Two Words

She glares at him while I zip her up. We both put on our shoes.

"Uh, Jack. Where are you going?" Mitch asks.

"Someplace else."

"When are you coming back?"

"I don't know." That's not the truth, but the truth means so little to this asshole it doesn't matter. "You can call her if we're not back by eight in the morning. Don't call before then."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Shouldn't take long to figure out how to untie yourself. You can sleep here."

"I'm not gonna sleep in your damned jizz."

"Room 206." I fling my spare key card onto the bed. It happens to land in a wet spot.

"Don't go, Dana," he says. He looks forlorn. "We need to talk. I love you." Those are the first words I've heard from him that sound authentic.

She throws him a disgusted look. There is no emotion in her voice when she tells me, "Let's go." Her hair is wet and stringy. She is a woman scorned. She is beautiful.

"Dana..." he calls out again as the door closes behind us.

With my hand at her back, we take the elevator down to my room. Dana looks at my room number and smirks. It's not the number I gave Mitch.

Fortunately, I haven't had time to unpack yet. I snap my luggage closed and take it to the lobby to check out. Dana hasn't said a word, but she has a small, satisfied smile. I think she's figuring it out.

I open the rental car door for her, then throw my bags in the back.

"Which one is Richard's car?" I ask.

Dana chuckles and points to a black luxury SUV. My SOG takes out two of his tires, then I return and slide into the driver's seat. From a manila folder in the console I hand her a sheet of paper.

"My flight to St. Louis is on there. Call the airline and cancel my reservation."

"Are we going to St. Lou?"

"That's where I'm going."

In the light from the parking lot I can see her lip quivering. I could tell her what I want to happen and she would go along with it. We both need her to make her own choice.

I ask her, "How long does it take to get to your house?"

"About, uh...about two and half hours." She sniffles. "But Jack, I don't want to--"

"That gives you two and a half hours to make a decision. You have three choices. If you want, I will take you home and leave you there. I can take you home, fuck you in your husband's bed and leave you there. Or I will take you home, fuck you in your husband's bed, help you pack, and take you with me."

Dana is quiet. I start the car and head toward the Interstate.

She says, "Is St. Lou as far as I go?"

"That's up to you. You know what it takes to end this, right?"

"Two words."

I glance over and see a smile. She calls the airline and makes the changes.

Neither of us has spoken since we got on the freeway. We've driven about five miles. She picks up her phone and hits a speed dial. When she lifts it to her ear, I notice she's not wearing her rings. She must have left them on the TV stand.

"Mom?...Yeah, I know it's late. Everything's okay. Something has come up. You were right. It was even worse than I thought...Yeah, I should've done it years ago, but that's sorta why I'm calling. I just wanted to let you and Dad know I'm going away for a while..."

She giggles, then looks over toward me. I guess she's made a decision. A big smile breaks out on my face.

"I'm not sure, Mom. Right now, I don't know where I'm going. Just away," she says. "I didn't want you to worry. I'll be in touch. You know what to do if he calls...no, tell Dad to holster his sidearm."

My attention snaps to the side. I stare at her. She gives me a crooked grin.

"Yeah okay," she says into the phone. "I love you, too. Give Dad a hug." She hangs up.

"Your father is military?"

"Retired," she says. "I'm an Army brat."

"Where were you stationed?" I'm prepared for a long list.

"Dad was all over. When I was young we spent some time in Germany. Mom wanted me and my sister to have a stable school life, so we moved near our grandparents." Twisting to the side in her seat, she says, "Will you tell me about your back now?"

Most people wouldn't understand. Yeah, you could say it's just a job. Sort of like a firefighter rushing into a burning building is just a job. If Dana's father retired from the service, she knows about duty. She's strong. I should have recognized it.

"It was eight years ago. I had about six weeks before rotating home again. I wasn't going to re-up a third time. My team was called to intercept a group of Taliban fighters. We were told they were planning to attack a school. When we arrived at the village the teacher was standing on a wooden crate in front of the school and surrounded by her students. She seemed terrified. We called to the students, but they refused to move. She kept motioning for us to come get them. Something didn't smell right."

