Her Marine Bodyguard (12 page)

God, he rambled. A couple of beers made him maudlin. There was a reason he didn’t drink much.

“Anyway, I didn’t have someone to come home to…until you. The last couple of years, you’ve been my compass. My true north. You were home. So, thank you.” Damn it sounded lame. He’d never been good at the mushy crap.

She shifted in his lap, wiggling around until she straddled his legs, and damn, it turned him on to have her moving all around him, but the gentleness in her face arrested the teasing remark on his tongue. “What happened to Messer?”

Crap, she’d caught that. “He died in the first Iraq offensive, before we took Baghdad.”

“I’m so sorry.” She cradled his face, and fresh tears glimmered in her eyes.

“Me, too.” Messer hadn’t been the first, and God knew he wouldn’t the last. “I had the guys by then, so I wasn’t alone.”

“But you feel every death,” she said. He’d never said aloud, hell, he didn’t even tell the shrinks when he had to get his psych evals. They didn’t want to worry he might snap.

“That’s the cost of living.” Running his fingers through her hair, he let the strands fall through his fingers. “You’re the prize.”

“Oh?” Her eyebrows rose. “I didn’t realize I was in a cereal box.”

Tugging her closer, he grinned. “You’re my prize. Cause I sure as hell don’t deserve you.”

Shannon leaned in and bit his lip, the sting serving only to heat his blood. “I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you if we’re going to start comparing.”

“Hmm.” Fisting some of her hair, he urged her closer. “How about we agree to disagree and keep each other anyway?”

A breathless laugh and a soft kiss were her answer.

“Seriously?” Shannon couldn’t be sure she’d heard him right. A part of her regretted the arrival of dawn. All night, they’d played, cuddled, had sex, and even slept. At sunrise, however, Brody had rolled out of bed and done a series of calisthenics that had her thinking about dragging him back to the sheets.

“Yes.” He sat on the sofa, lacing up his shoes. Even the sweatpants and T-shirt didn’t diminish his masculine presence. “I need a run, and it’s a good way to clear your head.”

She wore shorts and a tank top and perched on the sofa next to him. “My head is pretty clear.”

“Good. We’re going to clear my head, and you’re not going to be out of my sight.” A point he’d driven earlier when he joined her in the shower. The pleasant memory evoked a shudder, and she grinned.

After tying the first shoe, she glanced at him. “You’re amazing.”

“It’s still early, but I’ll go with that. Get a move on, Fabray. We’ve got a five mile loop to do.”

“Five miles?” She coughed. Running was one thing but….

“I like to do ten, but five will have to suffice. Need me to make it two for you?” The dare in his eyes lit her up. He could go from sober and serious to playful in a split second.

“No, I can handle five.” But she rolled her eyes and finished putting on her second shoe. “I would prefer coffee and a bagel.”

“We can have those after. Stretch and warm those muscles up,” he ordered and disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a pair of water bottles. Using a belt, he secured the bottles to his waist.

With a groan, she stood and began to stretch. Amazingly, she felt loose already despite expecting to be sore and tight. Even her bruises felt better today. Arms folded, Brody watched without an ounce of criticism in his expression.

“Hamstrings, too. How’s your hip?”

Twisting slowly from side to side, she tested the bruises. The skin pulled taut and ached. “Sore, but I’ve done worse after finishing a sculpture.” Hell, she’d done worse working on the practice pieces. Sometimes when she worked, she had to bend or twist at awkward angles and hold it for hours. Thankfully, she did yoga.

“Good. If it gets worse or you start to really hurt, you tell me.” It wasn’t a request.

The corner of her mouth curved. “Sir, yes, sir.”

“Brat.” But he laughed and shook his head when he said it. Only after ten minutes more of stretching did Brody seem satisfied. He’d tucked a phone into his pocket and sent her to grab hers. Outside, he led the way down the stairs. The cool, spring mornings were a distant memory. Already heavy and warm, the day promised to be a typical Texas broiler—though the gray clouds suggested rain.

They probably wouldn’t get so lucky.

Shannon had finished pulling her hair back into a ponytail by the time they achieved the ground floor.

