Growl (Winter Pass Wolves Book 2)

C
opyright Vivian Wood
, 2015

May not be replicated or reproduced in any manner without express and written permission from the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to author and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

“
I
s
there any chance we can just not talk about this right now?” Brooke asked, pulling a face. “I haven’t exactly been my best self tonight.”

Pax’s lips twitched, and Brooke could tell that she’d been forgiven.

“I guess I’m okay with any self you want to be, as long as it’s wearing this dress,” he said, reaching out and running his fingertips down her hip, tugging at the hem of the ridiculously short garment.

“Yeah?” Brooke asked, catching his hand and pulling him toward the packed dance floor. “Come see it in action.”

Pax let her tow him into the crush of gyrating bodies, surprisingly unresistant. She could tell from the look on his face that the bar wasn’t playing his kind of music. At the moment a sultry remix of a Nine Inch Nails song was playing. The bass was low and persistent, the song’s lyrics were more than a little suggestive, and the crowd was writhing enthusiastically along.

Pax took the lead, pulling Brooke up against his body as they swayed to the beat. He pressed one muscular thigh between hers, his hand splayed against her lower back to hold her close. Brooke bit her lip and stared up at him, their gazes connecting and holding, tension building between them.

It was like stoking a banked fire, flames leaping to life again like no time had passed. Like the last six years never happened, like she and Paxton hadn’t missed a single moment together. Even now, past and present blurred, the memory of Pax’s lips on hers so fresh in her mind that she wasn’t sure where they were, what they were doing.

The song shifted and Pax turned her around, pulling her ass back against his body as he swayed his hips. He was hard, and the feel of him made Brooke’s mouth go dry. Pax’s hands guided the movement of her hips, squeezing her flesh, reminding her of how dominant and confident he was in bed.

Damn, the man was pure sex.

T
hanks
in particular to early readers Crystal and Lena, for helping me get the book
just right
. To Sherill and Judy and all my other regular readers, who are wonderfully supportive and make this job worth doing.

Thanks so much ladies! This one is for you.

P
axton Gentry shifted
on his narrow standard-issue cot, trying to ignore the dozen or so other Marines spending their downtime in the sprawling shared bunk room. His battalion had been stationed here for close to a month now, and he was still getting used to sharing quarters with upwards of a hundred guys. The last few deployments he’d received had been to much smaller bases; here at Leatherneck, Pax and his two best friends had been forced to bribe, blackmail, and outright bully a couple dozen other Marines just to get cots next to one another. The cots themselves weren’t anything worth worth fighting for; they were the same flimsy green canvas as the massive tent that made up the bunk’s walls, and they were uncomfortable as hell.

“You coming to dinner?”

Pax glanced up to find Marcus, one of the other guys in his battalion, standing and waiting for his answer. Pax laid the photograph he held on his stomach, face down, then shook his head.

“Nah, man. Go ahead,” Pax said.

Marcus hesitated.

“Just wanna say, I heard you got dumped. My old lady cheated on me with my own drill instructor as soon as I shipped out here,” Marcus said, looking away across the bunk. “Just… you know. Everyone’s going through the same, man.”

“She didn’t cheat on me,” Pax growled.

“Sure, sure,” Marcus said with a shrug. “Just got tired of waiting. Whatever you want to call it. I just hate to see guys moping about the way some chick did them wrong thousands of miles from here.”

“I’m not moping.”

Marcus looked like he was going to say more, but Pax scowled at him until he shrugged again and stalked off toward the mess hall.

That right there was why it had been worth the fight to get bunked up next to Harlan and Chase. Sure, they’d had to live with a couple solid weeks of shit-talking from the other soldiers in their bunk, most of it taunting about how the three of them held hands at night and tucked each other in. Some of the other jokes were worse, innuendo about just why three dudes wanted to be in such close confines.

Fuck it. It was worth it. Paxton, Harlan, and Chase were all each other had in this world-class shitbox of a country. They’d gone through basic together and somehow managed to get thrown in the same battalion after that. After a few big missions, they’d proved their worth, working as a cohesive and precise team. They jokingly started calling themselves The Triad, though the success of their three-man team had proved too lethal to truly be anything funny.

