Saving Emmy by Rayne Lewis
Chapter 18
It had been a grueling four days in Lebanon. The team worked seamlessly and got the three diplomatic aid workers back on US soil. The rebels holding them were amateur, at best. Chaotic, undisciplined and unplanned. The team referred to missions like this as drive thrus. Pull up, find what you want, get what you need, and home in a flash. All in a quick and efficient, timely manner.
The guys gathered their personal gear in their cages after returning their rifles and sidearms to the basement armory. All weapons and gear were turned in and logged by staff. Inventory of damaged or broken weapons and gear had to be up to date so Mary could order any necessary and needed items and replacements before the next mission.
King never skimped on tacticals. Any mods or specialty orders the guys needed or requested to make their job easier and more efficient, King would gladly supply them. He knew having the appropriate tools to make the job more efficient could mean the difference between living and dying; between bringing his brothers home whole or bringing them home beneath a flag. Slate knew King never let money stand between his guys’ ability to carry out a mission and succeed. Slate appreciated that King knew how hard it was when you didn’t have the equipment needed. In the military, they were supplied with what the DOD thought they needed. Even though Special Forces got a highly padded budget for the latest and greatest weapons and gear, it wasn’t always available when they needed it. And, the hoops needed to jump through to get it was a mind fuck. Sometimes it was easier to go without than to go through the grind to get what you needed. King wasn’t going to put his men through that. The guys wouldn’t request things they didn’t deem necessary, and anything he could give them to make a mission successful, he never balked. Although, Trip’s request for the M1A2C Abrams tank was a bit of a stretch and above budget. Mission success of the last op had the guys on a high and the usual banter, bullshit and barbs were being slung amongst the guys when T came into the room.
“Holy hell! Smells like shit in here.” T wrinkled his nose at the smell of sweat, BO and some indescribable foul, rank, stank hanging in the air. None of the guys had gotten to the shower yet, and they had a four-day funk on them.
Arctic was the first to pipe up, “Some of us have been doing men’s work and smell like men, while others,” he nodded to T-BAR, “have been doing delicate pansy-ass work and smell like roses.” Arctic strode up and gave him a light sniff. “New bath bomb fragrance, or is your tampon scented?” The guys erupted in laughter.
T gave him a half-hearted gut check, and Arctic doubled over even though he was laughing the whole time.
“Do you need me to pull the string so you can change into a new one?” Cypher was on the other side of the room, and T hit him with a glare that had the guys laughing harder.
“Fuck off...all of you.” He gave the finger around the room to each of his brothers.
Slate was the first to notice. “Hey, where’s the pirate patch?” He pointed at his own eye.
“Got it taken off this afternoon.”
“And…” The room went silent waiting for T to elaborate.
“And, what?”
“What do you mean, ‘And, what?’ Can you see?”
“How many fingers am I holding up?” Cy held up his middle finger.
T laughed and said, “The same one I used on your momma last night.”
Laughter and ribbings wafted throughout the room at Cypher’s expense.
Cy held up both fingers and sent two birds in T’s direction.
“Yup, that’s right, she especially likes double penetration.” T-BAR braced for impact as Cy barreled at him from across the room. “She loves it so much, now you can call me daddy!” T egged him on, getting him riled.
Cypher crashed into him, sending T back against the wall. “You motherfucker!” Cy was laughing as he pummeled his friend, and it felt good to T to be back with his team.
“Acknowledging it is the first step.” T played off Cy’s poor choice of vulgarity.
The guys couldn’t stop the roar of laughter that poured throughout the crew. After four days of little sleep, heat, sweat and travel, it felt good to just be themselves.
King entered the room and stopped dead in his tracks catching a whiff of the funk hanging in the room. “What the fuck?” His booming voice had everyone coming to a halt. His head pulled back and his face crinkled, “My God, smells like a cheap whore’s motel room on a spring break weekend: Sweat, tang and shame. Showers, all of you!”
