Masters at Arms

Section One

Prequel to Adam’s Story, Nobody’s Hero

Night before Thanksgiving 2002, Chicago, Illinois

Joni, you were my anchor. I’m lost without you.

Adam Montague slumped into the seat at the terminal, hoping to catch a couple hours of sleep before his bus left. He looked around Chicago’s busy terminal and saw the autumn decorations scattered every five yards or so. Apparently, going for the homey Thanksgiving look. Not even close. Just another crap-hole bus station, no different from the ones he’d seen a lot of during his early years in the Marines.

Twenty-two years. He’d survived the First Gulf War in 1991 and a deployment to Kosovo in ’99. Just when he and Joni started planning for his retirement, some damned a*sholes attacked the United States, the country he’d sworn to protect and defend. So, he’d put off turning in his retirement papers until he could see how Operation Enduring Freedom went. He’d serve as long as he was useful and needed.

Adam had been deployed to Kandahar twice since 2001. His first tour ended with a medical leave earlier this year after a clusterf*ck of bad intelligence led one of his recon units into an ambush with disastrous results. He’d gone in after them and gotten only a few of them out unscathed, but he’d lost two good men and managed to get himself injured in the bargain.

So, he’d been home at Camp Pendleton with Joni more than a month last winter as his body had healed. Now he wondered if she’d known about her cancer back then and kept it from him. Would it have made any difference if he’d known? He’d have been sent back to war and she’d still have had to fight the disease alone. She’d known the deal when she married him. While he was active duty, she’d have to take a back seat to whatever crisis he’d been sent to fight in the world.

His last tour had ended with his hardship leave two months ago when Joni’s mother had finally told him Joni’s cancer had come back with a vengeance. He hung his aching head and held it in his hands hoping the heels of his hands would quell the throbbing in his temples.

Memories of walking into that bedroom in Minneapolis two months ago flashed through his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it out, but knew the sight was imprinted there forever. God, the disease had so ravaged her body by the time he got home, he was afraid to touch her. Then her frail hand had patted the queen-sized mattress and he’d crawled into bed with her and held her in his arms while she sobbed.

Adam raised his head and wiped his hands down his face. Numb. He still felt numb, whether from losing Joni or from the two-week bender, he wasn’t sure. Probably a bit of both.

He guessed his units were out of Kandahar by now. Sounded like Iraq would be next on their dance card.

Bring it on. I got nothin’ left to lose.

F*ck! Stinkin’ thinkin’ like that would get the men and women under him killed. He knew he wasn’t mentally ready to go back, but his orders were to report Monday. He hoped he’d find the fire in his gut he’d need by the time he reunited with his units.

A cornucopia cutout hanging from a fluorescent light fluttered when a blustery wind blew in from the open doors. Joni had always taken so much pride in making their home festive for the holidays. She especially loved Christmas, even though it was just the two of them, well, when he wasn’t deployed. She even kept her nativity set and some other favorite decorations displayed all year long for whenever he did make it home. Not that he paid much attention to that. He’d just been happy to see her, hold her, love her, and make up for lost time.

So damned much lost time.

What the hell was he going to do with all that stuff now? He’d call her mother and tell her to do whatever she wanted with it. He had his memories and a few photos—and her wedding ring. Shit, he hoped Joni had gotten rid of their playthings before she’d moved in with her mom. Well, nothing he could do about that now.

Camp Pendleton—or wherever he would be sent—would be his home until he retired from the Corps. He hoped that, by the time he got back in country, whichever war zone that would be, he’d have shaken off this black mood that matched the frigid black night outside.

In a way, he couldn’t wait to get back. War and military life, he understood. What stumped him was cancer. F*cking cancer. Nothing in his tactical or weaponry training prepared him to help Joni fight against the insurgent that destroyed her body.

Not that she’d even wanted him to help her fight the disease. By the time she’d let her mom tell him about the recurrence, she was given a month at best. She’d managed to hold out for a couple weeks longer than that estimate.

God, his eyes burned. He rubbed them with a thumb and forefinger, then lowered his hand and clenched his fist. Damn it, he should have known sooner.

Joni told him she saw no point in pulling him away from a place where he could make a difference, just to sit by her bed and watch her die. She’d figured he’d have gone stir crazy with the helplessness of not being able to do anything to change the unalterable outcome.

God, he’d kill for another bottle of scotch right now. He looked at the wino passed out on the floor across the room. Adam thought about offering the man a wad of money for whatever he had left in the brown-paper wrapped bottle he clutched to his chest with both arms, like a lover.

Adam had held Joni in his arms for the last time, just like that, as she had slipped away from him forever. Before she died, two days short of their twentieth wedding anniversary, she’d assured him she wouldn’t have changed a thing in their years together.

Hell, he’d sure have changed a few things.

Togetherness wasn’t the best word to describe their marriage. She’d lived with him on base when he wasn’t deployed, and they had eight years together after the end of the Gulf War and before he’d been sent to Kosovo. Then came Operation Enduring Freedom and he hadn’t been home much since.

They’d talked about the good times they’d had in the ’80s and ’90s when he hadn’t been deployed to war zones. Their Dom/sub power exchanges had been total then. But that had been impossible to sustain while deployed.

Fire burned the backs of his eyes. Joni never wanted him to take his focus off the military missions to deal with her “little problems.” Like the time she’d totaled the car. She’d had to take care of everything herself. He’d been deployed, of course. As always, she’d handled everything perfectly. Except she hadn’t told him. Said she was afraid he’d be upset about the car. Hell, he didn’t give a shit about the f*cking car. He’d just been worried when he heard how close she’d come to being killed.

All of the times she’d needed him—from when she’d held their stillborn son in her arms in 1991 to when she’d fought her last rounds of chemo and radiation this past summer—he’d been fighting battles elsewhere. Long deployments in too many hot spots in the world had come before her more often than he’d wanted. Hell, he’d barely made it home in time to watch her die.

Joni, I’m so f*cking lost without you.

He blinked against the burning in his eyes. After her burial, Adam spent two weeks locked in a Minneapolis motel room trying to dig a hole deep enough to bury his sorrows. He’d only wound up in a drunken stupor, not unlike that wino’s over in the corner. Joni had told him to lay off the bottle twenty years ago because his excessive drinking scared her. Her father had been an alcoholic. He’d wanted her to be proud of him and had quit for her.

Until now. In the past couple weeks, there’d been a few nights where he’d come out of his stupor clutching a bottle of scotch to his chest.

A lousy substitute for Joni.

But, if he hadn’t been due back at Camp Pendleton in five days, he’d still be in that hell-hole motel—or buried six feet under beside Joni. He remembered how close he’d come one night, staring down the barrel of his pistol.

He shuddered and looked around the still-crowded station. He’d been here for several hours waiting for his next connection. With holiday travel in full swing, Adam had known he wouldn’t have managed to hop a seat on a flight in time to get to Pendleton by Monday. Maybe if he’d sobered up sooner. No matter. This weekend, the clientele in bus stations better suited his foul mood. They wouldn’t bother him and he f*cking sure wouldn’t bother them. The last thing he wanted right now was a chatty companion asking if he was headed home to be with family.

He had no family anymore.

Adam leaned forward and held his aching head in his hands. He sure as hell hoped he’d lose the aftereffects of this binge before he got back on base. The colonel would bust his chops if he saw him like this. Adam knew he had a lot of eager young men and women looking to him to set an example, too.

He just didn’t give a shit about anything or anyone right now, and didn’t know when he would again.

“Can I get you something to eat?”

Adam looked up, squinting at the throbbing in his temples caused by the fluorescent lighting. Yeah, blame the lights. He saw a lanky black man in pimped-out orange pants and a Robin’s egg-blue shirt talking to a teenage girl seated across from him. She must have just sat down a few minutes ago, because he’d have noticed her before with her spiked neon pink hair and the most god-awful amount of makeup around her eyes.

