Dead are Forgotten Read online

For now, she tried to deflect.

  “Coffee? I’ll buy,” she offered.

  It took him a second.

  He stared at her.

  Yeah, she wasn’t buying him jack shit.

  Ever.

  Blue noticed the look.

  “What? Did I say something that upset you?” she asked. “You look angry.”

  Ivan tried to cover it.

  “I’ll make you coffee. It’s the least I can do for my woman,” he stated, declaring ownership. “Chicks don’t buy men coffee.”

  She lifted a brow.

  Uh, that was a battle for another day.

  “Oh, okay. Can I get a tour?” she asked, trying to defuse the situation.

  Maybe that was for the best. Ivan needed to calm down before he did something stupid. Blue was the ONLY person on the planet who could turn him upside down.

  Here was the proof.

  He was a mess.

  Ivan rolled out of bed, pulled on his jeans, and tugged on his shirt. Then he helped Blue get ready. Their bags were sitting not far away, and he watched her dig through them to get her things.

  When she was done, he held her hand, walked her down the stairs, and gave her the grand tour of his home.

  It took all of fifteen seconds.

  That worried him.

  Their places couldn’t compete, and he knew it. She probably had chandeliers and tile.

  He had ceiling fans and carpet.

  Blue looked around like she was in a museum. You could learn a lot about a person by their home. Ivan’s was no different. It was filled with warm colors, a couch you could nap on, and someone liked sports.

  She could picture him on that couch.

  “I love your home, Ivan. I bet you sit there and watch the game,” she said, pointing at the big leather couch.

  “I do. I do all of my best beer drinking right there. I think I’ve left an ass print.”

  Blue laughed.

  “I bet it’s a sexy one,” she said, before slipping her hand into his back pocket.

  Ivan didn’t know what to say. What he did know was he was thanking God that he’d cleaned the place before he picked her up for their trip.

  He’d also tossed the girlie mags and the old pizza boxes. The last thing he wanted was for her to think he was a slob who jacked off to hooters.

  Even though, before her, that was a fairly accurate statement when describing him.

  Ivan led her into the kitchen.

  “So, tomorrow, we’re having dinner at my place, right?” she asked.

  “Yes, I’ll talk to Elizabeth and hopefully, she’s not charging into some battle.”

  “Well, if you’re busy, we can cancel it. It’s only dinner with my…”

  He cut her off.

  “I’ll be there.”

  She blinked.

  “Uh, okay.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry that I just snapped at you like that. You didn’t deserve it.”

  And it was true.

  Blue didn’t.

  As the coffee brewed, he tried to calm down, knowing that he was on the cusp of screwing up.

  Blue didn’t understand why he looked nervous. Then it finally occurred to her.

  “If you don’t want to meet them, Ivan, please don’t start a fight to get out of it,” she stated. “We’re both adults. You can just tell me.”

  He was at a crossroad.

  Ahead was Blue, a wedding, and maybe some children in their future. Before meeting her, that was a pipe dream. Now…he had the potential to screw it up.

  If he deviated from that plan, he knew he’d spend the rest of his life alone. Ivan couldn’t picture a single day without the woman beside him.

  He loved her too damn much.

  “What if they don’t like me?” he asked out of the blue. “What if I’m their worst nightmare?”

  She laughed.

  Then she realized he was being absolutely serious about his question.

  She didn’t get it.

  How could they not like a decorated veteran who was still serving his country?

  How could they not like a man who treated her like she was precious and a gem?

  How could they not like a man who would die before letting anything happen to her?

  That was every parent’s dream man. With Ivan, she was safe and loved.

  “Ivan, you’re not dating my parents. You’re dating me. I happen to love you, so their opinions are not really important,” she offered.

  He stared at her.

  He was old-fashioned.

  He was one of those guys who wanted to ask his girl’s father if he could marry her. Their opinion mattered to him, and it always would, just like his parent’s opinion mattered when he showed up with Blue.

  Only, Blue was smart, a doctor, and didn’t have a shitty job that could get her killed.

  She drew for a living.

  He…well, he was a walking bull’s-eye. No parent was going to applaud that choice, and he knew it.

  How?

  He had friends who had their relationships cut short because of what they did for a living. All of the Blackhawk’s security had been there and done that.

  Ivan.

  Heath.

  Rory.

  All of them had been dumped once or thrice.

  Blue was his only way out of that vicious cycle of pain, loneliness, and misery.

  She was his heart and soul.

  “What if…?” he began, only to be cut off.

  Instead of letting him speak, she kissed him to shut him up and stop his mind from asking all kinds of questions that didn’t matter.

  Then, when she released his mouth, she stared into his sexy eyes.

  “My dad will NOT like you. He’s not going to like any man who is having sex with his baby. You could be the President of the United States of America, and he would find some way to dislike you.”

  Well, that wasn’t good.

  “I once brought a neurosurgeon home—the same job he does, and do you know what he said?”

  Ivan shook his head.

  “He said, ‘you’re not good enough for my daughter, your socks are colorful, and I don’t like how you part your hair’,” she said. “We were only getting a set of golf clubs out of his garage for me to use. I wasn’t even serious about him, and he pulled a dad. So, no matter what he says, ignore it.”