Pax sighed and picked up the photograph again. It showed Pax, his arms wrapped around a beautiful strawberry blonde. Pax’s dark hair was even shorter then, since he’d just completed basic. He was fully outfitted in his dress blues, his formal Marines indicating that they were celebrating. He towered over Brooke, staring down at her with an intense expression. He remembered that moment, remembered feeling the sudden gravity of receiving his deployment papers. Remembered thinking that he was going to have to tell Brooke later that night, watch her face fall as she heard he was leaving for at least eighteen months.

Brooke was his perfect contrast in the photo. She wore a sexy, knee-length red dress, one of those numbers that was classy enough to cover everything but emphasized her curvy body. Her strawberry blonde curls were tucked up at her neck, steely gray sparks firing in her stormy gray eyes as she looked up at him with a grin. That red lipstick of hers still gave him goosebumps, the years and distance doing nothing to diminish Brooke’s status as a complete stunner.

“Fuck,” Pax muttered. There was almost nothing in the world he wouldn’t do just to hold her like that again, right now. Just for a minute. Feel her soft body pressed against his hard one, hear her teasing laugh. And to taste her lips again… no holds barred, he’d do
anything
.

The thought occurred to him that the Marines should start recruiting girls like Brooke as a motivational tactic. Pax was often skeptical of his assignments here in Afghanistan, though he wouldn’t say so to anyone outside the Triad. For the chance to be in the same room as Brooke, though, he’d throw every single one of his morals out the window and run right into the middle of a live firefight without a second thought.

He chuckled to himself, shaking his head.

“Heard you were moping in here, asshole,” Chase said. The massive blond man strolled up to stand between their cots, inspecting Pax with something bordering on distaste. Pax hadn’t exactly asked for permission to date Brooke, and when Brooke dumped him, Chase wasn’t too keen on hearing the details. Or to witness Pax’s
being a whiny bitch
, as Chase called it.

Before Pax could move, Chase plucked the photo from his hands. He looked at it and then made a disgusted sound.

“Fuck, man. Grow some damned balls already. Move on.” Chase let the photo fall onto Pax’s legs, rolling his eyes. “I guarantee you that Brooke has. If you didn’t have your head so far up your own ass, princess, you’d know you were too late to attend the ball.”

Pax didn’t say anything, though he wondered at the last bit. He never talked about Brooke to Chase, never had. He figured that if he was going to fuck the sister of one of his best friends, the least he could do was keep his damned mouth shut about it. Still, Chase had caught Pax looking morose a few times in the three months since his breakup, and he couldn’t help but give Pax shit.

Pax tucked the photo in his pack and stood up, keeping his expression neutral.

“I didn’t realize you were in charge of how I spent my free time,
sir
,” Pax said. The last word was heavily tinged with sarcasm, because Chase had somehow managed to get himself promoted to Sergeant upon this new deployment, while Pax and Harlan were still Corporals. It was a stupid argument. They’d given Chase a hard time about it at every opportunity for a couple of months, and now rarely brought it up.

“Fuck off. Get to the mess before I start acting like a real Coolie and put my boot up your ass,” Chase fired back.
Coolie
meaning his rank, which he never quite seemed to respect despite working his ass off to get there.

“Sir, yes sir.” Pax gave him a crisp salute.

“You are such a dick.” Chase gave him one last glare before heading out.

Pax sucked in a breath and left the bunk, making for the dining hall.

“Gentry!” a younger soldier called.

Pax turned toward the man with a questioning look.

“You got a call in the comm tent,” the guy told Pax. “I just hung up with my ma, and then a Skype came in for you. Sarge sent me out to get you.”

Pax nodded with a frown, then jogged toward the tent where Camp Leatherneck soldiers made and received phone and video calls. He made it there in less than a minute, worst-case scenarios running through his head the whole time. His mom was calling to say his dad’s heart had finally given out. His little sister was in jail for killing the piece of crap boss that kept sexually harassing her. His older brother had been injured fighting in Syria.

Nothing prepared him for what actually awaited.

He stepped into the tent and ten pairs of eyes went straight to him. Ten soldiers giving him curious and questioning looks, a couple of them holding a bit of pity as well. Fuck, had someone really died?

“You’re over there,” someone said, pointing to one of the semi-private video chat booths.

Heart pounding, Pax walked over and dropped into the seat. The screen had gone dark, so he jiggled the mouse, expecting his mom or his sister to appear.

