Ghost Soldiers

Chapter One - Mission Accomplished

Setting: Stuttgart, Germany, 1987

POV: Major Peter Linton, Officer of the British Special Forces, on special assignment with the U.S. Marine Corp.

We looked in dismay at the accommodations the U.S. military had very graciously arranged for us during our leave in Stuttgart, Germany.

As I was coming to learn, Steven Redraven did not tend to sum up a situation in the most elegant of terms, but his meaning rarely lacked clarity.

The tall Native American looked around the small cramped room that was identical to the second such room we’d been assigned–somehow five of us were to fit in two of these quarters–and announced,

“I’ve seen shit holes that were better decorated and gave me more headroom. Smelled better too.”

Sgt. Jones had his arm around Pvt. Watson, whose face was a study in weary disappointment. No doubt the young private was experienced enough in military ways to know that as low men on this totem pole, they would be unlikely to get one of the rooms to themselves in a two/three split. The more stoic Jones was whispering encouragement to his young partner.

Our commanding officer, Captain O’Keefe, was unusually quiet, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. As a major, I outranked Luke, but since I’d only been assigned to the mission as an “observer” and limited to medical and ancillary support, Luke had been the officer in charge of the successful covert rescue mission we’d just completed.

In actuality, my assistance had ended up being somewhat more than ancillary. As Lt. Redraven put it, again in his inimitable way, the enemy I’d neutralized– ‘neutralized’ being my term, I believe his word was ‘wasted’– but his persuasive argument boiled down to the salient point that by providing timely offensive assistance, I prevented my teammates from needing my services as a physician. Or a bodybag, he’d added as a clincher. Definitely an outcome to be avoided, I’d agreed, and there was no more discussion of my not being an active participant.

The man had a gift with languages.

Still, the undisputed mission leader, and a very good one, had been Captain Luke O’Keefe. It was fully expected that he at least would get a commendation out of this adventure, if not a promotion. We rescued two kidnapped journalists from a mountain stronghold where they were being held by extremists, “neutralized” the extremists and captured documents leading to the discovery of several other terrorist camps. The U.S. government had not wanted to negotiate with the kidnappers, so the journalists would have been facing an ugly death if we had not found them in time.

We’d split up the team, Redraven with Jones and Watson, and myself with O’Keefe, as we neared the area where intelligence reports had told us the kidnappers were holding the American journalists. Redraven had split off from the other two men. He’d located the campsite and had been able to radio the location to us, telling Luke the coordinates in his native language that he’d taught him for just such occasions, borrowing the trick of an unbreakable code from the native American radio operators during the Second World War. He in turn had taught his friend some Gaeltacht, which was just as obscure in this part of the world, Luke had explained to me on the plane ride over.

Unfortunately, one of the terrorists had caught Redraven when he was scouting out a suitable position for setting up his long-range rifle. His saving grace had been his captors’ decision to use his decapitation for one of their videotapes to send back to the U.S. government. That and the fact that there were just two of them in the camp at that time keeping watch over the hostages. They knew better than to wait for their comrades to return, guessing that their prisoner probably had friends looking for him and their camp. They took the chance that they could make a quick kill and get it on tape. While they were setting that up, Luke and I found the location from Redraven’s directions. Luke, the sharpshooter, had all of two minutes to ready his shots that would take out the terrorists before he would see his best friend’s head roll.

It was not an easy task, even for a trained Marine who was a Special Forces officer, much less one who was all of twenty-four years old. I considered offering to take the shot, but I’d heard plenty of talk on the plane ride about the skill of Captain Luke, and how “Cool Hand Luke” was more than a nickname based on an American movie. The Yank never missed, his men told me, never lost his nerve. Had I known then what he later confessed, that despite having finished two years of active duty, he’d never pulled the trigger on a living person on a close range rifle before that day that his friend’s life hung in the balance, I never would have let him take those shots. But, I didn’t know. None of his men did, either.

Now Luke had done it twice. Quite effectively. I looked at his shuttered face as the other three men complained about the barren rooms and what appeared to be sandpaper bedding, and a joke of a spindly cot placed in the corner for the odd man, and made up my mind.

These men deserved better after what they’d just done. While I’d long ago eschewed the privileges to which my family’s wealth and class entitled me in my own milieu, I suddenly found I was not averse to using them if it would bring the carefree insouciance back to Captain O’Keefe’s handsome face.

“Captain O’Keefe, I believe this may well be an error. Would you permit me to attempt to correct this mistaken allocation of quarters? If you will accompany the men downstairs to that small pub below, I do not think it should take me above a half hour to get everything straightened out.”

Green eyes looked down at me with the first spark of life I’d seen in them for three days. I got a wry smile from the tall young captain for my efforts.

“I can assure you, English, this is no mistake, but if you want to put in a plea with the brass for better bunks, knock yourself out. I can sleep on a bar stool, I’m so tired. Based on the size of those beds and the amount of me that will hang off the end, I may as well.”

The three soldiers laughed at the comical expression he assumed as he surveyed the rather short twin beds with which the room was equipped. At six foot nine and six foot seven respectively, both he and the lieutenant were quite a few inches longer than the beds, which must have been manufactured before the World War. The First World War. I smiled lightly.

“Now you will see, perhaps, that my foraging skills are not limited to the wilds of the Afghan mountains. Give me half an hour, no, perhaps an hour, and I will secure better lodgings for us.”

They departed, but not without making several lewd jokes at my expense about the type of services I would have to render to the hotel management or the military brass to obtain better rooms. “Boys,” I thought, with a rueful shake of my head.

I went to the manager’s desk and asked if I could use a phone. He looked at my less than pristine uniform–we’d cleaned up at headquarters when we’d been debriefed but we were at far from parade ground crispness– and this mere clerk in a low quality German inn dared to lift his lip at me.

Me, scion of the house of Mainwaring, in line to one of the oldest titles in England. Normally I would be amused, imagining how such an action might be received by my father or older brother. Today I was not in the mood to be amused, the memory of Luke’s weary face, as well as the other three men, too fresh in my mind. Men! Hank Watson was barely out of his teens and he’d just done a hero’s job. I looked back at hotel manager and demonstrated how a proper sneer should look.

In flawless German–my tutor from Meiningen drilled me all through my fifteenth and sixteenth summers– I made my request again, adding my full name and that I wished to place a call to my cousin, the Honorable Edward Simon. Edward’s name alone was enough to win instant obsequiousness, although the man’s eyes narrowed and I knew he was beginning to recognize the trademark Linton features. Had I realized that a man working in a third rate hotel such as this one would recognize my family name, much less the family “look,” I wouldn’t have bothered dropping Edward’s. It was lowering enough to call him for the favor. But, I reminded myself, I wasn’t doing it for myself.

While I waited, I couldn’t help reminiscing about the summers I spent with my German tutor. He certainly drilled me every way and everywhere we could devise over the course of those long, hot summer months when my brother would be busy courting the young ladies of the county and my father stayed in London to attend to business. We had most of the estate to ourselves. It was Edward, visiting from Oxford, whose keen eyes never missed anything, who put an end to our idyll. He dropped a word in my father’s ear the next time he saw him at his club. Shortly thereafter, Franz was discharged, with a nice bonus and a letter of recommendation, to a family of girls who needed a tutor in French, in which he was also fluent. Edward helped him secure the position as a personal favor to me, his favorite little cousin. Such was Edward’s skill that he was able to assuage the concern the cautious parents had about the handsome Franz Gunter, convincing them that the tutor presented no threat to their daughters’ virtue without ever raising any suspicion about why the Lintons had wanted to get rid of such an exemplary tutor so abruptly.