Dana's phone rings. She shakes her head and swipes the call. I guess he finally figured out how to untie the knot.

"Go on," she says. Her voice is gentle.

"I was the team leader. I handed my rifle to my corporal and held up my hands to let the woman know I wasn't armed. I told everyone else to stay back and approached her alone. The woman kept trying to get everyone else to come get the children. I was only about ten feet away, close enough to see her brow crease in anger once she realized I was the only one who was going to help. She threw her hands in the air and shouted two words--'Allahu Akbar'."

The phone rings. Dana swipes it again, then turns back to me, waiting.

"When the woman raised her hands I saw the button with her thumb ready to push it. They always put in a second trigger. I assumed she was on a pressure switch and we were all goners. I drew my backup and fired, praying for a miracle."

Dana's phone dings. She doesn't even look at the text.

"There's a river up ahead," she says, pointing down the hill. "Pull into the right lane on the bridge and slow down."

I do as she tells me. She lowers her window and the phone sails over the concrete railing.

Dana lays her arm across the back of the seat, resting her hand on my shoulder. "You're still here so I guess you got your miracle."

"That's what I thought, too. When the woman started to go down, I jumped in and picked up the nearest kid and turned away, hoping I might be able to shield one from the blast. Nothing happened. No explosion. I figured somebody must have wired something wrong. The kids were screaming and running around. My team started forward to gather them up. That's when I spotted the guy in Taliban garb peeking around the side of a building. I shouted to go back and made it about three long steps. The next thing I knew, I was waking up at Walter Reed three months later."

She doesn't need to know about the operations and skin grafts and the tubes running out of me, or the torturous therapy. My back has no way to regulate heat so sometimes my teeth are chattering or I'm burning up. Maybe, if things work out, we can talk about that another day. As much as I want to believe it could happen, I'm not banking on hope.

"You are a hero."

I shrug. "Heroes are for the newspapers. I was just doing my job."

Since she thankfully doesn't ask about medals, I assume her father has explained what those are worth. He probably has dozens stashed away in his closet.

But I'll bet he didn't get a box.

It was about a year after that bloody and horrible day. A large cardboard box arrived at my apartment. The postmark was Singapore, but that was meaningless. Naturally, I called out the local bomb squad. When I gave them a little of my background, they brought in one of those robotic dogs from the big city that sniffed around the box, x-rayed it, shook it, banged on it, and finally pronounced it 'clean'.

The guy in the Michelin-man suit--which I laughed at, assuring him it wouldn't mean shit--opened the box. It was his turn to laugh. It was filled with cash. Sequential hundreds, still in their plastic wrap just like the payouts the 'secret squirrel' boys gave to friendlies. Over eight hundred thousand in all.

I had learned at Walter Reed that the one kid I picked up just happened to be the son of the old chieftain's favorite niece. That's not as serendipitous as one might think. Everybody's related over there. It's the West Virginia of the Middle East.

My friend had relayed his eternal gratitude through my captain. I had no way to confirm it, but I assumed the gift was from him. Since I was pretty sure someone would start asking uncomfortable questions if I showed up at my bank with those bills, I took the box on a vacation cruise to the Caymans. After buying a cheap condo and making a healthy donation to our local bomb squad, I ended up with monthly interest that was barely enough to support me through writing the first novel. Now it's gravy.

Dana asks, "Why are you going to St. Louis tomorrow?"

"I have to peddle my book."

"Oh, you're a writer? What kind of books do you...wait a goddamned minute. You're Jack Galway! The Jack Galway."

"You've heard of me?"

"My father loves your books. I just bought the new one for his birthday. He was a major in the Rangers."

"A major..." I repeat, trying to recall her maiden name.

Then it hits me--Major McLeod. I never met the man. He left around the time I joined the 75th. His name popped up through the years as 'one of the good ones'.