That put the guys over the top. The ruckus was so loud, Mary stuck her head in the doorway, concern written on her face and Ember right beside her. “What in the world is going on—” Her words cut short as she covered her nose with her hand.
Ember did the same. “Oh, my God! You boys reek!”
The guys continued spewing laughter at the girl’s antics.
“Hold up, all of you!” King’s voice brought the room to silence. “Where’s your patch?” King pointed to T.
“Don’t need it. Vision’s back.”
“Back completely?” King asked.
“Not completely. Not yet, at least, but I can see out of it. Blurry as fuck, but it’s better than darkness.”
Mary’s lip quivered and she looked like she was about to cry, when King pulled her into his barreled chest.
“No shit? You really gonna be able to see?”
“You getting back on the team?”
“How long before you're back?”
The questions came from all around the room.
T spoke in King’s direction, “I hope to be back in the field as soon as this heals.”
King nodded. “Any idea of a time frame?”
“Not yet. Have another appointment at the end of the week. Hope they can give me a better idea of where I’m at by then.”
“Can’t wait to get you back.” King reached with his free hand and gave him a pat on the back. “The rest of you, showers!” He motioned his thumb over his shoulder towards the door.
“That includes you, too!” Mary scolded King, pushing off his chest. “You’re as ripe as them.” Pinching her nose, she pointed to the door just as he did to the team.
King grinned, “Yes, dear.” He gave her a peck on the lips then turned to the door, ushering his wife before him, and the rest of the guys cleared the room behind them.
* * *
Slate stayed in his cage and continued to empty his bag.
“Not gonna hit the showers?” Ember blocked the entrance, hanging onto each side of the cage and wrinkled her nose.
Slate drank her in, his eyes perusing her perfectly toned body. “That bad, huh?”
She fanned her face and shook her head. “Not as bad as the rest.”
“Four-day funk. Not the most appealing way to say welcome home, huh?”
“As long as you're safely back home, I don’t care what you smell like.”
“Really?” Slate took a few steps to meet her, closing the gap between them.
The air shifted. An almost electric mood moved throughout the room.
Her words softened. “I’m glad you're back.”
“Would’ve been sooner, but you know how things go.”
Ember reached out, lacing her arms around his neck, not caring he needed to hit the showers. The movement was anything but conscious, and Slate rested his hands on her flared hips.
“I was worried this time. I worry every time, but this time was more nerve-wracking than most. I think it was because I knew T wasn’t at your six.”
“Creed had me covered.”
“But, I don’t know the new guy. I know T, and I know he’s brought you home to me every time. New guy,” she shook her head, “...gotta build trust in him to know he’ll bring you back to me.”
Slate settled his weight, pulling her closer. “I’ll always come back to you, Red. Always. Forever.”
Their lips gravitated towards each other, a hair's width apart, allowing every word to be felt as their breaths mingled. Somehow, throughout their conversation, a magnetic pull brought them together. Her breasts heaved with every inhale, and her felt her nipples pucker beneath her bra, rubbing against his chest.
“Eli.” His name blessed the wisp of her breath.
“Emmy.”
Their lips brushed across one another, once then twice, and the heat of their names splayed across their flesh. An electric arc sparked between the gap of their parted lips. He fisted her hair, tangling it between his fingers, the silky strands knotting within his grip. He used the knotted strands to tilt her head to his liking and she arched, rising onto her toes, making the distance between them nonexistent when he pulled her flush against him.
“Red, I want you. I need you so damn bad…” It was a breathy decree met by a soft mewing from the back of her throat. His tongue licked the seam of her lips and she opened slightly, her tongue tantalizing as it met his.
“Your cell’s been ring—” Mary’s voice hitched.
The intrusion broke the fogged haze encompassing them, and Ember stepped back, dropping her arms from around his neck, causing Slate to hesitantly loosen his grip. Her locks tumbled free.
Awkwardness hit the room.