Despite the bravado of her flashy hairstyle and all-black Goth outfit, her wide-eyed gaze darted to the pimp, then away. When he slid into the empty seat next to her, she leaned away from him in small degrees, as if not wanting to offend him by just getting up and moving. When the dickwad reached out to touch her hair, she squeezed her blue eyes shut and shrank into the chair.

Little girl lost.

Don’t let him scare you.

Adam’s attention shifted to the dickwad. No, Dickwad—with a capital D.

“No, thanks. I already ate,” she answered in a high-pitched squeak.

Don’t be polite. Tell him to go f*ck himself, hon.

“How about a drink? There’s a liquor store around the corner.” He took her elbow, and she shook him off.

“No!”

Better.

“Thanks, anyway, but I’m waiting for my bus to New York.”

Aw, honey, don’t go and tell him your plans.

“That where you live?”

“No. I, um, have a job waiting.” She looked away.

Shit. A runaway. The girl barely looked fifteen under all that makeup. Adam sat up straighter, ignoring the pounding in his head. If that sorry bastard touched her again, he’d ice him like a salmon.

Don’t forget, you have your own bus to catch. He didn’t need to be playing hero and winding up doing jail time for assaulting the jerk.

The runaway pulled her backpack closer to her chest and tried to scoot to the other side of her chair, but the armrest prevented her escape. Like a shark, the pimp moved in on her—the most vulnerable prey he could find here on the night before Thanksgiving.

Her hand shaking, she unzipped a pouch in the pack and pulled out a book. The cover showed a vampire whose fangs were about to pierce the neck of some half-dressed busty woman who looked like she was about to come. While the runaway pretended to read, she cast nervous glances at Dickwad. He just continued to stare at her, trying to intimidate her. Succeeding, too. When the pimp reached out to stroke her hair again, she pulled away.

“Please, leave me alone.”

Aw, f*ck, don’t let him see you cry. The tears welling in her eyes tore Adam’s guts out. He’d never been able to see a woman cry. Girls either, for that matter.

The pimp hooked his hand around her arm just above the elbow and tried to force her to her feet. “Come on, baby. Let’s get outta here.”

Anger boiled over in Adam, a sensation he’d been trying to medicate against for weeks. Clenching his fists, he took a deep, slow breath. He fought the need to pummel Dickwad into the ground. Hell, as hung-over as he was, Adam wondered if he’d even be able to take the prick down.

But he’d love the chance to work off some of his anger. Damned if he’d sit and watch that shithead harass a little girl—or worse. Adam stood and took a step toward them, towering over the man.

“I think the young lady asked you to f—” remembering the young girl, he reminded himself to watch his language, “—get lost.”

The pimp looked him up and down. “F*ck off, soldier boy. Get your own ho.”

Adam’s hands snaked out to lift the skinny little prick out of the seat like a sack of potato chips. Obviously Dickwad had no such filter on his salty language. He threw him across the room and watched with satisfaction as the perv slid until he landed against the ticket counter, far from the girl. Adam stood with legs apart, braced for Dickwad to make a move against him.

Come on, punk. He’d love the chance to pummel the prick within an inch of his sorry-assed life. Adam clenched and unclenched his fists his breathing fast and shallow.

Waiting.

When the pimp stood up, he brushed himself off, and slunk toward the exit muttering something about evening up the odds. Adam turned to look down at the girl. Damn. Her hands were shaking so badly, he thought she’d pull her book apart at the seams.

Scared to death.

* * *

Don’t puke, Karla. Just don’t puke.

Karla Paxton’s stomach got all weird and fluttery. Her hands began to shake. Then the soldier turned around and looked down at her. The shaking grew worse. What was the matter with her?

At first, she’d been afraid they were going to fight it out right in front of her, but the creep just got up and walked away. Well, she couldn’t blame him. The tall soldier had huge muscles—and obviously knew how to use them.

The soldier had sprung at that skaggy jerk like a mountain lion on a mouse. She’d never seen anyone move so fast. Especially someone his age. He had gray hairs at his temples, although the rest of his hair was dark brown—clipped very short, but not as short as Ian’s was now. His eyes were bloodshot and kinda sad looking. He must not have had much sleep lately.

Her gaze took in his wrinkled khaki shirt. If Ian’s uniform had been wrinkled like that, he’d have gotten in trouble. She looked at his ring finger. Married. His wife must not be nearby to take care of him. Of course, her mom would have made Ian—and probably her dad—iron his own shirt.

When he sat down where the jerk had been a few minutes ago, she shook even more, despite the fact he didn’t get into her personal space like that skag had done. Then the heat coming from his body made her feel warm and her hands stopped shaking after a little while.

“You okay, hon?”

Oh, my God. Did he just call me hon?

Not trusting her voice and not too sure about how safe he was, she just nodded. He reminded her of Dr. McNeil on Chicago Hope. She and her Mom had watched the series all the time until the show got canceled. Karla thought Mark Harmon looked hot, but didn’t tell Mom that. Mom was always pushing her to notice the dweebs in her class. But they were so immature.

“Where you headed?”

He pulled her back from her thoughts. “New York City.”

“Family there?”

Karla looked away. What’s with all the questions? “No. I need to get away from family right now.”

“Someone expecting you in New York?”

She closed her eyes and nodded. “Sure.” No.

“When does your bus leave?”

“Six forty-five.”

He looked at his watch. “That’s another seven hours.” He sighed as if that was a problem. What was it to him? She didn’t need a babysitter.

Then she glanced around at the men nearby and asked him, “What time does yours leave?”

“Four-thirty.”

Damn. Why did that make her feel scared again? Well, he wasn’t going to talk her out of going. She could take care of herself.

Yeah, like you did with that pimp.

Suddenly, Karla wasn’t so sure she wanted to talk with the soldier anymore. No one was going to talk her out of making this trip. She’d saved money all year, working at a bakery near her home all last summer and babysitting until she had enough for a bus ticket and almost fifteen hundred dollars to spare. When she got to New York, she’d get a job at one of the clubs. Someday, she was going to be a star, recording her own CDs and everything.

But she wouldn’t tell him that. He’d just nod and say something condescending like “that’s nice,” and not believe she could do it at all. She was tired of dreaming. It was time to make her dreams come true.

Her stomach growled. She pulled the book and backpack closer to try and shield his ears from the embarrassing sound.

“Have you had anything to eat lately?”

“Sure.” Her stomach called her a liar, even more loudly.

He chuckled and his green eyes lit up for the first time. The corners of his eyes crinkled into tiny lines. Then she felt those funny butterflies in her stomach again.

She must really be hungry.

“How long ago?”

She tilted her chin up. “I had pancakes for breakfast.”

“Come on,” he said, laughing. “Let me buy you some dinner.” He stood next to her, as tall as the Sears Tower, but didn’t grab at her like the creepy man had. He just waited, as if she had no choice but to stand because he had ordered her to go with him. Well, no way was she going anywhere with a stranger. He was too big. She wouldn’t be able to fight him off.

Even if I did want to.

Whoa! What was the matter with her? He looked as old as her uncle, who was forty-three.

“No, thanks. I’m not hungry.” She opened her book again, hoping he’d take the hint and go away.

When he did just that, she didn’t understand why her heart squeezed tight. She looked up and watched him leave, rounding the ticket counter and heading for the exit. Gosh, he didn’t even say good-bye. And where was his coat? Didn’t he know it was freezing cold out there?

Looking around, she noticed a lot of scary people watching her—mostly men. She guessed women were too smart to catch a bus in the middle of the night. None of these guys had eyes that crinkled when they laughed. They didn’t smile like they cared about her. They just leered, especially when they stared at her boobs, making her skin crawl as if a bunch of ants had taken over.

She looked across at where the soldier had been sitting and saw a large duffel bag that must belong to him. One of the boob-leering men started to reach down slowly as if to hide the fact he was about to take the bag.

