Page 84 of Vaquero
Chapter Thirty-Three
Meg was alone in her private quarter. Earlier, she’d left sleepy Dom with Corpsman Giacomo when he’d finally been allowed back into sickbay. Guess not even the captain of the ship could keep med tech’s away from their patients for long. Luke had been kind and attentive as he’d checked Dom’s vitals, then asked Dom what he’d wanted for dinner. Luke had also asked questions, but Meg hadn’t felt like making small-talk. So she’d retreated to where she’d spent the night with Julio. Unfortunately, he wasn’t here now, and she needed him. He’d know what to do.
Blindsided by the fact that Hotrod was really Navy SEAL Walker Judge, she still wasn’t certain why Dooley had confided in her. Searching for that answer, and because she’d lost touch with current events across the world during the past year, Meg signed onto her room’s laptop and went online. She’d spent the last two hours researching Walker Judge, reading everything she could find on his short trial, his lawyer’s lengthy brief, even Judge’s request for an Inspector General investigation into Commander Goff’s life and death.
Navy SEAL, check.
Various commendations and medals, wow, check.
Nearly twenty years serving his country, check.
No wife. Both parents deceased. No sisters. One brother KIA three years ago in Yemen. Check and triple-check.
Reading the details of that KIA stabbed Meg’s heart. She couldn’t imagine one of her brothers being killed in action, or getting that kind of notification. His brother’s death had to have been tough on Walker. Yet everything she found pointed to an honorable man following in the footsteps of his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather. His brother had also been Navy. It was very apparent that Walker had always known what he wanted to do with his life.
According to his lawyer’s brief on the trial, he had an exemplary service record, which Meg had already substantiated. Yet Navy brass had consistently ignored that record and the medals for heroism, above and beyond the call of duty, that they themselves had awarded him. The JAG prosecutor had blatantly disregarded Walker’s constitutional right to a fair trial. NCIS, through well-timed, albeit illegal, leaks to dishonest reporters, tried him in the public eye. Even the men and women selected as peers in his jury, had been hand-picked by Navy brass.
So unfair.
The more she read, the more unanswered questions Meg had, and the more she believed something was fundamentally wrong with the top echelon in the Navy. Not only that, but not once had Meg gotten any off-color, quirky vibes from Hotrod, err, Walker Judge. True, she’d just met him a couple days ago, but after growing up with four belligerent brothers, she was usually a good judge of male character.
Walker Judge was the real deal and a hardened warrior. He was like Julio and Trevor. He could’ve been that face on Navy recruiting posters. Walker fit the profile. He was one of those rare breeds that ran into trouble, not away from it. He was a warrior for good, a bulwark against evil. So what if he liked to rough-house and had gotten into a few brawls over his career? Wasn’t that what Navy SEALs did? Even if it wasn’t, Meg didn’t care. She’d liked Walker the moment she’d met him.
The problem seemed to lie within the military’s criminal justice system. The UCMJ, Uniform Code of Military Justice, was uniquely different from its brother, the civilian justice system. UCMJ had its own body of laws, and military tribunals were supposed to interpret, enforce, and protect those laws. They were supposed to be impartial and fair. They were supposed to be founded on truth.
Yet Meg knew all about those sanctimonious military tribunals. If some pompous general or admiral wanted a lower-ranking lackey in Leavenworth—wham, bam, yes, sir, it’s done.Good men and women didn’t stand a chance against the butt-kissing and rule-bending that went on behind closed Navy and Army doors these days. Not unless they were wealthy and could afford good lawyers. Even then, those lawyers had better watch their backs. God help anyone who didn’t kiss the right ass in this highly-charged political climate.
But now, a head pounding case of eye-strain had set in. Meg couldn’t see straight. She needed a break.
Pushing away from the desk, she turned the swivel chair around and smiled at the unmade bed across the room. Luscious memories of being with Julio in that bed warmed her now. There in the dark, she welcomed them. Her shoulders lifted. She shivered remembering the way he’d nuzzled her neck and kissed her fingertips. Her lips. His mouth had been warm, wet, and seductive. Yet always gentle. Even as driven as he’d been when they’d first lost control together, he’d never been rough or selfish. He’d made certain she’d been pleasured first. She was pretty sure he’d made her purr like a cat, too.
He’d been so careful, almost reverent in their lovemaking. That alone was a new sensation, being treated with love. Over and over, he’d proved to her with his body that there were still trustworthy, humble men in the world. With every beat of her heart, Meg believed in Julio. She trusted him to come back to her. He’d promised. But he wasn’t returning tonight, that much was sure. Not if he and Walker were stuck on some island with a busted helo and that snake, Hazelton.
“I knew she wasn’t who she said she was,” Meg told the empty bed. That almost made her smile. Those two, tough, macho guys had been brought low by a blonde bimbo with long legs. Meg wished she were a fly on the wall inside the Blackhawk. They had to be embarrassed.
But what was Julio doing now? Was he thinking of her? Was he remembering their night and day of passion, sex, and a couple gloriously fun, romantic showers? Her ex, Ted Jeurgen, had always rushed to shower after they’d made love. He’d been a clean-freak. Which explained why he’d deserted Meg in her hour of need. God knew stroke patients were too messy for a man with OCD issues. At least that was what Meg believed. It was never that Ted didn’t love her. He’d just loved himself more. Even that didn’t hurt like it used to. She’d moved past worrying what she’d done wrong with Ted. At last, she was healing. Letting go.
Because Julio was most definitely—Not. Ted. And he knew things about her partially-paralyzed body that Meg hadn’t expected. Like where his fingertips could draw the most delicious shivers out of her. Like when to ease back and just hold onto her while she exploded into stars. Like how to balance his weight and hers while he pumped into her in the shower. Like how to smile…
That man had the most beautiful smile. It lit up his entire face, and it smoothed away the sadness in his eyes. All those rugged angles softened. She loved making him smile.
Between his dark eyes, dark hair, and those breathtaking lips, she didn’t know which part of Julio she liked best. There were so many choices. His wide chest, sprinkled with just enough hair to tickle her fingertips when she smoothed her palms over his pecs. The way he licked his lips, and the salacious gleam in his eyes when she’d undressed in front of him. The sound of him groaning in her ear, murmuring his ‘I love yous.’ The spicy, clean scent of his skin. The feel of his ridges and muscles. That scratchy five o’clock shadow. Those splendid washboard abs that led straight to her idea of heaven on earth.
Meg shook her head, amazed at how her life had changed. When she’d left Texas a year ago, she’d been depressed and looking for one last fight. She’d been down, feeling useless, and totally absorbed in her own problems. She’d thought she’d needed to prove herself, that she could still be a warrior. A tough girl. Like brash, take-no-back-talk Corporal Duncan.
Now that she looked over the past year, it was easier to see how much she’d been like Ted. Self-absorbed. Focused on all the wrong things. But now she was different, all because she’d found another family to love. In finding those orphans, she’d also found her real self. Better yet, she’d found the best reason for living—for someone else.
Meg pulled to her feet and walked to the bed. Sighing, she sank into the blankets and pillows that still smelled like Julio. She wrapped her arms around herself, imagining he was hugging her. When he came back, she’d be waiting. Maybe not here on theIwo Jima, but somewhere.
She promised.
