Havoc (30 page)

Arriving next door at Felix's place, hand in
hand, we stroll through the house and past the buffet feast I
helped prep in the kitchen. Within a matter of seconds, we're
surrounded by guests to mingle with, but the only thing that has my
attention is her. Her smile. Her laugh. Her glance. Between the
sensation tugging at my heart and the one tugging in my pants, I'm
most likely to be torn to shreds before we ever make it back to our
room. At least I’d die happy—sexually frustrated as shit but happy.
Haven being happy ultimately makes me happy.

“Grim!” Glove's voice interrupts Mindy, who’s
about to launch into another nature story about squirrels. Great
timing, too. If I had to hear another word about how those rats of
the trees are just so precious, I might have tried to swallow an
arsenal of acorns for a humorous death.

The two of us excuse ourselves and cross over
to Glove and Lordy. Like the brothers they are, they listened when
I demanded they bring gifts. Let's just hope they don't throw a
wrench in this moment with her like they did the last time.

“Hope you don't mind that I invited them,” I
pre-apologize, guessing she secretly wanted them around. Haven
wants to be a part of that part of my life, accepted by it as well.
To be honest, so do I, but having her know the Grim side in me more
in-depth still scares the shit out of me.

“Of course not.” Both guys receive small
hugs. I wish she wouldn't hug them, at least Glove. No telling if
that asshole showered or not, even though I told him to. “Thanks
for coming!”

“Yeah,” Glove responds. “Any time. I love to
party.”

“That's an understatement,” Lordy
chuckles.

Shrugging that it's true, Glove continues,
“Happy birthday, Haven! I would've never guessed you were turning
nineteen.”

“I thought twenty-two at least,” Lordy
compliments, a box wrapped in pale-yellow paper shifts around in
his grip.

I used to wish she was the same age, but
being around her has taught me that age is a number. Maturity is
what matters. Take Glove, for instance. I'm convinced he's thirteen
with a growth hormone imbalance.

“We brought gifts as instructed,” Lordy
pushes his toward her. “I mean as suggested,” he amends when he
sees my expression.

She gives me glance, and I appear that I have
no idea as to what he's talking about. Her giggle seeps out, and I
feel the day get even better.

“Hope I did OK.” Lordy got her a navy-colored
oven mitt with white words, “There's no such thing as an ex-cook.”
Clever. Seeing she missed something, I offer to hold onto the box
while she examines a small, folded piece of paper.

“It's a recipe for my grandma’s peach
cobbler. It's been in the family for generations. I—uh—don't get to
go home often, so maybe when we get back from deployment, you could
make it for us. I hear you're one hell of a baker, to put it
mildly. And well, we're all family now, right?”

I should punch him for assuming my girlfriend
would or should be obligated to cook for him, but something tells
me he was trying for a different message. He was trying to welcome
her to a deeper side of him, the one Glove ignores and I empathize
with.

“Thank you.” Another hug. I try to refrain
from tensing, being too jealous over the simple action. “I'd be
honored. And yes. We're all family now.”

Lordy nods, and Glove groans, “If I would've
known we could give you chores to do.” Lordy slaps him upside the
head, shutting him up. “I got you something, too.”

She puts the recipe in the box, and I secure
it as well as the trash while grumbling, “Glove, I swear on my
career, if you got my girl a giant box of condoms as a gift, I'll
make sure you never need another.”

“Terrifying, Grim,” he shutters, holding up a
bright blue bag with sparkles. There's a familiar sleazy smile on
his face, now meaning one thing. That gift’s going to cause him to
stop breathing. High pain. Good thing Striker's here. We might be
needing an ER doc. “If condoms would get me dismemberment, I can
only imagine that this is going to get me shot.”

“Clint was kidding.” She nudges me in the
side.

I was not kidding.

She riffles through the bag to pull out a
framed photo of me in my Marine gear.

“I know that it's going to be hard without
him around all the time. And I'm sure you've got plenty pictures of
Grim's ugly mug already, but I wanted you to have one where you
could be reminded he's not chasing skirts or robbing banks. He's
fighting for his life, his honor, his rights. Hopefully, when the
days get too much to bare, you'll see this photo and remember he's
out making a difference.”

