Last month, he never would have considered himself capable of a retreat like this. But, then again, last month he had never known true pain. The injuries he’d sustained in Mexico had been significant, but they’d paled in comparison to what had happened to him in Somalia. The full diagnosis had come back a few days after his first meeting with Lars.
A torn oblique. Three broken ribs. A fractured nose. Two broken bones in his wrist. The horrific stab wound in his side, which had entered between his fourth and fifth ribs on the left side of his sternum and barely missed both ventricles. If the blade had nicked either of them, it would have been game over. He’d scraped through by the skin of his teeth, apparently stunning every civilian doctor that had dealt with him throughout his recovery process.
He’d found out Beth had dealt with similarly graphic injuries. She had plunged fifty feet off the top railing and hit the ocean surface hard enough to tear several muscles across her body. When he’d first seen her after the ordeal, seventy-five percent of her skin had been a mottled shade of black and blue, the bruising like nothing he’d ever seen before. She’d broken her arm snatching at the base of the access ladder as it passed by, almost wrenching her shoulder from her socket at the same time. No-one had expected her to survive, which had allowed her to ascend the ladder for a second time — albeit a little slower — and track the commotion into the bowels of the container ship where she’d stumbled across the vehicle bay, barely conscious in her own right.
Now, her naked frame lay unblemished. She stirred in unison with King, opening her sleepy eyes one by one and glancing momentarily at the view, following the direction of his gaze. Then she turned her attention back to him and slid on top of him underneath the thin sheet.
‘You know,’ she breathed as he pressed his lips to the soft skin at the base of her neck, ‘I was hoping we could have done this kind of thing in Mogadishu. Would have added the thrill of getting caught to it.’
‘I’m not thrilling enough?’ he muttered, kissing her long and hard.
She smiled. ‘You’re more than enough — don’t worry about that. We were busy in Somalia, anyway.’
‘Let’s not talk about that place.’
‘I agree.’
What felt like hours later they rolled off each other, panting with exertion. The pair had worked up a sweat throughout their activities, losing themselves in the heat of the moment. King touched a hand to her supple hip and planted a passionate kiss on her lips. ‘As much as I want to just do this forever, we both know it can’t last, right?’
She nodded solemnly. ‘How much downtime did they give you?’
‘Lars told me he booked this place for two weeks. But I have the feeling I’ll be recalled sooner than that. I’d rather return on my own accord. Don’t know why. Something psychological, maybe. Like I’m choosing to go back rather than get dragged there unwillingly.’
‘Do you want to go back?’
He paused, weighing up her words. He knew if he answered out of impulse, it would be a resounding no. The picturesque setting and the beautiful girl by his side and the unsettling memories of his near-death experience would have bubbled together into a stern unwillingness to return to the fray.
But then he used logic to discern that none of the material things would last, and he would be left broken and alone with the voice in the back of his head telling him he could have done great things. He could have saved lives. He could have been remembered.
And the chaos in Somalia had taught him a great deal about himself.
Namely, his ability to withstand near-unbelievable amounts of pain.
He knew the benefits of possessing a skill as valuable of that.
He thought of his youthfulness, and his abilities, and his sheer potential.
It lit a fire under him to test the true capacity of his mind and body. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to return immediately, to get straight back to work, offering his services wherever they were needed. The thought of the pain and suffering the ex-military thugs could have dealt out with close to a billion dollars in capital eliminated all trace of regret for stepping foot in Somalia.
He would have done it all again, even if he knew the kind of trauma that would be enacted on his body.
So instead of a resounding no, he instead said, ‘Wouldn’t pass it up for anything.’
Beth nodded, as if it was what she’d been expecting. ‘I can’t say I share the same sentiment.’
‘You thinking about retiring?’
She nodded. ‘At least from active service. I don’t know — besides the fact I met you, I hated everything about Somalia. When that gang jumped me…’
‘Of course. That’s completely understandable. You’ll get an honourable discharge. Do what’s best for yourself.’
She smiled. ‘This has been fun. I needed it.’
‘So did I.’
‘Some part of me wishes it was permanent.’
‘If I wanted to settle down, it would be with someone exactly like you. Don’t think I’m not interested because I’m going back into the field. It’s just … I was supposed to do this. You understand, right?’
She nodded. ‘Not completely. But enough of it has rubbed off onto me over the last few days. You’re a different breed, that’s for sure.’
‘It’s just not the right time in my life,’ he said. ‘I’m young. Hungry.’
She touched her lips to his. ‘I’ve been made fully aware of that.’
He smirked. ‘I don’t know if I’ve said this yet — but thank you. If you hadn’t fought to get back aboard, even with all your injuries, I’d be a dead man. You know that. But I need to tell you it. Over and over again, if I have to. You saved my life.’
‘Would have done it for anyone,’ she said.
‘You’re the toughest goddamn woman on the planet, Bethany Cooper,’ he said. ‘The Force Recon Marines would be losing one of their best if you retired.’
‘I doubt it.’
‘I don’t really talk much,’ King said. ‘And when I do I don’t exaggerate. I mean it.’
‘Then thank you, Jason.’
They kissed for a blissful, drawn-out moment — both of them recognising the finality in the gesture. When they parted, King understood exactly what the atmosphere signalled. It had shifted slightly, as if instructing him that there had never been a better time to move on. Any unnecessary lingering would increase the attachment, and deep down he knew he couldn’t stay.
No matter what.
So he slid off the four-poster bed and dressed quickly in a pair of jeans and a loose-fitting tee, covering up everything but his massive, tanned forearms. He took one last look at Beth, sprawled out leisurely on the mattress, and admired her physique.
He doubted he would ever see her again.
‘I still don’t know what it is you do exactly,’ she noted.
‘Neither do I,’ he admitted, ‘but I need to get back to doing it.’
‘You’re a strange guy.’
‘International man of mystery? Does that work? I’d like that title.’
‘Not really,’ Beth said. ‘You’re a bit too violent for all that intrigue and suspense.’
‘Oh, well. Someone’s got to knock heads together. I’ll take a good old-fashioned fistfight over an exploding pen any day.’
‘Are you really only twenty-two?’ she said.
‘Unbelievable, right?’
‘And that was only your second operation?’
He nodded.
‘How was the first?’ she said.
‘About the same. I took a little less damage, though. I’m getting worse with time, so it seems. Or the tasks are getting harder.’
‘You’ll be dead in weeks if you keep up this pace, Jason,’ she said, her tone suddenly filled with concern. ‘Get out while you still can. That’s all I’ll say.’