“The trail starts there.” He pointed to it. “It winds through the property, in and out of the trees, and goes nowhere near the road. It’s about two and a half miles, if I recall correctly. There are other routes we can veer off on, but there are markers for every tenth of a mile, so we can keep track. If you need to slow down, we slow down. If we have to walk part of it, we walk.”

“And when we pass out from heat exhaustion?” She wanted to take the words back the minute she’d said them, but he laughed at her and gave her ponytail a gentle tug.

“I’ve been in your studio when you’re working. Jungles are cooler. You’re not going to pass out.” Another reason she adored him, he didn’t treat her like she was weak. With him, she always felt stronger.

“You have a point. Can we go back there today?” Not that she didn’t appreciate the way everyone took care of her, but she wanted her space back. Her work.

“I called Detective Foster a little while ago.” News to her. “He’s going to meet us at your place at ten and take me through the scene and go over what he has so far.”

The scene. Damn it, she’d forgotten it was technically a crime scene. She should call Katrina today. “Okay.”

“Shannon?” The deep timbre of his voice pulled her back to the present. “You stay right next to me on the trail. You set the pace, and I’ll match it.”

“I’m going to be slower than you normally would run.” She held no illusions about the comparison of their physical fitness.

“Right next to me,” he repeated.

“Sir, yes, sir.” And instead of pacing away, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her lips.

“You need to say that when we’re in bed.” A dark thrill raced through her system. “In fact, I think I’m going to order you to say it in bed.”

“Sir,” she replied, drawing out the words. “Yes, sir.”

His slow grin had her heart twisting. Everything about him was beautiful. She wanted more hours with him, more than stolen moments enjoyed on leave. No, she wanted years.

“Anytime now, babe.” He gave her a nudge, waiting for her to get moving.

Biting back another sir, yes, sir, she rolled her shoulders and set off at an easy jog. Better to warm up the rest of her. Brody fell in beside her like they did this every day—the most natural thing in the world. Beside her.

Yeah, she wanted that.

By the half-mile mark, she’d warmed up and increased her pace. They ran side-by-side, the slap of their shoes against the pavement in sync. Laughter bubbled through her at the first mile marker. The shadow of the last forty-eight hours finally slid off of her.

“For someone who doesn’t like to run, you’re not bad,” Brody said, and unlike her, he wasn’t even panting.

“Just because I don’t like something, doesn’t mean I don’t know how to do it.” Confession time. “I ran in high school and then later in college. I stopped for a long time. Almost forgot how much I used to enjoy it.” The surge of endorphins when she pushed her body, the strength and the speed—the freedom. He didn’t ask her why she stopped. After the rape, she’d retreated from whole swaths of her life. Not intentionally, but somehow she’d managed to do it anyway.

“You’re doing good, keep your chin up. Looking down throws off your form.” The suggestion, like so much else he did, wrapped around her like an embrace. Always watching out for her.

“Yes, sir.” Buoyed by the simple joy, she let out another laugh as they hit the two-mile mark. The landscape around them was beautiful, thick and green. It was still early enough in summer for the heat not to have burned the trees to an early yellow or fried the grass. Fresh cut grass and cedar mulch perfumed the moist air.

“When did you start running again?” He saved the question until they cruised past the building housing her borrowed apartment. Others were waking, and she caught sight of another man hitting the trail ahead of them. He waved to Brody but didn’t slow his pace or drop back to join them.

“About eighteen months ago, right around the time I signed up for a self defense class.” His jerk told her she’d surprised him. “I know, I didn’t tell you.” She had to slow some by the third mile. Running and talking was harder than she thought. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“What kind of self-defense?”

“Basic stuff…kind of street fighting but with the goal of getting away.” Not that it had done her a damn bit of good when that bastard grabbed her. Panic hadn’t been her friend. “I volunteer at a Jewish community center, teach art to some of the kids a couple of times a month. Zehava—she runs the place—held some classes for women in the neighborhood.”

A stitch in her side added to her discomfort, but she pushed past it and kept running. The last couple of miles still stretched out in front of them. “Anyway,” she panted. “Fighting takes a lot of air, apparently. The instructor suggested we amp up our cardio, and since I didn’t do any, I remembered running and went out for a jog. The first one…yeah, that sucked. I made it two blocks and wheezed like a forty-year-old smoker. But I also felt good. So, I started doing it more regularly.”