If I didn't know any better, I would say
there was respect in his voice.

“This is incredible,” she coos at Glove and
places a kiss on his cheek, the same cheek I will plant my fist in
it if he so much as thinks it’s any more than a mere representation
of gratitude. “Thank you.”

I do my best to divert the emotional
situation we've stumbled into, “Where'd you get that?”

“I have my ways.”

Lordy says, “It's weird you have secret
photos of us.”

“I'm glad you think so, too!”

“Hey!”

“What else are you holding hostage, Glove?
Locks of hair?” Lordy's question makes me laugh deeply. It feels
great to be laughing with my friends and my girlfriend, all in the
same breath. These are what shore leave moments should be made of.
This is what life should be made of. This is living.

Glove scratches his belly. “This is your real
gift. Being made an ass for your entertainment.”

“Do you keep bar receipts in your shoe box of
memories, too?” Lordy makes me laugh more.

Glove growls, bites his tongue, and looks at
Haven, “I need a beer.”

“That way.” She points toward the grill.

He walks away with Lordy on his tail, still
mocking him. Haven’s fingers slide the gift box out of my hands,
and she scolds me, “That wasn't very nice.”

“It was in good fun.”

“Clint.”

“Oh, come on! He had that coming.”

She looks displeased. “Clint.”

Quickly, I insist, “Sorry.” She forgives me
with a kiss on my cheek, and I feel pleased myself once again.

The party continues, and I feel more
enthralled by Haven than I was before. I love seeing her carry
herself with confidence and share with the world that she's not
defeated. That she wasn't destroyed by some sadistic son of a bitch
who tried. Her laugh is filled with excitement and love. Her smile
radiates perfection and comfort. Everything about her screams
self-assured in the sexiest of ways.

My crotch starts to bulge, and I find myself
desperate to escape with her back to our room. “You ready to start
getting these presents home, angel?”

As if Haven catches onto my drift, she raises
her eyebrows, “I–”

“Grim, can I talk to you for a minute?” Glove
cuts her off. “In private?”

“Anything you want to say to me, you can say
in front her,” I say as she continues reaching for gifts.

Glove holds out a polite hand, “Do you mind,
Haven, if it's just us?”

“Of course not.”

Annoyed he is putting a kink in the plan of
me making a few moves on Haven behind closed doors, I fight back,
“Can it wait? I'm about to help Haven take these home.”

“I've got it.” She struggles, one of her
gifts nearly falling out of her little hands.

Out of nowhere, Lordy offers, “I'll help
her.”

As he lifts the heavier objects out of her
hands, his brushes against her, and I tense, “I–”

“Please,” Glove urges me.

“I'll be fine,” she sweetly insists. “Lordy
can help. It's OK, Clint. Talk to Glove.”

Unhappily, I nod, plant a kiss on her
forehead, and point at him, “Lordy, do not let anything happen to
her, or it's your ass. Got that?”

She leans over and kisses my cheek,
whispering, “Alpha,” in my ear. Between her hot breath, her even
hotter lips barely touching my earlobe, and the thoughts I've been
having of her all day, I get ready to follow after her, insisting
that Glove can wait.

His arm is on my shoulder, and I stop,
realizing she needs to know I trust her when she's alone with
another guy. She deserves that much. Though, I don't think Lordy
will try something. He doesn't have that kinda death wish. Man, I
wanna to try something.

“I swear, Glove, if this was just a way to
try to get me to tell you what Haven's like in bed, I'll drown you
in the pool.”

He chuckles, and his beer touches his lips
before he responds, “Nah. Not trying to rile you up on her special
day. I, uh, wanna talk to you about something.”

I shrug, “So talk.”

“It's about Lei.”

My eyes glance back to see Le Le pretending
like she's not watching us, “What about her?”

“I was just wondering. Would it bother you if
we were to . . . hook up?” The nervousness in the question strikes
me so strangely that I feel compelled to laugh but don't want to in
his face.

“Are you seriously asking me if I mind you
banging my leftovers?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Wow,” I have to admit I’m impressed. “Glove
asking me if I care if he hooks up with an ex. I'm baffled.

