Touch&Geaux (10 page)

“Yeah. I told you one of mine, you have to tell me one of

yours.”

“None of mine are quite as lascivious as yours,” Ty

mumbled as he settled into one of the chairs.

“Humor me. Tell me about the Marine you said you got

involved with.”

“Nope.”

“Ty!”

“Nope, nope, nope.”

“Come on! Please?”

A smile spread across Ty’s face and he glanced sideways at

Zane. He was teasing him, the bastard.

“As you wish,” Ty drawled, amused.

Zane brought out his pack of cigarettes, but Ty reached

and placed a hand over them. Zane met his eyes, prepared to

argue for his right to smoke while they were here, but then

Ty pulled one of his cigars out and handed it to Zane instead.

“Cuban?” Zane asked.

“Only if you’re not a Fed.”

“Deal.”

“Where’s your lighter?” Ty asked.

“I lost it.”

Ty flopped his hands dramatically. “This is why we can’t

have nice things, Zane!”

The scuff of a boot heel below drew Zane’s attention

before he could respond. They both sat up straighter, peering

at the edge of the balcony. Zane jumped when a hand reached

up and grabbed onto the bottom of the railing. They were five

stories high.

A second later, Nick’s head appeared over the edge. All

Zane could do was blink at him.

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Nick grinned and pulled himself up, rol ing over the

railing and landing with ease and silence. The man was an

impressive specimen, Zane would give him that.

“What the hell, man?” Ty said.

“Maid parked a housekeeping cart in front of our room.

We couldn’t get it to budge.”

“So climbing the building was easier than climbing over

the cart?”

Nick laughed, then turned to peer over the railing. “Come

on, son, you’re getting slow.”

“I really haven’t had occasion to climb buildings in the

last couple years, okay?” a voice said from over the edge. “Why

do you know how to do this so easily?”

Nick reached down and helped Kelly climb onto the

balcony. Kelly leaned against the railing and took a deep

breath as Nick clapped him on the shoulder. They both

looked at Ty and Zane, grinning.

Ty glanced at Zane, not even trying to explain.

Nick pulled two bottles out of his pockets and offered

them to Ty and Zane. The one he handed Zane was water.

Zane glanced up at him, surprised. How the hell did Nick

know he wouldn’t drink a beer? Nick merely gave him a gentle

smile. He took another beer out of somewhere and sat in the

chair beside Ty, kicking his feet onto the railing. Kelly did the

same, settling in the chair on Zane’s other side and producing

more bottles, setting them on the ground for later.

Nick took a long drink as Zane stared at his profile.

Nick smiled, not looking at them. “We knew you’d be out

here eventually. After you got the knocking boots out of the

way. The housekeeping around here is kind of aggressive, huh?

They tried to get in our room twice after we got in.”

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“Yeah, we got extra towels while we were in the . . . shower,”

Zane said before he could think better of it.

“You dirty little bunnies,” Kelly mumbled, smiling.

Ty shook his head and looked at Nick. “How many floors

did you just climb up?”

“Only two, why?”

Ty laughed and touched his beer bottle to Nick’s, and then

Kelly’s, and then Zane’s water bottle before taking a drink.

“Were we interrupting?” Kelly asked.

“No, Ty was just getting ready to tell me about the Marine

he was fucking back in the day,” Zane answered.

“Seriously?” Nick asked, voice breaking. “Jesus, did

everyone know you were queer but me?”

“Shut up!”

Zane tossed his head back and laughed.

“I want to hear it,” Kelly said with obvious relish. He sat

forward. “Was it someone we were stationed with?”

Nick muttered and jerked his head, but he didn’t comment

further. Ty just rolled his eyes. He gave the other two men a

wary glance. “I don’t want to hear any shit for this if you two

listen in.”

Nick solemnly held up a hand, but Kelly shook his head.

“No promises. And don’t leave out the skeevy parts.”

Ty ran a hand over his face. “Oh God.”

Zane tried to keep his laughter quiet. He reached out and

slid his fingers into Ty’s hand, squeezing.

“Okay,” Ty said with a deep inhalation. “You asked for it.”

69

1996. Location classified.

Corporal Tyler Grady sat in his rack, reading the letter

for perhaps the tenth time. He had known he’d get news like

this one day, but it still hit him hard. His eyes traced over the

handwriting again.

David Whitlock had written to congratulate him on

making Force Recon. He’d ended the letter by telling Ty that

he’d met someone in college. He was happy, and he thought

he might be in love. But David was asking Ty’s permission to

proceed, saying that he would wait if Ty asked it, just like he’d

promised when Ty left.

Ty shook his head as he read it. He wouldn’t stand for

that. David deserved so much more than Ty could ever have

given him.

He pressed the letter to his bare chest and fell back onto

his rack to stare at the canvas top of the tent above his head.

After a moment he threw his arm over his eyes. He’d left

for this very reason, to give David the freedom to move, to

give himself options that didn’t involve sharing his life with

someone he couldn’t commit himself to completely.

That didn’t make it feel any less like heartbreak.

The rack beside him creaked as someone sat down.

Ty peered out from under his arm to see dark blond hair,

compelling eyes that changed from blue to gray and back, and

a smirk that always looked like it needed to be slapped.

“Ugh.”

Captain Chas Turner pursed his lips. “Oh, I know, it’s the

intelligence officer, bury your head in the sand.”

Ty sat up. “Good afternoon, Captain.”

“Good afternoon, Corporal.” His eyes drifted to the letter

Ty held in his hand. “I came to discuss the new policy I’ve

instituted with the mail.”

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Ty inclined his head as a sinking feeling started in his

stomach.

“Every batch, we open a letter or two at random, just to

make sure nothing important is being leaked. Yours happened

to be that random letter this week.”

