Mercy: Second Chance Military Romance (9 page)

Slowly, his thrusts stopped. He stayed inside me, staring into my eyes. Fear washed over me in that moment.
What the hell am I doing? This guy is practically a stranger
.

“Get off,” I said, propping myself up with my elbows.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as he pulled out.

I looked to the wall, wanting to see anything except his face, those blue eyes.

“This was a mistake,” I said, still looking away.

“Mistake? What do you mean? You wanted…”

“I know,” I snapped, cutting him off. “Will you please just leave?”

Guilt and shame mixed, forming an emotional cocktail I wasn’t ready to deal with, not with him still naked in my bed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him crawl off the bed.

“What the hell?”

“Just go please,” I said.

“You wanted this too. I thought…”

His voice trailed off. I pulled a cover over my naked body.

Why am I so ashamed right now?

Tears welled up in my eyes.

“Will you please just leave? I’ll call you later.”

I glanced up at him.

“Whatever…Where’s your bathroom?”

“There,” I said, pointing.

“This is messed up.”

I said nothing, a melting pot of emotions going through my body.

“You’re making me feel used,” he said in a joking tone, still not taking me seriously.

“Welcome to my world,” I said angrily. “Please leave, okay?”

He grabbed his clothes then left the room. Tears flowed.

Why the hell am I crying? That was so wonderful.

The fact I did not understand why I was so upset made it much worse.

When I heard him leave a few minutes later, practically slamming my front door, I laid back and cried, letting everything out. It wasn’t him, but he had opened a floodgate that would not be closed easily. The mix of joy and sadness confused the hell out of me.

All my problems had started after I got back from Afghanistan. What had happened over there? I had seen brutality, the mistreatment of women and so much more.

None of my life made sense after I had returned from the dirty, dusty, crazy country known as Afghanistan. Gradually, the tears dried up, but I still felt bad.

Tyler will never speak to me again. Not after that outburst. I don’t blame him. I’m such a fucking idiot and loser!
The sadness turned to self-loathing.

I thought about calling and begging him to come back, trying to explain how crazy my life had become after meeting him in Afghanistan, but I didn’t.

Why would someone perfect like him want a problem-woman like myself?

The answer would not come.

FIFTEEN

Tyler

The next morning, I woke up as confused as the night before? What the hell was Mercy’s problem? She had called me, invited me over, let me fuck her, and then went nuts crying?
What the hell?

I picked up my phone from the nightstand and turned on the screen. No messages.
Maybe it was a one-off?
She didn’t seem like that type of woman, but what the hell do I know? Not much.

After throwing the covers back, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stretched my arms. She had been a good lay. I couldn’t deny that one bit. Why did I always attract the crazy women?

The look on her face when she came stuck with me as I went through my morning routine, gradually waking up and getting ready for the day. With no job, I had nothing but time.

Around lunch, my phone rang. I grabbed it excitedly, expecting to see her phone number on the screen, but it was one I didn’t recognize. Who the hell is this? I answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Ty-man, what’s up. Long time no hear.”

“Who is this?” I asked, not sure about the voice.

“Damn, bro. We lose touch for a year, and you’ve already forgotten me.”

“Oh, hey, Roger. What’s up. I didn’t expect to hear from you again.”

“Yeah, you made that quite evident last time we met.”

“What’s up?” I asked, getting straight to the point. “If this is about the past…”

“No, no,” he interrupted. “I want to talk to you about a new opportunity. What are you doing these days?”

“Nothing much,” I admitted.

“You did all that complaining back in A-stan, but you’re enjoying that money, aren’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, not believing what he was saying on the phone.

“Look, let’s meet up, okay? This is a solid idea, and you’re the perfect partner.”

“I don’t know, Roger.”

“You fucking afraid?”

“Man, don’t do that to me.”

“Do what?”

“Try to manipulate me. It doesn’t work.”

He laughed.

“Not anymore, huh? Anyway, what do you say? At least hear me out.”

“Fine. When do you want to do it?”

“You got time now? I have a hot date tonight.”

“Sure, now is fine. Where you at?”

“Let’s meet at Lucy’s Diner on Fifth-Third Street.”

“I’ll see you there in half-an-hour,” I said then ended the call.

Whatever he had in mind, I was not interested, but he wouldn’t stop bugging me until I told him in person and made it abundantly clear we weren’t going to go into business at all anymore.

* * *

On the walk to Lucy’s Diner, I wondered what Roger might want. Why had two people with connections to Afghanistan come into my life at roughly the same time?

I had sought out Mercy, but Roger had showed up on his own? Was it just a coincidence? None of the world made much sense. Ever since I returned from Afghanistan, my view of the world had changed.

All I thought about was coming up with a way to get over the guilt attached to the money I had made illegally while serving my country. It didn’t matter how many times I told myself we hadn’t hurt anyone.

When it came down to it, I had participated in a scheme that had made many people wealthy. The money I received was enough for me to do nothing for a while, but I had to come up with my next step.

Mercy did not seem to be the type of person who would date someone without a job or any prospects for the future. And she was definitely someone I wanted to get to know better.

