Chapter 28
SCOTTIE
Leaning back against the palms of my hands, I closed my eyes. The sun beat down hot against my face. A feeling I reveled in despite the absolute nothing we’d done. For three fucking days, nothing. And what was worse, was the hopelessness of the situation had created unusual tension between everyone.
I’d hardly seen Dom as he spent most of his time with the colonel, trying to discuss different ideas or ways to retrieve intel, especially since the news came that Powell was still in a coma with the prognosis being bleak. He likely wouldn’t ever wake up. Ford and Bernie sat across from me, cleaning their weapons quietly. Even the snacks from Bernie’s mom had done nothing to cheer any of us up. Duncan was hardly ever around, and Mikey had been almost completely absent. The few times I’d caught a glimpse of him, he simply walked away, expressionless.
Three days of nothing.
Three days of fading hope that we were going to stop al-Jabari before he did who the hell knows what. Maybe he had a fucking nuclear bomb he wanted to send to the United States. Maybe he had an entirely different nefarious plan. But we didn’t know shit because we didn’t have the damn Black Box. All we had were assumptions.
The only good thing about all of this was knowing that al-Jabari also didn’t have his own Black Box and as a result, it seemed to have caused him to go underground. There were zero whispers of him or any of his insurgents moving anything.
Zero news at all of anything. It was quiet. Too quiet. Which made things worse.
Footsteps approaching pulled my eyes open, and I slung my legs over the side of the bench. Dom, Duncan, and Mikey all approached the little table the rest of us were seated on. Solemn expressions, downcast emptiness coated every face as they slid in around us—Mikey on the opposite side of the bench as far away as he could get from me.
“You’ve got news, don’t you,” Ford grumbled, setting down his cleaning rag.
Dom nodded. “Powell died just a few minutes ago.”
Mikey knotted his jaw. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, apparently also not privy to this conversation before being summoned by Dom.
Bernie shook his head but remained unusually silent, even Duncan’s shoulders fell. “What the hell are we supposed to do now?” Duncan asked.
Dom shook his head. “No fucking clue.”
Silence. The breeze stilled. Like a ghost darting away, a cold chill swept across my shoulders and I glanced over at Mikey. His eyes were dark, shadowed beneath his brows, as he stared directly at me.
“All that work, and we failed,” Ford grumbled and clenched his hands into fists.
“On the bright side, the Black Box is lost to good ole Karimy too,” Bernie offered, then cringed as Dom shot him a nasty glare.
“Our one hope of finding out what his plans are, was that Black Box. He can simply go and create a new one, so all he is, is delayed,” Dom said, voicing the thoughts that ran heavily through my own head too. Disappointment. Despair. Hopelessness grated like that sand that continually dried out my skin.
Suddenly, Mikey shot up from his seated spot, rocking the entire bench despite three other grown ass men sitting on it. “Approve me for a shower outside of designated hours,” he snapped, looking sideways at Dom.
Our team leader tipped his head back, sweat glistening on his dark skin. “Two hours. Everyone go find something to do alone. I don’t want anyone trying to do work, trying to figure this shit out right now. Just go be alone. And even though we don’t have cell service out here, if you want your phones, have at it.”
Mikey didn’t bother nodding as he stepped over the bench and disappeared in a flurry of sand. I watched him go through my peripherals, torn. Part of me screamed to follow him, to confront him for being such a standoffish ass these past three days. But the other part of me felt like a shell of my usual confident self.
This specific mission during this deployment clearly weighed on the entire team, and I couldn’t help but believe it was my fault. When else were they so unsuccessful? Never. The only new variable in this scenario was me.
As silent as the shadows the team frequently morphed into, they slipped away. Leaving me alone at the table. Alone with thoughts that weighed on my soul. The lack of sleep these past three days from the nightmares combined with the realization that all of this somehow was my fault, hit hard.
