a losing battle (free at last Book 2) Read online

  Something inside me says I’m doing the right thing. But on days like this, where I miss her so much, I want to kick the shit out of myself for ever thinking it’s the right thing.

  On one long break from training, I go to D.C. to see Devon and Ava. I can’t believe it’s been over a year since I last saw them. After Devon picks me up from the airport, we drive to a restaurant, where Ava is waiting for us. But she’s not alone. There’s a pretty blonde sitting next to her.

  Oh, no, she didn’t!

  “God, Hunter! You’re even bigger than you used to be!” Ava squeals before she throws herself into my arms.

  I want to drop the little matchmaker on the floor, but I don’t think Devon would appreciate that. So I just hug her back instead.

  “This is my friend Laura,” Ava says. And that’s when I realize that, yes, she indeed did…

  A date.

  I look at Devon, who shrugs innocently. Sure. Like he had no idea. That’s just great.

  “Hi, Laura,” I say, holding out my hand.

  She takes it in her small, soft hand, which is sporting manicured nails that are way too long. You’d have to worry about getting stabbed having sex with those nearby. Fuck, if she sunk those claws in your back, you’d look like you’d been whipped.

  “Hi, Hunter,” she purrs. “How you doing?” Yeah, she’s on the hunt. Definitely. And she wants me to be her prey. Ironic, really, considering my name.

  “Great,” I say, trying to be friendly. “How about you?” As I sit at the table, I try to kill Ava with my eyes, but she just ignores the daggers I’m throwing her way.

  I’d like to order a whiskey because I know I won’t make it through this otherwise. But as I am still not twenty-one I have to live through this hell sober. How Ava can think I’d go for a plastic doll like Laura, I have no idea.

  Even before I only had eyes for Mac, a girl like her was never my type. Nope, I want somebody else… I want a warm smile, the kind of smile that shows a little, slightly crooked tooth. Not too bad, just a tad twisted, making her all the more interesting. I want that brown, wild hair that always looks a little like somebody just buried his hands in it. I want tits too big to succumb to the limits of a bra, jiggling up and down untamed. I want brown eyes that can look so fiery they could burn you if you come even one step closer—but can also look so gentle you just want to sink into them. I want a deep, slightly rough voice saying my name, only the six letters of my name and nothing else. I want endless legs that look fucking hot in those weird sandals with thick soles. What are they called again? Fries? Chips? Wedges? No idea. Something to do with potatoes.

  Something nudges me, and I see it’s Devon, trying to wake me from my daydream.“Uh, what?” I ask the table at large, finding them all staring at me.

  “I said what’s next for you, then?” Laura repeats her question.

  “Um, next step is joining the Combatant Divers,” I say, clearing my throat, “and then hopefully I’ll be admitted to SEAL training.”

  “Aren’t the SEALs divers?” Ava asks.

  “Sure, but not everybody gets in. But you need it for FORECON.

  “So the divers are kind of a safety net if you’re not good enough to be a SEAL?”

  “Kind of, yeah.”

  “A Marine,” Laura purrs. “There’s nothing as hot as a man in uniform…”

  I could list a hundred things hotter than that… A blowtorch, a furnace, napalm…

  Ava must guess my thoughts, because the next second, she kicks me in the shin. I flinch—because it freaking hurts—but then remind myself not to be such a pussy. Once, during training, I dislocated my shoulder. Now that hurt.

  “Why are women into uniforms?” I ask Laura, pretending to be interested in her reply.

  She twists a strand of hair around her finger. Why do women do that? Seriously. It’s not sexy. Not the least bit.

  “It looks good,” she says, like the brilliant philosopher she is, “and I like the idea that my man could protect me…”

  The award for most original statement of the evening goes to…Laura!

  “Personally, I think it’s because the pants are so tight around the ass,” Devon pipes up.

  “Damn,” I chuckle, “the stuff you notice, man!”

  He just laughs.

