Diablo Blanco Club 2, Under Control (11 page)

“Until?” Ben prompted.

“They forced Aimee to her knees and made her suck me off.”

A string of curses spilled from Ben‟s lips.

Curses Vance remembered hurling at his captors in every one of the nine languages he knew. “Yeah.” He nodded. “Those were a few of my comments. They didn‟t find my words particularly enlightening. So they decided to try something else.”

“Quit dancing around the subject, Vance,” Ben demanded.

Holding his lover‟s gaze, Vance drew a deep breath. “I raped her.”

“Aimee?” Ben‟s expression was a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

Vance nodded.

“Bullshit.”

“I did. I ra-raped her.” The pain in his chest swelled as his mind replayed the image of her pinned beneath him, eyes wide as his body breached hers, the barrier of her virginity shredded by his assault.

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“You‟re fucking lying, Vance,” Ben growled, lunging out of his chair and crossing the porch to stand toe-to-toe with him. “You couldn‟t—you wouldn‟t do something—”

The tether on his anger snapped, and Vance shoved at the older man. “Don‟t fucking tell me what I did. I know what I did, Ben!” Humiliation and pain and self-loathing twisted through him, ripping at his composure and wetting his cheeks with tears he wasn‟t even aware he‟d shed. “I held that little girl down and raped her with those bastards watching me. And laughing. They laughed, Ben, as I took her virginity and treated her worse than some two-dollar whore.”

Choking on the memories, Vance pushed past Ben and stumbled down the steps onto the back lawn. If he could get away, if he could find a way to turn back the clock and make the right decisions instead of the wrong…

But it wasn‟t going to happen. He‟d been running since they released him from Bethesda. And every time he closed his eyes, there was Aimee, eyes wide, gazing up at him. Trusting him. Counting on him.

And he‟d fucking failed.

No, not just failed—he‟d betrayed her. Brutalized her and let those bastards drag her away for similar treatment at their hands. An uneven patch of grass tripped him, causing him to drop to his knees. “I hurt her, Ben. I hurt her so bad, and those sick fucks laughed.”

“I‟m sure she knows…” Ben settled into the grass beside him. The warmth of his arms enfolded him as Vance gave vent to the sobs racking his body.

“She watched me the whole time. Her blue eyes just looking at me. Telling me she was sorry. That she was glad it was me and not the tangos.” Vance clutched at Ben and buried his face in his lover‟s side, wetting the cotton shirt with the tears he couldn‟t stop. “She was so goddamned tiny, Ben. I knew it had to be hurting her, but she kept smiling at me, and the more she smiled and told me it was okay, the angrier those fuckers got.”

“You weren‟t at fault, Vance,” Ben assured him.

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Vance didn‟t want to hear it. The memories of what he‟d done replayed through his mind and the beast that was his desire still stirred at the thought of having Aimee again. “I was, Ben.”

“No.” Ben cupped his cheeks and raised his face. Warm gray eyes held his. “Your body may have gotten hard at the use of the whip, but you didn‟t decide to rape Aimee.

You didn‟t consciously choose to force sex on her.”

Vance shook his head.

Ben ignored him and continued. “I know you, V. You would never willingly choose to use force for sex.”

Before he could shake his head in denial, Ben continued, “What did they threaten to do to her?”

Vance drew a shuddering breath, drawing up the memories he‟d tried so hard to forget. “It doesn‟t mat—”

Ben‟s lips pressed against his, stopping Vance‟s words before Ben pulled back and shook his head. “It does matter, V. Now tell me. What did they threaten to do to her?”

Vance forced himself to remember. “The whip. They stripped off her
sirwal
and used the whip.”

“On her legs?”

Vance nodded, his eyes squeezed shut. “She didn‟t scream, but I couldn‟t let them hurt her, Ben.”

“I know, baby.” Ben‟s hands smoothed through his hair. “I know.”

“They took pictures.”

Ben didn‟t say anything, but his body tensed beneath Vance‟s hands. Vance eased away, settling onto the warm grass. In front of him, Ben sat back on his heels with his hands resting on his thighs, waiting.

“You need to tell me, V. You‟ve let it fester inside, and it‟s killing you.”

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“They spit on her.” His voice was quiet in the darkness. “Said she was unclean and had no right to dress as a proper Muslim woman.” The grass scratched his fingers.

