Deploy, Part One (Rawlings #1)(49)

For all Declan knew, Justice had already ended what was going on between them. He saw her letters but never had the chance to read them. It was not a good day or week when they arrived. Declan was sure they’d be issued to him with the rest of his effects when he moved bases in a few days—his lesson had been learned. Justice belonged with Murdock.

“Guess Murdock will keep her tucked away till I leave again,” Declan said glaring down the road. Every word sliced into his gut and riled his wrath for that SOB, but you’d never know it by looking at his cool exterior.

“What the f*ck did the Core do to your head?” Atticus asked leaning against Nolan’s truck, the one Declan had no choice but to drive. “There ain’t nothin’ there. She’s with us more than him.”

“Got somethin’ to say ‘bout that?” Boon asked, clearly looking for a fight. Him and Atticus had just about figured out how to read Justice. Atticus was better at it, but he made sure Boon was in the know. They saw her shatter as she ran from the lot. It was tempting to follow her, but setting Declan right would get them further, or so Atticus claimed as he told Boon to stand right there with him as they watched Declan’s glory parade end and him make his way to the truck.

“Do you?” Declan said eyeing his youngest brother.

“Yeah I do, you dick. You didn’t say a word to her. Just stared like she was in your way.”

“Yeah, well, maybe she is.” Fact!

“Fuck you,” Boon roared. “She belongs here with us, if you don’t like it go on then.”

“Awful attached,” Declan seethed, shifting his weight, prepared to teach Boon a lesson.

“And you’re too f*cking detached,” Boon said as Atticus pushed him toward the garage and hollered out for Nash to get him inside.

Declan knew leaving now was best; he had shit to do and didn’t care to argue with anyone about his personal shit, especially his grandfather. Sooner or later Missy would send him after Declan. Boon’s outburst he was not explaining to Nash in his own clipped way would not help matters when the come to Jesus talk landed in Declan’s lap.

When the boys were really little, and Chasen was in the Corps, Nash was the stone cold father figure they had, the one they spent almost all their time with as soon as they could walk.

And he’d always had Declan’s number.

“You should’ve saw her first,” Atticus said strolling around to the passenger seat. His distance silently underlined his rage.

Atticus didn’t understand. And he wouldn’t until he walked Declan’s path. There was no sense in hurting himself or Justice any more than Declan had. Not now.

“Why do you have to be an ass? You have no idea what I saw,” Atticus said, when Declan slid into the driver’s seat and slammed the door and glared into nothing.

Declan didn’t. He’d read it when Atticus wrote him about it and unfortunately Declan had a vivid imagination.

“Two-way street, bro,” Declan said with a hiss. Declan had a hard time believing it took someone reminding Justice he was writing her for her to find his letters.

Declan got she was going through some stuff, but two months? And he didn’t cross her mind at all? Why was that? He had to wonder who was in her head, and why’d she let them in there. Declan had a few ideas, a few dark ones. Ones that made him downright murderous.

Reading Declan, Atticus said, “She didn’t know, Declan. You should have seen her face. She was one girl when I drove her to the post and another when she came out.” He glared him down. “Ever since then a bit more of that happiness chips away each day. She’s been a nervous wreck for days.”

Declan glanced harshly away, hearing the echoes of his drill sergeant in his mind. “You think this girl gives a f*ck about you? You think Jody is not f*cking her right now? You’re a toy, a pet. You’re her bitch.” As Declan pushed through endless pushups the sergeant got down in his face. “Is she worth jail, boy? Is it that sweet? I swear to you it sure as f*ck is not that tight anymore!”

Yeah, Declan learned self-restraint the hard way. And when he yelled, “Sir, yes, sir,” his day only got worse.

It was a letter from his dad that kicked his attitude to the curb; words that gave Declan reason to just shut it. He’d said in effect, ‘Right girl, wrong time. The time will get here, no sense in suffering until it does. Man up, don’t let them win, son. If something truly belongs to you, no one can steal it—not even time.’

“Keep looking out for her, then,” Declan said as he roared Nolan’s truck to life. “We gotta find Nolan.”

Declan not only needed to know Nolan was all right, he needed Nolan to help him think straight about this business with Justice.

Justice might have let Atticus close to her, but she didn’t talk to him, not really—same with Boon. Justice would talk to Nolan, he’d be able to help her through all that went down over the summer, he’d be able to help her understand Declan was an *, but if she’d just give him a minute...

Declan shook his head and pressed the gas pedal down.

“Not one letter?” Declan asked Atticus for the hundredth time on the way to their dad’s bar.

He shook his head. “Haven’t heard a word from Nolan.”

“You sure there was nothing else? That Dad just ain’t sayin’?” Their father, their entire family, was notorious for always knowing more than they said. They’d make you confess your own sins, and they’d never run their mouth about anyone’s business. So if his dad or grandparents were having it out with Nolan, there was a good chance the other boys wouldn’t know.