Page 29 of The Arrangement

I laughed and released him. Seriously, too adorable for public consumption. Why did I get the impression he didn’t fully comprehend all that casual statement implied? “Unless you’re planning to add a lot of other things to what I listed, I think movies, pizza, and beer are enough for one night.”

“Okay, yeah. That sounds like fun. Haven’t had one of those in a—” He narrowed his eyes at me and altered what he was going to say, “in a while. Not since I enlisted.” He turned to go into the bedroom, for once not insisting I go first, then looked at me with a cautious expression. “What about, uh, kisses? Could some of those maybe be added to the list?”

I smiled at how unbearably sweet he was and stepped forward to place a small kiss on the tip of his nose. “Baby boy, you can have as many kisses as you want.” Cautious hope glowed in his eyes. “Now go get cleaned up while I order the pizza.”

The tightness that had wrapped around my chest from the moment we’d set foot in the apartment finally eased at his returned smile. I waited for him to turn completely around before pinching his ass, because at the end of the day, I was still me and, even though he shot me a glare, I knew he enjoyed the teasing.

He was almost to his door when I called, “And Marc?” He looked back at me, and I was relieved to only see curiosity in his eyes. “Don’t forget to wash your hands.” I winked, and he rolled his eyes.

“You think you’resofunny,” he muttered to himself.

I snickered, but let him have it.

As many times as it was explained to me, I’d never understand why the US got involved in politics in the Middle East. At this point, I’d heard it all—danger to the US, danger to themselves, nukes, no nukes, regime changes, something about oil—it all sounded made up. I was certain my brother Andy could lay it all out in thirty seconds or less, but that was a moot point now as sand blasted in my face.

God, I fucking hated working in sandstorms, even if this one was mild compared to others we’d had to work in. They never fucking stayed that way. Out here, nature was as much the enemy as the insurgents. And they were both pissed as hell about the American boots on the ground.

The wind picked up, sand-blasting every millimeter of exposed skin. On cue, explosions rocked the ground. Thankfully, we’d anticipated this. So far our intel was holding. I should have known, like the storm, it wouldn’t last. We came to a ridge dotted with broken rocks. Maybe they’d once been part of some ancient structure, maybe they were just rocks. Either way, they were cover, even if it was poor cover at best.

I waved for most of the team to hold back while my second and I worked our way to the top where we both pulled out our binoculars. “What do you got, MacAbee?” I asked, looking down at the same structures as she was.

“This wasn’t part of our intel,” she replied in her typical crisp tone. She continued to survey what appeared to be a small village below. “Looks like it’s been abandoned for a while from what I can tell. Though it’s not easy with all this damn sand.”

I hummed to myself. If it were, it would explain why it hadn’t made it into our intel. Still, I didn’t like it. Our guys didn’t generally leave things to chance. Even this ridge was in the intel, so why wasn’t the village? Something wasn’t right. “What do you think?”

MacAbee lowered her binoculars. “Ambush, maybe?” The sharp look of concern in her brown eyes told me she felt it too. This was the nightmare. Our intel had been compromised, and there was no telling where in the chain of command it had happened, not when you were the last ones receiving it.

I nodded and pointed back down to where the others were waiting. We’d barely turned when a high-pitched whine filled the air and suddenly we were thrown violently from the ridge. Ihit the ground below hard enough to lose the air from my lungs. Screams of agony filled the air. I scrambled for my weapon, but only found soft sand. Then I came face-to-face with the vacant eyes of Corporal Abigail MacAbee. Half her torso was gone. She’d never laugh again or rib the guys about being terrible at poker. Never hold her four-year-old son again. And why?

“Sergeant!”

My hand closed around my Cold Steel SRK and I swivelled effortlessly into a fighting stance. Disorientation hit me hard. The sandstorm was gone, though the memory of it lingered and my visibility was nil. When had it gotten dark? And it was a lot cooler. Too cool. Was I not in the desert anymore?

“Sergeant Gallagher.”

I turned toward the shadowed source of the voice, knife at the ready. “Name and rank, soldier.”

“Specialist Weathers, sir. Logistics.”

Why did that sound familiar? I shook my head. I could worry about it later. Mid-mission gone FUBAR was not the time. “Report. What are you doing here?”

The shadow stepped closer, and I tensed. “Back from reconnaissance. Hostiles have been subdued.” I winced as a soft yellow light suddenly flooded the soldier’s features.

Then I remembered why I thought I knew him. He’d been smiling the first time I’d seen him in passing on base. God, I’d never seen anyone so stunning in my life. He was that kind of beautiful only country boys ever seemed to be. It had taken me two weeks to learn his name. When I found out he and his unit had been taken captive, I’d moved mountains to find them. I frowned, my confusion multiplying. “Specialist Marc Weathers?”

“Yessir.”

I stumbled a step back and grabbed my head, prompting Spec. Weathers to lurch forward. “No. No. I… got you out. I wasn’ttoo late. They didn’t touch you. I wouldn’t let them touch you.” I wasn’t a religious man, but I’d prayed for days that he’d been too out of it to remember the way those men had looked at him, how they’d talked about his pretty face and the things they wanted to do to it. He’d been beaten pretty badly by the time my team got there, but there hadn’t been any evidence of other types of assault on any of his teammates. Not the ones that were still alive.

“You did. You got me out. You got us all out.” He stepped closer, and I realized he wasn’t in his gear but in boxers and a plain t-shirt.

I shook my head. But I didn’t get them all out. “Marc?”

“I’m right here. You got me out.” He took another step closer, both hands held out in front where I could easily see them. “You’re in Fairhope, Alabama. You’re safe.” There was a small whine that might have come from me, given the way his eyes softened. “I’m safe.” Another step closer. He extended a hand. “Can you give me the knife, JD?”

I looked from his kind face to his open hand. No bruises, no marks, no cave, no desert.

“James, please give me the knife.”