Edward had never liked to see other men poaching on what he deemed his personal property. His pretty little cousin Peter fell within that category. He protected me when my older brother teased me too roughly when I was still a small child. When I first entered the battlefield that was Eton, it was his protective wing that hovered over me to protect me from the upper forms. Never my brother’s. Precocious, I was permitted to start at twelve instead of the usual thirteen and I was much the smallest boy in the school when I arrived. Five years older, Edward was in his next to last year and one of Eton's acknowledged leaders, even among the oldest boys. It was Edward who saved me from a sexual assault in my first month there and spread the word that no one was to harm his cousin. Of course, later on, it was Edward who seduced me when I was barely fourteen.

We have a very mixed relationship, Edward and I. After the episode with Franz, I asserted my independence. I applied to Cambridge and went on to take my medical training there following an accelerated undergraduate course in biology and chemistry. Most Lintons were Oxford men, as Edward had been. In a rare display of parental understanding, my father the Earl refused to listen to Edward’s advice and did not insist that I also go to Oxford. Instead, he gave me his blessing, as well as the funds, to attend Cambridge. Upon my graduation, when Edward wanted me to work for him as a physician and researcher, a tempting offer under most circumstances, the Simon branch of the family having the Midas touch when it came to business, I instead accepted a position with a small charity hospital in Liverpool. It closed eight months later; its funding having mysteriously disappeared. I considered taking on a second position like the first but it seemed a disservice to the people who needed such hospitals. Not to mention to the workers employed at them, who, unlike me, didn’t donate their salaries back to the charity.

One did not say no to cousin Edward lightly. I needed a place to go where he could not reach me, or I would have to accept his offer, a galling prospect after my years of relative freedom at Cambridge. Inspired, I applied to Sandhurst, the Royal Military Academy. Edward was influential and he had more money than was good for him, but he could not take on the British military merely out of pique. Which was all it was. He liked to know that when he said “jump” a person he considered his, jumped. I was twenty-four and no longer wished to jump. It took a couple more years, years when I refused all contact with him for Edward to give in. It took the fact that I almost died following a rather nasty skirmish in the Falklands affair, which was the adventure that saw my rank elevated to Major, for Edward to finally accede to my wishes.

In gratitude at being permitted to visit my sickbed, or perhaps it was worry since apparently I looked quite weak after the surgery to remove a few bullets, in any event, Edward vowed that he would no longer try to control my life. I didn’t believe him, of course, but I accepted the pledge in the spirit in which it was given. My brother William was inspired by my injury to a moment of unwonted brotherly advice, telling me that Edward was a sociopath and the less one had to do with him, the better. William, however, was a heartless bastard for whom being a sociopath would be a step up. I could not fathom ever calling upon him for help. Which was just as well, as I am sure he could not fathom ever giving it. I haven’t seen or heard from him since then.

I have been given to understand that William was the very picture of his mother, a dark haired beauty who died when he was only three years old. My mother was the Earl’s second wife and a Simon, so Edward and I were doubly connected. While Edward’s relationship with me had always been a mixture of good and bad, my relationship with my brother was never so complicated. We loathed each other.

Stuck in this lamentable hotel in Stuttgart following the harrowing mission in Afghanistan with the Americans, I knew that Edward was exactly the person to solve my problem. My call to him was warmly received. After the usual inquiries into each other’s health, neither of us bothering to ask about family members that neither of us cared about, I vaguely explained that I was in Stuttgart on military business and required new lodging. I turned down his offer of an immediate charter out of Germany, explaining that I was still on assignment. After entertaining him with a colorful, but somewhat edited version of my adventures, including a description of my present quarters, I asked him if he could possibly arrange better accommodations for five.

“Of course, George, how could you think I’d let you stay in a place like that. There are five of you? Would you like a chateau?”

No matter how many times I’ve asked Edward not to call me by my middle name, he returned to it. He always said it was because his father’s name was Peter, and he disliked his father. I think it was because he knew I disliked the name George and liked being able to make me answer to it. I held back a sigh. It was his own little way of demonstrating who was in control of the conversation.

“Charming as a chateau would be, I don’t believe my companions would be completely comfortable in one. Not all of them. Ask your staff to locate rooms in a good hotel, something with at least four stars would be lovely, three rooms would be sufficient if they are spacious. Two of the gentlemen are quite tall so the beds would have to be extra long, king size.”

Edward’s warm, rich laughter came across the phone line and for a moment, I actually felt homesick.

“How tall are we talking? I believe I may be envious. There is nothing quite like a big man.”

I laughed at him. “Try six-nine and six-seven, and both American. Green Berets, one of them a Native American. I don’t think even with your charms you’d want to risk making a pass at one of these men, Edward. They can kill you a dozen different ways before your hand left their crotch.”

“That is what my deadly little cousin is for,” he retorted, “to protect me from the big, strong, deadly men. You can kill in two dozen ways by now, can’t you, little coz? Are they good looking?”

I considered how to answer. Edward was quite capable of coming here to see what was going on if he thought I was keeping something from him. He especially would drop everything and come here if he thought I didn’t want him to come visit.

I was careful to keep the amused tone in my voice as I answered. “They are handsome if you like the type. The Captain is of Irish descent with hardly a trace of brogue.” I made my comments sound casual, but I was deliberate, knowing that Edward’s last affair with an Irish youth had ended quite badly, with the lad stealing one of Edward’s favorite cars and crashing it. The lad had also gotten a maid pregnant. I wasn’t sure which offense bothered Edward more, the loss of the car or the fact that the young man had been cheating on him with a woman. A little prevarication might be in order. Edward had liked the lad quite a bit before the car and maid.

“I am afraid the young Captain has the Irishman’s attraction to drink, so I’m not sure what good he would do you, but then, he might not notice your gender if inebriated, which would be a plus.” I spoke reflectively. Edward laughed, as intended. I went on.

“The other man, part Navaho, I believe, is from one of their southern states. If you don’t mind the spitting,” I mentally apologized to Redraven, “he can be quite an entertaining companion despite his addiction to chewing tobacco. His aim is excellent, I will give him that.”

Edward laughed again. “Enough, enough. I can see why you want your own room. What about the other two men?”

“They are quite pleasant... enlisted fellows, not your type at all.” I couldn’t bring myself to besmirch the pleasant couple– they were far too nice to bring to Edward’s attention at all. Besides, they were safe from him. If he came here at all, it would be Luke rather than the more obviously gay men who would draw his attention, no question about it.

“I don’t envy you your little break from duty,” Edward told me. “Should I send you a companion to while away the time?” So like my cousin. I could just imagine the type of man he’d send. Some tall, muscular Swede, no doubt, who would pose as my ski instructor. I wondered what my companions would make of that?

“No, but thank you for the offer. I am quite tired so a place with a spa and masseuse would be most appreciated. And Edward, please...place the charges on my account. I insist.”

“You are such an annoyance. Why shouldn’t I do something for our fighting men? Not that I’m aware of us fighting anywhere. But that is all the more reason, you poor little, or rather, not so little, ghost soldiers, running around in your covert operations. No one knowing what you do and where you do it. I worry about you, Peter, I really do.” His voice was sincere. He even called me by my name. I softened toward him.

“You’re helping me now, Edward, dear fellow,” I relaxed enough to let my tiredness come through in my voice. “The rooms here are bloody awful and we’re all quite exhausted, actually. I know the others want to kick loose a bit, but all I want is a good long bath and then a couple of days of uninterrupted sleep, in a bed with clean linens, in a hotel staffed with proper personnel. Can you do that for me? Just find such a place for me and arrange for me to pay for it...discreetly, of course. Edward, this is important...the others aren’t to know it is me paying so the hotel staff must be discreet. You’re the only one I know clever enough to arrange that and to ensure that the hotel’s staff won’t let anything slip.”

Edward laughed again. He was in a good humor. “You mean the only one with a reputation evil enough to ensure that they won’t make a mistake, or they know I’ll buy their hotel, five star or not, and fire all of them. You have it, darling boy. My girl will ring you back with the hotel’s directions in a few. Enjoy that bath and massage. And do consider coming home? Let those big chaps play hero. I’ll give you a lab and you can cure cancer or something else important.”

