Page 2 of Service and Sacrifice
“Oh, honey.” Strong arms wrapped around her,and it was so good, so unbelievably good that Amanda let herselfsink into the embrace, uncaring how rough the zipper felt againsther cheek, how irresponsible it might be to allow a stranger tocradle her like this, because someone was granting her permissionto give up being strong for one minute. “This week, huh?”
She nodded. “Tomorrow.”
It took a minute, and when it came, thewords were gritted out, voice trembling with something like anger.“Suckass kind of anniversary.”
She nodded again.
Another period of silence filled only withher heartbeat, his friends’ murmured conversations and bursts oflaughter seeming far away. “What’ll you do to remember him?”
“Visit the cemetery.” Something she didevery week without fail. Rain, snow, heat—it didn’t matter. Shekept her self-appointed trek where the only certainty was in thesolo arrival and lonely vigil.
“The one here in town?” His voice rumbledunder her ear,andshe felt pressure againstthe top of her head. “On the highway east of town?”
“Yes. That’s where he is.” Something hisparents hadn’t wanted, but she was glad she’d stuck to her decisionand that finally her requests had been honored. They would havepreferred somewhere bigger, a location they felt more deserving oftheir son’s loss, someplace they could hold up as a propermemorial. But if he’d been across the country, or even in themilitary cemetery downstate, it would have made her visits moredifficult. She pulled in a breath and caught the elusive scentagain. This close, it was filled with notes of masculinity shehadn’t noticed before. “Thank you.” Amanda stepped back and let herarms drop, not even having realized when she’d wrapped them aroundhis waist.Holding on like he’s a life raft.
He released her, then reached out andtrailed firealongher wrist, mapping the scaruntil he pressed against the semicolon she carried there. “Thankyou for your sacrifice.”
She ducked her head and settled into thedriver seat of the car, surprised when the bikes were gone from infront of her. There were four parked in front of the store, therest having disappeared sometime during that interlude. The cardoor closed gently, then two taps on the roof to send her on herway, just like Martin had always done.
Amanda glanced at her mirror as she droveaway, seeing the tall man still standing next to the gas pump likea surprising sentinel.
Two
Monk
Alex Waterman watched the old car bounceover the low curb that separated the gas station from thestreetand traced the woman’s route with hisgaze until she rolled out of sight. He couldn’t remember everseeing someone carry as much pain and grief while still keepingthemselves upright. The look on her face as she’d counted off thedays told him how she’d measured the painful hours of each one,holding out hope the next sunrise would prove nightmares didn’texist, rising from her lonely bed to wrestle them to heel. Dayafter day, and at some point she’d given up on that route, seekinga final solace. Even that had been denied, or she wouldn’t have hadthat damn tattoo to prove how she’d survived.
“Monk, you ready to roll, brother?” Alexlooked up and smiled at his club name, brain changing gears untilhe was fully back in the moment with his patch brothers in theBorderline Freaks Motorcycle Club. He knew Blade, the one who’dspoken, would also be the one who’d moved Monk’s bike withouthaving to be asked. “We sent the main column on, just us hung backwith you.” Unspoken were the questions about the woman,whoandwhyprobably first on their tongues. The problem wasMonk wasn’t sure what had happened, not really.
One moment he’d been annoyed that a goodride on a good day was being disrupted by a bitch who couldn’t bebothered to show the least bit of decency and move her goddamnedjunker out of the way so they could fuel, and the next he’d beenholding her while she breathed through her grief, every swell andcollapse of her ribcage pained and rough, like something waskilling her slowly from inside.
“Yeah, man. I’m ready.”
The rest of the ride, rolling hard and fastto catch up with the group, then through two more fuel stops, andfinally halting at a diner everyone liked near the state line, Monkcouldn’t drag his mind away from the woman. “Husband,” she’d said,and infused that single seven-letter word with so much loss itstole away his breath. The expression she’d worn was likeandyet unlike every warwidowhe’d had to see. Personal notifications if he wasstateside, and those were the hardest. It didn’t matter if they’dlooked outside to see who was at the curb; taken unawares, eachface carried pain and disbelief and fear.Jesus. So muchfucking fear. Door flung wide on a scream of “No,” or opened gentlywith children in arms and already tear-streaked faces, women tookthe news as best they could bear it. Men didtoo,because he’d had to make more than one distaffnotification, too, that their beloved wife, cherished mother, orfavored daughter wouldn’t be coming home again.
