Yellow Ribbons (14 page)

“What the hell are they doing here?” he asked.

Before she could remind him Cheryl, Tony, and Hank were standins for their bosses, Lani saw Pattison and Juarez’s vehicle pull to a stop behind their own.

“Guess they want a firsthand look at everything.” Jordan didn’t sound happy about it. “I don’t know what the hell they expect to see here.”

“A suspect lurking on the sidelines?” Greg slashed a cross over his T, then snapped the clipboard to his side. “Gentlemen.” A nod acknowledged their presence.

Pattison offered a halfhearted smile. “Thought no one’s ride could get as dusty as yours, Landess. The captain here looks like she’s given you a run for your money.”

Lani’s heart stopped. She’d been so careful to cover her tracks in the past—running her car through the carwash after leaving Greg’s. But she’d been too preoccupied today. She and Greg knew it was the little things that tripped someone up. How long before someone here linked the two dusty vehicles to one road…and their affair?

“Let’s spread out a little bit,” Greg said. “It’ll give us a wider view of the homecoming.”

“God, I hate this,” Cheryl said.

“Join the crowd.” Jordan darted to the farthest end of the small gathering. Greg to the opposite side. Juarez and Pattison returned to their car. Within seconds Lani stood alone, watching the bus doors open and one haggard, grief-stricken captain step out.

There were no cheers, no one to come forward except the casualty assistance calls officer and the chaplain. Captain Whittaker clasped their hands in greeting; his bloodshot eyes scanned the crowd. Squeals of “Daddy!” broke the silence. Susie and Amber sprinted toward him. Whittaker met them halfway, his gear ignored, and swept his daughters into his arms.

Lani tried not to cry—God help her, she tried. A firm hand squeezed her shoulder. She glanced up, expecting to find Greg standing by her side. It wasn’t.

“It’s okay,” Jordan said. “We’re all feeling it.”

He stayed by her throughout the homecoming, making his own notes. When the last car pulled away, their motley crew compared notes, and Greg compiled the final list of six possible individuals who met the general’s parameters of possible wrongdoers. It’d been hell trying to determine if someone was sad, guilty, depressed, or just damned tried from the ordeal of war they’d been through and the grueling trip home. Even the happy tears shed between couples and families long parted were heartrending. Lani hated every second. Talk about guilt. She had a ton of it right now for what they’d been forced to do. Maybe someone could talk some sense into General Drake before this craziness went much further.

“Anything else?” Greg’s gaze shifted from Juarez to Pattison.

“Nothing stands out,” Pattison replied. Juarez shook his head.

“All right.” Greg held up the list. “I’ll do a little follow-up and get this to Lieutenant Colonel Seaberg.”

“I’ll take it.” Cheryl reached for it.

“I’d rather do it, ma’am.” No one argued when Greg used that tone. Still, he waited for someone to oppose him. When no one did, he left.

“I guess we’re outta here.” Hank brushed her upper arm quick enough to catch her attention and nothing more. “Call us if you change your mind.”

“You’ve got my number,” Cheryl added, and the three took off.

“Hot date prospect?” Jordan asked.

“I’m sure they think so.” Yes, she’d said that out loud. “They want me to join them at Pizzazz tonight. With everything going on…”

It wasn’t necessary to finish that sentence. They’d all been living this nightmare of a case since it began.

“I think we’re at a point where I might actually be able to catch a few hours’ sleep.” Pattison rubbed his eyes. “They did emergency surgery on Owens. Complications from the abortion. I won’t be able to talk to her until tomorrow. Tired as I am, there’s no sense trying to revisit either of the crime scenes, but we’re going to give the Whittaker place another look around anyway.”

“We’ll catch up with you tomorrow then,” Jordan said. “I could use a little sleep too.”

“You’d better drive.” Pattison tossed the keys to Juarez, who caught them in one hand.

“You okay?” Jordan fell in step beside Lani as she walked to her car.

“I don’t know if any of us will be okay for a while.” A person just didn’t get over a scene like that.

“I hear you on that one. Wow, your car
is
dirty.”

No believable excuse came to her mind. Lani ignored his comment. It didn’t help when Jordan traced his finger along the fender.