Dragging the thousand pound weights I called feet, I simply wandered. Unsure of a destination, the only desire that propelled me forward was disappearing from the chatter of soldiers who remained blissfully unaware of the complete devastation that surrounded them.
Our failure could have just resulted in millions of Americans being murdered in what could’ve been a preventable terrorist attack.
“Well, looky here, boys,” a familiar, very annoying, voice snapped through my thoughts, towing me back to the present. I stopped walking and turned to my left. Immediately, I recognized Mikey’s broad back, but for whatever reason, he looked even larger than usual—practically towering over Reyes and a couple of his buddies. They blocked Mikey’s path to the showers.
“The fuck you want?” Mikey growled.
Reyes threw his hands up, showing his palms in submission, and glanced at his buddies. “Don’t take your anger over your failures out on me, man, shit.”
“I’m not in the mood to play your games right now, so move,” Mikey snapped in response and stepped sideways.
Reyes shifted, remaining in front and a sickening smile slid across his face. “You know, I shouldn’t be surprised seeing you react like this. I hear this is the first deployment where you’ve pretty much fucked up every mission you’ve been out on.”
“What the hell do you know about my team?”
“Just that the only thing that changed is Squib joining you, and you’ve been so unsuccessful.”
One of Mikey’s hands shot down to his side. His fingers balled into a fist so tight that the knuckles turned white. Through his shirt, I watched his muscles contract, rolling with the fury that seeped from his body. Damn, kinda hot…
Especially considering that Mikey could easily knock Reyes into a different dimension with a single punch.
“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you,” Mikey huffed, inhaling deeply.
“Jealous? Who am I jealous of?” Reyes crossed his arms, puffing his chest and straightening his back though he still stood a few inches shorter than Mikey.
“Scottie. You’re pissed off that she scored higher than you. That she got the open spot with our team.”
“What does that have to do with your attitude? And failure? Oh, wait.” Reyes grinned. “It just proves my point that I should have been the one to join your team. That training doesn’t equate to what happens out here on the battlefield.”
Mikey stepped forward, his shadow swallowing Reyes’s entire frame. “And what the fuck do you know about actual combat? You were the reason that the buggy managed to escape when we joined your squad.”
“And you’re the reason that the Black Box is missing. You got your buddy, Thompson, killed. And now, with Powell dead, you’re the reason that Karim al-Jabari might actually be able to land a bomb on US soil. You. Not me.” Reyes pointed a finger and jabbed it forward at Mikey’s chest. I stepped forward, ready to beat the shit out of Reyes. How dare he speak like that to Mikey. Or blame him.
Mikey’s hand latched onto the finger and threw it away before Reyes made contact, and I put on the brakes, slipping back to the nearest tent. Shock flashed briefly across Reyes’s face before he regained his bitch-ass smug look. “Oh, and you need to quit messing with the IT equipment. I don’t need you and your buddy, Dumbface or whatever his name is, fucking shit up.”
Rage for Mikey and my team surged through me as hot as the volts of electricity that once coursed within my veins. I wanted to rush forward and crack a fist against Reyes’s jaw. He had no right to say any of that. It wasn’t Mikey’s fault. Adrenaline prickled in my veins as I waited for Mikey to deal a blow that would leave a mark.
But it never came. All Mikey did was tip his head, twitching as if he’d just emerged from a horror movie. In fact, Mikey simply stared at them, unmoving, unspeaking. Eventually, Reyes pursed his lips and nodded at his buddies. “Let’s go. This loser isn’t worth shit,” he muttered. The three soldiers walked away, leaving Mikey standing alone.
I took a few steps forward, purposefully moving noisily, but Mikey didn’t even glance over his shoulder. Instead, he disappeared around a tent as quickly as he could.
Snapping my teeth together, I glared at the space that he left completely empty. He’d known it was me, he had to. Pissed off over Reyes being more of an ass than usual, annoyed with Mikey ignoring me over the past three days, angry that he’d left while I was confessing something very vulnerable with him, and just overall frustrated with everything, I spun on my heel.
