of the alleyway and held him there easily.

“If you wanted to fuck again, could’ve just asked.” Dash’s attempt at humor fell flat. Lucky pushed off of him and the wall simultaneously and started to walk away, the bag he’d left Africa with over his shoulder. “Lucky, come on.”

Lucky turned. He didn’t look especially angry—more like resigned when he told Dash, “You ruined my life and then disappeared. Sounds like that’s your specialty.”

“You’ve been talking to Emme.”

“No, actually I’m not allowed to talk to Emme. I’m barely allowed to breathe fresh fucking air without a bodyguard and honestly, I’m shocked I’m allowed out to be on my own. I’m shocked they let me walk here by myself. Or did they? Is that what the hell you are—my bodyguard? My newest jailer?”

“No,” Dash lied.

“Then why the hell are you here?” Lucky demanded. “Don’t tell me you felt guilty.”

“I had some business in the area.” The lie bugged the shit out of his conscience. He’d thought himself long rid of it, but it popped up at the most inconvenient times.

Lucky wasn’t buying it, not for a second. The man might not remember his SEAL training but those instincts that had gotten him this far never went away. He raised his brows and frowned. Muttered something about assholes who sleep with people so they can interrogate them and then try to give some lame-ass apology.

And then he walked away.

What did you expect, a welcome wagon? You literally fucked him over.

“Lucky, wait—”

“My name’s Josiah. Or haven’t you heard?”

“I heard. But I like Lucky better.”

“Why? Because he’s easy?”

“There’s nothing about you that’s easy, memory or no memory,” Dash said seriously.

Lucky processed that for a long moment and then said, “Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Good, because you’re buying.”

Dash shook his head but followed the man into the street and walked next to him down the block to the diner. They took a booth in the back, and Lucky immediately slid into the seat with his back against the wall. Dash sat next to him so his back could be against a wall too.

What a fucking pair the two of them were.

They ordered—Lucky enough to feed a small country and Dash just said, “Double that” to the waitress because he didn’t feel like wasting time figuring out food choices.

“Is your family all right?”

“Yes. They’re fine.”

“Do you have people there protecting them?” Lucky asked, and then his expression tightened. “Forget it. You can’t tell me shit like that.”

“They’re protected. They’re worried about you. That’s pretty much the only reason Emme calls me, to make sure you’re okay. She’s pissed as hell at me.”

Lucky’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t want to get between you and your family.”

“I know.”

“Why are you here, Dash?” Lucky asked again, his eyes boring into Dash’s. “This isn’t coincidence.”

What did he have to lose by sharing? “I’m supposed to keep an eye on you.”

“Why didn’t they just tell me that?”

“I don’t know how many people knew.”

Lucky nodded. Drank some of the iced tea the waitress put down before he said, “Is this a trap, the whole letting me be on my own?”

“They don’t know what else to do with you.”

“Join the club.” He leaned back in his chair. “You know I still have to meet with the shrink twice a day. And check in three times a day. I’m sure there’s some kind of system set up in my new quarters that lets them know I’m inside, safely away from society.”

“Lucky, they’re torn between treating you like a criminal and a hero.”

“Maybe there’s always a fine line between the two.”

Their food came. The waitress could barely fit all the plates on the table, smiled and said, “If you clean these, dessert’s on the house.”

Lucky seemed to take that as a personal challenge as he dug in. Dash slowly fixed his sandwich and asked, “So what’s the shrink working on with you—still trying to get your memory back?”

“Some of that. He’s also trying to get me to figure out why I pretended I never lost it.” He took a bite of his sandwich and washed it down with the cold soda. “Personally, I think that’s the most normal thing to do in this case.”

“Why’s that?”

“You’ve seen the scars. Who the hell would want to know how it happened? If you can get away scot free, with no nightmares…” He shook his head. “Rex has nightmares. Less now, he says, but I think he’s lying. And Cooper—the shrink—says that he’s worried all of this will come back to bite me in the ass someday, so it’s better to try to get my memories back in a controlled environment. And since the Navy’s still in charge of me, I don’t have any other choice but to try.”

“Now that’s not true—the choice part, anyway.”

Lucky ignored that, kept eating methodically. His table manners were impeccable, and he seemed to enjoy the food, which made Dash relax.

Lucky was taking all of this better than he’d ever expected. Was that because he was truly innocent? No reason to stress over something you didn’t do—or couldn’t remember you did.