“Leave it alone!” Karla wasn’t sure where that voice came from, then realized it was hers. The man stopped dead. Wow! “He’s coming back soon and, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave his things where he left them.”

When the man stood up and walked across the terminal, Karla began to shake again. Only this time, there were no butterflies. Just a feeling like the flu she had last year.

Would she have to deal with creeps like these all the way to New York? Had she made the right decision to run away? Her parents didn’t understand how urgent it was for her to start her career now, rather than wait a few years. They just thought she was a stupid sixteen-year-old.

Wait until you graduate from high school. Then you can study music at Loyola.

They’d been telling her that since school started. Didn’t they realize she couldn’t wait that long? Now was her chance. Her music teacher said she had a gift. She didn’t need more schooling. She just needed to find a job where she could sing for people who could discover her talent and offer her a recording contract. If she didn’t go now, she just knew she’d never get there. She’d never be anybody in the music business.

Her parents would be surprised, and sad, when they woke up tomorrow and she wasn’t in her bed. Her eyes burned. She loved them a lot and didn’t want to make them sad, but…

“Here. Eat this.”

Karla looked up to find the soldier had returned, holding a fast-food bag toward her. She grinned as she stashed her book in her backpack and took the sack from him. He came back to you.

As soon as she opened the sack, the smell of greasy burgers and fries caused her stomach to rumble even louder than before. She felt her face grow hotter, but was too hungry to let it faze her. She’d skipped lunch today so she could run to the bank and clean out her account for the trip.

“Thanks.” She smiled up at him.

The soldier sat down beside her again. She felt him watching her. When she glanced his way, he just smiled and watched as she pigged out on the food. Gawd, she hadn’t realized how hungry she was! Feeling a little guilty, she held out the box of fries and offered him some.

He chuckled. “No. They’re all for you.”

After she’d finished the second hamburger, he handed her a soda. She drank half of it before letting go of the straw and taking a deep breath. She felt so full now she thought she’d explode.

“That was so good. Thanks.” She smiled at him. He really was just trying to be nice. Still, she knew to be leery of strangers, even nice ones. But she also knew she’d have to learn to trust some strangers, if she was going to make it in New York. He seemed like a safe one.

Maybe because her brother was in the Army. Ian would have helped out a scared girl, too, if someone was bothering her.

“So, where’s home?”

“Here,” she answered, without thinking. “But I’m going to live in New York.”

“Why New York?”

“They have the best Goth clubs and recording companies.”

“So you like to sing?”

“Better than anything.”

“What do you sing?”

“Tarja’s music mostly.” She could tell by his blank stare he had no idea who Tarja Tarunun was. Well, her parents had no clue either. “She’s the lead singer for Nightwish.” Still blank. “A metal band from Finland.”

He nodded. “I see.”

No, you don’t. But he was kinda cute for pretending he did. She started to crumple up the bag, and then his hand covered hers to stop her. She felt a weird tingling go up her arm, almost like being shocked with electricity. Her heart banged against her chest.

“Look inside. There’s more.”

She reopened the bag and moved the crumpled wrappers and empty fries box aside. Like opening a Christmas present. She had a momentary pang of regret, realizing she wouldn’t be home to open presents this year.

O-M-G, pie! The box was rust colored. “Apple or cherry?” she asked.

“Cherry.”

“How’d you know? That’s my favorite!” She reached in and pulled out the box.

He shrugged and smiled. His eyes lit up again. “Lucky guess.”

* * *

Adam watched her devour the pie in just a few bites. He thought teenage boys had voracious appetites. How she stayed so skinny was beyond him. Of course, she hadn’t eaten all day. Maybe he should have bought her more to eat.

Man, her parents must be worried sick.

He regretted that he and Joni hadn’t been able to have children. She’d have been a terrific mom. Tamping down those thoughts, he looked at the little Goth girl. She wore too much black. At least her pink hair gave her some color.

“Isn’t your family going to miss you for Thanksgiving?” Aw, hell. He’d gone and asked one of those f*cking nosy questions he didn’t want people asking him.

Watch your language around the kid.

She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “They’ll understand.”

Doubtful.

After she’d finished the pie, she put her garbage into the bag, except for the soda, and started to get up to throw it away. Adam took the sack and wadded it even tighter, then lobbed it into the open can at the end of the row. Score! First basket he’d made since he’d played in high school.

He reached out his hand to her, “We haven’t been introduced. I’m Master Sergeant Adam Montague, U.S. Marine Corps. But you can call me Adam.”

She placed her limp hand inside his and they shook. “Karla Paxton…the next Madonna.” She giggled. “My friends call me…um, well, Karla’s good.”

He smiled. So naïve. Innocent. He wondered what her friends called her, but wouldn’t pry. God, the kid wore her heart on her sleeve. She wasn’t going to last long in New York. He worried about her going there and wished he could wake her up with a dose of reality. He’d seen his share of hell in this world and didn’t want her to have to experience it.

“I’m sure you’ve already lined up a place to stay in New York. Right?”

She dodged his gaze. “Well, I figured I’d check in at the YMCA or a youth hostel or something until I find an apartment.”

“Where do you plan to live after that?”

“Soho.” Her eyes lit up.

Shit. A dreamer. She’d probably seen the trendy neighborhood in a movie or music video. “There are lots of clubs in Soho I could get a job at.”

“I see you’ve done some homework.” Not nearly enough, though. “So, what’s an apartment in Soho going for these days?” He had no clue, but figured most places in Manhattan would be way out of range for a teenage runaway.

“Well…” she began, and then looked away, her brow furrowing. “It’s pretty expensive from what I saw on the Web. I’ll probably have to find a roommate or two and share expenses.”

His gut twisted at the vision of her falling into the clutches of another predator at the Port Authority terminal. Yeah, they’d give her a place to stay all right. F*ck. She needed to go back home and spend Thanksgiving with a family that loved her. She didn’t seem to be running away from something so much as running to something. She just didn’t have the patience to wait around to do a little more growing up.

Of course, he’d run away at sixteen himself. He’d had to go through a lot of hell and trouble before he’d found first the Marines and then Joni, both of whom had straightened his ass out.

At least Karla still has family to be with for the holidays.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“Just one brother. Ian. He’s in the Army National Guard. That’s why…” she looked down at her backpack and played with the zipper latch.

“Why what?”

She shook her head and smiled, her face flushing.

“C’mon. Tell me.” He grinned. So f*cking hard to believe there was such innocence left in the world. Certainly not in his world. Not anymore.

“Well,” she looked him in the eye, her blue eyes sparkling. She smiled. “That’s why I sat across from you. Your uniform reminded me of Ian’s.”

Khaki looked about the same for either branch. Thank God. Adam didn’t want to think what might have happened if she’d sat somewhere else in the station tonight. If he hadn’t become aware of her predicament in his post-hangover haze.

She sighed. “I miss him.” Adam watched as a single tear trickled down her cheek, leaving a trail of watery mascara.

“Where is he?” God, don’t let him be another fallen hero. They’d lost too many troops in this damned war. He tried to remember if she’d said “is” or “was” in the Army.

“He finished boot camp two months ago. He can’t tell us where he is yet.”

Adam didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until he let it out in a whoosh. “He’s well-trained, I’m sure. Don’t worry about him. He’ll do fine.” Like Adam could be sure of anything these days. But military families had enough to worry about without knowing what was really going on.

“I hope so. Are you a hero, Adam?” She smiled at him just the way Joni had done when he sat at her booth in that restaurant in St. Paul. Her short black waitress skirt had shown off the sexiest legs he’d ever seen. She’d confessed later that his uniform had attracted her, as well. She’d called him her very own hero warrior.

Damn it. I don’t need hero-worship responsibility right now.

“I’m nobody’s hero, hon.” Not even Joni’s. He hadn’t been able to fight the only battle she’d needed him to win for her. Aw, hell, don’t go there again.

