Breaking Article 134 Ch. 08

The jangling ring of the phone woke me up a few hours later. "Hello?" I rubbed my face and tried not to yawn.

"Are you okay?"

I frowned and rubbed my face again. "Sir?"

"Yes. Are you okay?"

I could hear the sounds of people behind him. He was in a store or something. "I fractured my foot, sir."

He muttered something. "What'd they do?"

"Put it in a cast. How'd you get this number, sir?"

"Are you on Quarters?"

"No, sir. Don't call me again."

"Remember the arrangement we made?"

"Arrangement, sir?"

"For the weekend." He sounded a little bit nervous about saying it out loud.

I gave the wall a paint-blistering glare and sat up. "Fuck you, sir."

"You belong to me, private." His voice was pitched low, husky and fervent.

I met that pronouncement with dead silence.

"And I belong to you."

The tears gathered in my eyes. It felt like my heart was breaking all over again. Gawddamn that bastard. "Don't do this to me, sir. I'm not a toy."

"I need you."

I felt like whimpering. My head pounded. "Stop it, sir." I was ashamed of my breathless, broken voice.

"I can't. Meet me, like we agreed."

"I can't do that, sir."

There was silence for a few moments, then he took a deep, shuddering breath. His voice was as broken as mine. "I understand."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and called myself all kinds of stupid. I would never know what possessed me to give in. "I can't drive, sir. I broke my right foot."

"Oh." He thought for a few moments, I could hear his wheels grinding, even over the phone. "Be in the parking lot in twenty minutes. You pick the spot."

"Sir, that's dangerous, there's people everywhere."

"I trust you, private," he murmured, then quietly hung up the phone.

I found myself in the back corner of the parking lot, by the dumpsters, on the pretext of taking out trash. The Porsche wheeled through the lot, cruising slowly. It passed me once, then drove around again. The door swung open just as he stopped. I slipped inside, scrunching down uncomfortably, and slammed the door shut behind me. He jolted the car with too hard of a tromp on the gas. I had to wait about twenty more minutes before he let me sit up.

The drive to the cabin seemed to take longer this time. Perhaps it was the anticipation. Perhaps it was the anger. Perhaps is was the fact that my foot was killing me and the Porsche didn't have enough leg room to get comfortable in with that damned cast.

He parked the Porsche in its usual spot and shut off the engine. I stared at the dashboard and he stared grimly through the windshield. Neither of us moved for an endless minute. The tension was thick as the proverbial pea soup until it almost choked me. I threw the door open before I suffocated and maneuvered my legs out. I fought with the crutches until the Major came around and tried to help me. Then I fought with him over the damned crutches.

The tug-of-war irritated him if his expression was anything to go by. I wasn't that happy about it myself. "Knock it off, Wright. Give me the crutches."

"I don't need your help, sir." I jerked at the crutches. He yanked them out of my hands and threw them across the grass behind him.

"Shit. Give me your arm, I'll help you onto the porch."

"I'd rather--"

He caught my wrist and pulled me out of the Porsche. It was either move with him and stand on my good foot or fall at his feet. I teetered for a moment, then found my balance well enough to start jerking on my wrist. He ignored that and used his leverage to haul me against his chest and wrap his arms around me. My nose slapped into hard muscle and his cheek tucked against my hair.

Before I could make heads or tails of that, he let go and fetched my crutches. I eyed him suspiciously for a moment before accepting them. What was the man up to? I tucked the padding under my pits and hobbled across the yard to the porch. Negotiating that was a nightmare; the boards were uneven. He hovered behind me the entire way, something that I found wildly irritating.

We both reached for the doorknob at the same time. I slapped at his hand. "I'm not broken! I can get out of a fucking car and I can open a fucking door without you breathing down my neck, sir!"

"That wasn't very ladylike." He might have been telling me the color of the grass with all the inflection he used.

I picked the couch and sprawled on it, dropping my crutches on the floor without a thought for them. I stuck my cast onto the arm across from me with a grimace and let out a sigh all the way from my toes. He took a seat in the chair near my feet so I couldn't avoid looking at him if my eyes were open. With all the thoughts of the hurt I'd felt in the last week marching inexorably around in my head, the last person I wanted to look at was him. Shutting my eyes was too cowardly, so I settled for staring directly at him.

"How is your leg?"

"It hurts, sir. What the fuck did you think it would feel like?"