“Oh my...I’m...ah...I’m so sorry. You left it on my desk.” Before Mary could finish the apology, Ember’s phone peeled out a familiar ringtone. Mary held it up, her wide-eyed stare volleying between her two friends. The phone’s incessant ring now seemed obnoxiously loud in the silence that hung heavy.
“I should get that.” Ember’s voice quaked, and she stepped away from Slate.
She took it from Mary but the ringing fell dead. She stared down at it like it could give her the answers as to what the hell just happened. Slate watched her nibble her thumbnail, a nervous tendency. She looked up and locked eyes with him, her brows knitted with the questions she was about to ask. “Eli. I—”
“Emmy—” He could still taste her angel breath on his own. The very breath he’d felt whisper to him, night after night, in his dreams.
She looked at him with pleading eyes while bewilderment spread across her face. Before he could stop her, she disappeared from the room with the words she didn’t say. He wanted to call her back, but the words were gone along with the moment. As was she.
Slate closed his eyes and dropped his head. A millimeter more, a second sooner, and he could have laid claim to his heart’s most wanted desire.
His Red.
“I’m so sorry.” Mary’s soft voice lifted Slate from his anguish. “I had no idea...” her words trailed off.
He held up a hand and shook his head, telling her it wasn’t her fault, which she seemed to understand. He pursed his lips into a flat line, rolling them between his teeth.
Slate saw the anguish in her eyes, and though it was no fault of her own, he knew she still felt terrible for breaking their moment. She gave him a stiff smile then turned and left the room.
He closed his eyes, punishing himself for taking too long. Opportunity missed by his own hesitation to tell Ember the truth.
He wanted to be hers.
* * *
MARY:WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?
EMBER:I don’t know.
MARY:What do you mean, you don’t know?
EMBER:Exactly what I mean. I. DON’T. KNOW!
MARY:Where are you?
EMBER:Bathroom.
MARY:Going? Or Hiding?
EMBER:Both.
MARY:You need me to come in there?
EMBER:No.
MARY:You need to get out of here?
EMBER:YES.
MARY:Need a drink?
EMBER:YES.
MARY:Bar or house?
EMBER:House.
MARY:Yours or Mine?
EMBER:Yours.
MARY:I’ll tell King I'm leaving.
EMBER:DO NOT tell him why!
MARY:Gotcha!
EMBER:Mare?
MARY:Yup?
EMBER:Will King give T a ride home?
MARY:Sure. We taking your truck?
EMBER:Yup. Meet you out front in five.
MARY:Coolio!
Ember sat in the bathroom stall leaning against the cool metal. Stupid, stupid, stupid! What the hell had come over her? That was the million-dollar question.
One minute, she was welcoming him home, and the next—Oh, God—next she was about to welcomehim home like she never had before. Confusion ran rampant through her mind. Why did it feel so good? So, right? Did I come on to him, or did he come on to me? What the fuck! She was so embarrassed; so confused. This was wrong. Absolutely wrong. Then, why did she tingle all the way to her core? Why did her vajayjay flame with fire? Not just fire, but an inferno. A raging inferno.
This is Eli.She didn’t want to face him. Definitely didn’t want to face the rest of the guys. One look and they’d know what had happened. Thank God for Maven’s perfect timing. Her untimely phone call saved her from the sheer disaster of making a monumental mistake. Remember last time he kissed you? God, her mind was like a damn Dr. Phil episode. Question. Answer. Explore your thoughts. She needed a drink...and her girls. This was a clusterfuck she couldn’t unravel by herself. She pulled her head from the cool, metal wall of the stall and huffed in exasperation. You’re so screwed, Em!
* * *
“You’re so screwed, Em!” Maven was not helpful at all.
“I didn’t invite you over to tell me what I already know. I invited you over so you could tell me how to un-fuck myself!” Ember crossed her arms over the kitchen table and thumped her head against them.
“Margarita?” Mary brought the pitcher over and topped off Maven’s glass.
Ember didn’t lift her head but said, “Keep ‘em coming.”
Mary topped off Ember’s glass then poured herself one from a different pitcher. “No fair. You get the happy juice, and I get the virg-arita.”