“Aren’t your parents going to be upset when they find out you’re gone, too?” He hadn’t meant to be so blunt and felt a pang of guilt when the light went out of her eyes. But at least he’d wiped the hero worship from her gaze.

“They don’t understand.”

“I’ll bet they understand more than you know.”

“No, they…”

She gasped as she looked beyond his shoulder. He looked in the direction of her distressed gaze and saw the pimp had returned with a couple of his thugs.

Adam smiled. Bring it on, boys. I’ve got nothing left to lose.

Then he remembered Karla and knew he couldn’t let them anywhere near her tonight. He turned back toward her.

“Karla, look at me. Now.” When she finally dragged her gaze away from the pimp and his scumbag buddies, Adam said, “Go to the ladies room and stay there until you hear me give you the all-clear. If there’s a lock on the outside door, use it. If not, lock yourself in one of the stalls.” Her blue eyes grew as wide as saucers. She swallowed hard, but sat frozen. Using his master sergeant’s voice, he growled. “Now!” She jumped, and then her blank stare focused on his face a second before her hands clutched her backpack. She ran toward the head.

“Good girl,” he said, though he knew she didn’t hear him.

With Karla out of harm’s way, he could devote his full attention to the bilge rats slowly approaching him. He stood and set his legs, preparing for battle. The one on the far left held a switchblade. The one on the right wore brass knuckles. The pimp just wore a cocky smirk.

You may think you have the upper hand, punk. But I’m going to show you different.

“What’s the matter, soldier boy? Haven’t been able to get into her pants yet? Mebbe I need to show you some moves.”

Okay, perv. Now I’m pissed.

“Yeah, I’d like to see that.”

Adam knew his commanding officer would be pissed, too, if one of his master sergeants was tossed in jail, so he waited for one of the punks to make the first move. The few people waiting for buses scattered to the other end of the terminal, out of danger. Except for the passed-out wino, but he wasn’t in the way.

Adam didn’t have long to wait. The man carrying the knife lunged with his body his weapon pointed toward Adam’s gut. Adam answered with a spinning hook kick to the side of the man’s head. The knife flew from his hand as he fell to a heap on the floor.

That should even the odds a little bit.

Movement. Out of his peripheral vision, Adam saw the dickhead with the brass knuckles move, expanding the area Adam needed to defend. The first punch headed straight for Adam’s kidney. He swung away to evade contact. His two-week bender must have slowed down his reaction time. But at least the impact of the blow landed on Adam’s shoulder blade and not his kidney. The dickhead followed with a bare-knuckled blow to his mouth. Adam groaned at the impact. Focus, man.

Adam stepped back. He needed room. Swing. Now! His roundhouse kick landed squarely against Brass Knuckle’s ear. The man reeled sideways until he hit the bank of chairs. He sat down abruptly, the expression on his face one of stunned disbelief. Dazed. The man’s eyes glazed over as he curled onto his side.

Breathing hard, Adam turned toward the pimp. Now, prick, it’s just you and me.

Once again, Adam waited for the man to make the first move. Without his bodyguards, he appeared to have lost his bravado just when it would have become a fair fight. The pimp backed away from Adam, toward the ticket counter. Adam stalked him like a puma.

With his peripheral vision, Adam watched two of Chicago’s finest enter the building with weapons drawn.

“Hands in the air!”

Adam complied, but apparently they knew their usual suspect and one of the officers had the pimp face down on the floor, hands cuffed behind his back, within fifteen seconds. Adam spoke with the second officer briefly to let him know what had happened. He was grateful they only asked for his name and cell phone number. They could follow up with him later if they needed more information.

But Adam needed to make sure Karla was all right.

* * *

Karla huddled in the bathroom stall. She’d locked the stall door in hopes of protecting herself if those guys had come after her. Yeah, some protection. The so-called lock barely kept the door closed for privacy, much less safety.

She couldn’t stop shaking. Her stomach clenched and heaved. At least there was a toilet nearby if she got sick. But it was awfully dirty in here.

The sounds of the fight outside brought tears to her eyes. Adam had only wanted to protect her and now he could be killed. All because she was stupid and selfish.

I just wanna go home. Please, God, protect him and help me get back home.

“Hands in the air!” Then silence. No more grunts, crashes, or groans. Her heart pounded against her chest. She closed her eyes. The rush of blood pounding in her ears blocked out any other sound. Tears streamed down her face.

Please let him be all right. Oh, God, let Adam be all right.

The sound of the bathroom door creaking open caused her to back up against the tile wall. She held her breath, hoping they would think she’d left. Stupid. They know you’re in here, Kitty. They can see your feet.

“Karla? Hon, you okay?”

The wind gushed out of her lungs. She’d held her breath so long, she gasped for air several times. Oh my God. Adam!

“It’s over. You can come out now.”

She dropped the backpack, fiddled with the wobbly latch, and opened the stall door. “You’re alive!”

“You know, I think I am.” He sounded surprised.

Relief was short-lived. Oh, no! His beautiful face! “You’re bleeding!” Blood trickled from his lip down to his chin.

“I’m fine. How are you doing?”

Me? How can he think about me at a time like this?

Maybe he was out of his mind from where they’d hit him in the head. Remembering freshman health class and all the times she’d watched Mom patch up Ian, Karla rushed to the sink and pulled out a wad of paper towels, wetting them with cold water. She blinked away the tears. She’d caused him this pain. If she hadn’t run away…

When she turned, she realized she’d never be able to reach his face.

“Kneel down. I need to clean you up.”

He waved her hand away, dismissing her. “I said, I’m fine.” His tone hurt her feelings. She was only trying to help. After all, his injuries were all her fault.

She remembered the tone of voice her Mom used to get Ian to obey her when he’d been stubborn, even when he had grown much taller than Mom. Karla pulled herself to her full five-foot-six-inch height and straightened her shoulders. “I. Said. Kneel. Down.”

That got his attention. He grinned at her in a funny way. Then he knelt.

Oh. My. God. It worked! He obeyed her!

* * *

Adam’s mind flashed back to the one and only time Joni thought she’d play the dominant with him. She was so damned cute in her over-the-knee stiletto boots, wielding a riding crop and wearing a black bustier that pushed her beautiful breasts up to the point of nearly spilling out. Well, he’d let her keep wearing the bustier and boots for a while, but wound up using the crop on her.

Ah, Joni. I miss you, my precious subbie. How can I go on—?

“What happened to those guys?”

Adam blinked and saw the pink-haired runaway glancing toward the door with worry, as she pressed the cold paper towels against his lip. He drew a deep breath, beginning to feel the pain radiating through his shoulder. “The police have them all in custody. They won’t be bothering anyone for a while.”

“Where else did they hurt you?”

“One landed a lucky punch to my shoulder.” Pulling the paper away from his lip, he saw it covered with his blood. He could have let those thugs put an end to his misery tonight. Instead, he’d learned he still had the will to fight for what was right. Karla had needed him. He’d answered the call.

She threw the bloody paper in the trash.

“I’m fine.” Rising to his feet, he felt aches in places he didn’t know he had. Definitely getting too old for this shit. He wet a towel and handed it to her. “You might want to wipe the mascara off your cheeks. I don’t want your parents thinking the worst about what adventures you’ve had tonight.”

“How did you know I wanted to go home?”

Good girl.

“Lucky guess.”

Apparently, she’d had enough of the exciting runaway life. If she hadn’t come to her senses, though, he’d already planned to take her home anyway, kicking and screaming if he had to.

After she’d cleaned her face, he picked up her backpack and slung it over his shoulder with a grunt. Shit. Was there any place on his body that didn’t hurt? He’d have a bruise on his shoulder blade tomorrow, too. Even his legs and foot ached from his impact punches.

Bring it on. He focused on this new pain. Funny, but the physical pain helped the emotional pain to recede a bit, even if it was only a temporary reprieve.

