Page 40 of Ravaged With You

“You know Colonel Seagrave?”

“Who’s that?” I ask.

“He’s the head honcho there,” Emma says. “My former boss, mentor. Practically father. As far as I’m concerned, he’s one of the best people on the planet. He told me a bit about you. About how you got those scars,” she adds, with a nod to Red’s forearms.

“Did he?”

It may be my imagination, but Red’s voice has gone cold.

“One of these days, I’d like to learn more about that. Might be something I want to look into.”

She must mean following up on mission specs, but I don’t understand what she means. I really want to ask, but Red says curtly, “Not something I talk much about.”

“No, I suppose not. No worries. What I really want is the story on this guy,” she says, neatly changing the subject by turning her attention to Mario as she points to Simon. “Come on, give it up, Mario. The real story. Not where he lived when he was in diapers.”

“That’s my point,” Mario says, though I’m barely listening. Instead, I’m watching Red and noting his troubled expression. “I can’t find shit,” Mario complains.

“Bottom line is he doesn’t play well with others,” Emma says. “But I guess he’s got skills that Stark and Ryan want.”

Renly snorts. “You don’t play well with others, either, Em. Or you didn’t when you first got here. I’ve heard all the stories.”

She spreads her arms. “Yeah, but I’m a special snowflake.”

I bite back a laugh, not even thinking when I reach for Red’s hand. He takes it, and I glance over at him, sharing a smile.

Later, after we get Mario’s promise to call as soon as he’s got something, I turn to Red in the car. “You fit in there, you know. It’s already like you’re one of the team.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. But they’re good people.”

“Why aren’t you with them?” I press. “I know Mr. Stark tried to recruit you.”

“I told you when I came home seven years ago,” he says with a shrug. “I’m retired.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be.”

“Yes. I should.” He turns to look at me, his expression hard. A few small scars mark his face, seeming to define his strong cheekbones, and I’m sure each one is the souvenir of a job. “Jo, just drop it.”

His voice is low and flat and final, and as soon as he’s said his piece, he turns back to concentrate on the road. I want to argue, but with what? It’s not as if I have any say in what he does with his life. But the truth is, I do wonder what happened to him over there. And how much of it he brought home with him.

My attention shifts to his forearms. His Swift Red tee has short sleeves, and there’s no missing the horrible raised scars, each about five inches long and an inch wide on the outside of both forearms. I’ve heard a few people ask about them. Customers in the tasting room making conversation, and he always tells them the same thing: that he was in Special Forces.

For most folks, that’s answer enough. For the ones who press, he says he’s not at liberty to say.

Today, though, he was talking to someone who would understand, and still he brushed it off. Moreover, Emma had suggested that he got them on a mission, but I don’t actually believe that’s true. He was a badass in the military, sure, but the mission story just doesn’t ring true.

Maybe I’m nosy or maybe I’m emboldened by the camaraderie at Stark Security. Or maybe I simply want to feel closer to this man. I don’t know. But for some reason, I ask him.

For some reason, I’m stupid enough to think that maybe he’ll tell me the truth.

“How did you really get those scars?”

I see his hands tighten on the steering wheel, but he doesn’t turn to look at me when he says, “Jesus, Jo. Is there a reason you’re interrogating me?”

“We’re just talking, Red. Since when can’t you talk to me?”

He exhales, and only when I’m certain he’s going to completely ignore me does he say, “I already told you. A mission.”

It’s true; that’s what he told me. But I don’t believe him. “You didn’t have them when you came home,” I say. “Then you went to Texas to visit your mom for six weeks, and when you came home again, you had scars. Looked like they were pretty well-healed by then, too, so whatever happened was not long after you went away. Or are you saying you went on a mission instead of back home?”