  He would try, but it was hard.

  “Besides, Ivan, my father, bless him, is married to a woman younger than me. She graduated after me and would give the teachers blowjobs to get out of tests. He’s got his own issues. Have you ever given anyone head to get an A?” she asked, trying to keep a serious face.

  He stared at her.

  Was she kidding?

  “Well, there was that one time…”

  She laughed.

  “Just stare at his wife and her fake breasts, new nose, liposuction scars, and think about that. Her mouth was on the dick of more men than a platoon.”

  He relaxed.

  “Well, there’s a lot of horny men in a platoon,” he offered.

  She laughed.

  “Ah, to be a Marine.”

  Ivan held her hand. He felt better. Blue could always talk him down.

  Here was the proof.

  “Whatever my father says, my mother is going to do the exact opposite. She does that to spite my father, so if he hates you, she’s going to love you.”

  He laughed.

  “Well, that should make me feel better, but it doesn’t,” he teased.

  “You’ll be fine. I know them. My father will get tipsy, and my mother will get mean. Trust me. You are going to have one hell of a show. I’m not worried. I just spent two weeks with your parents, and I was scared. I see now that it was silly to worry. I should have known that the parents of the man I love would be kind, sweet, and loving.”

  “Uh, they don’t sound like you, Blue, so your theory is shot to hell,” he stated.

  “And I’m tellin
g you to ignore them. I’m an adult. I listened as a child, and now I’m happy. There is NOTHING they could say that would make me leave your side. I love you, babe.”

  That helped him.

  “Coffee?” he asked.

  “Maybe a kiss first?”

  Oh, well, if his girl wanted a kiss, it was his job to make sure she got just that.

  He’d kiss Blue in the middle of Afghanistan while holding a target.

  “I can do that, Bluebell.”

  The kiss was gentle, calm, and it proved that Ivan was multi-faceted. He was a storm, a tropical breeze, and a calm day in the summer, all rolled into one.

  As she pulled away, Blue went into his arms, rested her head on his shoulder, and wrapped her arms around his torso.

  He felt like home.

  “Want to stay over after dinner?” she asked. “We’ve fooled around in your bed. Want to fool around in mine?”

  He hesitated.

  It was only for a brief second, but she caught it. After the last two weeks, she knew when he was calm, laid back, and stirred up.

  Ivan was an open book to her.

  “Okay,” he finally said.

  “Or we can come back here,” she offered. Blue didn’t get his hesitation, but she knew from his mother that when he wasn’t happy about something, he’d make it well-known in his own time.

  Ivan was stubborn.

  He worked on his own timeline. He was just lucky that she was pretty laid back.

  “Can we?” he asked.

  “Yes. I like your bed. I slept like a rock and woke up with a sexy man beside me. That’s a good day for me.”

  Ivan relaxed again, grateful that his girl wasn’t going to ride his ass over this. He was seriously struggling with it, and he couldn’t deal at that moment.

  He was too focused on dinner with her parents.

  Then he’d broach the house issue.

  One battle at a time for this soldier.

  “Thank you, Blue.”

  She gave him another kiss, and her hands wandered right to his ass and she squeezed.

  He laughed.

  “Who needs a platoon when I have you?” she asked. “You’re all the Marine I need, Ivan.”

  Oh, he was aware.

  If she tried to attract a platoon, he’d lose his damn mind. There was no way he’d ever share his woman.

  Never.

  Besides, no sane man would give this up. Ivan loved when she touched him. There was something sweet and sexy about how she explored his body. When he found her staring at his tattoos, it heated his blood.

  When he could feel himself waking to her hands on his ribs or chest, it was a reminder of how damn lucky he was.

  Blue loved his body, and he loved her.

  He would be her sexy playground all day long.

  Before he could offer to let her touch him all over again, she refocused and looked at her FBI issued watch.

  “Now get me to the office. I have to get there before the boss lady chews your ass a new one.”

  He laughed.

  “Me?”

  “I have whisker burn, and she’s going to smell your scent on me. Elizabeth will blame you.”

  Yes, yes, she would.

  Blue wasn’t exaggerating.

  “I will be upset if she takes bites out of that sexy ass of yours. You know, since it’s mine.”

  Well, that didn’t turn down his libido at all.

  Not one damn bit.

  * * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *

  Chris Leonard’s

  Brownstone

  How he got home, he had no freaking clue. All Chris knew was that in the parking lot, he got into his Mercedes, and he arrived at home. It seemed to take forever, and that he’d lost some time in the process, but he eventually arrived.

  By home, he meant his old home.

  Chris couldn’t go back to Fort Whitefox-Blackhawk. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. While he hated being alone, for this, he had to be.

  So, he parked at the place he’d kept empty—just in case the Blackhawks kicked him out—and stumbled inside.

  Inside the door, he was hit by the wave of nausea. It rose up, filling his throat. When he couldn’t fight it anymore, Chris dropped his medical kit and raced to the bathroom.

  There, he puked.

  The bile.

  The coffee.

  The pain.