There was one thing I could fix.
Mikey was going to speak to me if it was the last thing I attempted.
Clutching my toiletries to my chest, I ducked beneath the tent flap and then snapped it closed behind me. Not a sound emanated around me. The lights were dim, as Mikey seemed to have only turned a couple on. I’d expected running water, or the sloshing of soap against skin, but there wasn’t even a steady plunk of liquid dripping from a recently used faucet.
Quietly, I crept to the right toward the shower stalls. The curtain was closed on the second stall, while the other was pushed open. Glancing beneath the rim that hung an inch off of the ground, I saw feet resting next to his boots.
My heart trilled nervously in my chest. As silently as I could, I returned to the first stall, plopped my things down on the bench, and then crept back to his. Pausing in front of the curtain, my hand trembled. I shouldn’t do this. I should turn away.
But the anger that hardened in my heart pushed me forward. Slinging the curtain back, my eyes darted to Mikey, who sat as still as a brick on the bench. He wore nothing but his boxers. I remained standing at the entrance, one hand clutching the plastic curtain.
He didn’t flinch, didn’t react to my presence. And the fuse lit.
“You piece of shit,” I snarled.
Mikey blinked, but still didn’t move.
Rage burned like a forest fire through my veins. “Fine. If you’re not going to say anything, you can just fucking listen because you hurt me. I was vulnerable with you. I expressed things to you that I should’ve just kept to myself, and then you ignored me for three fucking days? And you’re still ignoring me now!” I threw my hands in the air, the curtain rustling as it fell out of my grip.
“But you want to know what hurts the most? In the middle of me telling you how broken I was, you got up and left. To go take a fucking piss that I don’t think even happened!” I stomped into the stall and crossed my arms, steam rolling from my ears.
He didn’t look up, his eyes remained fixed on something behind me, as if he stared through my legs. “I wasn’t ignoring you,” he muttered. His voice so quiet it sounded almost defeated.
My brows snapped together. “Then what the hell have you been doing? Because we haven’t spoken in three days, Mikey.”
“Working, Scotch.”
“Working.” I shook my head. “Working on—” I closed my own mouth as Mikey finally lifted his ocean eyes to mine. He leaned back, resting his hands in his lap. “Reyes said to quit snooping around the IT tent,” I muttered in recognition.
He nodded. “I don’t think he realizes what my rate is. Or Duncan’s. Which means, he doesn’t exactly realize that as Intel Specialists, we have authority to use the equipment.”
“I mean, we in the Army always address by rank, not rate like you special folks in the Navy,” I teased lightheartedly. He gave me a tight smile but didn’t respond, so I continued speaking. “Alright, IS1, tell me what work you and Chief are doing?”
“Trying to find other possible ways of locating the Black Box.” He pulled his lips into a straight line and then looked away. “And running through ideas of who the mole might be plus who paid to have you kidnapped.”
I nodded, inhaling deeply. The anger subsided. “Any leads?”
“Sorry, Scotch, but I can’t exactly discuss that with you.”
“Why not?” And the frustration was back.
“A rat is a pretty sensitive topic and a major accusation. So, Duncan and I are keeping that shit to ourselves and our superior until we have concrete proof or come up empty.”
“So everyone gets to know but me?”
“No, Scottie.” He rose from the bench, his features pulling tight. “Stop making this entire thing about you. Believe it or not, not all of this shit revolves around you.”
“I’m not making it about me!”
“No? Do you hear yourself?! You barged in on my requested alone time to ask why you’re being ignored? Which, as I just explained, I wasn’t ignoring you. I’m working. And then you also came in here to yell at me for hurting you during your vulnerable time. Which, I can’t figure out how I did because I listened to everything you had to say.”
“And then left me without responding!”
“So I didn’t fucking blow up at you, damn it!” he snapped and ran a hand across his face.
I stumbled back a step. “What are you talking about? Why would you get mad at me?”