“I’ll give it some thought, promise.”

I put the receiver down and waited, my eyes closed. I could hear the music from the lounge playing through the closed door of the manager’s office. I hoped the others were having a good time. No one had slept well last night on the flight back; Luke hadn’t slept at all. Redraven sat up with him for a long time, playing cards, but finally he called it a night. After that, Luke sat, his long legs stretched out into the aisle, his head turned toward the window to his left.

“Can’t sleep?” I’d asked him quietly, putting down the book I’d been reading.

Those startling green eyes looked over at me, the faint shadows beneath them hardly noticeable in the dim light of the cabin. I don’t think he’d even realized I was also still awake. The difference was, I’d slept the night before, after we’d gotten to the first military base to drop off the freed journalists. I was fairly sure he hadn’t slept since the second night of the mission. The night he killed the terrorists.

“You’re awake also,” he’d pointed out defensively.

I’d half raised my book. “Reading. I can never sleep on planes. How about you?”

He’d shrugged, at least he tried to shrug, it came off more like a twitch. “Guess I’m not yet ‘down’ from the adrenalin the mission pumped into me. It takes me that way sometimes. You should’ve seen me after championship soccer games...wouldn’t be able to sleep for days.”

I’d looked him in the eyes until he glanced away.

“Do you need something to sleep? I can give you a mild....”

“No!” He’d said it louder than he’d intended and Doug shifted in his sleep. Redraven had jumped up, his hand reaching for his knife. Luke had given him an apologetic wave to signal all was well and the big man had settled back down in his seat with a grumble about inconsiderate Micks who couldn’t keep their voices down.

“Sorry,” Luke had whispered sheepishly. “I just know too many men who get dependent on those things. One thing leads to another and...”

“You’re right, of course, and I would never let that happen to you.” I’d wanted to reach out a comforting hand to the young man who was trying so hard to be strong. No one can be strong all the time; Lord knows I’ve tried. And failed.

I’d received that attractive crooked smile, accompanied by an inquisitive tilt of the head.

“That would be nice, to have my own personal doctor to look out for me. But you won’t be around all that long, will you, English? We get back home, you’re going to be heading off, looking for new guys to toss around, and I’ll just be a faded memory. ‘Tis cruel, that’s what ‘tis.” He winked at me before turning back to the window.

He’d been right, of course. I had a couple more camps to visit and then my time in the States would be over. I wouldn’t be around to ensure that Captain O’Keefe didn’t become addicted to sleep aids so it would be best that I not dispense any. The availability of drugs in the military, and the temptation to use them to escape the stress, was an almost overwhelming problem.

I’d sighed and picked up my book. Eventually we’d landed in Stuttgart, Germany and despite the busyness of the debriefing to complete, the hotel to find, and our much anticipated leave to enjoy, I’d not forgotten the haunted look in those green eyes. Every soldier understands that he is expected to kill when necessary; a good soldier doesn’t look forward to it, of course, but is prepared none the less and does his duty when the time comes. Luke O’Keefe was a good soldier and a good commanding officer. He was having trouble fitting those roles together with what he’d been taught made a good man. One of the main rules being, thou shalt not kill.

Within minutes after my conversation with my cousin ended, I was confirming the new reservations with Edward’s assistant, and arranging for the hotel manager to forward any messages from headquarters to our new lodgings. Edward outdid himself. The Schwartze Glassen Hotel was a five star hotel located in a converted estate on the outskirts of the city. It had lovely grounds for riding, indoor and outdoor pools, tennis courts, a Jacuzzi in each suite, and more amenities than most people could imagine. I could remember staying there for a delightfully decadent week after finishing my undergraduate studies at Cambridge. The staff was known for its discretion and thus the hotel was favored by the rich who wished to misbehave away from prying eyes and cameras. While only three rooms were available, they were deluxe accommodations, with one having two queen-sized beds in it, and the other two being small suites, each equipped with a king-sized bed and a sofa bed. I planned to take one of the suites for myself as I was assured that the queen-sized beds were easily long enough for the two giants in our group. I was fairly sure that Jones and Watson wouldn’t mind sharing a bed but the presence of the sofa bed preserved propriety. As far as the other two, I had no qualms about letting them work out sharing the room. From the talk on the plane, they planned to make the most of their free time during this leave, and I didn’t intend to spend mine sitting in a lounge waiting for my room to free up. It was too reminiscent of college. Let them take turns using the room or have an orgy for all I cared.

I ignored the pang of jealousy that thoughts of those two long, lean bodies, naked in a darkened room brought. The Schwartze Glassen was just what a weary warrior needed, I told myself. I pushed open the door to the lounge and was almost bowled over by the noise. A live band was pounding out heavy metal music in earnest imitation of Black Sabbath.

“Hey English, is this proof that hell exists or what?” Luke waved a tall stein at me, his weariness apparently forgotten. He was leaning against the bar as several of the local beauties vied for his attention.

“I’ll take this kind of hell over the kind we were in a couple days ago any day,” Redraven yelled. He had both arms around a young lady and each hand gripped the handle of a large frothing mug of beer. The Fräuleins giggled as he raised both mugs to his lips without taking his arms from around them. I shook my head in wry amusement as he somehow managed to get more beer inside him than on his companions.

I walked over to Jones and Watson...Doug and Hank, that was. We’d gotten to know each other better in the past week and Luke had encouraged me to share the group’s informality. They were sitting at a booth, politely trying to fend off the attentions of a bolder pair of buxom Fräuleins than the pair who accompanied Redraven. Seeking to help, I said something to the young ladies in German which sent them scurrying away, their faces red. Turning back to the two young men with a smile of accomplishment, I didn’t expect to see them look just as red-faced as their erstwhile admirers.

Doug stood up at attention, glaring; Hank also stood at attention but he was blushing and staring down at his feet. I quickly waved off the formality and indicated they should sit. I continued to stand by the table, confused and no longer sure of my welcome. I looked to Doug for an explanation. My expression must have held enough honest confusion that he stopped glaring long enough to ask his own question.

“What exactly did you tell them about us, sir?” he asked stiffly, his posture straighter than it had been a few seconds earlier. He also shifted subtly away from his partner, I noticed in dismay.

A heavy arm fell over my shoulder and gave me a squeeze before resting there companionably. Luke had come up behind me without my noticing him as I started to stammer an explanation of what I’d done to send the young ladies away, which in hindsight appeared to have been based on a mistaken assumption. Luke interrupted before I’d gotten very far. He must have been keeping a closer watch on his men than any of us realized.

“Relax, Doug. What English here is trying to say, far less smoothly than he usually talks because you’re scaring him with that glare of yours, it's that bushy unibrow of yours, dude, I tell you, anyway, all he told those two persistent ladies was that you two handsome American soldier boys had wives stationed here, and that they not only had unibrows of their own, they were known to be jealous. Remind me to use that one, although actually, I may have added the bit about the unibrow, but it’s a nice touch, don’t you think?”

He gave me a friendly grin and dragged me down into the seat next to him after dropping down opposite the others. The two younger men smiled apologetically at me, the tension leaving their bodies at once. As tired as he was, Luke O’Keefe seemed to bring good humor with him wherever he went. Within seconds, Redraven drifted over, his entourage of beauties left behind for the moment.

“So, what’s up with the rooms? Don’t feel bad if you couldn’t get them moved; the brass can be stingy.” He offered me a beer as he hooked a chair with his foot and pulled it over to the end of the booth, straddling it backward. Both he and Luke were wearing very worn leather jackets that looked like they’d been through more than one war, except it was hard to imagine where they’d have found an army surplus store that stocked clothes in their size. In the dim light of the pub, the two of them could pass for brothers, both dark haired with high set cheekbones and aquiline noses. All of the women, and more than a few of the men in the room were staring at the two of them. It was a bit odd, actually, how many men were looking over at our booth. I glanced around the room again and tensed. Trouble was coming. I could tell. There’s a sixth sense one develops for this type of thing when one is gay. Doug looked uneasy also. I got my wallet out.