Adam walked up to the ticket counter and waited as Karla got a refund for the ticket she wouldn’t be needing—not for a few years at least. The dispatcher announced his bus departure in five minutes. Oh, well. He’d just have to catch the next one tomorrow. He asked when that would be.

“Nine-fifteen.”

“Good. Just a few hours behind schedule.”

“No, sir. P.M.”

F*ck. He hoped he could make it back to Pendleton on time.

But no f*cking way was he letting Karla wander the streets alone tonight to get back home. With that wild pink hair, she was nothing but a trouble magnet.

* * *

Karla didn’t know what to say to him, so they rode in silence most of the cab ride home. He had to spend another day in the bus station waiting for his bus, all because of her. Was he mad at her? He just stared out the window, looking at the lights of downtown as the cab made its way to her Lincoln Park neighborhood.

Jeez, she’d sure messed things up tonight. Who was stupid enough to run away the night before Thanksgiving? Only you, Kitty. She could hear her friends now when she told them about her night.

But Adam had gotten hurt and now she had to face her parents. They weren’t going to be very happy with her.

“Why the long face?” He must have gotten tired of watching the scenery going by.

“I screwed up big time.” She couldn’t look at him and remind him of how she’d messed up his plans.

“They might be mad at first, but they’ll be glad to have you home safe.”

Karla felt him continuing to stare at her. She chewed on her lower lip; then finally got the courage up to look over at him. Over and up. Jeez, he was tall, even sitting down. The street lights lit his face—off, then on, then off again. She noticed the cut on his lip was still bleeding, but just a trickle. She wished she’d brought more paper towels.

Adam had fought to protect her tonight. He could have been killed. There were three of them and they’d had weapons! Instead, he’d saved her from whatever that guy had wanted to do with her. Probably rape her, or make her a hooker, or even sell her to a sex-slave operation. She knew about these things. She watched enough TV.

What she didn’t know was how she could ever get Adam to forgive her. Well, she’d be home in a few minutes and probably would never see him again. Still, she needed his forgiveness.

“Adam…I’m sorry I got you mixed up in this. And I’m really sorry you got hurt on account of me.”

He was quiet for a little while, his eyes kinda sad again. She hated that she had made him sad this time. Then one side of his mouth tilted up in half a smile. The side that wasn’t cut. Her stomach clenched every time she looked at his wound.

“I’d do it all over again to keep you safe. Just promise me you won’t run away again. Next time, you might not be so lucky.”

The cab stopped. She looked out the window and saw they were in front of her house. The porch light was on and Mom’s goofy wreath with all the harvest vegetables on it was displayed on the door. A pumpkin sat on the post at the top of the stairs. The big brick house and hokey decorations never looked so good to her before.

Tears spilled down her cheeks. She probably looked like a raccoon again, but she didn’t care. On impulse, she turned around and wrapped her arms around Adam, well as much of him as she could reach around. He had the hardest, widest shoulders she’d ever felt.

After a moment, he wrapped his arms around her, too. His arms felt good around her. She felt safe. She wondered what it would be like if he kissed her.

What the hell, Kitty?

He squeezed her really tight, making it hard to breathe. Or was the lack of air the result of her heart beating so fast? She decided to just let him hug her as tightly as he wanted. Ian had hugged her that way, too, before he’d left home the last time. Adam might not get to hug a girl again for a long, long time. Why, she was being patriotic to let him hug her. Although she had to admit that it felt really good to be in his arms.

He whispered, “Thank you,” and she smiled through her tears. His whiskers scratched, tickling her ear.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Adam.”

He pulled away, and she wished they could have kept hugging. “Same to you, Karla.”

He was kinda cute when he smiled that way, without the sad eyes. “Oh, no! Where will you eat turkey today?”

“No problem. I usually have ham on Thanksgiving anyway…” Then his smile disappeared. Double damn. She’d made him think sad thoughts again.

“It’s probably best if I stay inside the taxi, in case your parents are watching. You have enough problems without having to explain what you’re doing hanging out with an old Marine.” He smiled. “But I’ll wait here until you get inside.” Then he grew serious again. “Just promise me you won’t run away again.”

She nodded. “I promise.”

Karla looked down at her backpack. Her throat hurt too much to speak, but, as she opened the door, she turned back and cleared it enough to whisper, “Promise me you’ll come home safe.”

“I’ll do my best, honey.” He looked away and repeated in a whisper. “I’ll do my best.”

Suddenly, Adam’s door whipped open and two hands reached inside to grab Adam by the shirt.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing with my sixteen-year-old daughter, you pervert!”

Karla leaned over to protect him, but Adam pushed her out of harm’s way, as if worried she might be hit by accident.

“Daddy, no! Don’t hurt him!”

What was she worried about Adam for? He could have decked Daddy with one hand tied behind his back. Maybe two. But Adam just let himself be pulled from the cab without putting up a fight. Karla scrambled across the seat and exited behind him. Adam stood with his hands at his sides. She moved to wedge herself between him and her dad.

Her Mom came running around the front of the cab and pulled he back. “Karla, get in the house!”

But Karla needed to get to Adam, if he wouldn’t defend himself. She’d never seen Daddy so angry.

“Not now, Mom.” She brushed her mom’s hand aside and went to where Daddy had Adam backed up against the trunk of the cab. Oh, God, he had his fist raised, ready to slam into Adam’s already injured face.

“Daddy, don’t!” Karla grabbed onto his arm and he stopped to look down at her. “He didn’t do anything to me. He rescued me. Twice!”

Daddy was breathing really hard. Definitely not in as good a shape as Adam. And yet Adam hadn’t even put up his arms in defense. Why not?

Daddy turned to Adam, “Maybe you’d better explain yourself.”

Adam opened his mouth, but Karla knew he’d downplay everything. He was way too modest. “Daddy, he fought off three jerks who wanted to hurt me. He bought me dinner. He’s a good man and if you hurt him, I’m going to run away again and I’ll never come back!”

Adam looked down at her and she thought she heard him growl. She tried to ignore him, but knew he wasn’t happy with her threat, even though she knew she wasn’t going to run away ever again.

“Okay. I’m not going to run away.” Both Adam and her father relaxed a little bit. “But on account of me, he missed his bus.”

Daddy let go of Adam’s now even more wrinkled shirt and stepped back. “You protected my Karla?”

“I just did what anyone would do.”

“Don’t listen to him, Daddy. There were three of them! And they had weapons. Adam was unarmed.”

Adam glanced away and down at the ground.

“I don’t want him to spend Thanksgiving sitting in the bus terminal until tomorrow night. Adam needs a place to stay tonight.”

Oh, that got Adam to look at her again! But he didn’t look very happy about it.

“Is that true? Do you need a place to stay?”

“No, sir. I’m fine. I’ve slept in worse places than a bus station.”

Karla’s mom wrapped her arm around Karla, but her words were directed at Adam. “Nonsense. If our son was in your situation, we’d hope someone would...” Mom’s voice always broke when she talked about Ian now. “We’d be honored if you’d come inside.”

“He can sleep in Ian’s room,” Karla offered.

“No, I don’t want to impose.”

Daddy looked from her to Adam. “If what Karla says is true, it’s the least we can do for you for bringing our little girl home.” He reached out his hand to Adam. “I’m Carl Paxton. Sorry about roughing you up.”

Adam looked down at Daddy’s hand for a few seconds.

Go on. Shake it.

When Adam finally reached out, she knew he’d be staying. She let out the breath she’d been holding.

“Adam Montague. Nice to meet you, sir.”

“He’s a master sergeant, Daddy. In the Marines!”

She wasn’t sure what rank that was, but it sure sounded important. When Adam looked at her like he didn’t need her help, she just smiled. She didn’t have to say goodbye to Adam yet.

* * *

Adam let go of Paxton’s hand. The man had a firm grip and an honest face. Karla’s parents seemed like good people. What the hell was she thinking, running away from a nice safe home like this? If she were his daughter, he’d tan her hide.

