“Boy Scout.”
Turner nodded. “You two are joined at the hip. I know he dragged you off the ground when you fell out of a PT run to make Recon, and I know you carried him to the end of a course when he nearly broke his ankle, giving up the course record in the process, all so you could stay together.”
Ty grew warmer, realizing how much homework Turner had done on him. It was flattering, in a way.
“For a while I thought you two were an item, but seeing that letter I realized my mistake.”
“What the hell does any of this have to do with your team?”
“If you say yes, you’ll have to bring him with you.”
“I’m not pulling O’Flaherty into anything unless I vet it first.”
“Of course. Which is why you’re here now and he’s not.”
Ty grunted, growing more frustrated.
“I don’t need an answer right now,” Turner said with a smirk. “To either proposition. And one is not dependent on the other. You should think it over.”
Ty nodded, dazed.
“Think over it hard. Once you go down my road, you don’t go back. You’ll come out the other end someone else. Someone . . . you might not like. Someone this David of yours definitely won’t like.”
Ty looked him up and down. “That what happened to you?”
Turner shrugged.
“You seem pretty okay with yourself.”
“Well, I was an ass**le when I started.” He handed Ty a carved white knight. Ty stared at it, spinning it between his fingers. Turner kept talking, his voice low and persuasive. “You could be some anonymous white knight, Grady. If that’s the road you want to take. Loyalty and honor. A drop of decency in a bucket with a hole too large to patch. Or you could be my rook.”
He slid a black playing piece across the board.
Ty looked from the rook to Turner again, fighting the magnetic pull of the man, intrigued by his offer despite the feeling of foreboding growing in the pit of his stomach.
“Say yes, Ty, and I’ll teach you everything I know.”
Ty shielded his eyes from the sun, watching the men load the deuce and a half with unmarked crates.
Turner came up to stand beside him, geared up and ready to go.
“Where’s your detail?” Ty asked.
“We’re going in light on this one.”
“Bullshit.” Ty turned to face Turner, eyes growing wider. “There’s a shit storm ten klicks from here. You can’t head out there without a detail.”
Turner shook his head. “The major disagrees.” He stepped away, heading for the heavy transport vehicle.
“Chas,” Ty hissed as he lunged to grab at his elbow and stop him. They both glanced around to make sure no one was watching. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Take my boys with you. Hell, take me with you, someone that isn’t a goddamn paper pusher with a toy gun.”
Turner shook his head and looked away. Ty shoved his arm in frustration.
“Careful, Sergeant,” Turner said in a harsh whisper. “It’s not my call, okay? You’re not ready for this.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t tell you; you haven’t been read in,” Turner said between gritted teeth.
“So read me in and take me with you to watch your back.”
Turner narrowed his eyes. “Rook, just calm down, go inside with your boys. I’ll be back tomorrow and you can take it out of my ass then.”
Ty snorted through his nose like an angry bull. Turner gave him a condescending pat on the cheek before striding off.
“Hey, Captain,” Ty called after him.
Turner stopped and turned, raising an eyebrow.
“Is there a reason you have to be such a dick all the time?”
Turner licked his lips and walked closer, looking all around them to ensure they were having a private discussion. “Because,” he said in a low voice as he drew closer. “Being such a dick all the time lets you know that when I stand here and tell you I love you, I f**king mean it.”
Ty’s mouth dropped open as he stared. Turner put a finger under his chin and pushed his jaw shut.
“Now. You stay here and ponder that, and when I get back we’ll discuss it.”
Ty nodded and watched him walk off. “Watch your damn six,” he said. Turner gave him a cocky wave over his shoulder, but didn’t turn back around.
Two days later, Ty stood with Nick O’Flaherty and Elias Sanchez and watched the deuce and a half roll in. They kept their distance with the other Recon boys, silent sentinels as the men unloaded the bodies.
“I’m sorry, Grady. I know you two were close,” Nick finally said.
Ty just nodded, unable to speak for the tightness in his throat.
“If they’d let us run detail,” Sanchez muttered. “What a f**king waste.”
They turned away and headed back for the barracks tent, but Ty remained, watching silently as they laid Chas Turner’s body in a wooden coffin and closed it up.
“Jesus, Ty. I had no idea,” Nick murmured. “You hid your grief well.”
Zane held tighter to Ty’s hand, but Ty shrugged off the sentiment. He took another swallow of beer. They’d all lost people they cared for. Chas Turner was no different, nor was Eli Sanchez. The losses never stopped hurting.
“Eli hit me harder than the captain ever did,” Ty admitted. He squeezed Zane’s hand, glancing at his lover and offering him a sad smile. “But when I look back and wonder what moment really made me who I am, it’s him.”
“He taught us just about every goddamned thing we know,” Nick muttered.
Ty nodded and glanced at his lover again. Zane hadn’t said anything, but Ty knew he was processing. He’d probably come up in a week or a month or a year and want to discuss it. The thought made Ty’s smile grow warmer, and he brought Zane’s hand up to kiss his fingers.
“Captain Turner was one badass mother, though,” Nick mused. “And now I understand why they called you Rook when we ran those missions.”
“What did they call you?” Zane asked.
“Ricochet.”
“Why is that?”
Nick shrugged, smiling enigmatically. “Couple lucky trick shots.”
“Marine nicknames usually don’t have a lot of thought put into them,” Ty explained. “And they change all the damn time. Nick had like five. I went through about ten.”
“Huh.” Zane glanced at Ty and smiled. “Rook, huh? I like that. It’s sexy.”