Dana is his daughter.

We are both quiet for a minute.

"Jack, what happens if I don't say those two words?"

Hope is calling to me like a needle to a junkie. I feel myself getting pulled in. I want it so bad. I have to be careful.

"I guess that means you're mine until you say you aren't."

"And if I never say them?"

My eyes are blurring. I may have to pull over. I want this woman desperately, but I don't know if I could survive if this one crashes.

"Dana, I've been burned twice. You just found out that your husband--"

"Goddammit, Jack! Stop being such an asshole for two minutes. I've learned three things tonight. First, I want you. I want to belong to you. When you slapped my face while you were fucking me, it was like the skies opened up. I've never let a man totally own me the way you did. I can't think of anything more exciting than to be your private slut. I'll do anything. I'll learn to suck your cock down my throat. I want you in my ass at least once a week."

I glance over at her. "You liked that, huh?"

"That fucking orgasm nearly blew my toes off," she snickers. Then she gets serious. "Even more than that, I need you, Jack. I need a strong man who can take control when I get bitchy. And yes, I can be a royal pain sometimes."

"I've heard a good spanking can do wonders for royal pains."

"We should test that theory at the earliest possible opportunity," she says. "I also need a man I can trust. You're not anything like that lying, cheating sonofabitch I married. You wouldn't ever lie to me, would you, Jack?"

"Not about anything that would hurt you. I wasn't lying when I said your butt and your boobs are gorgeous. Sometimes I may fudge a little about how a dress looks on you."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," she smirks. Then she turns serious again. "The most important thing I've learned tonight is that I love you, Jack. I know we just met, but I plan to make you believe those three words. I promise you won't ever hear the two words from me that would stop what we have. Not ever. If you will have me, I'm yours in every way."

"What do you want from me, Dana?"

"I want you to believe in me. Life has screwed you over in ways I can't imagine. We've both been burned in bad marriages. We both know how much that hurts. I won't ever betray your trust and I know you would never deceive me."

In our few hours together, Dana has revived a faith that I thought was gone forever. She makes the promise of a future beyond tomorrow easy to believe in.

Her tone softens. "There's one more thing I want from you. It's not a deal breaker. When you were in the hospital, did they say anything about any problems with your, um... 'baby-makers'?"

A vision pops into my head of a little girl who looks just like Dana running up and jumping into my arms.

I can hardly breathe. I think I just lost this battle.

My voice sounds croaky when I tell her, "As a matter of fact, the doctors said my little Rangers will--"

"Lead the way!" Dana laughs along with me.

No doubt her father branded the Ranger motto into her genes.

"Can I borrow your phone?" she asks.

I cock my head but unlock the phone and hand it to her. She dials.

"Hey, Mom. Sorry to bother you again. There's been a change of plan. I need you and Dad to meet me at the house in about three hours...Yeah, I know what time it is. This is important. Bring the pickup and the big trailer. We need to pack a lot of stuff in a hurry before Richard comes home so you can store it until...No, I said it right. Richard. As in Richard Cranium."

Before she stops to explain I hear the shrill burst of laughter on the phone from the other side of the car. I already like her mother.

Dana says, "Make sure Dad comes, too...I don't care. Tell him I said to get his lazy, fat ass outa' the rack right now. He's got the rest of his retirement to sleep...Okay, Mom. Love you, too."

I'm noticing a pattern here. Life with this woman is not going to be like my first two wives. They smiled and sweet-talked me and pretended to be the charming, loving life-partner while they stabbed me in the back. With Dana, there is no pretense, no deception. What you see is what you get. I like what I see.

She hands me the phone. Her hand drops naturally to lie on my thigh. It is not a provocative gesture. It is a simple, loving touch.

"I don't know which I'm going to enjoy more," she says. "Fucking you in my future ex-husband's bed, or the look on Dad's face when he meets the father of his future grandchildren."

The grin bubbles up from my chest. Looks like I have a new job to do.