Free Let It Ride by Jillian Burns Page B

the saddle, as his grandfather would have said. He’d apologized to Jordan, right?
    He gulped his Cuervo, slammed the tumbler on the bar, and stood. “I only got a few days left. Let’s go find some women.”
    Grady’s brows shot up, but he finished his water and then followed Cole upstairs to Studio 54.
    Even on a Tuesday night at one in the morning, The Grand’s largest nightclub buzzed with energy. The throbbing bass vibrated in Cole’s chest, half-naked go-go girls danced in cages, strobe lights flickered on the dance floor crowded with women. The thunderous music rendered him deaf to human voices, but then probably everyone in here was.
    Forgetting Grady, he shouldered his way to the dance floor where half a dozen women were gyrating to the pounding rhythm. Their arms raised, they bumped against each other, but smiled as he joined them.
    He smiled back.
    One of them moved in front of him and slid her palm down his shirt front. Another came from behind and grabbed his butt. Oh, yeah. This is what he needed. He leaned down to ask the one in front her name and she stabbed her nails into his hair and bit his earlobe.
    He jerked away.
    A woman behind him grabbed his arm and he turned to find a curvy redhead. He slid his hand down her spine to the top of her sweet round bottom, intent on kissing her. But her makeup seemed packed on and her perfume was too sharp, too spicy.
    He turned to a dark-skinned beauty. Ahh, yes. A fiery señorita was just what he needed. She smiled at him, but he closed his eyes and let his other senses take over. The heat of her soft body crushed against him. The feel of her hands slipping under his jacket and running overhis shoulders. He tried to conjure images of the señorita in his bed. But all he could picture were long blond curls spread over his pillow.
    What was wrong with him?
    He spun on his heel and pushed past the dancing women, his throat tight. His temples pounding in frustration, he headed for the exit.
    Grady stood close to the door, his arms folded, and his face expressionless. Suddenly, Grady’s unfailing composure infuriated Cole. The man never drank. Never swore. Never lost control, while Cole’s life had been in a crazy tailspin ever since he’d crashed in the Iraqi desert.
    Damn it. He had no say over his life anymore. His career was in the hands of his commanders. How long was it going to take for them to write him off as officially useless? Waiting for the verdict was like sitting on death row. Before, he could have channeled this restless energy into any one of a dozen adrenaline-pumping activities, all denied him now that he’d lost his equilibrium. All but one.
    And now it seemed he couldn’t even do that.
    â€œWhere are you going?” Grady asked as Cole strode by him.
    â€œWhat are you, my fucking nursemaid?” Cole kept walking, picking up speed as he cleared the doors.
    Grady kept pace with him. “If it’s your career you’re worried about, Jackson, don’t. Even if you did break formation out there, you saved lives. The Air Force will take that into consideration. New orders will come through. You’re too valuable an asset for them to—”
    â€œValuable?” Cole stopped and rounded on him, getting in his face. “As what? They need me to sit behind a desk and push papers? I’d rather take a discharge and sell pencils on a street corner.”
    â€œYou have twelve years of outstanding service, Major,” Grady barked. “You want to throw away a good career feeling sorry for yourself, or are you going to suck it up and do whatever it takes to retire with honor?”
    Cole drew in a deep breath. Grady was right. He was losing it. He’d wanted to spend a week partying hard to forget everything for a while. But instead of sin city, this town, surrounded by nothing but desert, seemed like some Twilight Zone limbo land. A kind of weird purgatory where he could only