She shrugged, and the towel slipped slightly, drawing Stone’s attention to her cleavage. He forced his gaze to her eyes when she spoke. “I don’t know. It’s so hard to tell with you. You don’t ever seem to show emotions. You don’t show pain, or fear, or happiness, or anything. You’re just this wall of…stone.”
Stone laughed. “How do you think I got the nickname ‘Stone’ in the first place?”
Wren’s face scrunched. “Nickname? Stone’s not your real name?”
He shook his head. “Nope. I got it after my first combat mission.”
“Why?”
“Well, like you said, I don’t really…show much. I never have. And then during combat I was just stone-cold calm the whole time, and my L-T made some kind of casual remark, like, ‘you’re made of stone or something, Pressfield,’ and the nickname Stone just stuck.”
“So they gave the nickname to you for being unemotional?”
Stone wobbled his head side to side in a ‘not really but sort of’ gesture. “It’s a little more complicated than that.”
“What do you mean?”
Stone sighed. “It’s another one of those things I don’t like to talk about.”
“I watched you kill men today, Stone. I think I can handle some old story.”
“It’s not just because I’m stone-cold emotionally; it’s because I seemed like a stone-cold killer. That first combat mission, it went off the rails. Went bad. Old intel, the bad guys had more backup than we’d anticipated. One of them got the drop on L-T, and I was out of ammo. Rookie mistake, you know? Shooting too much, waiting till empty to reload. Supposed to reload when you’ve got a few rounds left, and you never just throw the clip away like in the movies. You save it. Reuse it. Anyway, a tango got the drop on L-T, and I was out of ammo. For some stupid reason, I went for my KA-BAR instead of my sidearm—”
“Kay-bar? What’s that?”
“Combat knife. I should have shot the fucker, but I stabbed him instead. Of course, unless you know exactly what you’re doing and where to stab and all that, you never get a guy on the first try with a knife. It’s surprisingly hard to kill a man with a knife. That’s why you always hear about someone being stabbed like twenty or thirty times. The human body can withstand a shitload of damage as long as it doesn’t stop the heart immediately, or the brain. So I got the guy, but he had a gun and I had my knife, and L-T was down, wounded, so I just laid into him again. Not thinking, just doing.” Stone flexed his hand, remembering the feel of the knife in his hand and the warmth of blood on his hands for the first time. “Shooting someone from far away, that’s one thing. Even from thirty feet away with a pistol. It still takes it out of you, hits you hard the first few times you do it. But to kill someone up close and personal like that? With your hands? You watch the light go out of his eyes. You watch him turn into a dead husk right in front of you. Watch him bleed out, knowing you did that to him. And because I don’t show much emotion, and never have, it seemed to everyone else that I just did it easy as you please, no guilt, no remorse.”
“Did you? Feel that stuff?” Wren asked, sounding shaken.
“Shit yeah. Of course. I wanted to puke afterward. I couldn’t sleep for weeks, seeing his face every time I closed my eyes. That mission, those first kills? I’ll never forget them. Not for as long as I live. I don’t really remember most of the others, but you never forget the first man you kill.”
Wren didn’t answer for a long time. When she did, it was in a tiny whisper. “Have you killed a lot of people?”
Stone just nodded. “Too many.”
“And today. You killed people today. For me.”
He pulled her against him. “Yeah. And there will probably be more before we’re safe.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t plan on talking about this.”
“It’s inevitable. You’ve seen some awful shit. Experienced hell.” He touched her cheek with the knuckle of his forefinger. “At least you’re with me, now. Safe. And you weren’t raped.”
“I saw it, though. I saw…girls. A lot of them. Being…used. And that was almost me. If you hadn’t—”
“But I did. I’ve got you.”
Wren burrowed against him, relaxing into him, slipping a hand across his chest and holding him. “Thank you, Stone. Thank you, so much.”
Stone felt his heart constrict and expand. She sounded so vulnerable. Felt so right, in his arms like this. “Of course, babe.”
“What’s your real name?”
Stone sighed. “I was born George Alexander Pressfield the third. My grandfather was the captain of an aircraft carrier in World War II, and my father commanded a PT boat during Vietnam. My great-grandfather was in the Navy too. So that makes me a fourth-generation Navy brat.”
“George? Really?” Wren sounded amused.
He pulled back and glared down at her. “Is that funny to you? Is it funny that I’m George the third?”
She nodded, laughing now. “Yes! It is funny, actually. George. Little Georgie.”
Stone growled. “That’s why I go by Stone. I was never so glad for a nickname in all my life.”
“Maybe I’ll call you George from now on,” Wren suggested.
“You better not.”
“Sensitive much?”
“I hate that name. I’ve always hated that name. Even in elementary school, I would introduce myself as Alex. I actually went by Alex until I got the nickname Stone.” He laughed. “I refused to answer to anyone unless they called me Alex. I got detention almost every day for the first half of third grade because my teacher refused to call me anything but George. Eventually we compromised on ‘Mr. Pressfield.’”
Wren shifted against him, and now the humor was gone from her eyes. In its place something else, something hot and desperate and alluring. “So you won’t answer if I call you Georgie? Even if we’re alone?”
Stone shook his head. “Nope.”
She moved even closer, and now she was pressed against him, almost lying on top of him. Her legs were warm against his. “I like Georgie. It’s cute.”
“I’m a Navy SEAL. I don’t do cute.”
“Am I cute?”
Stone sighed. “Wren, are you sure this is—”
“You kissed me in the lobby,” Wren cut in. “You can’t pretend it didn’t mean something to you. It did for me. And I saw your eyes. I’m learning to read you, you know.”
“Wren—”
“You said you don’t do cute. Well, what about me?”
“You’re not cute,” Stone growled. “You’re beautiful. So much more than beautiful. You’re strong. You’re tough. You’re sweet. And you’re sexy.”
Wren’s face split into a smile, but it quickly faded into seriousness. “Will you kiss me again? Please?”
Stone closed his eyes briefly. “I’m not sure this is the best time or place.”
“I’m not asking for anything else. Just a kiss.”
“There’s no such thing as ‘just a kiss.’”
“Sure there is.”
“Not with me, there’s not.” He had to look away from her, away from her desire-hot eyes. “You’ve been through hell. We’re both hurt and filthy. And now all of a sudden we’re gonna kiss?”
“This isn’t sudden, Stone. I’ve wanted you to kiss me…for so long. For like—since the first time I met you. Every time we played guitar, I would have to make myself focus on the music instead of kissing you.”
Stone exhaled noisily. “But you’ve seen what I do. What I am. And you’re so sweet, so kind. So innocent.”
She pushed away from him angrily. “I’m not innocent. I’m not a virgin. And with everything I’ve been through over the last few days, I’m even less innocent. I know what I want. I want you. I’ve always wanted you. And you know it, too. We talked about this before we left for Manila.”