Ty held his breath and waited for the other shoe to drop.

Turner clucked his tongue and looked behind him to

make sure they were alone in the barracks. The rest of the

boys were outside, blowing off steam. When Ty had left them,

they’d been creating a scarecrow out of munitions debris

and dressing it in someone’s pilfered salty cammies. Ty had

received his letters before the real fun could start and chosen

to retreat to read them in peace, missing the culmination of

the exercise.

“I have a proposition for you,” Turner said when he looked

back at Ty.

Ty continued to stare at him, wary of the man no one in

the group trusted. He was the very epitome of what they called

a Secret Squirrel. Always running dark, always skittering here

and there. He ran too many cloak-and-dagger missions, and it

was like he’d forgotten how to be straightforward.

“I wish you to meet with me, privately, once or twice a

week.”

Ty’s back stiffened. “Is that an order, Captain?”

“Not yet. And I’ll make sure your mail never gets read

again. So you can write back to your . . . friend and tell him

what’s what.”

“You’re blackmailing me?”

“No. Well, yes. But I’m proposing a mutually beneficial

arrangement.”

“Which would be what, exactly?”

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Turner leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees.

Ty narrowed his eyes. “I keep your secrets. You keep mine.

And we both get to blow off a little steam in a way far more

interesting than creating scrap metal targets for the rocket

launchers.”

Ty glanced around the racks, feeling himself growing

warm. He met Turner’s eyes. “You’re blackmailing me to have

sex with you?”

“Well, when you put it that way, it sounds so crass.”

“What exactly would you like me to call it?”

“Crass works, I guess.”

They stared at each other as Ty mulled it over, his stomach

tumbling end over end. He really didn’t have much choice if

he didn’t want to be exposed. Ty clenched his jaw. “Fuck off,

Captain.”

Turner clucked his tongue, then grinned. “I was hoping

you might react that way.”

Ty tried not to frown, but his confusion was clear.

“You have backbone, I’ll give you that. Not afraid to tell

an officer to go fuck himself. Good. I have a real proposition

for you now. One I think you’ll want to give consideration to.”

Ty shook his head and stood, growing angry enough to

forget the man’s rank. Turner stood with him, both of them

in the tight space between the racks.

“Come with me, Corporal. There are matters we need to

discuss.” Turner moved away, but Ty remained rooted to the

spot. Turner looked over his shoulder. “That’s not a request.”

Ty stood by his rack for another few seconds, stunned.

This would probably end with one of them throwing a punch,

or at least filing some sort of complaint, but Ty’s survival

instincts told him to follow and see what exactly Turner was

up to. He stuffed the letter under his pillow and grabbed his

72

shirt to pull it on as he followed Turner across the camp to the

officer’s quarters.

Turner glanced around as he ushered him inside, making

sure no one had seen Ty go in, then latched the door behind

him. Ty struggled not to fidget, feeling off-balance and a little

cornered.

“There are benefits to having a private rack,” Turner

murmured as he circled Ty and stood to face him.

Ty’s jaw clenched hard, and he had to fight not to turn

around and leave.

Turner snorted. “Don’t be like that. Have a seat.” He went

to a trunk in the corner.

Ty finally moved to sit in the field chair Turner had

indicated, beside a small table made out of a metal water barrel

with a bullet hole in it. The rack on the other side served as a

second seat.

Ty watched out of the corner of his eye as Turner muttered

to himself and rummaged through the trunk. He pulled out

a wooden box and set it on the barrel between them. A fan

in the corner chugged as it rotated, working to cool off the

quarters. It was the only sound.

Turner sat on the end of his rack and met Ty’s eyes. Ty’s

shoulders stiffened.

“You play chess?” Turner asked.

Ty looked down at the box. “No.”

Turner pulled the lid off it, unfolding it to reveal a portable

chess set. “Thinking man’s checkers. I’ll teach you.”

“You brought me in here to beat me at chess?”

“No, Ty. But I’m not going to force you to have sex with

me, either, if that’s what you came in here thinking.” He

looked up and raised an eyebrow, smirking.

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Ty glared at him. The man played mind games, and Ty

had never been anything but a straight shooter. He didn’t

like it.

“You see, by the time I’m done with you, you’re going

to be making the first move. And after that, we’ll be looking

at quite a few sessions of what is no doubt going to be very

athletic, very angry sex.”

Ty gaped, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

“You see? You’re already intrigued.”

Ty snorted. “Look, we just got back from a five-day hump

in the desert, and all I wanted was a cool drink and an hour

in my rack to sleep. If you want to play games, there are other

intelligence officers around camp to play with.”

“That’s just the thing, Ty,” Turner whispered. He leaned

closer. “You offer far more to me than they do.”

Ty sighed hard and ran his hand over his face.

“Why did you join the Marines and leave this David kid

behind? He obviously loved you.”

“None of your business.”

“Sense of duty? Adventure? Fear of commitment? Fear of

taking it up the ass?”

“Is your plan to make me beg for sex just to shut you up?

Because it’s kind of working.”

Turner laughed and shook his head. “I want you. But not

just because I want to see what you look like on top of me.”

He paused, obviously knowing that the visual had hit home

with Ty. Then he continued. “I’m building a team. And I want

you on it.”

That brought Ty up short. He met Turner’s eyes for a long

minute. “What kind of team?”

“The kind that doesn’t exist.”

“Right.”

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“Look, I’ve seen your scores and I’ve seen your evals.

You’re smart, you’re fit, you’re loyal and motivated. You’ve got

instincts most kids don’t come out here with, you’re already

fluent in Farsi, and I understand you’ve been teaching yourself

Dari on the side.”