When Brooke’s heart-shaped face filled the screen, his stomach dropped. Her trademark red lipstick was absent, eyeliner smudged around her eyes, her cheeks and nose puffy and red from crying.

“What the hell?” was the first thing that came out of his idiot mouth.

“Pax?” she said, leaning forward and adjusting her screen. In the background, Pax could see that she was at Camp Callum, the Marine base closest to Winter Pass. He’d gone through Fort Callum during basic and recognized the place with ease.

“Shit. Are you okay, Brooke?” Pax frowned. “Is someone dead?”

Brooke gave a watery sigh and shook her head. Her hair was down and her strawberry blonde curls bobbed with her every movement.

“No, no…” She glanced away, almost cringing. “I just wanted to apologize in person. I mean… not in person. As close as I can get…”

“Brooke, are you drunk right now?” Pax asked, confused by behavior.

“No! I mean… a little. That’s not the point,” she said, her brows descending in a scowl.

“And what is the point, exactly?” The back of his neck prickled, and Pax realized that everyone in the room was listening to every word Brooke said. Being military, he was used to having zero privacy, but at the moment it rankled him.

“I’m sorry, Pax. That’s all I came here to say.” Brooke’s jaw tensed, her stubborn side coming out. “To say goodbye.”

She stood up, clearly about to bail.

“Brooke, wait! What the fuck!” Pax said, heedless of his audience.

She glanced down at the screen and shook her head, her chest rising and falling. Several long seconds ticked by, then she vanished. A second later the Skype call went dead, leaving Pax staring at an apologetically blank screen.

He shoved to his feet, baffled. He had exactly zero idea what Brooke was talking about, but he knew someone who surely did. Blowing past all the guys in the tent, he went looking for Chase.

He found Chase and Harlan slacking off in the Dead Zone, one of the few areas of the camp without cameras or senior officers. The spot was nothing more than a couple of folding tables with chairs, shoved between two bunk tents. At the moment, his friends were the only occupants, and they were passing a slim glass bottle of amber liquid back and forth.

Pax stormed over to them, ready to demand answers. Chase surprised him by offering up the whiskey, and Harlan shot Pax a sympathetic glance. Whiskey was a bad, bad sign. Good stuff was hard to get over here, and usually the Triad only bothered to procure it in response to the blackest kind of news.

“I take it she told you,” Chase said.

Pax grabbed the whiskey and glared at Chase.

“She, meaning Brooke?” he asked.

Chase nodded.

“She apologized. That was it.”

Chase mumbled a curse and closed his eyes for a moment.

“Fucking Brooke. Of course. Leave me to do the dirty work,” he muttered.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re already broken up. No need to go all Dear John on me,” Pax growled.

“Pax—” Harlan tried to intercede, but Pax took a swig of the whiskey and pretended not to hear.

“You fucking Harbins,” Pax said, stabbing a finger at Chase’s face. “Always so goddamned closemouthed.”

“She’s engaged!” Chase shouted. His words rang through the air, invading Pax’s brain far too slowly.

He started to form some kind of words, protest Chase’s statement, but nothing came. It made a sick kind of sense. She’d dumped him, declaring herself done with
moody soldiers and lonely nights
. She’d vanished from Pax’s life, removing herself without a word. And then, out of the blue, she’d called to apologize…

“Son of a bitch,” Pax said, dropping into a chair.

The whiskey was for him. To help him cope with the wrecking ball that had just swung through his life and taken out a chunk of his heart.

“Yeah,” Chase sighed. “Take a drink, pass it on.”

Pax took a long guzzle, sighing at the burn in his chest. He passed it to Harlan, who clapped Pax on the shoulder before taking a shot.

“I thought she was…” Pax stopped himself from saying
the one
. Saying that aloud made the whole thing too real, and he wasn’t ready for that yet. He looked at Chase. “Aren’t you supposed to be in some big meeting right now?”

Chase shrugged.

“This is where I need to be,” was his only answer.

Pax lifted a brow at Harlan, who also shrugged.

“Fuck it, then,” he said, taking the whiskey back. Lifting it high, he made a toast, using the USMC’s unofficial slogan. “Improvise, adapt, and overcome.”

“Semper fucking Fi!” Chase and Harlan replied in unison.

Pax took another shot, ready to wipe the memory of Brooke from his life.