“Actually, we can leave whenever the four of you are ready. A car should already be waiting to transport us to our new quarters.” I thought perhaps if we left quickly, I could get all of them out before the trouble manifested. Glancing around again, I could see a small statured man in the corner talking angrily to his companions and gesturing toward the women who were still smiling and trying to attract the Americans’ attention.

This was not good.

“What kind of place is it? I can’t believe you were able to get them to move us. Damn. Are you sure it’s worth moving? We’re already here and the natives are friendly,” Redraven objected, winking at a gaggle of girls to his right.

“The new five star hotel we’re going to has an indoor heated pool, large beds, a sauna, two nightclubs...and all the food and beer you can consume....and your bags should already be in the boot of the car, so let’s go, shall we?” I said briskly, standing up. I threw several Marks on the table...more than enough to cover their bar tab...and turned to lead the way out.

Redraven whooped in delight while Doug and Hank grinned at each other. Luke was quiet, looking at me searchingly. I didn’t have time to give thought to his reaction about the hotel switch. I just wanted to get them all out of this one without bloodshed. Finally, still moving too slowly for my purposes but at least moving, he got up and made ready to follow the rest of us out.

It all should have been fine. It all would have been fine. But there was this short man in the corner who was rather the ringleader of the whole misunderstanding, and it was due to his inciting the others that events ended up very far from fine. Luke swears that if it weren’t for the short men in bars, there would be a ninety percent drop in bar fights. I am sure he overestimates the matter, but then, to him, few men aren’t short.

The man from the corner, who bore a striking resemblance to the American cartoon character Popeye, his forearms being about as thickly muscled as my thighs, a feature I found somewhat distracting as he pushed his way through to where we were making our way out and poked me in the chest. When I stopped and stared in amazement at his effrontery, he demanded belligerently, in German, that I apologize for some imagined insult to their fair German womanhood.

Now, being British, and upper class, I have a wide variety in my arsenal of social weapons to choose from when I need to deflate the pretensions of the low-born who happen to stray into my orbit. This is particularly true when the low-born stray happens to be inebriated as well as potentially violent. When one is titled, one is not required by honor to take up the challenge of every Tom, Dick or Dieter who might happen to issue one a verbal slight or physical dare. Heaven forbid, one would never get any peace. It is different if the challenge comes from a social equal, of course. Or someone within reasonable shouting distance, at least.

Americans do not understand this fine distinction, apparently. Where I felt perfectly comfortable that both my masculinity and my honor permitted me to walk past Popeye, the same could not be said for Hank and Doug, much less Red and Luke. As I murmured something that was the German equivalent of “quite so,” and turned to side-step the man, I saw that all four of them were watching me expectantly. I raised an eyebrow in surprise; they didn’t expect me to actually fight this chap, did they? They knew it would be no contest, after all. They’d seen what I could do, having seen me fight some of their own platoon’s best fighters, not to mention throwing their own Captain Luke. From their expressions, it was clear that they did indeed expect me to fight, it being a case of that was last week, what have you done lately?

As it turned out, the decision was taken from me. I should not have turned my attention away from Popeye, even partially. Sensing the amusement coming from my companions, he decided to strike, pulling on my arm to spin me around and landing a hard blow to my gut. I noted that indeed, he had quite well developed forearms before my own defensive maneuvers kicked in, literally and figuratively, and I swung my leg around to kick his rather bow legs out from under him.

That was all it took to start an out and out brawl. Redraven whooped as he picked up the two men who tried to rush me, one in each hand, and cracked their skulls together, much like one sees in television shows. I was so transfixed at seeing someone actually do that in real life that I foolishly allowed myself to be struck again, this time in the jaw by a larger opponent. Luke pulled that fellow away and knocked him out with a single punch.

He turned and yelled to me, “Damn it, English, start using some of that fancy fighting of yours or get the fuck behind me. We don’t want to have to take you back to the base hospital. The paperwork is a bitch for leave injuries.”

Get behind him? Now that was an insult to my masculinity. I started fighting in earnest, although I was quite irritated by the whole thing. The rest of them looked to be having a grand time, working together like a well choreographed team. Which was part of my problem, I realized. I wasn’t part of the team. I’d managed to fit in just fine on the mission, at least I thought I had, but here, I was out of place. I didn’t do bar room brawls. I had been trained in one on one fighting skills, and in clandestine tactics. This type of group free-for-all was alien to me.

After a while, I stepped back into a corner and watched for a few minutes. Luke and Red each took on two or even three at a time frequently, while Doug and Hank handled crowd control, ensuring that neither of the big men got overwhelmed by too many at any one time, or if the pair they were handling got the upper hand, one of them stepped in. Similarly, Luke and Red seemed to have eyes in the back of their heads. If either of the smaller men got into trouble, they sensed it and one of them managed to free himself long enough to lend a hand. It made me wonder if I had fit in as well as I’d thought on the mission. Maybe by adding a fifth man, the group had been thrown off, even to the point that Redraven had gone off on his own and been captured. If I hadn’t been along, he never would have been alone, I realized. He would have been with Luke. Or each of the two sharp-shooters would have had one of the others with him. Either way, he wouldn’t have been taken by surprise like that. The thought was troubling.

I could handle only a man at a time in this type of fight, and now could see where my companions had been feeding them to me deliberately, and had been watching to make sure I didn’t get overwhelmed. I felt as though I were less than useless and it was an unwelcome feeling that I hadn’t had in years. I decided to wait in the car.

“Peter, look out!”

I never saw where the blow came from, all I knew was that the irritating noise and flashing lights suddenly went out, replaced by sharp pain, then the blessed quiet and darkness of oblivion.
 

*************************************
 

“This must be the place.”

“Damn. Quite a trade up in the world. We owe the guy for working this out. Wonder how he managed it? Is he awake yet?”

“Linton...Linton... you back with us yet?”

Something dark and cool was over my eyes and I was resting against something...difficult to determine. Warm. Firm.

Warm breath was in my ear.

“We’re really going to have to work on those fighting skills of yours, English. My little brothers could beat you up. Whatever would Her Majesty say if she knew that?”

“I don’t know...your little brothers could be monsters. How large are we talking?” I murmured.

Luke laughed. “I think the man is coming round. He’s actually making fun of the wee baby O’Keefes at home. To think of anyone calling young Jamie, Joey and Jackie monsters....”

“You always call them monsters,” one of the others pointed out.

“Tis true, but I know them. He hasn’t even met them yet.”

And probably never would, I thought drowsily and with a bit of sorrow at the thought. A clear sign I’d drunk too much. Not that I’d had the chance to do more than sip at a beer. I realized that I was lying, half sitting, half reclining really, in Luke’s arms on one side of the seats in the limousine, while Hank and Doug sat opposite. It sounded like Red was in the front. The car had stopped so we must have arrived.

The door opened behind my head.

“Hey, I just spoke with the driver and the hotel manager. This is definitely the place. Your boy Linton got us rooms here in Ritzville, Irish.”

“He’s one person who can complete an assignment,” Luke answered, with what almost sounded like reprimand in his voice.

“Aw, it wasn’t my fault those little guys got mad. You’re the ones who ignored their women. I tried to keep an eye on him, but I thought he was paying attention. It isn’t like he can’t take care of himself.” Was the big man whining? This would be amusing if my head weren’t splitting.

“I can take care of myself,” I forced myself to say, struggling to sit up. I pulled the cool cloth from my eyes, although I instantly regretted it. Reaching up, I could feel a lump on the side of my head that just missed being a fairly serious area. I frowned.

“What hit me? This is...”

“Too damn close...we know. It was a heavy glass mug swung by the fellow with those arms like Popeye. Did you see him? That really wasn’t normal.” Hank turned and looked at Doug.