  “But you’re right,” I concede. “They’re damn tight.” That’s only our gala uniforms, of course, not our cammies.

  I feel a hand on my thigh, pressing down slightly. Luckily, she’s not putting her nails there…

  I don’t want her to touch me…and yet…when her hand slides higher up, I can feel my dick reacting. That motherfucker. Not even he can be relied upon. No, he just insists on causing trouble. Like now, when she puts her hand directly on my crotch—the thing is rearing its head to be touched by her. Fuck.

  But, like I explained to you before, male brains work in weird ways…and that goes for dicks, too.

  I’m in hell.

  Laura bends toward me and whispers, “That seems to be quite a package.”

  And she’s right.

  The question is: Do I want it unwrapped?

  I know the answer, but I also know it’s not just sex I’m longing for. What I’m really longing for is being close to someone. Maybe it’s not cool to admit this, being a man and all, but I like to cuddle. Sure, not with a one-night stand or anything, but I always used to cuddle a little with Liza after we had sex—at least later on in our arrangement… And it was good. How much better would it be if it was the woman you actually loved? Feeling her beautiful curves, her heartbeat under my fingers as I touch her tits…

  In the real world, our group in the restaurant carries on. We eat, chat, drink. It’s great to be spending time with Devon and Ava. And in spite of all the plastic, Laura isn’t as bad as I initially thought. When she’s not doing the sexy pussycat act, she’s pretty interesting. The only thing wrong with her—apart from her claws—is that she’s not my girl. And never will be.

  But maybe she’s a girl for one night… It would be good to lie next to a nice-smelling body for a change—instead of a smelly Marine.

  “What have you two been up to?” I ask Devon and Ava. “What’s college like?”

  “I like it,” Devon says. “It’s tiring, but it’s cool to get to explore all the opportunities out there.”

  “You sound totally gay.”

  He grins. “I’m not the one living with a sore dick from rubbing it so hard all the time.”

  “Touché.” He’s right, of course. Maybe I’ll let this girl have a taste after all…

  I look over at her. She’s smiling at me. In a warm way that tells me she’d definitely let me in. I’m a handsome bastard, after all. Women never could say no to me. Except for the one. And she’s the only one I want. God, I’m fucked. And not in a good way.

  As we walk out, Devon and Ava quickly say goodbye and leave. So I’m left standing there with Laura, looking down at her. She is nice. And good-looking.

  “Are you coming over?” she asks bluntly.

  Aren’t those the words every man on this goddamn planet wants to hear, especially coming from a pretty woman? God, what is wrong with me? Something must be broken inside this brain of mine, because I hear myself say: “I can’t.”

  She looks hurt but tries to hide it. “Why not? I could tell I was turning you on. And you turn me on, too.”

  “I know.”

  “So what is it?”

  As if it’s not bad enough already, my mouth just goes ahead and tells her, “I’m in love with someone else.”

  She smiles a little. “I didn’t know that. Ava didn’t say anything…”

  I shrug, not knowing what to tell her. I’ve already gone into more detail than I intended. What a fucked-up situation. Just totally awkward.

  “Well, it was nice meeting you, Hunter.” She smiles before putting a hand on my arm and firmly looking me in the eye. “I hope it all turns out well for you.”

  “Thanks,” I say quietly be
fore I open the door of her car for her and watch her get in. When she’s gone, I call Devon to ask for their address. And when I arrive in a cab, Ava looks shocked.

  “Hunter, what on earth is wrong with you?”

  “Mac.”

  The time with my friends goes by much too quickly—as usual—and on the plane to Panama City, Florida, where the Navy Diving and Salvage Training Center is, I leaf through a magazine. That’s when Mac’s face is suddenly smiling up at me from a glossy page.

  For a moment, I’m confused, and then I smile back. She looks stunning. Breath-taking. I read every word of the story, greedily wolfing down every bit of information I can find on her. Once again, I realize she’s under my skin, and she’s not getting out of there any time soon. It would be so much easier if I could just forget about her.