Her dad looked down at Adam’s mouth. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s nothing.” Adam licked at his wound. He tasted the iron on his tongue.

“His shoulder’s injured, too, Mom.”

Karla’s mom let her go and came at him like a mother hen. “I’m sorry. Let’s get you in out of this cold. Where’s your coat?”

Ahem.

Adam turned to see the taxi driver. Shit. He’d forgotten about him. He reached for his wallet, but Karla’s dad put a hand on his arm. “Go with the girls. I’ll take care of this. You’ve paid enough already.” The man pulled several bills from his wallet.

Outmaneuvered, Adam suddenly felt too tired to argue. Opening the back door to the taxi, he reached inside to pull out his seabag, just as Karla leaned in the other side to get her things. She looked across the back seat at him and smiled.

Damn. He could see how she wrapped her parents around her little finger. Hell, he had to admit her smile worked on him, as well. He probably wouldn’t have been able to tan her hide, either, even when she did deserve it. Her enthusiasm and innocence were sweet. He grinned back at her.

Before he had a moment to think, Karla and her mother flanked him and ushered him up the sidewalk. He looked up the steep stairs to the porch, noticing the pumpkin. Joni would have decorated their porch the same way. F*ck. He hadn’t thought about his wife much since he’d gotten caught up in Karla’s troubles.

God, Joni, I’m so sorry.

Guilt twisted his gut. In an instant, a deluge of two months of painful memories brought his mood back down to where it ought to be. What the f*ck was he doing bringing his foul mood into this family’s home on Thanksgiving Day? Just what the hell did he have to be thankful for? He turned around to stop the taxi, just as it pulled away from the curb.

What a clusterf*ck.

With reluctance, he turned and began climbing the stairs to the porch, feeling each of the dozen steps in his shaky legs.

Paxton caught up with them and opened the door. To his wife, he said, “I’ll make some calls to Karla’s friends’ parents and let them know she’s home safe.”

Inside, the house was warm. Smelled like cinnamon. Karla’s mother led him to the kitchen, where she sat him down on a chair at the table for six. Several pies were lined up on the counter.

“Off with the shirt.”

Adam hoped his expression conveyed to her that no f*cking way was he removing his shirt. “I’m fine, ma’am.”

She just laughed. “Don’t go there with me. I’m a nurse. I’ve seen more naked bodies than you can shake a fist at. Off.” Her fingers motioned for him to follow her order. “I am going to take a look at that shoulder, one way or another.” When he still refused to move, she added, “Now!” She’d have made a great drill sergeant.

Adam looked over at Karla, who seemed to be waiting for a show to begin, her eyes wide open, chin propped on her palm at the island in the middle of the room. No f*cking way was he going to let her see his back. He did a half turn in the chair.

Mrs. Paxton seemed to notice his discomfort. “Karla, run up to the bathroom and get me the new first-aid kit. There are some things missing from this one.”

He saw the disappointment in the girl’s eyes, but she did as she was told. She seemed like a good kid. He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. God, the muscles in both shoulders ached, not just the bruised one. He was getting soft in his old age.

When Karla’s mother moved around to check the damage from the back, he cringed when he heard her gasp. “You’ve seen your share, haven’t you?”

“Mostly superficial, ma’am. I survived.” Knowing she had a son in harm’s way, he didn’t add that two of his men hadn’t made it out of that ambush alive. She traced a finger over the spot where he had his tattoo, but he let her draw her own conclusions. He wouldn’t talk about it.

Adam recalled the ambush outside Kandahar that had taken out half his recon unit earlier this year as they’d tried to establish a foothold in the area. Two men dead, seven injured. F*cked-up mission. His shrapnel scars were reminders of his failure—his inability to bring all his men home. He prayed he’d never have a repeat of that day during his remaining time in the Corps.

Thankfully, she didn’t ask. “I appreciate this, ma’am, but it’s just a little bruise.”

“Please, call me Jenny. And that bruise is going to be more than little. What did you run into?”

“Brass knuckles. Didn’t duck fast enough. Getting old.”

She scoffed. “From what Karla said, you fought off three guys. I just hope they look a lot worse than you do.”

“Yes, ma’am. Two of them do, anyway. The third ran.” He felt a need to assure her that Karla hadn’t been harmed or in danger. “I didn’t let them near your daughter. She was out of there before any punches flew.”

She stepped back to face him. “Adam, we can’t thank you enough. When we found Karla’s bed empty an hour or so ago—”

Adam heard the catch in her voice and looked up to see tears swimming in her eyes. His gut twisted. He could well imagine her fears.

“We panicked,” she finished on a whisper. “The police wouldn’t even look for her for twenty-four hours. It’s not much, but please know we’re forever in your debt.”

“Sorry, Mom. It took me a while to—”

Adam looked toward the entrance to the kitchen to find that Karla had come to a dead stop, her jaw hanging open. Her eyes homed in on his naked chest. Shit, he’d embarrassed her. He reached for his shirt.

“Come on, girl. Don’t just stand there. Get over here.” When Karla remained stock-still, Jenny barked, “Now!” Then, to Adam, she stilled his movement to put his shirt back on. “Don’t you dare! She’s seen her brother’s bare chest a million times.”

* * *

Yeah, but Ian’s chest didn’t look anything like Adam’s.

Karla crossed the room, holding the kit out to her mom, but not taking her eyes off Adam’s muscular pecs and biceps. His skin was evenly tanned, not a single hair anywhere on his chest. She had a whole new appreciation for the anatomy lessons she’d had in health class, because they allowed her a chance to label all of his beautiful parts. Standing so close, she felt the heat radiating from his body, even more noticeable than it had been at the bus station.

Or was it just that her face was overheating?

Her mother worked to open the latch of the new kit while Karla continued her observations. His pectoral muscles bulged, hard-looking nipples protruding from dark brown areolas. Karla just stared at his nips. No, not the scientific term, but that's what her friends called them when they ogled the juvenile boys in their gym class. None of those boys had nips that looked like stone, though. Nothing like Adam’s.

She itched to reach out and touch one to see if it was as hard as it looked, but her mother would have made her leave the room if she did that. She wouldn’t risk that happening, so she clenched her fists at her sides.

Her gaze went lower. His abdominals were…well…. Oh, my! Now she knew why they called them a six-pack. She’d probably be able to bounce a quarter off them if he were lying down. There was this valley between his abs she wanted to lick.

Oh, no, Kitty. Don’t think about licking him!

Too late. Her face grew even warmer. What would Adam be like as a lover? Gentle, tender, forceful? Not that she had any experience with lovers or sex. None of the boys her age attracted her, and she'd always been more interested in her music career than in dating. But she’d watched lots of love scenes in the movies and on TV. Adam truly had the most beautiful upper body she’d ever seen in her whole life—real or make believe.

“Open this and hand me one of the swabs.”

Her mother handed her a cellophane package with two Q-tips inside. With great reluctance, Karla tore her gaze away from Adam's chest, then, realizing how important this was, went to work with a new sense of purpose. If only her hands would quit shaking. She wanted to do this right. What if she didn’t and he got an infection and a fever and maybe even died, all because his cut lip wasn’t cleaned properly?

Without touching the cotton ends, she handed one swab to her mom and watched her dip it in a bottle of alcohol. She knew from experience that was going to hurt like a mother.

“This is going to sting,” Mom warned.

You’d better believe it. Her mom rubbed the wet cotton over his split lip, holding his chin to keep him steady. Karla wished she could touch him like that. He closed his eyes, but didn’t make a sound. Her stomach muscles clenched, as if she were experiencing the pain for him.

“There.” Her mom laid the Q-tip on the paper towel she’d placed on the table. “Now let’s get some antibiotic ointment on that lip.”