“Let’s get Peter inside and let him lie down with some aspirin and more ice,” Doug suggested sensibly. I gave him a grateful smile. “Then the rest of you can rehash the fight all you want, although I for one could use some rest.”

“I could use a drink. And food. And feminine company. Not especially in that order.” Steven Redraven grinned and offered me a hand to help me out of the car. I would have shaken it off but I found I needed it to avoid falling on my face. I tried to hide my weakness by being snarky.

“Then may I suggest a shower would be a good idea to add to your agenda before you seek out feminine company?” I stepped gingerly out of the car. I thought it was rather ridiculous that I made it back unscathed from our hazardous mission but got injured while on R&R with this crew. I also found my sense of melancholy growing as the feeling of being an outsider returned as I left Luke’s comforting presence.

I got injured because I didn’t fit in, the voice in my head whispered. The voice sounded suspiciously like my cousin Edward. Telling me once again that only he could protect me.

Brusquely, I excused myself from the others as soon as we checked in. Edward had lived up to his promise and there was no hint that I was the one footing the bill but Luke looked at me speculatively. I left them to share the other two rooms while I took one of the singles. I told myself there was no need to discuss it and ignored the looks on my companions’ faces, that varied from surprise to confused to slightly hurt. They were longtime friends to each other and I was the outsider; it wasn’t as though the rooms weren’t far nicer than what they would have had in the other hotel. It didn’t occur to me then that their expressions had nothing to do with the allocation of sleeping quarters.

I was busy telling myself that I hadn’t been unfair in taking a room to myself, reasoning that I couldn’t be expected to sleep on the pull-out sofa when there was no need and neither Luke nor Red could be expected to do so at their great height. With me gone from their presence, there would be no need for prevarication in the room assignments. The two tall men could take the room with the two beds and the couple could take the other room with the single King sized bed.

Deciding I would call for room service later on, as sleep was more of a priority than food at the moment, I grabbed a much needed shower then fell right into bed. I was asleep within seconds.

 

*************************************
 

I awoke in darkness some time later, completely disoriented, the pounding in my head blending with the pounding that was going on somewhere outside my body. I sat up gingerly. Ah yes. The blow I’d taken in that pub from that German Popeye; it was beginning to come back to me.

“Wake up, English! Let me in before someone calls the bloody secret police on me!”

I closed my eyes again. O’Keefe. Maybe he was part of an Irish plot? A very clever IRA plot to rid the world of yet another British officer. They planted his gorgeous arse in the States two decades ago just so he could torment me now. Clever bastards, the Irish.

The knocking wasn’t stopping so I decided I’d better give in. Let the governments say they wouldn’t yield to bloody terrorists, they didn’t have a six foot nine one pounding on their bloody door when they had a colossal headache. He could make any demands he wanted as long as he made them quietly.

I flung the door open and pulled him inside, pleased to see him stumble over his mile long legs.

“Shut the fuck up,” I grumbled, turning back to the sofa that graced the middle of the suite. I threw myself down onto it and immediately regretted doing so when my head exploded in fresh pain. Gently, I thought. Move gently, you berk. At the very least you have a nice concussion. I wished I’d taken something before falling asleep earlier. I groaned at both the pain and my own stupidity.

Luke chuckled. He actually had the nerve to chuckle. I tried to remember where I’d put my gun.

“Sorry, I know it’s not funny. I just don’t think I ever heard you talk like a regular guy before. It struck me funny. Poor bastard, you’re probably the only one of the four of you whose bad head tomorrow won’t be self-inflicted. Now me, I never get a hangover, really not fair. Hank barely drinks and he’ll be suffering like all get out for his three beers. Where’s your bag? Never mind, I’ve got some in my bag. I’ll fetch some aspirin for you. Nice rooms here, by the way. Is that a Jacuzzi? Can’t wait to try that out!”

I opened one eye and watched as he proceeded to make himself at home, pulling off his leather jacket and tossing it onto one chair as he sat down in another. He started rummaging through his kit bag, emptying half the contents onto the floor in his search.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked after a moment.

“Finding you some aspirin...didn’t you hear me?” Innocent green eyes looked back at me, the lashes incongruously long on that very male face, with its sharp cheekbones and strong jaw, the dark, well-defined eyebrows arched in inquiry at the moment. For a moment I thought I saw insecurity behind the feigned innocence, but it was gone in a flash, hidden behind a facade of high good humor. So, what did this late–my watch showed the time to be close to midnight–visit mean? Perhaps Luke wanted to hide in my rooms for his own reasons and this playful solicitude over me was an act to fool the others as much if not more than me? Having spent my formative years around men who hid all of their finer emotions, and were master manipulators on top of it, reading young O’Keefe was child’s play. The real question was, did I want to bother playing with this child?

Looking at that long hard-muscled body, my own answered with a resounding affirmative. The smirk that ghosted over his face indicated that he had observed my condition. No problem, let him look, I thought, leaning back and spreading my legs casually. My slacks were rumpled somewhat from being slept in but they fit well and were a flattering cut that showed off my own trim form. I might not be built on giant proportions, but I knew my assets–and I wasn’t averse to showing them off. It was a pretty safe bet that I had experience on my side in this game, and if I had learned anything from Edward, it was always to play to win. I smiled slightly as I saw my guest shift slightly. Not quite comfortable in those fatigues, Captain? He had stopped looking through his bag and was staring at my crotch.

“Haven’t found those aspirin yet?” I asked, amused. “My own should be in the second pocket on the left, outside of my duffle bag, which is right over there.” I pointed to where my neatly packed duffle sat right where the hotel’s staff had placed it earlier.

He smiled ruefully and gave up his fruitless search through his own bag, half the contents of which now rested on the floor of my suite. He stood up and strode over to retrieve my bag, bringing it back to where he’d been. He crouched down on the floor in front of me to open the pocket in question, his face intent on his task.

“Don’t leave my things in the condition you left your own,” I warned him.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, English. The fact that you know the exact spot your pills are in tips me off that this is one anally packed bag. My big brother Matt is just the same and I learned never to mess up his gear either.”

I was distracted by the revelation. “Don’t tell me there’s a bigger one than you back home? Dear God, what do your parents feed you and your brothers? And just how many of you are there?”

He laughed as he walked over to get some water from the mini-bar. He came back, holding the pill bottle and a bottle of water. “Not as tall but definitely broader. Strong as a bull, like our dad is Matt. But I meant bigger as in older. Matt’s the oldest of the tribe. And it’s a tribe all right. There’s seven of us boys, five girls.” He handed me the aspirin and water, sitting next to me on the sofa as I took them. He opened the beer that he’d helped himself to while I took the headache medicine.

“That’s quite a family. How very...Irish.”

The dimples reappeared. “Irish Catholic is what you’re thinking. And yes. Ridiculous number of children, but it was fun for us. Hell on the parents I think. First six were born in Ireland, then Dad moved us all to Pennsylvania, his brothers and their families too.”

“Twelve children,” I observed, thinking of my family with my brother and father, none of us being on civil terms. I wondered what it would be like to grow up in a crowd like O’Keefe had. My father would approve of the males outnumbering the females, even if he would think such a large number of either gender to be in poor taste. I couldn’t help voicing my thoughts. “Shame the numbers weren’t even, you’d have had a matched set.”

A shadow passed over the expressive green eyes for a moment. It made me regret my flippant comment, although not as much as I did when I learned of the reason for the shadow. He got up and walked over to the window.

“There were supposed to be six and six,” he said quietly, “but Mama lost one of the girls, wee thing didn’t make it more than a short time. Dad’s little Colleen, she was. Saddest thing you ever saw, that tiny casket at the funeral. Mama and Dad carried it themselves through the church, Mama not crying at all as they walked down the aisle. They had us boys sing a hymn and the girls, they were crying. Terrible time. I can still remember it like it was yesterday. Then, even though the doctors told her she shouldn’t, she insisted on having another babe. Which, she kind of had to do, you know? She wasn’t herself without a baby. I mean, she still had babies at home, she had my brother Jamie, he was only two and Angel was only four, and there were the grandchildren, but she somehow needed a newborn of her own to replace the baby that she lost. She went a little crazy, I think. So, she had my brother Danny a year later, and he saved her.”