  In Florida, I meet up with Killian, who manages to distract me with his laid-back ways. It’s good to have someone like him in my corner. And, together, our time here truly flies.

  It only takes thirty-five training days to finish the program. It includes a lot of theory, which I don’t mind—studying has never been difficult for me. But Killian sometimes struggles a little. Still, we don’t meet any serious obstacles in that area. It’s the physical training that really hurts. It pushes me to my limits, but I’m glad for it. For one thing, at the end of each day, I’m simply spent, which I welcome—it means I can’t think. Also, it gives me a taste of what SEAL training is going to be like, giving me the opportunity to think about whether I actually have the strength to go through something like that.

  After all, this part has been super intense. Our instructors attacked us underwater, doing things like taking off our masks so we couldn’t breathe. They disoriented us so we didn’t know which way was up and which was down. They made us jump into the water from a helicopter and then pulled us out again so we were dangling in the air secured only to a thin line.

  I knew it would be bad. Really. But I had no idea. Not really.

  That’s why, when I’m standing next to Killian after passing our last exam, my chest swells with pride. We made it. A program most people would never get through. We got through it. I’m damned proud of myself. And I’m proud of him.

  And I’m ecstatic as we head back to San Diego…

  8

  Mackenzie

  I didn’t think this would happen. I really didn’t. But after the fundraising gala, several TV stations, some magazines, and radio stations started spreading my story. I feel a little uncomfortable being the center of so much attention, but it’s useful for the organization. We’ve never gotten so many donations. Not just Free at Last—other similar organizations are reporting record numbers, too. And not only that. Tons of people have offered their help. Volunteers who are just normal, everyday people, but also celebrities who have finally realized how important the subject still is.

  I’m thrilled about the attention we’re getting, but not so much about the attention I’m getting. And Carter hates it, even though it doesn’t really affect him since he’s been spending so much time in New York.

  And the worst part about that is: I’ve stopped caring.

  “Carey!” I call through the house.

  “I’m coming!” he yells back, hurrying down the stairs half dressed. “What?”

  “Can you zip up my dress?”

  “Seriously? That’s why you’re yelling like the house is on fire?”

  I shrug. “It worked. You came.”

  He zips me up. “Is it really okay if I don’t come today?”

  I turn around and look up at him. The giant baby. “It is really okay if you don’t come today.”

  “I don’t want you to think I’m not with you on this.”

  I put my hand on his arm. “I would never think that.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  He smiles before planting a kiss on my cheek. “I love you, doll.”

  “I know. I love you, too. You should get going, or you’ll be late for the game.” Carey has tickets to a football game with his friend Jerry, so it’s understandable that he doesn’t want to join me for yet another charity event.

  And honestly, he has been there for me so much, has matured so much over the last few months, I can hardly recognize the fifteen-year-old boy I met two years ago. He’s turned into a young man. A young man who makes me proud.

  I take a cab to San Diego Woman’s Club, where today’s fundraiser is taking place. I’ve gotten used to standing on stage, and it makes me less nervous than it did a few months ago. But while I’m giving my speech tonight, I feel lonely. Nobody is there to support me. No Carter, no Carey, no…Hunter. Even my colleagues couldn’t make it tonight. And that makes me feel very, very small.

  Even I notice my speech is not as inspiring as usual. I can’t really get the crowd involved. This should have been a big night, but I think it’s going to be a flop.

  Suddenly, at the edge of the stage, somebody snaps their fingers. The sound is loud inside this huge hall. It distracts me, and even though I don’t mean to, I look over to see where it came from. My breath stops for a moment. My heart starts fluttering—it’s just because I’m so nervous to be on stage, that’s all…

  But Hunter’s gala uniform is an impressive sight. He looks tall, with his broad shoulders, and he’s amazingly beautiful. There’s no trace of the boy he once was. I can see a strength, a power that wasn’t there before. His face is still beautiful, but it’s gained something masculine, something more angular that makes him look incredibly hot.