“How well do you know Greg Landess…personally?”

Lani’s hand shook as she unlocked the car. “What do you mean?”

Jordan reached for the handle and opened the door for her. “Several comments the last couple of days had me curious, so I did a little checking. You are aware of his background?”

Lani leaned against her car, refusing to sit inside and take a subservient position to Jordan. She tucked her arms over her chest. “His background?” By that Jordan meant
personal
background. She braced herself for the news that Jordan had discovered Greg’s involvement in the special lifestyle the two of them enjoyed. Though how he could have uncovered that information…

“His wife.”

What
? “Wife?” she choked the word out.

“Ex-wife is more appropriate, of course.”

It didn’t help. Greg had been married before and hadn’t told her. As his captain, that shouldn’t matter. As his woman… God, could she even think of herself as his woman when he hadn’t bothered to share information this important? She knew about his hopes and dreams, his family, his education, the pets he’d owned, and how he liked his sex. Not once had he mentioned a wife.

“Why should that matter to me?” It mattered. A lot. The news tore chunks out of her heart.

“Under the present circumstances, it matters a lot.”

Because they were having an affair. That’s what Jordan implied. “How so?”

“He was in the Gulf War. Came home to find out his wife had been less than faithful in his absence. He beat the shit out of her latest lover. Put him in the hospital. If it weren’t for Lieutenant Colonel Seaberg and Colonel Turner’s intervention, he would have been court-martialed. They divorced, of course. She…uhm… Her final cut was to tell him she’d aborted his child after he went to Iraq. She didn’t want the burden.”

She tightened the grip on her hands and willed Jordan away. He was talking about an event that had happened twenty years ago. Greg would have been a private first class or lance corporal. “He’s a stellar marine. No one can argue that.”

“No, they can’t. But he has a vested interest in seeing these cases resolved. He has his own agenda. This isn’t something a person walks away from. I thought you ought to know, in case you didn’t. He’s got baggage, Lani.”

She ordered her tears at bay and stared him down. “Don’t we all?”

“Yeah, I suppose we do.” He walked away without another word, not realizing the turmoil he’d created.

Or maybe he did. Maybe it was all a lie to expose their affair, to make her crumble with rage and heartbreak. But why lie about something that was so easily proven false? It had to be true. All of it. What did that mean for them? What did that really say about their relationship?

Shaken inside and out, Lani waited until she saw Jordan’s car turn onto the main road, then she got into her car and headed for Greg’s house.

“This it from today?” Seaberg slid the list of names toward him over the cobblestoned patio table.

“Yes, sir.” Greg watched a mourning dove attempt to build a stick nest on the tips of an ocotillo. The sticks fell every time a breeze ruffled through the Seabergs’ backyard. The stupid dove merely cocked its head in confusion and flew off for another stick.

Seaberg’s wife and kids had left for the park shortly after Greg arrived, yet Seaberg opted for the presumed solitude and peace outside rather than in his house. The faux adobe walls were high enough to keep conversations contained and curious neighbors from peeking in. The yard was a shambles of overgrown grass, toys, and gardening equipment that tumbled from the overfull shed in the corner. Greg didn’t think he’d ever seen the doors closed. Their garage was in a similar state, bursting at the seams with tools, bikes, and what Seaberg’s wife called man junk.

The pool and patio were, however, immaculate. Judging from the sweat stains on Seaberg’s T-shirt, he’d spent the day making them so. By spousal decree, most likely. Katie’s patience only went so far before she put her foot down on clutter.

“Nerine Kenyon will be here Monday to make arrangements for her husband’s remains and household goods and to attend the memorial service for him on Tuesday,” Greg told him. Since their divorce wasn’t final, she was still the one responsible for all that.

“The children aren’t coming with her,” Seaberg said. “We’ve asked her to stay with us. Whether she will or not…”

The offer made sense, considering how close the two families had once been. It had to have hurt when contact between them ended with no explanation. Odd that the women wouldn’t have talked. Or the men. Who the hell was Greg to judge?