“A new child can’t replace one that is lost,” I suggested quietly, wondering why he was sharing all of this with me, but glad that he was, even if it changed the dynamic of his visit. There were many men I’d had sex with, only one that I’d been this close to, and even that one had not stirred the feelings of protectiveness and caring that young Luke O’Keefe did. The tenderness that I’d felt for him back on that mountain in Afghanistan had returned in full measure and I was ready to do anything to ease the strain on his face.

He glanced over at me, his eyes bright.

“Acceptable substitutes,” he said, lifting his glass and twisting his lips in a semblance of a smile. “Mama lost her sixth girl, the final piece to her ‘matched set’ of an even dozen children. You can’t imagine, English, what it was like. My Mama had given birth to a child every two years for over twenty years, boy, girl, boy, girl, and then, when it came to the last one...she failed. That’s how she saw it. She failed. Not God, not the doctors...she did. She failed in giving my father a perfect family. Did I say my mother went a little crazy? She went a lot crazy but it was years before my youngest sister died. My father didn’t make her do this, but people blamed him. It wasn’t him who wanted her to have any more children but he didn’t know how to say no to her. After the baby died, she didn’t wait two years, instead, she insisted on having a baby almost right away. She almost died. Yet, out of that craziness and worry and grief came this perfect child. My brother Danny. He’s almost nine and the closest thing to a perfect angel on earth you’d ever want to meet. If it weren’t for his wicked temper, I’d be scared to death he’s marked for an early grave too, he’s just that good.”

I smiled to see the pride shining in Luke’s face. This was yet another facet of the man, and one I wanted to get to know better. “You love your brothers.”

“I love all of my family,” he said, as though it were a foregone conclusion. “But Danny is special to me. I doubt I’ll ever have kids of my own, so he’s like a son to me. He’s fifteen years younger, and with the other older ones having their own children now, I kind of try to keep an eye on him. With so many, it isn’t like Dad can watch all of us, after all.”

Looking at him closely, I felt as though there were more to it than that, but since he’d already shared quite a bit with me, I didn’t want to press for any more confidences just then. It was enough that he’d settled down from the wild mood that had brought him into my suite. Which brought me back to that question, why was he in my suite?

“Did you eat anything yet? I could order room service for you.” He was back in front of me again. “This place is amazing, you know. The kitchen never closes.”

“I’ll eat if you’ll join me, but sit still, you’re making my head worse with all your back and forth,” I told him. “You’re far too large to pace around like a caged animal. Which brings me back to my earlier question. Why are you stalking around my room? Don’t tell me the lieutenant kicked you out already?”

“You can’t ask a question and then tell me I can’t tell you the answer,” he complained. “What do you want from this menu? Steak looks good to me. With red jacket potatoes and....”

“Let me order. You’re in a five star hotel in Germany. It would be a waste to order as though you’re at a Ponderosa in Texas.”

I placed an order for a suitably generous selection of dishes from the kitchen and then rested my head back against the throw pillows.

“Your head hurt that bad? I could bunk with Hank and Doug if you want the quiet, though....”

He paused, awkward. I had that sense of being an outsider again and after feeling so close to him when he told me about his family, it hurt. I snapped at him.

“I think I’ve managed to figure out that they prefer to be alone, but no, I’m not going to say anything to anyone. I don’t know what indiscreet thing they thought I had said to those young ladies at the bar but I can assure you....”

“Hey,” he interrupted softly, “no one thinks you would have said anything out of line.” A large hand reached over and massaged my stiff neck muscles...it felt wonderful...I felt the warmth of his body shift closer. I kept my eyes closed as he continued his speech. “Doug and Hank just tend to be really cautious since we have a few jerks in our section who make it their business to find out other guys’ business. Doug’s pretty much okay, he’s got enough time in that he could pick up a good job on the outside if he had to, but Hank really needs to finish his tour of duty, and face it, no one wants a dishonorable, not even Doug. But Hank needs to put in enough time to earn college tuition and he’s supporting his mom and a couple brothers and sisters back home on top of everything else, so he needs to be careful. So...” He paused.

“So...” I opened my eyes slightly and peered at him through my lashes. He continued his soothing massaging of my neck.

“So... you wouldn’t have been invited on this little vacation to Afghanistan if I hadn’t thought you would be cool with them. You struck me as many things that first day, English, but homophobic was not one of them.”

We were both semi-reclining on the sofa, in light-weight khakis and t-shirts, mere inches between us as his warm hand moved soothingly over the tired muscles of my neck. His eyes met mine and held, a slight smile playing over his lips. I considered my next step. I’d thought it before, but now I was sure of it– Captain Luke O’Keefe was flirting with me. But, to what end, I wasn’t sure. I strongly doubted he was gay. There was a sense of “them” and “us” in his attitude about his squad members Watson and Jones. As much as he might wish them well and would protect them from others who didn’t, I didn’t sense that he identified with their plight as I could. They were gay–he wasn’t. But he wasn’t averse to a bit of fooling around, I suspected. Another example of acceptable substitutes? Convenience? Or was it curiosity? Exploring the undeniable chemistry? Or was my young Captain in denial. I suspected it was a mixture of all of the above. I pursued the answer, ever tenacious.

“And you are here in my room instead of your room because...?”

He pouted. He looked all of seventeen...if you ignored the extra foot of so of legs that stretched out past mine on the floor. The curl in the half inch of hair that the military left him aided in the effect. That and the fact that he’d obviously found time to shave since we’d arrived at this hotel In fact, looking at him more closely, I saw that he’d obviously showered and put on fresh rumpled clothing. He looked positively edible.

“You don’t want me sharing your room? ‘Tis a hard man you are. ‘Tis a nice big pull-out couch just going to waste here. And I promised to be nice and quiet. But since you’re paying for it all, I can’t even pull rank, well, I can’t really do that anyway since you outrank me, but I am the commanding officer on this mission, though the mission is over so I guess that makes you the commanding officer, but technically, I’m still the commanding officer, not that I would dream of...”

I laughed. “You can stay but that had better not be an example of you being quiet!”

He smiled. engagingly. He very pointedly didn’t say a word. He did shift me slightly so he could better massage my shoulders with both hands. I sighed and gave in, pulling off my t-shirt so he could do a better job of it.

“Ah, in for a penny, in for a pound, English?” he teased as he moved a second hand to my upper back.

“If you’re going to stay in here, I may as well enjoy it,” I told him lightly. “Though you still haven’t told me why you aren’t sharing the room with Redraven? Wasn’t the room adequate? I can call management if there was something wrong....”

He interrupted me. “It’s fine, great. All of the rooms are amazing. You shouldn’t have done this, but it is wonderful. Thank you.”

I shrugged, uncomfortable with being thanked. I hadn’t intended for them to know I was paying for it. Dear God, I hoped he didn’t think he had to thank me in some tangible way? I tried to think of a way to say as much that wouldn’t make matters worse. He must have guessed my sentiments because he laughed at my expression and punched me lightly on the arm.

“I appreciate the switch to a nicer hotel but not that much, English. Though I would love to tell Steve he has to put out to pay for his nicer room. He’s getting so much enjoyment out of it, I think he’ll say it’s worth it. Probably just drink himself silly and bend over if I know him, crazy son of a bitch. I’ve never known anyone who can put it away like him. They say Indians have trouble with alcohol but not Steve. He claims it’s the Georgian redneck in his blood; he can put away more beer and whiskey than anyone I know and still outshoot nine out of ten sharpshooters on a shooting range. He’ll suffer for it tomorrow, have the mother of all headaches then, but he’ll be fine tonight. Anyway, he’s back in the room with two of the local lovelies and I wasn’t in the mood to play voyeur so I came to beg sanctuary from you instead. Didn’t know I’d be so unwelcome.”