Karla saw the tinge of pink on the Q-tip. Adam’s blood. Tears sprang to her eyes. He’d been hurt because of her stupidity. She wished there was something more she could do to help him. She certainly couldn’t kiss his lip and make it better. Although the thought caused her stomach to flutter again, like a flock of the butterflies was trying to escape. She flushed in embarrassment.

What would her friends think when they heard about her adventures with an older man tonight? And a Marine. Oh, my! They would be so jealous, especially when she told them he looked like Mark Harmon. Only Adam acted much more mature and noble than the Dr. McNeil character did.

Her mom brushed her thumb across the red marks on Adam's shoulder. “Not much I can do for the bruising, but I don’t think there’s a hematoma.”

Karla’s attention went to the long, thin mark where he'd been jabbed by something with evenly spaced points. Then she remembered that one of the guys he had fought with had been wearing brass knuckles. Her knees buckled at the thought of them tearing into Adam's shoulder.

“Whoa, hon!” Adam reached out and grabbed her elbows to hold her steady. “Not too fond of the sight of blood?”

Karla felt her mom’s scrutiny, but couldn’t take her eyes off Adam. Where he held her arms, a tingle of electricity zinged up to her shoulders and neck, then down to her…. Oh, my!

“What's the matter with you, Karla?” Mom asked. “You've seen plenty of blood. Ian was always getting patched up.”

"I’m okay,” she whispered, because of the frog lodged in her throat. He smiled at her and she felt tears dripping down her face. He’d taken that hit on his shoulder for her. She ached to press her lips against it, the way her mother had kissed her boo-boos as a kid. Usually, the pain magically went away. She wanted to take Adam’s pain away.

He reached up and wiped the tears away from her face with his thumbs. She caught her breath, then totally forgot to breathe for a moment.

“I’m okay, hon. Believe me, this is nothing.”

"You should see ..." her mom began.

Adam reached out and placed a hand on Mom’s arm. They exchanged a look, as if they shared a secret Karla wasn't in on. Mom nodded. Karla felt the green-eyed monster of jealousy for the first time in her life.

More tears welled in her eyes. Frustration at not being able to touch him, to comfort him, or even to get him to notice her as a woman, ate at her. She was still just a kid in his eyes. If she touched him the way she wanted, he’d think she was a freak.

But that just made her want to touch him even more.

* * *

Adam tried to stay out of everyone’s way on Thanksgiving morning. He’d managed to catch a few hours of dreamless sleep, which was more than he could say for the last few months. Then Karla’s relatives had started arriving—grandmother, uncle, aunt, cousins. Adam hadn’t been in a huge family gathering for Thanksgiving since he was a kid, and he was feeling a bit claustrophobic.

Adam knew her family meant well, but he counted the hours until he could get on that bus tonight and start making his way home to Pendleton. He grabbed his jacket and slipped out the front door, hoping no one would notice. He needed some air. The jacket did little to keep the wind out. But, compared with the crowded, overheated house, the air felt good. After he’d walked a few blocks, the frigid wind began to seep into his still-aching bones and muscles. He’d known Chicago was windy, but when the gusts were fifty miles an hour and the air temperature barely twenty, it was god-damned frigid.

He didn’t know where he was headed until he arrived. Standing on the shore of Lake Michigan, the wind blowing ice crystals from the lake onto his face, Adam braced himself against the gusts. Gray clouds hovered over the surface, much like they did over Lake Superior.

He and Joni hadn’t had much money when they’d married and all he could afford for a honeymoon was an off-season cabin rental at a park along Superior. It had been colder than a mother that November, too. Not that they’d wanted to venture out much. They were too busy exploring their newfound mutual interest in sexual bondage and each other’s bodies.

Adam got hard picturing Joni tied spread-eagle and blindfolded as he tortured her tits with ice and a feather. She had the cutest damned giggle. He’d tried to use his stern Dom voice, but knowing she couldn’t see him, he’d grinned every time she let out her little-girl giggle.

Damned wind was making his eyes water. He reached up to wipe the moisture from them, then his mind returned to the cabin. After two days of nothing but sex and sleep—maybe a little food, he couldn’t remember—they’d bundled up and ventured out to walk along the icy shore, down to the lighthouse.

Joni was curious about everything and they’d probably spent two hours talking with the lighthouse keeper. Adam accused her later of shirking her wifely duties by delaying their return to the cabin. Her screams of outrage as he reddened her ass during her first erotic spanking had turned them both on so much, they didn’t leave the cabin again the rest of the week.

Cold wetness on his cheeks brought him back to the present. He wasn’t sure if they were brought on from the wind or his sorrow. He didn’t care. No one was around to see him cry. For the first time since learning he was going to lose her, he just let himself feel the gaping hole in his chest where his heart had once been.

Joni had given his heart a safe harbor all these years, but he knew now it was time for him to haul anchor, reset his compass, and shove off into unchartered waters.

“Safe journey, little subbie. We’ll meet up again someday.”

The wind whipped the words away from him. He hoped they made their way to his dear, sweet Joni, wherever she was. He didn’t dwell much on spiritual matters, but knew in his heart he and Joni would reunite one day.

Adam drew a ragged breath and pressed his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose. He now knew he was ready to resume his duties at Pendleton or wherever they sent him. While he’d never forget Joni, he’d be able to compartmentalize the memories and pain so they didn’t take his focus off the mission at hand. He would never put his units in jeopardy because he couldn’t let go of the past. Until this moment, though, he hadn’t been sure he would be able to do that.

A sense of peace came over him. He almost thought he felt Joni’s lips brushing his cheek, the way she did before they curled up with each other and fell asleep. Then he became aware of the icy pellets pounding his face as a lake-effect squall whipped up. He turned around to make his way back to Karla’s house.

Standing a few feet away from him, as if on guard duty, shivering inside her coat, stood Karla.

“What the f…heck are you doing out here?”

Her teeth chattered as she tried to answer. He took off his jacket and put it on her to give her another layer of warmth, then wrapped his arm around her, hoping to infuse some heat into her thin body. “Let’s get you back home.”

“N-n-no, Adam. I have to tell you something.”

Adam just pulled her along toward the house. “We’ll talk when we get you out of this squall.” She tried to dig in her heels, but he’d have none of it. Damned fool kid needed a caretaker.

He’d been dreading going back into the chaos at her house, but now he just wanted to get her inside as quickly as possible. She’d catch pneumonia out here. They got as far as her front door when Karla wedged her toe against the door and turned to look up at him.

“Wait! Adam, there’s something you need to know, and I can’t say this inside the house.”

Adam tried to block as much of the wind from hitting her shivering frame as he could, but her black-and-pink hair lashed across her face. He reached out and tucked the wild strands behind her left ear because they distracted him from the conversation that seemed so important to her. What in the hell could she possibly have to say that couldn’t be said inside?

Karla splayed her gloved hand on his chest, over his wounded heart, and looked up at him with those big sparkling blue eyes surrounded by that god-awful makeup and pink hair. She searched his eyes for a long moment, he didn’t know for what.

Then he felt a niggling at the scar on the back of his neck—always a sign he wasn’t going to want to deal with whatever was incoming. F*ck. He hoped she wasn’t about to say what he thought she was getting ready to lay on him.

“Adam, I n-n-n-know you have a wife and y-y-y-you think I’m just a kid, but I want to t-t-tell you that…I l-l-love you.”

Double f*cking damn. He’d need a minesweeper to navigate these waters. Joni, where are you when I need you? She’d know how to deal with a sixteen-year-old’s crush. She’d been surrounded by teenage girls at the Catholic school where she’d taught until last spring. Help me out here, baby.

“Hon, I love you, too.” Crap. That didn’t come out sounding right, but surely she’d know what he meant.

When her eyes lit up and she pursed her lips as if expecting him to kiss her, he turned his rudder hard to starboard. She’d definitely taken his words the wrong way.

“Like a father, Karla. Hell, I’m old enough to be your father.”

When tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, his gut turned to mush. He always came undone when a woman cried. But, hell, Karla was just a kid. Why did her tears rip him apart even more? How in the hell had he let this happen?