  And then he smiles. Just for me.

  He makes a movement with his hand like he wants to shoo me away, and for a moment I don’t get it—until I realize I’m standing on a stage, giving a speech, and I’ve just gone silent for probably a minute.

  But Hunter is like an apparition before my very eyes.

  Tearing my gaze away, I turn back to the audience and continue my speech, not quite sure where I left off. But this time, my speech is completely different. Where it was flat and dull before, it is now buzzing with passion. Where I was unconvincing before, I am all the more convincing now.

  He came. He came for me. Are those butterflies? No. Impossible. I mean, I love Carter…

  Right?

  I finish my speech to a standing ovation and turn toward Hunter to see pride and respect, admiration, and adoration in his eyes. He claps loudest of all, and my smile is only for him.

  “Thank you,” my lips silently say.

  He gives me a brief nod. I look straight ahead, smiling into the cameras, eager to see Hunter, to put my arms around him, to thank him for being there for me when we’ve hardly been in touch.

  But when I finally get off that stage, I can’t find him anywhere. He’s gone.

  After looking around, I come to the obvious conclusion that he left, and even though it’s ridiculous, it breaks my heart.

  9

  Hunter

  On the way back to Coronado, I realize how proud I am of my girl. She’s strong and brave, facing her fears and talking about something she’s still struggling with, just to help others.

  Maybe we will never be a couple. Maybe she will never fall in love with me. But I’m happy she’s part of my life. Not loving her would make a lot of things easier for me, sure, but I would also be missing out.

  With new determination, I look at the six months lying ahead of me. I’m not taking them lightly. Marine training has pushed me to my limits, but I’m no longer the same person. I’m stronger, physically and mentally. The things about the military that I used to hate, like the constant yelling, have become normal for me. I’ve learned a lot about myself over the past two years, and I know I can do this. The more time I spend as a Marine, the more I realize that this is exactly what I was born to do.

  The SEAL training consists of three phases, and once again, Phase One is the toughest. If you can get through it, you can get through the rest, too. Phase One is about physical performance, Phase Two intr
oduces combatant diving—which should be easy for me—and Phase Three is about land warfare. But the very first five weeks are the pre phase, in which we’re introduced to the SEAL lifestyle and the training lying ahead of us. Then Phase One begins.

  “He’s trying to kill us,” Killian mumbles beside me.

  “Did you say something?” our DI screams behind us.

  “Sir, no, sir!” Killian answers as loud as he can.

  “A hundred push-ups!” the DI barks.

  Killian plops down and starts. A boot kicks my calf. “You, too. A hundred and fifty.”

  Everything inside me screams that it’s not fair because I didn’t say a word, but one important quality in military training is team spirit. We are a team. If one person makes a mistake, we all pay for it. So I fall to the ground and push myself up, counting aloud. Reminding myself that it was me who wanted this.

  Afterwards, we have to run four miles in our boots carrying our gear. The sun is burning down on us, and our gear is dragging us down, making us heavier and slower, but there’s a guy in front of us, yelling if we don’t obey his every order.

  This is not like boot camp, though, because we actually get a few hours of square-away time in the evenings. Allegedly, we’re going to get weekends off, too, but we’ll see.

  “Hey, man,” I say as I sit down next to Killian one evening.

  “Hey, this letter-writing is not my thing,” he says. He’s been working on a letter to his girl for a while now. “I’d prefer to send her some sexy texts.”

  I grin. “But girls like letters.”

  “How do you know? Have you written one to Mac yet?”

  I shake my head. He’s got me. I don’t actually know, because I’m not writing to Mac or any other girl, and haven’t even had sex in more than two years. Let’s just say my right hand is really sore.

  Killian is studying my face, which I think might look a bit morose. Finally, he says, “It’s your business, Hunt, but if you don’t feel good about your situation, change it.”