  It all purged from him, leaving him that dead, empty shell that he’d now become. In a matter of hours, he’d lost it all.

  His will to live.

  His will to fight.

  His life.

  It was all gone, and he couldn’t fight anymore. His tanks were empty, and he was running on fumes. This was his final destination.

  Rock bottom.

  When he couldn’t purge anymore, and when he was completely empty, Chris grabbed his gun and a bottle of vodka from the liquor cabinet.

  His mind was made up.

  There was nothing left for him. Thank God he’d kissed his daughter goodbye that morning. She was the one he’d think about. She was the one he’d miss the most.

  Well, her and Elizabeth.

  Neither of them could be burdened with what was to be his fate. He was going to die a painful death, and he couldn’t force them to take care of him.

  They’d have to feed him.

  Bathe him.

  At some point, he’d be a burden on them, and there was no way he could let the people he loved do that. Likewise, Chris didn’t want to slowly die in hospice.

  He didn’t want some nurse staring down at him as he babbled and drooled in pain.

  Chris couldn’t face that.

  It scared him more than taking his own life. That horrible end…he couldn’t do it.

  He wasn’t strong enough.

  He’d never been strong, and this…this was his proof.

  Chris tried not to think about all the self-inflicted gunshot wounds he’d seen in his lifetime as an ME. He tried not to picture them on his morgue table, and half of their heads gone.

  It was a bloody mess.

  Chris didn’t want anyone to deal with that. It almost made him stop.

  Almost.

  Then, he thought about his body becoming nothing more than a skeleton wearing skin. Boney, emaciated, and the dead hollow eyes.

  God!

  He couldn’t do that.

  He couldn’t go there.

  That was NOT how he wanted Bethe to remember him if she ever did.

  So, his mind was made up.

  Chris headed into the room he used as his office when he and Bethe had returned there.

  And he sat.

  And drank.

  Chris had nothing left in his life, and he was too big of a coward to watch himself slowly succumb to HIV. He needed the booze to kill the inhibitions.

  He’d seen the bloodwork of plenty of suicide victims. They’d been drunk or high—sometimes both. If he could just get to that point…

  He’d be able to pull the trigger.

  This was not how he’d seen his life. As a young man, he thought he’d always be with Elizabeth. Maybe they’d get married—if he ever got the nerve to ask. Years later, when he’d found Cyra, and married her, he thought they’d always be together.

  He thought they’d grow old as a couple.

  Then, she died.

  Now, he was alone, and now his chances of anything past that moment were over. No one would want him, and he couldn’t saddle anyone with this burden.

  That’s all he was.

  He was a burden.

  So, Chris was going to do what he had to do to handle the situation.

  Pulling out some papers, he began writing Bethe a goodbye letter. It was everything he wanted to tell her in the future, and everything he needed her to understand about why he was going to take the easy way out.

  Hopefully, by the time she was old enough to understand, Ethan would have taken his place, and she wouldn’t miss him.

&nbs
p; It was his last hope.

  His last prayer.

  When he finished the letter, he sealed it in an envelope. Then he pulled out another paper as he started chugging from the bottle.

  It dulled some of the pain.

  His inhibitions were sinking to the bottom of that bottle, exactly like he’d hoped. In a while, he’d be able to do it.

  Chris hoped it would give him the final courage to end his life before it became a horrible nightmare for everyone who knew him.

  He loved them too much.

  He loved them more than himself.

  Most importantly, he couldn’t let Elizabeth see him like that. Chris loved her too much to let her watch him die a slow, painful death.

  She’d take care of him because she was a good person, but he couldn’t let her do it.

  It wasn’t fair.

  The memories of the times they’d sink into a bathtub when they dated would be replaced with her washing his skeletal frame from a bedpan.

  He couldn’t do that to her.

  His death would hurt her, but his living would prolong it. In this case, he truly believed that it was best to pull off the bandage and save her the long-term suffering.

  So, as he wrote the note, he kept drinking.

  ‘My dearest love, Elizabeth,

  I hope one day you forgive me for what I’m about to do to myself and everyone who knows me. I’m not a selfish man, or I would like to think I’m not. The only problem is, I’m not strong like you, Ethan, or Callen. I’ve never been the tough one, and we both know that.

  I’m weak, and now I’m dying.

  It’s a horrible combination.

  Which will win first? Which will take me to my grave? For once, I want to spare the people I love of having to carry me. You’ve done it for so long, and you must be so tired.

  Thank you for being mine for all those years. I wish I could redo so many things in my life. I wish I could go back and never hurt you, first and foremost. That’s my life’s biggest regret. I have always loved you. From the day I saw you in the morgue until the moment I put this pen down, I will always have that deep love for you.

  It’s endless.

  It’s true.

  Despite what happened between us, it was always there, and I hope it lives on forever—unlike me.

  You were mine for so many years, and I took you for granted. I stopped seeing you as a treasure at one point, and let you be something I wanted to possess. That was what cost me you, and I wish I could go back and chase after you when you left that party. I would have followed you, begged, and explained. I would have slept outside your door, even if you hated me. I would have fought for you like you have fought for me the last few years.