The wrought-iron chair gouged into his back. He leaned forward to alleviate the discomfort, bracing his forearms on the pebbled table. “For my own peace of mind, I checked out the homes of the people we put on the list. I needed to see if there was anything to refute or support our presumptions. All of them live on base. One couple was engaged in a full-blown, knock-down, drag-out fight. MPs responded. I found another marine sitting on her front step, crying in her cocker spaniel’s fur. Her husband left her as soon as she walked in the house. He stayed long enough to make sure she was home from deployment to care for their dog and then took off with a U-Haul and half their stuff. She said she’d heard rumors he was sleeping around while she was overseas but didn’t want to believe them. I made sure she had food in the house and friends nearby. She said as long as she had Mita, she’d be fine.”

From what Greg could tell, that feeling was mutual. Made him have puppy fever, watching the two.

“Another house was in party mode. The wife had managed a huge surprise party to welcome her husband home. All their family was there. That would explain the tension we noticed at the homecoming. I found no negligible activity at the other three houses.”

“Hmm.” Seaberg shoved the paper away. “Dirty business, this.”

Greg wasn’t sure which
this
he meant: the adultery or the rooting it out. “We could delay reporting this until we’ve had a little more time to investigate.”

“General Drake’s out for blood.” Seaberg scratched at his weekend whiskers. “I can’t say I blame him. I know the adultery exists, and it kills me that I’ve turned a blind eye to this behavior. I know how it ruins morale and families. We talk about protecting our marines and yet… What happened with Lance Corporal Owens?”

Greg briefed him on what they’d learned and her status. Each word deepened the lines in Seaberg’s face. He stared into space, his jaw clenching and unclenching in time with the slow brush of his fingers against the stones.

“How can you sit there and be so calm?” he interrupted.

Greg was anything but calm. Past and present were colliding. Nightmares he thought long gone were resurfacing. He understood a marine’s rage at finding out his wife had spent six months fucking another man. He knew the pain of learning she’d killed his future, his heart, his faith, and his trust. He should be leading the charge to find those marines who’d screwed over their brothers-and sisters-in-arms. Greg hated that out-of-control part of him. Hated the reminder of how he’d almost killed a man. Hated the blot on his records. Hated the fear that boiled in his gut from the past, that waited to be ignited in the future if and when his and Lani’s affair was discovered.

It burned like fire too. A vortex spinning around and around to fan the flames. He was losing her, and it killed him. Made him want to hurt those who could offer Lani a more appropriate and open relationship. He pictured his hand gripped around Vitale’s and Leopold’s throats. They’d sniffed around Lani like she was a dog in heat, their cocks practically jutting out to take her right there in the parking lot. Then they’d had the nerve to leer at her ass when she’d walked away. And Jordan…goddamn Jordan… How the hell had he gotten to Lani so fast? Touching her. Offering her comfort that Greg couldn’t. Greg had fought the driving need to haul Jordan off her and beat the shit out of him.

It scared him bad. He’d purged this devil years ago. Now here it was again, clawing for freedom.

“The general will want to make an example of Owens.” Seaberg’s voice cut through the fog in Greg’s head.

“There’s no true evidence to support her claim of an affair with Tipton.” Yeah, upset as he was, Greg still tried to be the voice of reason. “I think we should let that one go.”

Seaberg snorted. “Not your call or mine. Everyone will be held accountable.” A hard gaze settled on Greg. He didn’t like its implications. “I turned the other way with Mick Kenyon and look what happened. I won’t ignore any violations or problems anymore. It will all be dealt with.”

Threat, promise, or bullshit? Greg wasn’t taking any chances. He needed to get to Lani and warn her.

“I’ll keep you apprised of any progress or lack thereof, sir.” The chair legs grated against the concrete as he pushed to his feet. “Have a good day, what’s left of it.”

Through sheer will, Greg managed to walk to his car, not stride, and drive home without tearing up the roads. He pulled into his garage, relieved to find Lani’s car already there. His heart raced, his cock swelled, and emotions bound them together. Anticipation faded when he walked into the kitchen and met her glare. She’d yet to change from her cammies.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me you had a wife?”

And reveal his deepest, darkest secret? Let Lani know that the man whose bondage and discipline skills brought her pleasure had once nearly beaten a man to death? Tell her how he feared losing her and loved her so much, it nearly brought him to his knees? What then? What good would any of it do but end it all?