My backrub continued throughout this confession. I turned to look over my shoulder.

“If he brought two ladies back to the room, I would imagine he was thinking of you,” I suggested gently. The handsome face closed off.

“No. He knew I wasn’t in the mood. Come on, move off here for a sec and I’ll open it up so you can lie down and I’ll be able to straddle you and give you a decent rub-down. All that time in a plane always makes my muscles ache and I know yours must be stiff too. There’s probably just enough time before the food arrives.”

“I have a better idea. I’ll go take a shower and freshen up. By the time I’m done, I’m sure the food will be here.”

As it was, the food arrived just then, so we ate. Luke entertained me with tales of growing up in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, playing soccer with his brothers and father, and working in his father’s bar after school with his two older brothers.

“Sounds like a good life,” I observed. “Whatever made you leave to join the Green Berets?”

“See the world, travel to exotic places, learn about other people, then kill them,” he answered flippantly. Seeing that I wasn’t shocked, he leaned back in his seat and sighed. “Do you remember the first time?”

I didn’t pretend not to know what he was talking about. “Yes. And the second. The third. I am sorry to say that after a while, you lose track, and that too is upsetting. So you stop hoping that you’ll forget the first times and start praying that you don’t get to the point where it becomes so easy that you can’t even remember it any more.”

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“One doesn’t,” I told him. “One thinks only of the horror, and that’s a natural reaction. I wouldn’t want to fight with a man by my side who didn’t have a strong reaction to taking a human life. We all feel it, or we should, and we all know that next time it could be one of us. But, we know that we need to do it. It’s what you decided when you chose to become a soldier and made that your job, Luke. That’s what this is, every bit as much as your brother Matt chose to run the bar with your dad, and your brother Mark chose to go into banking and your brother John is going to make the law his job. This is simply your job and you do it very well.”

“So, this feeling...it will never go away?” He looked at me bleakly then he poured himself more wine. I looked away from him and out the window to give him time to compose himself. We were sitting at the small table that was placed in front of the large picture window that filled almost one wall of the suite. The night sky was lovely, the lights of the city below competing with the stars above. We’d turned out all but one of the lights in the room so that the glass wouldn’t reflect and prevent us from enjoying the view. I turned back to my companion, who seemed so young to me at that moment. I wished there were some way to take away his pain.

“The feeling you have now will...lessen. Just as this damn headache I have will leave. It doesn’t mean I won’t recall the pain and be able to remember exactly how it feels today, or won’t have a recurrence of it some mornings, especially if I get bumped again. Not a great analogy but if this is the concussion I think it is, a passable one. Time will dull the edges of this...this death...but the nature of it, with the high emotion of Steve being held the way he was, and you’re having to have the targets in your sights...”

“The victims, you mean, the men I killed.” He interrupted me and I could see that he was wound really tight. He needed something more basic than words of comfort. It occurred to me that he’d deliberately sought me out since I was the one person it was safe to discuss this with. The others were his men. He had to keep up his front of infallibility with them. Not so with me, whom he’d probably never see again after this leave. Anything would be safe with me.

I stood up suddenly. “This is enough talking. Why don’t you try out the Jacuzzi that so intrigued you earlier? I’m going to grab a shower, which is long overdue. I’ll take the sofabed tonight, however. There is no way I am forcing a man of your height to sleep on a pull-out bed. I think that may violate the Geneva convention. At the very least, it is ill payment for the lovely backrub you gave me earlier.”

He laughed. “I never finished that backrub, but I’m not going to argue with you. I’ve only been in a Jacuzzi once before in my life and as I recall, I loved it, so you don’t have to twist my arm. Feel free to join me when you’re done cleaning off the grime of the mission. I swear it took me forty minutes to feel clean...I’m still slightly pruney from being in the shower so long. I think Steve was just as glad to see the back of me.”

“Shower gluttony would strain any friendship,” I agreed seriously. The dimples appeared again, only to disappear as my moody giant stood and pulled his t-shirt over his head. I had put a fresh shirt on to eat so now it was my turn to be distracted by the sight of a muscular male chest and well-developed abdominal muscles. Luke was certainly very lean, but unlike many tall men, he had a smooth lean musculature that was remarkably well-proportioned for all his great height. My only basis for comparison before meeting him and Steven Redraven were the American basketball players I’d seen on television. Before them, the tallest men I’d gone to school with or worked with were perhaps six-six. Those couple of inches did make a difference, I reflected, as I headed to the bathroom, leaving behind me the sight of those long legs coming into view as Luke pulled off his trousers. A couple of inches took a man from very tall to extraordinarily tall. I refused to let my mind wander to what else those couple of inches might affect, but as a physician, I couldn’t help but note that Luke was undoubtedly a very well-proportioned man. Some very tall men seemed to be all arms and legs, skinny in the rear; narrow in the shoulders, and gawky on top of it all, slumping as though ashamed of their height.

That wasn’t Luke. He moved with graceful athleticism, shoulders back, head high. Perhaps the fact that his whole family was tall and he was just that extra bit taller helped, but you couldn’t helping seeing, he was comfortable in his body. And it was quite a body. Broad shoulders tapering down to narrow hips, nice buttocks, no doubt due to all that soccer, but there was something to hold onto back there despite his thinness. And those legs! I decided a cold shower would be in order if I didn’t stop thinking about those legs that I’d just seen revealed again. Get into the Jacuzzi with the young Captain? Now that would be an exercise in self discipline. Or in getting myself drowned, if the young American only wanted to play at flirting and was not interested in anything more serious.

Which was likely the case, I told myself sternly as I stood in the shower, being pelted by the hot water. He was a likable young man, troubled by making his first kill. He sought out an older man for advice and conversation rather than bring down his comrades who were busy celebrating another mission successfully accomplished.

Stepping out of the shower, I dried off briskly and donned the white robe the hotel supplied, tying the belt securely around my waist. Looking in the mirror, I had to scoff at my own rationalizing. “Older man, indeed,” I remarked. The face that looked back at me, with its frame of fair hair that fell damply over the forehead and light gray eyes, didn’t belong on a man of twenty-eight, almost twenty-nine, I thought, lifting my chin. The Linton chin. How it bothered my brother that I was a dyed in the wool Linton and he had none of the family features. Poor William, with his dark hair, brown eyes and receding chin. It was quite distressing to our grandfather that William was the heir apparent. He always livened up family gatherings by asking my father if he was sure his first wife hadn’t had a lover.

Not so poor William. In anger, he once turned to my father at that same table, after Edward had been teasing him mercilessly, and remarked, “Better to be a bastard than a ponce like Edward and Peter.” Father had slapped him across the face and told him not to ever say such a stupid thing again. Edward was hard pressed not to laugh, but I was stunned that Father would do such a thing. I understood that his action was not taken in defense of me, far from it, but I wasn’t sure what had caused Father to strike his favorite like that. Edward had to explain it to me. To one of my father’s ilk, an Earl, whose whole identity rests in his station in life–nothing is worse that illegitimacy. A homosexual heir would be regrettable, certainly, but not an insurmountable problem. An accommodating woman can always be found when one is wealthy and titled and marriages of convenience are still the norm for our class. Affairs of the heart could continue, if discretion were maintained. But, a bastard Earl? That shakes the very foundation of what makes an Earl an Earl, which is the belief that there is something special about our birth and blood, something that makes us different. My father would cope if I were gay, but if my brother were not legitimate, he would not be welcome in my father’s home. He would no longer be his son since it is only the blood connection that matters. William the man is of no moment.

For the one and only time in my life, I felt sorry for my brother. I at least had Edward, for good and bad, and I knew that he, in his odd way, loved me. By virtue of the dimple in my chin and my gray eyes, I had my grandfather, and he was an amusing old gent for whom I bore a certain fondness. I knew that I could count on my father, as he would do his duty by me as his son. He’d proven himself over Cambridge and I owed him for that if nothing else. I would never knowingly shame the name that he held so dear. I didn’t worship titles or lineage as he did, and was thankful to be a second son, but I was very conscious of keeping my reputation as a Linton in the clear.