Maven piped up without missing a beat, “Because, if you’d stayed a virgin you could join in margaritas with us. Not my fault King had to deflower you, manhandle you, and put his big ol’ cock—”
“Hello, ladies!” King rounded the corner and entered the kitchen, causing Maven to halt mid-sentence. He bent down and planted a steamy kiss on Mary’s lips not caring it was in front of company. Mary gave as good as he got, assaulting her husband’s mouth. Definitely not PG, but just short of X-rated. Then, he crouched and placed a chaste kiss on Mary’s flat belly. “Maven. Ember.” King greeted them as if he hadn’t heard Maven’s outcry of deflowering and big cocks.
Maven smiled at him, not one bit of embarrassment crossing her face. Matter of fact, she threw King a wink and took a sip from the salted rim of her glass. King shook his head and headed to the refrigerator.
He spoke while perusing the shelves, addressing Maven. “Honey, I deflowered my wife long before she was carrying our child and long before we said, ‘I do.’”
Maven gave Mary two thumbs up and threw wide eyes as if to congratulate her on the accomplishment. Mary mimicked her husband's lead and shook her head at the Maven-ish antics. Maven had no tact and pulled no punches. It was one of the many things Ember loved about her.
Ember hoped King wouldn’t linger. She didn’t want him to know what they were talking about; what they were here to discuss. The last thing she wanted was King to know how desperate she’d become to come on to Elijah. To know that they were microseconds away from forever changing their relationship. Letting some mysterious draw lead them to a place unknown, undiscovered and unable to be pulled from the brink. King was like a big brother to her, and she didn’t want him knowing anything about her non-existent love life.
“So, you and Slate, huh?”
Ember about fell out of her chair.
King spoke from inside the refrigerator, his head buried deep inside so his voice was muffled, but Ember clearly didn’t hear him wrong. He knew.
“Finally.” He pulled out what seemed to be four different sandwich meats and a jar of Miracle Whip. Then, strategically balancing them below his bearded chin, he reached back in for a pack of cheese slices and a cold beer.
Ember hoped she’d been transported to another dimension where only that dimensional King knew what had happened. Maven pushed Ember’s drink closer to her and mouthed the words, Drink up. Ember gladly did, taking two big gulps, wishing the alcohol would hurry up and carry her out of her misery. She shot Mary a look, telepathically asking her if she had told King. Mary, knowing Ember well, shook her head no, giving her widened eyes to emphasize she didn’t tell a single soul. The room grew silent. No one said a word.
Of course, silence never lasted long when Maven was around, so she just blurted out what they were all thinking. “So, who told you these two were playing tonsil tennis and seven-minutes-in-heaven in Slate’s cage?”
Ember could have killed her. The look she threw her were daggers. Huge, pointy, kill you, daggers. Maven just smiled, winked at her, and nonchalantly sipped her ‘rita.
“Cameras.”
“What?” All three voices rang from the table causing King to laugh.
Mary’s voice took on a knowing, “Ohhhh, cameras.”
“Cameras?” Ember needed to know what cameras he was talking about.
King busied himself making his sandwich that had enough meat on it to feed a third-world country. “Security feed.” He took a single bite of the “meatwich,” making half of it disappear and continued speaking around the mouthful. “Got them throughout the building, Except bathrooms and locker rooms.” He took another bite leaving only a morsel of crust and washed it down with a long swig of his beer. “But, I do have cameras pointing at the entrances of the bathrooms and locker rooms. That’s the place most criminals hide if they would ever be so stupid as to break into a joint.”
Ember put her head back down to the oak table. “FML. Just F.M.L.”
Maven refilled her own glass from the pitcher and topped off Ember’s as well. “Need more ‘rita!” She said to no one in particular.
Mary grabbed the pitcher and headed to the blender to make another batch. “Like anyone’s dumb enough to break into Hellforce, babe.”
“Stupider things have happened.” King said, making himself a second sandwich.
