Masters at Arms (Rescue Me Saga, #0.5)(59)

“Are your parents all right?”

She nodded, but kept her gaze on her lap. Thank God. Jenny and Carl had taken him in that Thanksgiving morning and treated him like, well, a brother. He’d feared perhaps something had happened to one of them.

Then, was it Ian? No, her brother’s deployment had ended a while back. Adam knew he’d made it home safely from Iraq. But they were redeploying units so fast these days. Had he gotten hurt?

“Ian?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and wrapped her arms over her stomach, holding herself as she tried to curl over into a ball as if to contain the pain. She nodded her head, and a mournful sob escaped her lips.

Oh, God no. Not her brother.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. He held her as she sobbed. She adored her older brother more than anyone in the world. He’d seen that in her letters as she’d bragged about his commendations and activities.

“Tell me what happened.”

He didn’t want to hear the words, but knew she needed to speak them, just as talking about his nightmares had helped Damián. Again, she shook her head. The scent of her citrus-y shampoo drifted to his nose. Adam brought his hand up and held her head closer to his chest. He stroked her face. Her hair. Her face. Her skin. So soft. She felt so right in his arms—and that was so f*cking wrong.

God, she was so young.

So hurting. He’d never been able to resist reaching out to help a lost soul.

“Karla, tell me what’s happened to Ian.”

He knew the sooner she got the story out, the sooner she’d be able to begin to function again. To heal. Whatever had happened, she’d already kept it bottled up way too long. She gasped for air, trying to control her sobs.

“Take a deep, slow breath, Karla.” She did as he told her. At least he knew she could hear him. She hiccoughed and he felt his gut clench—and parts south tighten. “Again.” He needed to keep his mind off how nice it felt having her curled up in his lap. If she didn’t spill the story soon, he would embarrass himself—and probably scare the hell out of her.

“Tell me. Now, Karla.” He didn’t mean to sound so gruff, but it was all he could do to maintain control over his wayward dick.

As if a dam had burst, the words spilled out in a jumble, with sobs obliterating most of the details in the story. But he managed to get the gist of it.

Motorcycle. Rain. Semi.

Ian’s dead.

Dead.

“Oh, God, no, Karla.” Adam held her tighter, resting his chin on the top of her head, trying to envelop her in warmth and safety. “I’m so sorry.” He ached for Karla and her parents. When tears burned his own eyes, he let them flow, knowing she couldn’t see them. He cried for Ian, who hadn’t been given a chance to live. He cried for Jenny and Carl, who had to be caught up in a living hell right now. He even cried for Joni, who he hadn’t been able to cry for since that Thanksgiving morning in 2002 at Lake Michigan.

But mostly he cried for Karla. She didn’t deserve this. Her world was supposed to be happy. Innocent. Full of hope. He wished he hadn’t ignored his instincts. He knew something was wrong and should have gotten in touch with her sooner.

He didn’t know how long she continued to sob, then her body suddenly went limp, sinking against him. Her weight felt good against him. She’d surrendered the last of her defenses. Thank God she’d come to him. Someone else might take advantage of her vulnerability.

While he and Karla had spent only a couple of days together face to face, they’d forged a deeper connection that spanned nearly a decade. She’d pulled him back from the brink when he’d thought there was nothing left for him in this world. Her letters over the years were honest, as if she were sitting right there at his feet telling him about her day.

No, don’t think about her sitting gracefully at your feet.

Her letters had told of her life, her dreams, her world. He knew her better than he’d known any woman other than Joni.

Something or someone had brought them together again. He’d taken care of Karla once before. He’d take care of her this time, too. And he’d refuse to give in to the baser thoughts running rampant through his mind since he’d watched her performing on the club’s stage a little while ago.

When her weight relaxed against him even more, he knew she’d fallen into a deep sleep. He held her a bit longer, stroking her arm, shushing her when her body convulsed with a shudder. Then he stood and carried her out the door into the hallway. They passed the theme rooms. Thank God she slept, although he knew she’d find them eventually, if she’d be working here.

Christ.

Damián came out of the medical theme room. He raised an eyebrow at seeing her curled up in his arms. No, this isn’t that kind of aftercare.

The man he thought of as his son grinned and looked up at him, a question in his eyes. Adam wasn’t ready to explain his relationship to Karla. He told himself it was because he didn’t want to wake her by speaking. In truth, though, he didn’t know how to explain her to Damián. He knew what their relationship had been before today. But how could he explain his feelings now without sounding like a f*cked-up pervert?

“Go back upstairs and move her things to your old room.” He kept that one made up, in case Damián ever needed it. His son’s grin widened. He thought he knew the reason for moving her so close to Adam’s own bedroom, when Adam had intended originally for her to be as far away from him as possible.