“They said she was only suitable to be an American‟s whore. Before they used the whip, they…they took the knife to her privates.”

Ben‟s hands fisted on his knees. “Did they—”

Vance shook his head, not wanting Ben to voice the fear he‟d had when he‟d seen those bastards press the knife between Aimee‟s thighs. “No, they didn‟t cut her. They scraped away her pubic hair. And slapped her…there. And she didn‟t make a sound, Ben.” He couldn‟t stifle the smile of pride that he felt lifting his lips.

The fingers on his knees loosened. Ben shifted onto his backside with his knees up and arms draped over them. He nodded. “Sounds like our Aimee.”

“She watched me, Ben.” Vance scooted closer, needing Ben‟s body heat to dispel the chill that was trying to gain a foothold in his chest. “Every time they used the whip on me, she screamed at them. Begging them to stop hurting me, but when they turned on her, she didn‟t say a word.”

Ben stayed quiet, waiting.

“When they told me to take her, I refused. They used the whip, and I still wouldn‟t do it.” Vance shook his head. “And Aimee cried. They used the knife on her, they hit her, and they used the whip, but she didn‟t make a sound. Even when one of the men began to take off his pants, she said nothing.” He raised his eyes, wanting, needing Ben to understand. “But I couldn‟t let them hurt her.”

Ben opened his arms, and Vance moved in tight. Sliding his legs beneath Ben‟s, he tucked himself close and buried his head against the other man‟s shoulder. Inhaling the warm scent of his skin, the hint of astringent or antiseptic and taco seasoning that clung to his shirt, Vance let the rest spill out.

“I tried to be careful. I swear I did. She was so tiny I thought for sure I‟d crush her.” The memories kept coming. “I touched her, tried to ease the sting they‟d caused with their slaps and the knife. She kept thanking me for not letting them hurt her.

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“They thought I was taking too long so they used the whip. I made sure they couldn‟t touch her, but she cried, begged me to just do it so they‟d stop hurting me. I tried to tell her it would hurt, that if she‟d let me, I could make it better. That the whip didn‟t really hurt, but she kept crying, Ben. And those sons of bitches kept laughing.”

Cool fingers kneaded his scalp and his nape, but Ben remained silent.

Vance continued. “One of the men grabbed my arm, said if I wouldn‟t satisfy the little slut, he would. Aimee begged me. „Please,‟ she said. „Just do it, so they‟ll stop.‟ So I did.” His fingers flexed against Ben‟s back. “I pushed inside her, and she cried out. And the bastards laughed.”

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Chapter Seven

“It wasn‟t your fault, V. You didn‟t touch her intending to do her harm.”

Ben‟s quiet assurance twisted the knot in Vance‟s belly. He‟d told his lover most of what happened, but he hadn‟t revealed just what kind of bastard he‟d become when he forced himself inside Aimee.

“No, I didn‟t intentionally hurt Aimee,” Vance agreed, pulling himself from Ben‟s arms. He needed to let him go. To step away so that the pain of Ben‟s hatred, his retreat once Vance told him what he‟d done to Aimee, wouldn‟t hurt as badly as Vance knew it would. Taking his time, not wanting to see the disgust in Ben‟s eyes, Vance stumbled to his feet and turned to face the house with his back to the older man.

Behind him, he could hear Ben rise to his feet, but still he remained silent.

Thrusting his hands deep into the front pockets of his jeans, Vance fingered the bit of jewelry he‟d carried away from the mission to remind himself of his failure. The length of silver and stone had been pulled from Aimee‟s ankle when her loose cotton pants had been stripped away by their captors. Stroking the stones and bells brought him a little peace, but it made him more determined to keep his needs under control. To control the beast that was his desire. Again, he said, “I didn‟t intentionally hurt Aimee.”

He took a deep breath. “But I did come inside her.”

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This time he turned to face his best friend and the man he loved, needing to see his reaction. “I didn‟t just rape her, Ben; I climaxed. I found pleasure in the feel of her body around mine, and I climaxed. Now, what kind of sick fuck does that make me, Ben?

That I can come inside a terrified kid while other men are watching, taking pictures.

Huh?”

“It makes you human, Vance.”

“Are you outta your fuckin‟ mind? Human? I held her down. I pushed her legs wider and I pounded into her like some goddamned stag in rut, and you call that human?”