“I wasn’t mad at you. I wasn’t going to get mad at you. Look, you were assaulted less than a week ago. I didn’t want to minimize your situation, your abuse, because of my personal triggers. So, I walked away just for a moment to gather myself,” he explained.
“Your personal triggers?” I softly questioned, rolling my shoulders up.
He shook his head, the tenderness that would sometimes peak through his hard exterior completely absent. “You specifically said there was no way I could understand.” He closed his eyes. “I find that rather ironic seeing how you’re getting on Reyes and even me for sexist shit all the time.”
“No, Mikey. I didn’t mean it that way. Men can be abused too, I just—”
“Just what?” He glared at me, and it was then that I recognized the pain behind his eyes.
“Just…” I whispered, defeated.
He chuckled, this oddly maniacal laugh. “You think I put these on myself?” He gestured to his torso, at the scars littering his skin turned beautiful by tattoos. “How the fuck do you think I got these burns, Scottie? Putting out fucking cigarettes on myself?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“So, what the hell did you mean when you said that I couldn’t understand? Please, because right now, I need some sort of explanation that will keep me from exploding because I am really working to remain in control of my shit. Jacob is dead. The Black Box is missing. You were kidnapped and assaulted. I can’t find shit, so please. Please give me an explanation because I’m drowning here, Scotch,” he pleaded with me.
Moisture clouded his crazed expression. Every desperate emotion flooded his system, evidence written upon a face that looked so strange to me. Almost childlike yet hardened with a burden that would’ve killed anyone else.
“I know exactly what it’s like Scottie,” he whispered through his teeth. “Except the man who did it to me was my own fucking father.”
“Wh-what?” I gasped, swallowing stiffly as a tear slid down my face. Mixed warm with guilt and shock, I studied Mikey.
His forehead scrunched and ran his palm under his eyes, swiping away the moisture that leaked down his cheeks. “I was eight the first time he came into my room. I had no idea what the hell was going on, and when he was done, he put his cigarette out on my stomach as a warning to me to make sure I didn’t say anything to anyone. First it was once a week, and then it slowly escalated. My mom was always too strung out on drugs or high on shit to know what was happening.”
“Mikey,” I whispered and he looked at me. The mask of strength he wore completely faded away. Nothing but the pain he was drowning in looked back at me.
“Then he invited his buddies over once I started going through puberty around ten or eleven I think. They were fascinated with the fact that I still looked like a boy but they could get me to…you know…” His voice broke and his jaw trembled. Screwing his face up, agony ripped through his body so intensely, every breath of his became strained.
I reached forward. As gently as I could, my hand found his clenched fist, and I slowly unraveled his fingers, trying to offer reassurance.
He violently whipped his head back and forth. “I’ve never told anyone everything before.” He gasped for air, staring unblinking into my eyes.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed stiffly and tightened his hand around mine, and then continued. “One time I ended up in the hospital bleeding. The staff questioned my dad, but he gave them every damn excuse about how I was a curious, horny pre-teen and problem kid. And I was so scared of ending up dead I just didn’t say anything. But what twelve-year-old boy goes straight to ass stuff?” He hiccuped and clacked his teeth together a couple times. “Anyway, that was fucking painful, maybe even more so than the constant wounds he kept reopening on my stomach and back. But there’s a part of me that saw it as a slight blessing, too, because, for whatever reason, after that, I couldn’t get hard for a long, long time. Though that resulted in more beatings, more cigarettes as punishment for not…”
“All of that was your body simply reacting. All of it, Mikey,” I offered.
He nodded, his breathing slowing. “Yeah, I eventually figured that out.” His eyes softened. “I was twenty-two when I saw my first naked girl, and had my first actual relationship. She dumped me right in the middle of us going at it for the first time because I couldn’t get an erection. Despite knowing my dad was dead, I was absolutely terrified of getting hurt again. So, that kind of sucked.”
“It works just fine now,” I teased.