“You run outside? In your neighborhood?” Thunder rumbled in his tone. And damn, he still didn’t sound like he found it hard to talk.

“Three days a week, or at least I try. Sometimes I get caught up and don’t get out to run. But I’ve been trying. It’s liberating. So is knowing how to kick a man in the groin and gouge out his eyes.” With a grimace, she slowed her pace again. The cramp in her side really hurt.

“Walk.” Brody caught her arm and slowed her when she would have kept going. She dropped out of the run, and her muscles were all protesting from her calves to her quadriceps. The burn had her sweating, and she could feel the tautness threatening to cramp, so she kept walking and gulped air gratefully. “I told you to tell me when it hurt.”

“It’s the talking with the running.” She tried to make an excuse, but one sideways look at him and she knew he wasn’t buying it. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I wanted to show off and do the whole five with you.”

“Hmm,” was his only comment. “So, self-defense classes and you run regularly in your neighborhood.”

“Yeah, I thought it would be good to know, give me more confidence about getting out of my comfort zone.” Considering how narrow the zone actually was, she wanted to be stronger. Better for Brody, if she were to be completely honest, but considering the scowl he wore, she decided it best not to mention that at the moment. “It worked. When I went to Boston the first time, I was scared, but I-I don’t know how to describe it. I knew I could do it, fear or no fear.”

He passed her a bottle of water wordlessly.

Twisting to walk sideways, she studied him. “You’re not mad, are you?”

“No,” he responded quickly and gave her a tight smile. “But you running regularly, that’s not a usual habit of yours. It’s another change….”

Oh
. A shiver raced up her spine. “You think he’s been watching me.”

“Yeah, babe. I do.” They were at the four-mile mark when he opened his water bottle and drained it. She would have started to run again, but he shook his head. “You’re limping.”

Only a slight limp, but she felt the ache of the run all through her left leg, and the bruise on her hip pulsed like she could feel the blood rushing to it. “Not badly.”

“Good, let’s keep it not badly.” With his hand still on her arm, he shifted them to the right side of the path, with her on the inside and him on the outside, to let other runners pass.

“You notice
everything
.” Noticed and responded to it, too. Whether they were in the shower or sitting on the bed eating pizza.

“Training.” He shrugged. “Be aware. Be responsible. Be safe.”

“Can I ask you about being over there?” Should she ask? Did he want to talk about his service?

“Do you want to know?” No judgment twisted in the question, and made it easier to answer.

“I want to know everything about you. But I don’t want you to hurt. If you don’t want to talk about it, don’t. If you do, then I’m all ears.”

He gave her a sidelong look and a half-smile. “I think your ears are sexy, but I like the rest of you, too.”

Now, she rolled her eyes and gave him a light tap on the arm. “You know what I meant.”

Approval softened his expression. “Yes, I do. And I’ll answer anything you want to ask me. It was a job in a hellhole, sweetheart. Nothing pretty or sweet-smelling about it. Most of my jobs are in hellholes. You get used to it.”

“I hate that you have to get used to anything along those lines.” She’d have to have been living under a rock to not be aware of the various hot spots he’d served in. Knowing and understanding didn’t go hand-in-hand. Her exile and isolation were self-imposed, but she could still go to the corner and get an expensive coffee or drive to a mall and shop. She had air conditioning and heat—access to food delivery. Really, her hardships were no comparison.

“You forget, I volunteered.” He slowed his pace again, they were nearing the end of the five miles and her legs were on fire, but she’d kept up—mostly. “I had a job to do, and I did it.”

Biting her lip, she fought to find the courage to ask the question she really wanted to know the answer to. “Are you going to go back?”

“I may not have a choice, sweetheart.” Another shrug, but his expression shut down and closed her out. “We’ll tackle that when we need to, okay?”

“Okay.”

The companionable silence lasted till the apartment building was in sight. Luke Dexter headed in their direction, his pace and manner suggesting they were his targets, and Brody stiffened next to her.

“Everything all right?” The captain was his best friend. Shouldn’t he be happier to see him?

“It’s fine.” For the first time, she heard the lie in his tone. With a smile, he glanced at her. “I’ll walk you up to the apartment, and you can shower while I talk to Luke.”