"Are you in a bad mood or is it just me?"

I glared at him and crossed my arms under my chest belligerently. How stupid a question was that.

"Look, Wright, I know I said some things that hurt, but I did what I thought was best. We are in deep kimchi over this, soldier. Mendez knows. Someone else will figure it out."

"No one told you to call me, sir."

"I can't stay away from you, Wright. I'm not going to drag you down with me."

"Fuck." I shoved my face into my hands and rubbed it. He brought me all the way out here to tell me we were in trouble. I already knew that. "It's too late for that, sir."

His hand swept over my hair and cradled my jaw. I jerked--I hadn't heard him move--and yelped in pain. "Wright, you need to be more careful."

"I already figure that out, sir." I hated that pouting sound I made. I wanted to snatch the words back.

"If I kissed you, would you bite my tongue off?"

Startled, I met his eyes. I shouldn't let him. "No, sir." Shy. I sounded shy, that was worse than pouting. The smile flashed through his eyes, but I didn't see it on his mouth. His lips slipped below my line of sight and onto mine.

I didn't know what to believe anymore. The perfectly orderly world I'd crafted for myself had spun topsy-turvy and he'd made things even worse. Everything he'd done so far belied that morning in his office. Even his tongue tracing the seam of my lips screamed that he'd lied. But, I didn't trust him. What if those words were the only truth he'd told me? What if he was just using me?

I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned my head away from him. I was no one's whore. "I have to go to the latrine, sir."

"Wright?"

"Latrine, sir."

He heaved a sigh and pulled himself away from me. I closed my eyes. "Wright?" His voice was as heavy as my heart. "Do you trust me?"

Why did he have to ask that? If I told the truth it would hurt him. If I told a lie it would hurt me. He was making me choose. I pushed myself upright, swinging my legs carefully to the floor to buy some time. I maneuvered my crutches into position and hoisted myself to my feet. The dizzying rush of pain from my foot gave me a moments reprieve. But only a moment. I stared him square in the eye, planning some prevarication. I couldn't lie, even if it hurt him, I just couldn't lie to him. I didn't want to see the havoc my honesty would create, so I beat an ignominious retreat to the bathroom.

You can only dwaddle in a bathroom so long before someone comes pounding on the door. Reluctantly, I flushed the toilet and drew out the act of washing my hands. I could hear him breathing on the other side of the door, feel the caged animal pacing through the thick wood. My tiger was aroused.

I hobbled through the door, refusing to look at him. His eyes slid over me, demanding contact. I watched the floor instead, delicately picking my way to the couch again. I should have stayed in the barracks and nursed my broken heart. I should have done anything else but this.

"Wright."

I decided to demand that he take me home. Maybe I could even get up the nerve to embarrass myself and tell the colonel that I'd fallen in love with a member of my chain of command and sincerely needed to move before there was any trouble.

"Wright."

I looked up, finally gathering courage. I had never seen such naked fear and pain on anyone's face before. He looked like I felt. Hollowed and haunted, his eyes searched mine as if he were looking for a pardon the moment before the execution of his death sentence.

"Sir?"

"I need you, Wright."

What woman could resist that? Certainly I couldn't. Not that and not from him. But the awful fear of manipulation was a pretty strong fighter. Need or need to play with? I rubbed my face, anything to avoid looking into his eyes. "Don't do this to me, Sir."

"Shit."

I heaved a sigh that swallowed a whimper and shifted my leg. The answering stab of pain made it a little easier to bear.

"I had to say that."

"No one had a gun to your head." I used my hands to shift my leg a bit more. "Sir."

"You did."

I couldn't help it. I met his gaze with wide, shocked eyes. "Me?"

"You." He shifted in his seat, obviously uncomfortable. "To protect you." He gave me a look so dangerously intense I swallowed my immediate denial. "No one is ever going to hurt you.Ever. You'remine."

The tears threatened and that pissed me off. "You hurt me!" I yelled. "Sir!"

"I had to." His voice was ground meat. "To protect you."

"Bullshit! You took the easy way out. You used me!"

He sucked in a breath, his nostrils flaring like a bull's. "You don't trust me."

I clamped my jaws shut and looked away.

"Wright, it's not what you think."

I didn't say anything. My throat locked up around a stinging lump of anger and my eyes felt suddenly dry.

"We could go to jail for this.Dishonorable discharge."

My teeth ground together and the desert behind my eyelids began to throb.