William had no one that he could truly count on in this world, and that was a sad state of affairs.

Rubbing my stubborn Linton chin, nope, no need to shave it, I wandered out into the suite still lost in my thoughts. The sound of the Jacuzzi bubbles reminded me of my guest. Which is where I had been in my thoughts before thinking of my young appearance. Too much wine, Linton, makes you maudlin, I chastised myself. As I looked around the dimly lit room, the only light coming from wall sconces with candles that were located near the alcove with the Jacuzzi, I had to smile. If my young Captain was set on seduction, he was certainly going about it quite well. I wondered if I was supposed to be playing the part of the shrinking virgin? Sorry laddie, but if your cock is as big as the rest of you, I thought, there’s no way I’m bottoming. I don’t care how many candles you light.

I walked up the steps and looked down into the foaming water. Luke had his head tipped back, resting on the edge, his arms spread out on either side and was mainly submerged in the steaming, roiling water. He looked utterly blissful.

And gorgeous. The rolling waters gave him some cover but he most certainly was naked, his trousers and pants strewn nearby, along with the rest of his clothes. As I looked him over, the brazen devil spread his legs a bit, tipping his hips up, letting the water support him. His eyes were closed but a soft smile graced those lips. I tossed off my robe and stepped into the pool. Perhaps some game playing was just what the doctor ordered.

“Decided to come in after all, English?”

“You made it look so enticing.” I told him, settling down and letting my legs float just above his. If he wanted to tease, two could play that game...and some of us had the advantage of age and experience. The right type of experience, which I suspected he might be lacking, for all his bravado. A few hand jobs from the boys in the locker room, Captain O’Keefe, does not make you ready to play with the men.

I ran my foot along his calf, the hard muscle flexing beneath my stroking. As I reached the softer skin of his thigh he spread his legs wider apart and his breath quickened. It was a good thing I’d selected a place not quite opposite, as I would have found myself underwater if I had tried to match that inseam. The Jacuzzi was built on generous proportions, which was good considering the man in it with me. His legs were responsible for a good bit of his height advantage over me, I noticed with some amusement as my chin dipped under the water in my effort to reach higher up his leg with my foot. In my effort, I brushed against his cock, which was rock hard already. I hadn’t consciously tried to caress it, but now that it came to my attention in our little game, I couldn’t help but concentrate on that gratifyingly responsive area.

Luke kept his eyes closed but slid down slightly to bring himself closer to my questing feet. Helpful lad, I thought, amused. His breathing quickened as I brought my other foot around to fondle his balls. I needed to keep a grip on the edge of the pool so I could keep my head above water...and if there wasn’t a metaphor or two in there for me I didn’t know my arse from the drain in the bottom of the Jacuzzi, I thought, wondering if perhaps my head had been hit harder than I thought.

You’re going to regret this in the morning, Linton, I told myself.

Which is true of a lot of things, you’ve done, I answered myself, while my right foot noted that the cock it had been so busily rubbing was attaining quite admirable proportions. Sad thing when one’s lower extremities are more productively employed cognitively than one’s uppermost parts, I thought, seeking to shame my mind into being quiet.

All well and good if we’re cavalier about this sort of thing, my mind pointed out, ever one for getting in the last word, but what if he regrets it in the morning? Don’t you owe it to the poor lad not to give him two things to weigh on his mind when he heads back to the States?

Maybe that’s what he’s seeking? Something big enough to distract him from what happened in those mountains? No doubt Redraven is looking to reaffirm he’s alive, and to forget having had a sword at his throat by impaling as many of the local ladies as he can on his sword. Two at a time, for pity’s sake! As for Luke, he too wants to forget death, but is he looking to lose himself along the way somehow? Or just leave himself behind for a time?

Suddenly, I didn’t care to play along with this teasing game anymore, where I collaborated in pretending nothing was happening in the water, in this silent touching of ours, waiting for the next signal from him. My mind made up, I moved across the water and straddled Luke’s lap, placing my legs on either side of his and gripping his waist with my thighs. His hard erection, the handiwork of my busy feet, pressed against my stomach. He started in surprise.

I gripped his face with my hands and as his eyes flew open I pressed my lips on his, softly at first, but then more firmly, tasting his lips with my tongue, teasing them open so that I could delve inside and deepen the kiss. He gasped and I used that to take more liberties, moving my tongue deeper, pressing my body closer to his. He moaned softly and brought his arms down into the water, then moving them slowly, tentatively, around my back, pressing me close as his excitement built.

Our kiss grew more passionate as our cocks rubbed together. I ran my hands down to his broad chest, running my thumbs over the pebbled nipples, twirling them between my thumbs and forefingers, as our tongues continued to tangle together.

“Oh my God, please,” he moaned, his hips bucking, lifting me up. I reached between us and grabbed both our cocks in one hand to fist them together. He cursed as I stroked them hard and fast, rubbing the heads, the precum slick even in the water. I bit at his lip as I felt my orgasm building.

“Come, lad, come for me,” I whispered, pressing my mouth to his neck. I felt him go stiff and then the liquid spilled over my hand, hot in slightly cooler water, my own come mingling with his a second later.

Luke slumped back, pulling me closer against him as he went. I felt my chin being tilted up. The moment of truth, the smug voice in my head announced. I met the gaze in the green eyes, my own eyes guarded.

“Can we try that again...in the bed?”

I smiled and nodded.

My feet started getting up right away and my cock showed immediate interest at the notion. That annoying voice in my head was suspiciously quiet for once. Too busy admiring the fine arse on Captain O’Keefe as he led the way to the bed, no doubt.

I had a great deal still to show him. I resolutely ignored the little whisper about tomorrow. For then, it was enough, I thought, that I had the beauty, the joy, that moving inside that incredible body brought to me. I don’t have words to describe what it meant to me and looking into those brilliant green eyes as we loved together, I thought it meant something special to Luke as well. I thought that we connected on a special level that I’d never believed in until that night.

The next morning, I woke before he did and spent a long while just looking at him as he slept. The long dark lashes fanned out on his cheeks, the hair getting just long enough to show its curl...he looked like a little boy with his hand resting under his cheek, his face peaceful in sleep. Angelic. Not a quality that ever would be attributed to him when awake, I thought with a chuckle.

The phone rang and I was quick to answer, not wanting him to wake. I knew this was the first good sleep he’d had in days.

“Major Linton.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m looking for a Captain Luke O’Keefe. The desk told me they were connecting me to his room?” a female American voice spoke cheerfully. I wondered if it was one of Luke’s sisters.

I got up and moved away from the bed, wondering if he’d want to be woken up for this call. I spoke quietly. “This is one of the members of his team. He’s sleeping right now. Could he possibly call you back? This is the first sleep he’s had and...”

“And if I know him, he probably tied one on last night. Sure, no problem at all. Tell him to call Brenda, when he gets the chance...I do like to know that he’s survived another little mission. I am just his wife, after all,” she laughed lightly.

His wife. Luke was married. I swallowed and made some answer, drawing upon that reservoir of social skills that had been drummed into me since childhood, hoping, as I hung up the phone that I’d used the proper one for when one is called upon to speak to the wife of the man to whom one has just spent hours making love.

One would never want to be rude, after all.

While Luke slept, I made a few phone calls and managed to be recalled to the States by my own superior officer within the hour. I stopped by Doug and Hank’s room and explained the need for my early departure, and that I didn’t want to wake Luke up. We said all the usual things about getting together and having had a good time. As an afterthought, I asked the Sergeant to make sure Captain O’Keefe called his wife when he woke.

And with that, I was gone. I didn’t expect to see any of them again. Funny how life can turn out so different than we expect.