“And you kept her from being raped by two terrorists that wouldn‟t have cared if she was wet or not.”

“That has—”

“Stop, dammit, just stop, Vance.” Gripping Vance‟s face in his hands, Ben stared down into the younger man‟s eyes and let him see the emotions he‟d kept hidden.

“There is nothing you‟ve ever done to deserve the kind of punishment you‟ve set yourself for. The whip, the gun—nothing you did to Aimee would justify you killing yourself.”

“You don‟t know…”

Ben shook his head. “No, Vance, I don‟t know what it felt like to hold that kid down and do what you had to do to keep her alive. But I do know you.”

“How—”

Pulling him close, Ben pressed his forehead to Vance‟s, hoping in some way to get the man he loved to understand. “You tried to make sure she was wet, didn‟t you?

That‟s why the tangos were using the whip on you.”

“Yes, but—”

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“And I‟m betting the entire time you talked to her. You told her you would take care of her, that you‟d make it right. That you‟d never let those bastards touch her.

Right?”

Vance didn‟t bother to speak, he just nodded.

“Did she come, V?”

“What the fuck kinda question is that?” Vance pulled out of his hold and stomped up onto the porch. He grabbed the beer he‟d left on the floor beside his chair. Ben watched him drain half the bottle‟s contents in one gulp.

Ben asked again, needing Vance to hear the answer more than he did. “Did she come? Did Aimee climax?”

The answer was soft and reluctant. “Yes.”

“And she did so before you did, right?”

This time Vance only nodded.

“And you are disgusted by that?”

“Are you saying I shouldn‟t be?” Vance‟s distaste was evident in his tone. “A man that can find pleasure in the abuse of a woman isn‟t a man. He‟s a bastard. A monster.”

“But you didn‟t find pleasure in abusing Aimee, V. You found satisfaction in bringing her pleasure. At a time when she would have known only pain and degradation, you showed her something different.” Ben moved to the candles and blew them out.

“Are you condoning what happened as a good thing?” The confusion and disbelief in Vance‟s voice had Ben shaking his head.

Returning to Vance‟s side, he collected the .38 from the porch and wrapped his free hand around the back of the other man‟s neck. “No. Rape is a violation that no one should ever be subjected to. But you didn‟t set out to rape Aimee, nor did you make it the violent, penetrative act the terrorists would have made it. You‟re a soldier. Doing a job. You aren‟t Superman.”

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Pressing his lips to Vance‟s, he caressed the soft surface before tasting the tang of the beer mingled with the man‟s own deeper flavor. Stepping back, Ben finished, “You can‟t kill all the monsters, and you need to stop punishing yourself for the lives you couldn‟t save.” Reaching down, he took Vance‟s free hand and tugged him toward the house.

Vance resisted, pulling away, unsure how he could justify his past acts the way Ben just did. Then Aimee‟s soft voice whispered in his head,
You should tell him how you
feel
. At the memory of pain that colored her cobalt gaze, Vance allowed himself to remember the words Aimee had said while he held her in his arms: “
Love is the one
emotion that is the purest form of God. God doesn’t sit in judgment of who you love; He only
cares that you do love. Denying those emotions is denying Him
.”

In front of him, Ben waited, gray eyes cautious, wary.

“I love you.” The words spilled out of his mouth.

“Come show me how much.” Ben smiled, holding out his hand.

Vance took his hand and followed him inside. Together they locked the back door and shut off the lights. Ben led him through the living room and down the hall, past the two guest bedrooms and the smallest bedroom that functioned as an office, and into the master suite. The king-size bed was situated beneath the east-facing window. To the left of the bed stood two wide French doors that led onto the porch that wrapped around the house. In the dark, Ben moved to the walk-in closet, where he set the gun and bullets in a cabinet and locked it before returning to Vance‟s side.

“You don‟t have to worry that I‟ll use it,” Vance assured his lover, his hands working the buttons of Ben‟s shirt loose just as Ben‟s were doing his.

“I‟m not. You already said you had three good reasons not to.” Ben grinned.

“Besides you‟re—”

“A marine.”

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“Yup.”

“Not anymore.” Vance tugged Ben‟s shirt from his jeans.

“Not anymore, what?”

“I‟m not a marine anymore. I signed my separation papers yesterday, remember?”