"I thought that if you hated me, Mendez would leave you alone."

I wanted to throw myself to my feet and pace around; I hated being confined to the couch. "I haven't been in junior high for a long time, sir. You could try treating me like I have a fucking brain!"

He glared at me, stone-faced. "It would help if you'd use your fucking brain."

I wanted to hit him, but he was too far away. "All right, sir, I'll use myfucking brain."

"Don't use that tone of voice with me, private."

"Why me, sir?"

"What?"

"Why did you decide to pick me? There's dozens of lower enlisted females around the company that you could have gotten your jollies with. What made me the," I tired not bare my teeth, I really did, "lucky girl, sir?"

That almost shut him up. He surged to his feet, his powerful jaws grinding together, and clenched his fists. "Did it ever occur to you that I just might like you?"

I snorted and rolled my eyes. "Puh-leeze, I'm not stupid. You just don't jeopardize a career and risk going to jail for like, sir. You didn't even know me well enough to like me. Youstill don't. Try telling the fucking truth."

It was his turn to look away with a dirty glare. "I like you."

Oh my gawd that was fucking weak. "You thought I was a stupid hick and I'd be easy to manipulate. Oh, just tell the dumb, country girl what she wants to hear and she's flat on her back with legs spread and a drooling, come-hither smile. You ain't the first fuckhead to think that and you won't be the last." I gave him a completely contemptuous look. "Sir."

"I goddamned well better be the last!" he roared, shaking the entire cabin.

I cross my arms and stared at the floor, miffed. "You do think I'm stupid, sir."

I could hear his teeth grinding, even from all the way over here. "I don't think you're stupid. I don't like fucking stupid people."

"I don't like fucking assholes, sir."

He shoved his hand through the short hair on his head and stared at me like my father once did when he caught me playing with matches in the barn. I was eight then, and thoroughly intimidated. Now, though, I was just too angry.

"I got scared, okay? They can really hurt us if they found out."

"Right, sir. Then why did you call me?"

"I had to make sure you were okay."

"Then why did you bring me here, sir?"

"If you hate me so much, why did you come?"

Oh bullshit if he thought he'd turn it around on me. I gave him my frostiest glare; the same glare my mother gave my father when he came home from the sale barn and tried to pretend he hadn't just bought three more horses that we didn't need. The same glare that always melted into a wry, loving, little smile whenever he wasn't looking. Well, fuck if I'd melt. I crossed my arms under my breasts and stiffened my spine for good measure.

Mr. Perfect Manners slumped in his chair and sighed like an old hound dawg dropping onto the porch after a long day. He rubbed his eyes and then stared up at the ceiling. "It was the basketball game."

My mind went blank. Basketball game?

"First time I noticed you. Anyone ever tell you that you're short, Wright?"

I snorted in disgust. He brought me all the way out here for short jokes. The jerk.

"The only female out there and you're all of five foot nothing and a hundred pounds soaking wet playing the game like you're ten feet tall and bulletproof."

I looked away from him, miffed. "I'm five-one, sir. That's hardly nothing."

I could almost hear him smile. The smug bastard. "You were ferocious. And you weren't very good at it, either. I could've watched you play all day."

I watched him suspiciously, waiting for him to say something wishy-washy about love at first sight or boners or some stupid it-must-have-been-fate line.

"A few weeks later you got into it with a couple of soldiers on the track and ran them into the ground. I won fifty bucks off of that one. At the PX you jumped into it with a specialist who was hassling a female private and ran him off. I've never seen anyone attack life like you do." He dropped his eyes from the ceiling to give me a long, measuring look. "You're little, Wright."

"I am not!"

He smiled at that.

I sniffed with all of the offended dignity I could muster.

"I thought you had something going on with Mendez for a while. If he'd touched you, I'd have his ass in Leavenworth." He resumed his staring contest with the cracked ceiling. "Then I caught you with that specialist."

Fuckin-A, he didn't have to bringthat up.

He sat in silence for a long time before he finally spit it out. "I almost killed him. He was fucking you in the street and I would've cheerfully broken his neck." He paused for a moment, shifting his ass in the chair. "Until you said my name. He was fucking you and in your head you were fuckingme."

What?! "I didnot, sir!" My head swam dizzily around.

He didn't even look away from his communion with the ceiling. "When you dropped your pants for me in the office, I knew what you wanted. So I took it."

"Took what, sir?"