When I made it to the diner, I saw him sitting in a booth next to the front window. He nodded and smiled as I walked up to the door and opened it. I walked over to him and sat down.

“What’s up, bro?” he asked, more jovial than I remembered him.

“Same old, same old. What’s up with you?”

A waitress walked up, pad of paper at the ready to take our order. He ordered a coffee with no sugar or milk. I did the same. When she left, he looked across the table.

“I’m looking for a partner.”

“I don’t want to be part of any of your schemes.”

He laughed.

“Damn, bro. Jump to conclusions often? This is totally legit.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

“I’m starting a security company. I’ve already got three big name clients lined up, and I need to find people like you who I can trust.”

“You want to hire me?” I shook my head. “Not interested.”

“No, bro. I need a financial partner.”

“Oh, so you want my money.”

“Well, yeah, but you too. I like how you think things through all the time. We made a good team back in Afghanistan.”

I took a deep breath and shook my head.

“It’s not for me. Not now.”

Do not tell him about hunting down Mercy.

He stared into my eyes, his brow furrowed as he studied me.

“Will you at least think about it? I’ll write up an official proposal with all the terms and details.”

“You can do that, but I’m telling you I’m not interested.”

“Before you even know the details, bro? That doesn’t sound like the Tyler I remember.”

“We all change. At least some of us do.”

“Harsh, bro, but fair.”

The waitress returned with our coffee. I took a sip while glancing out the window. Several people passed by, wrapped up in their own worlds, oblivious to anything else.

I finished my coffee as quickly as possible, ready to leave. If Mercy called, I didn’t want to be anywhere near Roger or his crazy plans, legit or not.

The mystery of the night before continued to play itself out in my mind as I sought answers. Roger rambled on about something or other, but I tuned him out.

After I drank the last of the bitter brew, I slid the cup to the center of the table then stood. He glanced up, making eye contact. I hated everything about him.

“I’m leaving,” I said. “You can email me the information, but I’m probably not going to change my mind.”

“At least read the shit, bro. You can do that for me, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll read it. Thanks for the coffee.”

“Still a cheap bastard, huh?” he said then laughed.

I turned and walked to the door, already wrapped up in my thoughts. The image of her face when I first pushed my cock into her pussy flashed through my mind as I walked home, deciding what to do next.

SIXTEEN

Tyler

When I got back to my apartment, I called Harris, my old bunkmate in Afghanistan. We hadn’t talked in almost a year, but with everyone else from Afghanistan coming back into my life, I figured I should search him out too. Maybe he had the answers I sought.

“Hey, Tyler. Long time no hear.”

“Yeah, I’ve been laying low since I got out.”

“I hear you. What’s up?”

“Want to grab a beer? I’ve got some stuff I want to talk out.”

“Oh no,” he said, chuckling. “More of your crazy theories on the origin of the universe or why oranges are the perfect fruit?”

I smiled.

“You remember all that shit?”

“Dude, we spent so many hours together. Your stories and monologues kept me going.”

“Glad I accomplished something over there. Let’s grab a beer tonight.”

“I had some plans, but I’ll change them. Where do you want to meet?”

“Let’s go to that joint down Seventy-Fifth Street. What was the name?”

“The Irish Paddler?”

“Yeah, that was it. We met there before we shipped out. Remember?”

“How could I forget. One of the craziest nights of my life.”

“I don’t think we’ll get that crazy tonight.”

He laughed.

“That’s what you always say. I’ll meet you there around seven. That work for you?”

“Sounds great, Harris. Good to hear your voice.”

“Yeah, you too man. Later on.”

I ended the call. Afghanistan, even at the late stages of a war that had lasted longer than a decade, had been a place where lifelong bonds were formed for better or worse.

Was that why Mercy wouldn’t vacate my thoughts no matter what I tried? Maybe a night of drinking with Harris would eject her, and I would be able to move on.

I did not need a crazy woman in my life. No matter how much I enjoyed fucking her. After talking to Harris, my spirits were lifted enough to make the afternoon tolerable.

While reading an autobiography from a man who had served in Vietnam, I kept glancing over at my phone, thinking Mercy might call, but she never did.
Fucking women
.

* * *

Later that evening, I walked in the bar like I owned the place. It was pretty much empty, which wasn’t surprising for a Tuesday night. Most normal people who frequented bars had to work hard for their drinking money.

I saw Harris sitting at the bar and walked over. Taking a seat on a stool to his right, I patted his back as he looked in the other direction. He turned around and smiled the moment he saw me. We had been through so much together.

“How you been?” he asked then turned to the bartender. “Two glasses of your top-shelf single malt.”

“Not bad. Yourself?”

“Things went to hell after I got back from Afghanistan.”

I nodded.

“For me too.”

“You seem to be doing okay for yourself. I mean, you’re drinking on a Tuesday night.”

“Oh, I’m doing okay. You’re here too. Glad you came.”

“No problem.”

The bartender returned with our drinks. I pulled out a twenty and shoved it across the bar at him.