Page 18 of Trigger Discipline

“Resting,” Gabriel said, jerking his head over to the couch.

Judd glared at him. “I don’t need to rest.”

“You look like hell.”

“What’s new?” Phin grumbled, walking past Judd and dropping a heavy hand on his good shoulder. Judd sniped something at him as he walked by, and he could hear Phin’s heavy laughter from the hallway.

“Gabriel, I didn’t let a broken leg keep me from redoing the barn roof the summer I turned fourteen, and I’m not going to let this papercut stop me today. Where do you need me?” His drawl was thick with exhaustion.

Gabriel sighed, dropping his head in defeat. “Secure the perimeter.”

Judd nodded tersely, shoulders back as he moved to do as ordered.

Alone, Gabriel finally took a moment to relax. He pulled his helmet off, dropping it onto the scarred wooden table in the middle of the kitchen. Sighing, he raked his fingers through his sweaty hair.

His shoulder ached now that he had a moment to rest. In a perfect world, he’d be icing it—preferably with a cold beer. Maybe with a hamburger and an anti-inflammatory chaser. But he didn’t have that kind of luxury. Gabriel couldn’t be weak. Not when he had responsibilities.

Wincing as he rubbed the sore muscle, he could feel the heat through his shirt. He was tired. Tired people made mistakes—he’d been in the field long enough to know exactly what it felt like to pop caffeine pills to keep himself awake. Entire weeks of his life were a blur of grit between his teeth, the stink of sweat in his nose, and thepop popof gunfire ringing in his ears.

But he’d never lost focus like he did when he saw Blake. There was something about the man that made him slip. Sure, he was pretty. Gabriel saw pretty men every day. He worked with them, for them, around them. Notice—appreciate—move on. Like a nice sunset. Blake not so much.

The truth.

Blake’s words were sharp, but all Gabriel could see was the wetness in his eyes. The tears he refused to shed. An unspeakable strength that coiled along his spine even when all he wanted to do was drop to his knees. There was a fire in those eyes. When Blake demanded the truth, Gabriel knew he could take it.

He gave it. And it killed him to do it. He wanted to make everything better. To shield Blake from the heavy truth heknew, but the paramedic didn’t want it. He demanded to stand with him, as equals.

Being a soldier required a kind of inner strength. But to stand in his hometown, feet away from what was probably his friends and colleagues tomb, Blake had put Gabriel to shame. Even now, he was talking with the young Tommy. Keeping his chin up. Hell, he’d even grabbed vegan food options for his partner. In the middle of explosions and death, Blake cared enough about someone else to remember that.

And honestly, Gabriel didn’t know how to handle that. No, he knew what heshoulddo—Ignore it. Because it didn’t matter. He had bigger things to deal with than a burgeoning interest in a man he’d bled with before he even knew his name.

Blake came into the kitchen lugging his jump bag. He dropped it onto the counter and unzipped it, sorting through the food and medical supplies.

His hair was falling in his eyes, and he angrily brushed it away with the back of his hand. Blake wasn’t a big guy. He was about average height and weight, with a generic haircut. In fact, had he not leaned out the back of an ambulance and saved his life, Gabriel wasn’t sure he’d have noticed him at all.

What did stand out was the bruise on his cheek. It had grown darker in the last couple of hours.

“How’s your cheek?” Gabriel asked.

“Fine.” Blake looked up briefly then did a double-take. He stared at Gabriel. “Sorry,” he cleared his throat. “I didn’t recognize you without the helmet.”

Gabriel knew just how much the helmets changed appearances. He had spent days with soldiers, only not to recognize them later in the mess hall.

Blake stepped around the table and pushed Gabriel’s hand away from his shoulder, feeling the tender flesh. “Do you need help getting your vest off?”

“Actually, yes.”

He lifted his arm as high as he could so Blake could undo the Velcro and slide the heavy plate carrier from his shoulders. Another sigh of relief. It helped with the ache and relieved the pressure in his upper back. Blake set it down on the floor with athunk.

“You never answered me about your cheek.”

Blake touched his cheek lightly. “I don’t even remember how I got it. I think it might have been when I was hit with a tire.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened. “You were hit by a car?”

“A tire,” Blake clarified. “I’m almost positive it was not attached to an actual vehicle.”

“Oh, well,thatchanges everything.”