Rescue Me

would really be bad. Something that at the moment she probably shouldn’t think about. She’d think about it later when she had to think about every other screwed-up thing in her life.
    Afterward, she sat cross-legged on his back patio, drinking Lone Star. The hard concrete chilled her backside as she watched the setting sun.
    “I booked a flight Monday afternoon for Seattle.”
    Sadie wore her panties and his brown shirt that hit her just above the knees. “Why?”
    “Now that I know I’m going to be here for a while yet, I need to get some of my stuff out of storage.” He sat beside her with his back against the wall. His bare feet rested on the bottom rung of the wrought-iron railing. He wore his cargo pants and nothing else. “I’m renting a van and driving back.” He took a drink. “I’ll stick around for a few days and see my sister and hang out with Conner.”
    “Your nephew?”
    “Yeah. And I’m sure I’ll have to see the son of a bitch.”
    “Sam Leclaire?”
    “Yep. God, I hate that guy. Especially now, since the rules of engagement have changed.”
    She took a drink and squinted her gaze at the orange sun sliding below the trees. “Since he’s engaged to your sister, you mean?”
    “No. Since the SOB bailed me out, I can’t hit him now.”
    Sadie choked. “Out?” she sputtered. “Out of what?”
    “Jail.” He looked at her out of the corners of his eyes. “I got into it with some guys at a bar last December.”
    “Some? How many guys?”
    “Probably ten.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “They thought they were big bad-ass bikers.”
    “You fought ten bad-ass bikers?”
    “They thought they were bad-ass.” He shook his head. “They weren’t.”
    Still . . . “Ten?”
    “Started with only two or three. The others just piled on until it was a full-on brawl and everyone was swinging at anything that moved.”
    “What started the brawl?”
    “A few guys wanted to run their mouths off and I wasn’t in the mood to listen.”
    “What?” Her mouth fell open then snapped shut. “You got into a fight with bikers because they said something you didn’t like?” That was crazy. It didn’t even make sense. “Couldn’t you have just left?”
    He looked at her out of the corners of his eyes like she was the crazy one. “I’m all for freedom of speech and shit. But with that freedom comes the responsibility to know what you’re talking about. And if you’re going to accuse the military of being uneducated rapists, then I have the freedom to shut you the fuck up. No. The obligation .”
    “A biker said that?” She would have thought bikers would defend military guys.
    “It was Seattle,” he said as if that explained it. “Washington is filled with some crazy liberals.”
    Now might not be a good time to tell him she’d voted for Obama.
    He reached into the side pocket of his pants and pulled out his cell phone. “You drained my energy and I’m starving. Chee-tos aren’t going to cut it.” He ordered a pizza, then helped Sadie to her feet. “If I keep eating junk and hanging out with you instead of working, I’m gonna get fat.”
    She stood in front of him and put her hand on his flat belly. “I don’t think you have to worry about it.”
    “I’m out of shape.”
    “Compared to who?”
    He moved into the apartment and she followed him to the kitchen. “Compared to when I trained every day.” He tossed her hat from the top of a box on the kitchen counter. “My sister sent me old photos and crap when she sent me my tax information for the past five years.” He reached inside the box and pulled out a handful of photos. He tossed several onto the counter, then handed her one.
    She looked at the young man with the clearly defined chest muscles and wet shorts. “Goodness.” She hadn’t thought the guy could get any more buff. She looked from his wet pecs in the photo to his face. “You look so young.”
    “I was twenty. That was taken the day I passed drown proofing.”
    She was afraid to ask what that meant and picked up a photo of Vince on one knee in front of a bullet-ridden wall, a machine gun by his side and decked out in full camo and black scruffy beard. In another he was clean-shaven and doing push-ups with two scuba tanks on his back. “How much do those weigh?”
    He turned his head and glanced at the pictures. “About eighty pounds. I didn’t mind pushing out reps. I hated ‘get wet and sandy.’ ”
    They’d already established