Masters at Arms (Rescue Me Saga, #0.5)(48)
Still, he held onto the dream of finding that perfect little subbie to work with. Maybe he’d find her at the top sergeant’s BDSM club.
*
Five months later, June 2005, Naval Medical Center, San Diego, California
Adam rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the crick he’d gotten on the flight from Denver, as he walked down the hallway beside Doc. “Any change?”
Doc gave him a sidelong glance and shook his head. “None. He’s got no fight left. Won’t let anyone visit. Not even his sister. Does the bare minimum with the therapy staff. Won’t wear his prosthesis.”
They walked slowly down the hallway toward Orlando’s room. He didn’t want to walk too fast, in case Doc had any lingering effects from his collapsed lung. “Sounds like he needs a swift kick in the ass.”
Marc smiled and glanced at him. “That’s why I called you, sir.”
Adam grinned. “Cut the sir crap. I’m retired. Besides, when I was off duty, the only person who needed to call me sir was Joni, my wife.”
Marc smiled, but Adam could tell it was a pity smile. He’d opened up to Doc more than anyone else about Joni.
“I’ve tried to get through to him for the last couple weeks. He’s f*cking stubborn. But next week I start classes to train with the search-and-rescue squad. I have to get back to Denver tomorrow.”
When they reached the room number they were looking for, Adam stopped and glanced over at him. “Good choice, by the way.” Adam was proud of how far the kid had come from the cocky SOB who had joined his recon unit as their corpsman to someone who could lay his life on the line for someone else. “You’ll make a fine SAR worker.”
The younger man looked down at the floor. For a once-arrogant man, he sure didn’t take compliments well. Maybe he wasn’t arrogant at all, just hiding some past hurts. “Anyway, I’m glad you called me out here. Hate to see the kid discharged just to go do some damn fool thing because he hasn’t gotten his head on straight yet.”
“You and me both.” Marc reached for the door handle to Orlando’s room, and then paused. “I’ll wait out here. He’s sick of seeing me. Good luck.”
Adam nodded, and then entered the room to find the blinds closed and the room in near darkness. No wonder the kid was depressed. He marched to the window and opened the blinds full force.
“What the f*ck? I’ve told you to keep them closed!”
Adam turned and came around the bedside curtain to see Orlando lying there, the white sheets bunched around his waist. Shirtless. His dog tags hung against his brown chest, buried in a diamond-shaped tuft of black hair.
“You talking to me, grunt?” Adam tried not to smile as the kid practically came to attention while lying flat on his back. God, he missed having that kind of power over people. Couldn’t wait to get his club started. At least, he’d have submissive women responding to him like that again. Even better.
“Master Sergeant Montague!
“What’s this I hear about you refusing to follow orders?”
Regaining his composure, the kid slumped back against the pillows. “The orders make no sense.”
“Come again?”
“There’s no point fixing me up.”
“Since when does a grunt decide which orders to follow and which to ignore?”
Orlando turned away. A new maneuver was in order. He remembered the night he’d seen them at the fetish club in L.A., getting a screaming redhead off on the St. Andrew’s cross, right before they’d deployed. Of course, when he’d seen Doc and Orlando, he’d high-tailed it out as fast as he could. That would have been a real morale buster if the two could have held it over his head.
“So, have you ever restrained a woman on a St. Andrew’s cross?”
Orlando looked back at him. If the man could blush, he would have. “Say again?”
“I asked if you were into kinky sex—tying women up, spanking them, that sort of thing.”
Orlando seemed unsure how to answer. “I tried it once—well, maybe a few times.”
Well, hell. Adam knew about the one time, but didn’t know there’d been others. He’d just figured Doc had dragged him up there. This might be just the therapy the kid needed.
How the hell many Doms did he have in his unit, anyway? D’Alessio for sure. And he’d heard rumors Grant was a Domme, although he’d never been able to speak with her about it. Sexual harassment regs and all. Serving with a female Marine was like dancing on eggshells and trying not to break one.
Right now, Orlando was the one needing a little dominating.
“Well, I can tell you one thing, grunt. I’d rather be with a sexy redhead right now making her round ass all nice and pink than to be looking at your ugly face.” He watched as the kid’s face did flame a bit at the mention of a redhead. Adam tried not to smile at the look of surprise on the young man’s face.
Orlando got over the shock of Adam’s words pretty quickly, though, and the defenses came up yet again. Stubborn wasn’t the word for this one.
“Guess I didn’t tie mine good enough. She got away.”
Fuck. What kind of woman would dump a man while he was recovering from something like this? If you asked him, good riddance to her. Adam would find the kid as many women as he needed to get over her. But obviously, she’d sunk her claws in him pretty deeply. He wouldn’t get over her very easily.