“Yeah, like Em and Eli sucking face in a public place when they don’t want anyone to know.” Maven laughed and brought her drink to her lips.
Ember’s head flew up. She grabbed Maven’s glass mid-sip, sloshing some of the cold beverage onto the tabletop. “Stop! Enough.”
“My ‘rita.” Maven looked like a kid who’d dropped an ice cream cone.
“We didn’t kiss, suck face, tonsil hockey — ”
“Tonsil tennis,” Maven corrected her.
If looks could kill, Maven would’ve been six-feet under. Ember wasn’t playing. She was pissed.
“Whatever. The fuck. You call it. It didn’t happen!”
Maven was about to say something, when King saved Ember from wrapping her hands around her best friend’s throat and strangling her if she dared to utter another syllable.
“It almost happened.” King quipped.
Ember took a long pull of her margarita, needing all the liquid courage she could muster to get through her embarrassment. “So, who all knows? Who’d you tell?” She took another pull, making half the glass disappear.
“Didn’t tell anyone.” King finished making a second sandwich and put the ingredients back into the refrigerator.
Ember breathed a sigh of relief, thankful none of the other guys knew about the “almost kiss.”
Mary returned to the table with the new round of drinks, filling the glasses without even asking. “See, your secret’s safe. No one else knows besides King.”
“Didn’t say that.” King devoured the rest of his sandwich. “I said, I didn’t tell anyone. Not that no one else knows.”
Ember buried her head in her arms again and let out a guttural groan.
Mary asked the question everyone was dying to ask. “Who else knows?”
King placed his plate in the sink and wiped the crumbs off the counter. “Don’t know for sure, but Slate and Cy were in his office when I left. Both clammed up when I stuck my head in to tell them I was leaving.”
“So, Eli told Cy?” Ember asked.
“Don’t know, but you can’t blame him.”
That got Ember’s hackles up. Why couldn’t she blame him for telling Cypher something so personal, even before they had a chance to talk it out amongst themselves? And, she proceeded to tell King her thoughts on the matter. “He shouldn’t be discussing something so personal with—”
King raised an eyebrow, the way only King could. His face could say a thousand words, without him uttering one.
Fuck!
King nodded.
Eli was confiding in Cy, his best friend, the same way she was confiding in Maven and Mary—which at the moment, she was having second thoughts about doing so. Man, the decision-making part of her brain must be off-kilter today. She held up her hands in capitulation. “You're right, I can’t be mad. But, can I at least be humiliated?”
Maven jumped back into the conversation and gave a stitch or two of wisdom. “Why be humiliated? Not like it’s some random stranger you hooked up with at the grocery store or local laundromat. It’s Eli.” Maven swiped a bit of salt from the rim of her glass and licked her finger.
“Exactly! It’s Eli! My best friend, Eli.” Ember’s voice rose an octave, coming out shrill and forced.
Maven pushed her own drink to the side and pinned Ember with a dubious stare. “Are you fuckin’ serious?”
Ember was taken aback by her tone which was saying a lot, because not too many things Maven did shocked her anymore.
Seeing Ember wasn’t tracking, she said, “Look honey, I love you. Known you for too many years not to be honest with you. I’ve waited around, hoping you would finally come to your senses and figure it out, but I don’t see that ship sailing anywhere near the horizon.”
Ember sat confused, not sure what her bestie was laying out.
“Don’t say a word. God only knows you’ll talk yourself in circles, and you still won’t be anywhere near the truth that’s staring you point blank in the face.”
Ember opened her mouth.
“Naw, uhh, uhhh, uhhh. Close your trap. Fill the gap. Here,” Maven shoved Ember’s drink in her face. “Sit back, sista, ’cuz it’s gonna be cold hard truths from here on out.”
Ember searched for a lifeline, hoping to find one in Mary, but she was wrapped in King’s arms, her back to his chest, his hands around her flat belly, caressing their baby. Both gave her raised brows with unsympathetic smirks across their faces.
Oh, shit!Whatever was coming, she had no allies.
She was screwed.