Chapter Sixteen

Dash suspected they both knew what would happen when they walked through the door of Lucky’s place, and he wasn’t disappointed. He’d barely let Lucky get the door shut before he was on him, pinning him to the wall like he had the first time.

Lucky let the bag fall off his shoulder, kicked his shoes off, helped Dash yank down his jeans, all while never breaking the kiss.

Finally, Lucky was naked, putting his hands around the back of Dash’s neck as if he could somehow pull him closer than he already was. “I fucking missed you,” he murmured against Dash’s mouth, and he didn’t seem to require an answer since he went back to taking Dash’s kisses.

He didn’t need reassurances, Dash realized. He knew what he wanted, what he liked, who he liked. And he wasn’t afraid to say it.

Dash had been right to fall for this man. Wanted to savor Lucky, but neither of them would last this first time. This would be quick and dirty, and then Dash would take his time with the man he’d been dreaming about for months.

“Please tell me you have lube,” Lucky asked.

“Would you be insulted if I came prepared?”

“More insulted if you didn’t.”

“Good.” He liberated it from his jacket pocket and Lucky helped pull his jeans down. Lucky was climbing him then, not giving him a chance to get his shoes off.

Finally, he pushed inside Lucky, and Lucky hung onto him, flexing his hips to meet Dash’s strokes. The man was so goddamned strong and this felt so right. Like coming home.

He wanted to bring Lucky back home to South Africa. Lucky, who fell asleep after he dragged him, still naked, onto the bed. He cleaned them up, which woke Lucky.

Lucky pulled him back down into bed, but he seemed restless now. Dash slung a leg over his to keep him in place, said, “I’ve been in Virginia since three days after you got here.”

Lucky stared at him. “Why?”

“For you.”

Lucky let out a short laugh. “To make sure I didn’t escape?”

“To be here when they did let you out. To make sure you were okay.”

“You didn’t come to see me.”

“I saw you, Lucky.”

“They taped my hypnosis sessions and stuff, didn’t they?” he muttered. “You got to watch all of that.”

“Yes. Not your private sessions, though. Those are between you and your shrink.” He reached down, rooted for his jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. They were brand new. He also had the receipt that he showed Lucky. “I only have these after I have sex.”

Lucky raised a brow. “You bought them four days after I got here.”

“Right. And if we keep this up, I’m going to have to find a new reward for post-sex.” He lit it, and after he took a long drag, Lucky took it and placed it in between his lips. The smoke drifted around him, and when he exhaled, he looked so fucking sensuous. Mysterious and brooding and everything Dash thought he’d never want in a guy.

He’d figured the best guy for him would be one who was straightforward, with zero secrets. Nothing to hide.

Instead, he’d fallen for a guy with everything to hide—a man who might’ve been turned by terrorists and who’d been dumped near Dash’s family.

We can still get to you.

The message had been delivered to his family but had thankfully been intercepted by the bodyguards watching them. Lucky had still been on lockdown when it had come through. It would’ve been nearly impossible for him to get that message out.

But not impossible for the men who’d captured them to let it serve as a warning. Which meant that Lucky was in as much danger as Dash and his family was. And that was something none of them had ever really considered. They’d been so wrapped up in proving Lucky had amnesia that they forgot they might not be the only ones who wanted to test him.

Lucky hadn’t once asked what Dash was, although he had to have his suspicions. He knew he was a job to Dash, but he didn’t know how Dash fit into all of this.

When and how Dash told him—if Dash ever told him—was left up to him. His last card to play. The one wall he had left between them.

Dash wasn’t ready to let it crumble yet. But he would protect Lucky with everything he had.

“Where’d you go?” Lucky asked, handing him back the cigarette. He didn’t look upset or pissed that Dash wasn’t paying complete attention to him. At this point, most guys Dash had been with would be sulking or storming out.

“Still here.”

In contented silence, they both lay against the pillows, sharing the cigarette and the quiet. At one point, Lucky picked up one of the books Dash had brought him and flipped through, starting to read somewhere in the middle. Dash stared at the patterned shadows the lights made on the walls and wondered what the next steps were, where his job would lead him next.

Where he wanted to
go
next. And that was something he hadn’t taken into consideration in many years.

Lucky was grateful as hell that he was here, out of the psych ward, maybe a step closer to being free.

Or maybe not. He shifted so he was on his side, facing Dash. Dash put out the cigarette and tossed the pack onto the nightstand. “This place isn’t half bad.”