Now, wait a minute there. He’d never given her any indication he wanted to be anything other than a guardian to keep her out of trouble. F*ck, he didn’t know anything about teenage girls.

“Look, hon…” Quit calling her hon, you frigging a*shole. “Look, Karla, I’m an old man. Your life is just starting. I’m sure there are lots of boys who’d—”

“But they’re so immature. All they talk about is sports. I don’t have anything in common with them.”

What the hell did she have in common with an old worn-out Marine? God, he wished they made tactical maps for situations like these. He was f*cking clueless how to fend off this attack.

“Nothing wrong with sports.” Oh, that’s profound, jarhead. Damn. He liked this kid a lot. Didn’t want to hurt her for anything. But he wasn’t a perv.

Just tell it like it is, man. You’ve never had any problem doing that before. What’s different this time?

She’s a kid! And a girl! I don’t want to hurt her.

“Look, Karla. I like you a lot, but I don’t feel that way about you.” When the light left her eyes, he felt like a f*cking heel. While he knew the words needed to be said, if it were physically possible, he’d have given himself a good roundhouse kick in the ass for whatever the hell he’d done to make her think he’d welcome this heartfelt declaration. How could he make it not seem like a rejection because there was something wrong with her? She’d make a fine girlfriend and wife for some guy someday. Just not him.

“I still love my wife.” Yeah, that’s good. Let Joni pull your prick out of the fire. He didn’t have to tell her his wife was dead. Besides, he did still love Joni. “You have some growing up to do. I’m sure you’ll meet someone one day who can love and respect you the way you should be loved.”

Karla tore herself away, opened the door, and ran inside.

He laid his forehead against the cold doorframe. What a f*cking mess he’d made of that. Maybe it was a good thing he and Joni hadn’t had kids. He’d make a lousy father.

That f*cking bus couldn’t get here soon enough.

* * *

Karla tried to eat all the food on her plate, but the lump in her throat, and Adam sitting across the table from her, made that impossible.

“Good news, Adam,” Daddy said, beaming. “I’ve managed to get you a ticket on a red-eye flight out tomorrow night. Direct to San Diego. You’ll be back on base in hours rather than days.”

Karla saw the stricken look on Adam’s face. He must be horrified to think of being stuck with her another whole day. Her eyes brimmed with tears and she hung her head down, hoping they’d fall right into her burgundy cloth napkin without leaving an embarrassing trail.

“That’s really not necessary, sir. I don’t mind—”

“It’s done. The least we can do after all you’ve done for us.”

Luckily, Daddy didn’t add to her embarrassment by spelling out to everyone at the table why they felt they owed this Marine something. But she and her parents knew. All her fault. A few hours ago, she’d have been thrilled to know Adam would be with her another day. Now she didn’t even know what to say or do with him.

Karla had teetered on the verge of crying since she’d been rejected by Adam on the front porch. Of course, she didn’t want to break up his happy marriage or anything. But he could have at least given her a little kiss to remember him by. She’d never find anyone like him to love ever again.

Adam continued to avoid looking at her. He didn’t eat much either, not even the casserole she’d made for him. Another rejection. More tears.

Grandma began sharing stories about her latest cruise and Karla zoned out until she heard Adam’s name.

“Adam, have you ever been to Mexico?” Grandma asked.

“Yes, ma’am. My wife and I went to Cabo San Lucas on a second honeymoon about ten years ago.” He cleared his throat. “Beautiful place.”

Well, even if he wasn’t happily married, he wouldn’t wait for you to grow up, Kitty. No, he was so handsome, he could have any woman he wanted. Besides, he didn’t even know she existed. Karla felt the lump growing in her throat and put her useless fork down. She hoped this nightmare dinner would end soon so she could escape to her room and have a good cry.

Why had she so embarrassed herself on the porch? She needed to make conversation before her Mom hauled her into the kitchen for having such bad manners. Karla looked up at Adam. “I’ll bet you miss her a lot.”

His eyes got sad again and he looked down at his plate. “More than you’ll ever know.”

Yeah, he loved her. She was a very lucky lady. As if to keep from having to say more, he took a small bite of her casserole. She smiled.

Mom said, “Karla, your broccoli casserole gets better every year.”

Adam looked up at her as he chewed, smiling across the table. “Best I’ve ever had.”

Karla’s tummy squeezed tight and she smiled back.

After the dinner plates had been cleared, mom pulled out the Quiddler cards and dictionaries and everyone at the table played. Adam was pretty good at it, but Karla beat him in the last round with the word “domination.” That was the best word she’d ever gotten in the stupid game!

The next day went by in a blur, but Karla could never get Adam alone to apologize for her stupid scene. By the time she stood in the airport terminal saying goodbye, tears spilled down her cheeks. Her father already had said goodbye and thanked him, then had to go to his office at the other end of the terminal to check on some emergency.

Saying goodbye wasn’t easy. “Adam, please forget what I said on the porch. I was just being a stupid teenager. But I’ll never forget you. Thanks for rescuing me.”

He shuffled his feet, then seemed to decide something and met her gaze. “Karla, I know you aren’t going to understand this, but you’re the one who saved my life. I’d lost sight of what I needed…what was important to me since…well….”

She thought she saw a glint of tears in his eyes, but none fell. He looked down at the floor again. After a moment, he continued. His voice sounded like he’d swallowed sandpaper. When he looked into her eyes again, those freaky butterflies returned to her stomach.

“If you hadn’t shown up in that bus station two nights ago, Karla, I don’t know what…. I was heading back to the war without the fire in my belly. It’s my job to make sure my units survive their next missions and I….” He rubbed the back of his neck.

She wished she could give him a neck rub to calm him. He seemed so upset. Then his words registered. Oh, no! He was going to Afghanistan or Iraq. She was sure of it. That’s all she heard in the news now. Ian might be going to one of those places, too. They both might get killed!

Tears spilled down her cheeks again. Good thing she didn’t wear mascara. She’d known she was going to cry when she said goodbye, just not how much. Suddenly, it was important that she not lose track of Adam. His wife and family would write to him, but Karla needed to know he was okay, too. He’d become such an important part of her life in the last two days.

“Can I—?” She cleared the frog from her throat. “Can I write to you, Adam?”

His gaze met hers and she thought he was going to say no, then he smiled—another really sad one. She bet he didn’t think she’d actually follow through, because she’d acted like such a selfish teenager ever since he’d met her. But she would. Every day.

Well, at least once a week.

“I’d like that.”

Before he changed his mind, she reached into her purse and pulled out a treble-clef-shaped writing pad. She wrote his name—well, he had to spell his last name for her—and then his APO address. Ian had an APO, too.

Well, duh, Kitty. All soldiers have those.

She vowed to herself she would also bake goodies to send them both. “Do you like brownies?”

He got that look where she knew he wasn’t thinking about her anymore. Then he smiled. “Yeah. With peanut butter.”

Karla giggled. She’d never made that kind before, but she’d learn. For her Adam. Maybe she could send him an MP3 recording of her singing. Her music teacher wanted to record demo tapes for her and another student to send to college admissions offices.

“Why don’t you write down your address for me, too?” She looked up. He wanted to write to her? “I probably won’t get around to writing very often, but I’ll write when I can.”

Karla scribbled down her address on the next sheet and tore it off to hand to him. She wished Adam would hug her, but he’d been very careful not to get anywhere near her since she’d made a fool of herself on the porch.

But what if she never saw him again?

Karla wouldn’t risk never getting to feel her arms around him one more time. She closed the space between them and slipped her arms around his narrow waist. His sides felt like steel bands and his heart beat fast against her cheek.

“I’m going to miss you, Adam.”

Just when she was about to let go, thinking he wouldn’t hug her back, she felt his arms surround her and pull her into his heated warmth.

Safe. Protected.

Adam. He’d always be her hero.