Page 41 of Striker

She comes back hours later with a determined look on her face and a secret fire in her eyes. It's like she knows something I don't. Where she's been, I don't ask.

I don't even get the chance to ask.

"There's a dinner and dancing tonight. One hour. We have to attend. There's no way you can weasel your way out of this one, Owen; we're in the wedding party, so you have to man the fuck up and go with me. I'll give you the room for fifteen minutes so you can put on something decent, then I need the room so I can put on my dress and makeup. Got it?"

I give a mocking salute. "Yes, ma'am."

She flips me the bird with pain in her eyes.

My fifteen minutes only take me ten. It isn't hard to put on a shirt, slacks, a tie and a jacket; doing it quickly and neatly is something I picked up in the Marines under threat of death by drill sergeant. I could do it all in two minutes, but I stop after putting on my shirt and slacks to have a couple beers to quiet the burning in my insides.

I've hurt Dani deeply, and it's something I'll never forgive myself for, even if it was for all the right reasons.

While Dani's getting ready, I take another walk. An aimless one without intent to scout or even find out what fresh hells I can cook up for her with Mr. Clipboard's help. It's only a walk to keep me busy, so I don't think about her as much.

When my feet bring me back to the room, she's waiting for me, looking like radiant torture. We depart.

In the expansive courtyard set up to accommodate the sizable crowd, I struggle through dinner; it's the best steak I've ever eaten in my life, and it tastes like ashes in my mouth.

It gets chased down with grappa, red wine, and beer. They do nothing except wet my throat and still the bitter, self-hating words I want to spit onto my plate. They give me no relief from the pain inside. The only thing holding me together is the fact that I have to do this for her. She's my mission. Keeping her safe, keeping her alive. Even if the words I spoke to her earlier in the day mean that the Dani seated beside me at this exquisite dinner will never be as vibrant and alive as she used to be, it’s the right thing to do if it keeps her alive.

Then, as if some silent signal has gone off, musicians come out and traditional Italian music starts, while the serving crew takes away plates, glasses, and moves tables and chairs to clear a large space in the middle of the courtyard.

I send a questioning look Dani's way.

"It's a party," she says. "There's going to be dancing."

Another questioning look.Do we?

She nods. "It's expected. We have to."

I frown. "There has to be some other way."

"I thought you were all about your mission?" She says bitterly. "Or was that just a lie? If you give a damn, you’ll suck it up and dance with me, Owen."

In that expansive courtyard, surrounded by dozens of onlookers, by music, lit by the flickering of outdoor torches and the light of the moon and the stars circling in the night sky above, I stand and I offer her my hand. It's what my duty requires.

She takes it. Reluctant, slow, with a strained smile on her face.

To the chords of classical Italian music, we walk to the center of the courtyard and take our place among those who are already dancing. I put my hands on Dani's hips; she puts hers on my back; I lead us through exquisite agony.

I've never held her like this, though I've dreamed of it plenty of times. Ached for it. Woke myself up in the middle of the night, rock hard and seeking relief, because of it.

But to really do it?

Dani's touch burns, sets afire the loyalty that sits at the core of me. It’s perfect hell.

"You're dancing pretty stiff, Owen," she whispers. "Do they not teach Marines how to move their hips?"

"This isn't right," I murmur back.

"What's your problem with dancing? We're both adults, we both don't want to die. This is just moving together with music, nothing more. It's not like you're attracted to me, anyway, so there's no harm."

I grit my teeth, trying to push away the feelings that threaten to overwhelm me. She's right, of course. It's just dancing. But as I move with her, I can feel her body press against mine, the heat of her breath on my neck, and I can't help but feel like this is so much more than just dancing.

But I have a duty to uphold. To keep her safe. To do what I have to do, even if it means sacrificing my own desires.

So I dance with her, stiff and awkward at first, but gradually loosening up as the music carries me away. Dani's eyes are closed, a smile on her lips, and I feel a pang of guilt knowing that I'm the reason that smile isn't as bright as it used to be.

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