He smiled, the first genuine smile I’d seen on his face. “You’re certainly pleased that it does.”
“And you’re not?”
“Mmmmm.” He inhaled deeply, softly pulled his hand from mine, and sat back down on the bench. “I’m sorry it seemed like I didn’t care. I do.”
My heart swelled with compassion and all anger swept away. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
His eyes darted up to mine, widening. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m trying to minimize your—”
“I know,” I quickly said. Sucking in my bottom lip, I closed my eyes. What a fool I’d been. “I’m really sorry. With how I’ve been reacting to everything.”
“Like how your usual, defensive, stubborn self normally does?” He cocked a brow, smirking.
“You’re an ass, you know that?”
“You like my ass.”
“It is a rather nice one.”
“Ha!” He pointed at me. “You can’t deny it now. You’ve checked me out.”
I nodded. “More than once.”
Mikey inhaled deeply again and tipped his head sideways, not quite registering my blunt statement or choosing to ignore it. “Feels nice now that someone else knows.”
“Same,” I replied, and he gave me a gentle smile. “How do you live with all of that, though?”
A deep chuckle reverberated from his chest. His shoulders rose with his inhale. “Why do you think I got into fights and shit all the time growing up?”
“For the control that you have to have, obviously,” I teased.
He shook his head, the smile falling from his face. “Because I was too weak to pull the damn trigger myself, Scottie.”
My breath caught in my throat. The man before me, stronger than the greatest lion and larger than life, once thought death was better than being here. “What?” I softly gasped.
Mikey drew his hands together and started picking at his already extremely short fingernails. “I knew better than to get into drugs and alcohol. I mean, for fuck’s sake, I watched it kill my parents. But I still did anyway. On top of fighting, of all the anger and resentment I had for myself, I just kept getting in deeper and deeper.” He stopped talking and raised his gaze to mine, a world of memories swirling like moonlight dancing across the ocean waves. “All because I wanted out. Out of the shit show that happened to be my life. But for whatever reason, my body was too fucking stubborn to kick the bucket despite the hell I put it through and here we are.”
“Oh, Mikey,” I whispered and stepped toward him.
He put a hand up, halting me in my path. “I don’t want your pity, Scotch.”
“Pity is not what I’m feeling.”
“Then what are you feeling?”
“That I’m proud of you.”
His eyes widened. Confusion swept across his face and goosebumps rose on his skin as he lowered his hand. “You’re what?”
My heart swelled. “You see it as being weak, but I see you being unable to take your own life as strength.” I paused as he rose to his feet and stepped toward me, closing the gap between us.
Warmth swept across my body, and it took everything in me to keep my eyes trained on his face; to keep my hands from raising to roam across his body. The scent of his sweat mixed with a hint of sand danced across my pores. I wanted to drown in the smell of him.
“And I’m fucking glad you’re still here; otherwise, you would’ve never met me,” I quickly added, trying to hide the heat that rose to my cheeks.
He lifted his usual cocky-ass brow. “And what a shame that would’ve been.”
“Exactly.” I grinned, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. Calloused fingers suddenly brushed across my ear, stopping my heart in my chest. His touch burned like a jolt of lightning sent down from Zeus himself.
“I like it, by the way,” I whispered.
He furrowed his brows, letting his hand linger against my cheek. “You like…what?”
“Your tattoos. The one on your shoulder is fucking cool with the whole Cerberus, three-headed dog thing, and then the ones on your thighs, but the ones on your stomach and lower back. I like them a lot, it’s unique to only have tattoos there,” I explained.
An arrogant grin rose on his face, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re just saying that to find an excuse to touch my abs, aren’t you?”
“Do I need an excuse?” I openly flirted, and his eyebrows twitched in shock.
“You’re getting really bold, yet I thought you were against anything happening.”
“I’m gonna go shower now,” I replied and stepped back. Not exactly denying but also not agreeing with what he said because I was still technically against anything happening.
Wasn’t I…?