"The opportunity you gave me." He dropped his eyes to mine and I made sure the frosty glare was firmly in place. "And that's all there is to it."

"To what, sir?"

He gave me an irritated look. "You wanted to know why, Wright. Weren't you paying attention?"

"You picked me because I'mshort?!" Oooh.

He didn't laugh, but it was written all over his smug face. "I picked you because you don't know you're short."

Something inside of me melted. Just a little. I frowned at my cast. "That's the stupidest thing I ever heard."

"Is it? Then why are you smiling?"

"I'mnot smiling!"

He was smiling at me, though, that rat. He had one of those soft, goofy smiles you see plastered on the faces of those sugary couples who cooed at each other and hung all over each other and irritated the hell out of everyone else with their--

"I'mmad at you!" I yelled, just to feel better.

His smile faded. "I know."

I wanted to throw myself to my feet just so I could pick up one of my crutches and beat him over the head with it.

"What do you want from me? An apology? You've got it. Blood? I can do that. What? I can't take the words back, Wright."

"Fuck you, sir."

"I can do that, too."

I glared at him with all of the rage in my hurt little heart and tried to come up with something good to say. Something witty, sarcastic, designed to put him perfectly in his place, and make him feel half an inch tall. "I want some fucking chocolate and a gawddamned motrin."

Way to go with the wit, there, Wright.

He pushed himself up from the chair and went to the kitchen area. He ran some water and brought me a glass and a piece of Army candy. I glared at the horse pill between his fingers as if it were my mortal enemy.

"You can swallow my cock, Wright, this shouldn't give you any trouble at all."

That rat bastard! I snatched the pill from his fingers and drank the entire glass of water to get it down. Did these people not know how to make pills in smaller doses than 800 milligrams? Something evil worked in the pharmacy.

"I've got chocolate sauce and some breath mints."

"What?"

"You wanted chocolate." Even his tone said don't-be-stupid.

I harumphed because I couldn't think of anything better to say and stared at my cast. He stood there, next to me, and watched me stare at my cast. The weight of his eyes on the top of my head was driving me insane. Would he just not go away? I discovered that the harder you try not to fidget, the more squirmy your body gets on you. I wanted to scream.

"Wright." He dropped to his knees next to the couch so his face was even with mine. I stared so hard at my toes that my eyes hurt. "I'm sorry." He picked up my hand and kissed it. "I need you."

That made my eyes hurt even more. I blinked hard and fast, squeezing my hands into fists.

"I never wanted to hurt you."

He looked so earnest, his eyes pleading with me to believe him. I felt like a fish out of water all of the sudden, with the Major on his knees beside me. I didn't know what to say. I wanted to forgive him for everything and just have the world go back to the way it was before it all came crashing down around my ears. I wanted to put my palm on his cheek and smile so I could see him happy. But the pain was too fresh and too harsh. Icouldn't make myself trust him. What if he was just using me in some way? He thought I was cute or something as heinously annoying, but what did he want from me anyway? A fuck? Arelationship? I almost laughed out loud at that. He couldn't have a relationship with me, even if I were some tall, cool debutante with a few Kennedys in the family tree. I was aprivate. He was an officer.

He shifted his weight, his fingers twining with mine, and looked worried. Worried? "Please. Say something."

"Tell me about the female sergeant, sir." I hadn't meant to say that. Had I?

His brow furrowed and his fingers tightened on mine. Something very ugly found its way into my head.

"Tell me about her, sir."

He looked away, his eyelids drooping to shutter his eyes.

I waited expectantly, suddenly unable to tear my eyes away from his face. The muscles along my spine felt like a set of unyielding railroad tracks slowly cracking down on my vertebrae. A few minutes dragged along, running their feet along the bumps in my back.

"I'll be right back," he said. Then he shoved himself to his feet and walked out of the cabin.

I stared, open-mouthed, at the door in pure astonishment. Outside, the Porsche roared to life and then left in a flurry of dirt. Of all the things I'd thought about the man, from the filthiest epithet I've ever tossed in his direction, coward wasn't a word I'd ever used. The major was a coward.

The thought filled me with a rage that would have had me wrecking the place if I could have gotten my crutches under me. I didn't understand why I was so pissed off and I didn't really care to. After a few minutes of solid fuming, I forced myself to calm down enough to stand up. I didn't even stop to think, I just jammed my crutches under my pits and swung myself through the door.