The emotions he’d seen in the woman’s facetoday were grief and acceptance, well past the denial stage. Whathe’d offered her in the form of a physical connection wasn’t hisgig. Condolences weren’t what hedid,unlessit was one ofhismen. There’d been too many of those, andhe was hella glad those days were in his rearview.
“Monk.” At his name, he looked up from themenu at Neptune, another fellow Marine and patch brother. “Womanneeds your order, man.” Monk blinked, looked around, and realizedthe place had filled up with his brothers.
“Just the coffee.” He knew even that wouldsour in his stomach, but the idea of eating wasn’t appealing. Notright now. Monk offered her the plastic-coated menu,andshe pointed to the napkin holder on the table, wherehe saw three more just like it tucked alongside. Where he’dundoubtedly retrieved the thing from originally.Fuck. Hetried to smile, nodding as she shifted to the next table.“Thanks.”
“Pretty thang” came from beside him, and heglared at Wolf, another double brother he’d served with overseas.His glare apparently wasn’t enough of a deterrent, because the mancontinued in that vein, exactly as Monk would expect. “Gonna goback and tap that pretty thang? Be a Monk no more, brother, aboutdamn time.”
Alex had earned the name Monk one night atan epic party where there’d been girls and booze aplenty,nerve-soothing pot in ample quantities, and brotherhood of thehighest order. Someone had asked him why he wasn’t in line for awoman, and he’d told them all about what it meant to have his PTSD.He rolled his eyes at the memory of that version of Monk, stilljust known as Waterboy, and he wasn’t sure which was worse.
“You wanna know why? You sure? BecauseI’m fucked in the head.” He pulled a face, tongue wagging, fingercocked at his own temple. “Fucked in the head, but can’t fuck withthe body.” Jeans unzipped, he dug his soft cock out and shook it.“ED ain’t no joke, man. Little buddy here ain’t interested inanything anymore.” Gyrating his hips, he helicoptered his dick, themen around him falling out of their chairs laughing. “Uncle Samwon’t allow but six little blue pills a month.” He pulled up ramrodstraight and saluted. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I’ll be happy toget a half a dozen hard-ons every thirty, sir.” Shoving his memberback in his jeans, he finished, “Half the time it’s too much workto dick around with.” Laughing, he pounded Blade’s shoulder. “Getit, dick around with?” Collapsing back into his chair, he said, “Sothat’s why I’m here and not there.” He pointed across the room towhere two men were double-teaming a woman, had her squeezed betweenthem as they fucked her ass and pussy hard. “Might as well joina…what’s it called for men? Amonkery? I don’t know. I’m just fucked in the head,man, and these days, not fucked in the flesh.”
“No. She’s a widow, brother.” All three menseated with him froze in place. They knew the significance thatword carried andwereprobably rewritingtoday’s encounter in their own minds with just that singlesentence.
Blade pulled in a breath. “She’s fromthere.”It was a statement,not a question,but Monk responded as if he’d asked it, nodding slowly. Bladehummed softly, face twisting in remembered grief. “I did an honorride a few years ago from the base.”
The three of them had all been stationed atthe local base, Monk the only one who’d settled here to get awayfrom all the baggage he’d wanted to leave behind. A wife, and hernot liking being alone ten or eleven months of the year, if theywere lucky. Friends, who didn’t get why he wasn’t the same freespirit they’d known in high school. Family, who looked at him sadlyas they patched holes in their walls or paid bail bondsmen cash toretrieve his ass from the most recent round of ridiculous behavior.Bosses as they shook their heads, holding out an envelope toindicate a termination of employment. Establishing a new life herehad been a chance at a fresh start, and finding the brotherhoodhe’d needed in the Borderline Freaks had proved the move to befate.
Neptune added, “Dude was corps,” and Wolfnodded. “Had nearly twenty-two hundred bikes on that ride. Streetsand roads were lined for miles and miles with people paying theirrespects.Flagseverywhere. Patriots hadpoint,” meaning the local chapter of thatnational MC had been positioned directly behind the hearse and carswith family, “and we were next in line. Oorah.”
“Oorah.” The time-worn response to a call tofaith and fidelity echoed around the table, Monk’s voice the finalone to chime in.
“How do you know her?” Blade pushed back inthe seat, and Monk looked up to see the waitress coming their waywith a tray of drinks.