“You're my brother, and that's more important
than the ass in that skirt.” He glances over at Le Le and tips his
beer her direction. “Though her ass does look amazing in that
skirt. Brothers first. But, don't tell Lordy I said that. I don't
want him thinking I've gone soft.” I shake my head, and he
continues with, “I was just wondering, you know, since you're all
wrapped up in Haven if you minded.”

Coldly, I respond, “I couldn't give a shit
less. As long as it's not Haven you're after, you can have anyone
in the world, Glove. With a blessing.”

“How long were you two together?”

Scratching the back of my neck, I shrug, “I
don't know. A while.”

“How long ago?”

“When I joined the Corp.”

“You had a girlfriend?” Glove sounds
betrayed. I nod. “You never mentioned her. Just like you never
mentioned Haven.”

“Unlike Haven, who was too important to
mention, Leighyani wasn't important enough.”

Sensing exactly what I meant to imply, he
nods and raises his beer, “Haven really must be something special,
huh?”

“You have no idea.” The words compel me to
look for her. They should've been back by now. That trip, including
drop-off time, should have concluded by now. I scan the party. No
signs. An immediate unease creeps into my veins.

Without another word, I march past Glove and
head toward the glass door, which I swing open. At that moment, the
world around me seems to come to a halt. Howard is pinning Haven's
body against the counter, lips smothering her, as her tiny arms
beat against his chest. I'll kill him. I'll fucking kill him.

I fling Howard's pasty, light body off of my
girlfriend and begin bashing his face in. My fists tight. Precise.
Each blow with more rage than the last. And somehow, I'm the same
calm I am in a mission. Because I am. I will end him. That is the
objective. I can see blood coming from his body and the smallest
twinge of relief fills me. Every strike feels like I'm undoing the
mistakes and injustice of his very existence. He doesn't deserve to
live. He should've never been born.

As my hand draws back for another hit, two
bodies slam into me, lurching me back against the wall and pinning
me away from finishing my duty. This fact enrages me. Nothing
stands in the way of me and my missions. Shaking, I struggle
against Lordy and Glove, who are giving their all to keep me in
place, barely being able to handle it. The longer I'm restrained,
the angrier I get. The blood in my body is past boiling point, and
there's only one focal point in my vision.

A voice, I'm not sure who, shrieks,
“Felix!”

Within seconds, Howard’s father flies through
the door, just as the dick rises to his feet. My shoulders push
against Glove harder. He's the weaker point. If I can just get past
him, I can tear the pretty boy prick's vocal cords out. It won't
hurt. For long.

“Whoa. What happened?” Felix cautiously slips
by me.

“He's psychotic!” Howard cries out like a
girl.

“I'll show you psychotic, you rapist son of a
bitch! You pathetic sack of shit!” Glove's grip weakens as
suspected. I lunge forward, fast and hard. Glove's reflexes are
quicker than I give him credit for. They retreat me back to the
wall before I can get another move in.

“Look who’s talking!”

“You–”

“Enough!” Felix shouts, the volume barely
registering over the sound of my blood pumping. “What the hell
happened?”

“He was holding Haven down against her will!
Forcing himself on her! I'll kill him!” I answer, my attention
briefly on Felix before turning back to Howard. “I'll kill you! I
swear to God.”

“Clint!” The angel's voice speaks, cracking
the wall of bleak around me. Haven. My body stops struggling as my
eyes move over to her. She's snuggled against Mindy, tears
streaming down her soft face, a plea from the heavens escaping
her.

“Is that true?” Felix questions his own son,
who’s propped up against a kitchen chair now.

Still cocky, he shrugs, “She was begging for
it.”

“Liar!” Haven steps forward toward him and
screams.

“Come on, sugar, you know you wanted it. It
was written all over that pretty little face of yours.”

With strength in her voice, she leans toward
him and sneers, “Not if you were the last man on Earth!”

The change from desperate need for me to stop
to desperate need for me to defend triggers my body to lunge
forward once more. Fuck. They pull me back and slam me against the
wall again, curse words flying out of my mouth so effortlessly that
I'm not even sure exactly what I'm saying anymore.

“Clint!” The sound of Haven’s voice reaches
me again, and I feel myself back down from the rage. How does she
do that? How is it that's all it takes to tame the beast inside of
me?