Page 27 of Beast

“Yes, ma’am. I may only have one eye, but I told you that I’d seen you before. I never forget a face.”

“I . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t want to tell you because once I tell a guy about the show, he treats me differently. I like you, Grady, I honest to God do. But I figured if I told you I’d been on a television show, you’d judge me, like you’re doing right now. That show destroyed my life. That’s why I quit. I wasn’t asked to leave, I ran away.”

Just like she had that night. Her lip trembled and I knew there was more to her story for leaving. But I was too pissed to keep interrogating her. “You saw my gun, didn’t you? Did you take my bullet?”

Her face turned white. “I . . . I mean—”

“I’ll take that as a yes. Why? Did you think I was going to kill you? Who the fuck do you think you are? I’m a Marine. This is America. I have a right to have a loaded gun in my house without some bitch stealing my goddamn bullet.” Here I was yelling at this girl, my body bursting with rage. She probably thought I was a psycho. I just wanted her to leave.

But instead of cowering, she glared right at me. “I didn’t know you—I still don’t. I saw you have a flashback at that party, and yes, I thought it was a possibility that you could be violent or even suicidal. So yes, I did take it, and no, I’m not sorry. And you know what? I’d do it again!”

Whoa. As pissed off as I was at her, I was impressed that she was standing up to me. No one ever told me off anymore. Even my own friends pussyfooted around me ever since I was awarded my medal.

My eye darted around her face. She seemed sincere, hurt, even scared. Whatever, it was too late now to even try to turn this around.

I lowered my voice. “It’s fine. I don’t want to write a book, but thanks for asking. And if I did, I could pick any author I wanted. I definitely wouldn’t pick the father of some random girl I fucked. It’s time for you to go.”

But the bitch kept talking, her voice laced with desperation. “No, wait. Listen to me—my dad’s an excellent writer. He will do a great job. I know you don’t want to tell your story, but if you don’t, I’m sure someone will write an unauthorized account of the attack. This is your way of controlling the information, honoring your friend’s memory.”

She had a point. I’d already read some bullshit accounts in the press. Most were exaggerated, made me look like I was lying. Yes, I threw myself on a grenade—no, I wasn’t the bionic man who withstood gunfire and killed a bunch of people.

I studied Isa—her chest heaved as she talked and I spied a pink bra strap. My rage began to melt away and lust replaced it within my body.

I wanted her. Again. However I could have her.

“Why is this so important to you? If your dad is such a great writer, he can write some other guy’s story. Why mine?”

She cast a downward glance. “He’s having some financial trouble now. The bank will foreclose on our home, and—” she sighed, “well, he stole my tuition money to try to save the house. It was my money I had earned when I was on the show. So, yeah, I won’t be able to finish my last year of college unless I can come up with the cash.”

What a fucking dick. What kind of dad does that? “I’m not going to trust my story with some jackass who steals from his daughter.”

“No, wait. He’s not a jerk, I swear. He’s desperate. He’s been a mess since my mom died. And he was in Vietnam so he has his own PTSD issues. He’s an alcoholic and he has flashbacks, too. But I know he’d do an amazing job. I promise you that he’s a brilliant writer. He was even nominated for the Pulitzer. And honestly, he’s so in awe of you. He first told me about your story before you won your medal. He thinks you’re a hero. You are a hero.”

My mind raced. She seemed desperate.

And I held the power.

So now I’d get what I wanted.

“What’s in it for me?”

Her eyes brightened. “My dad’s agent is excellent. I’m sure you’ll get a huge book deal.”

I laughed, leaned in closer, and eye-fucked her slowly. “No, that’s not what I meant, baby. I’m not talking about the money. If I agree to do this, and choose your father, what are you going to do for me?”

“Oh.” Her face finally registered the meaning behind my question. “What do you want?”

“I want you to be my date for the Commandant’s Marine Corps Ball. I’m the Guest of Honor. We’ll fly to Hawaii together, spend a weekend attending official events, and when the weekend is over, we will go our separate ways.”

“Wow.” Her lips widened into a smile. “Grady, I’d be honored to be your date to the ball. When is it?”

“November tenth. The Marine Corps Birthday.”

She beamed. “That’s a few months away. I can’t wait. Yes, of course.”

I let out a laugh. No way was I going to let her off that easily.

“Don’t get too excited. There’s more to the deal. I want the full girlfriend experience.”