Free Broken Soldier: A Novel by Clara Frost Page A

the bounce in her step. An embarrassing fear took him. There was no way he was going to be able to hide his very amorous interest in her if they were both naked. If it were just her, he didn’t think it would be a problem, but with Christa and Paul?
    He hoped the hot tub had some serious bubbles.
    #
    Steam clouded the air over the hot tub. In the water the temperature was a muscle relaxing hundred and two degrees, melting the flurries that came near.
    Emily slid her hand up Rafa’s thigh, stroking along his quad. He had his arm around her shoulders, and his hand clenched as she brushed his manhood. If she’d had any doubt about his physical interest in her, it was utterly dispelled.
    Paul and Christa sat across the tub. Whatever Paul had done to upset her, Christa was well and truly upset. Emily knew she’d be hearing all about it sooner or later. Probably sooner.
    “So the summer after our freshman year of college Rafa and I went to Madrid together to spend a few weeks with his mom’s family.” Paul had a very lawyer-ish tone, the kind that meant he was about to tell some Very Important story. “We were what, about nineteen?”
    “About,” Rafa said.
    “So old enough to drink in Spain, but still young enough that we had an excuse to be really foolish.”
    Christa snorted. “Never really grew up then, did you?”
    “Anyway,” Paul rolled his eyes at his wife, “We went out to a downtown disco with this girl that Rafa was seeing, what was her name?”
    Rafa’s breathing paused, just for a second. “Just a girl.”
    If Emily hadn’t been actually touching him, she never would have caught it, but whoever the girl was, she must have meant something to him once.
    “Right, so just this girl,” Paul continued. “We get to the club and it’s all eardrum-shattering music and cute Spanish girls. Rafa and... whatever her name was go off dancing. I find my way over to a couple girls and start trying to chat with them, but it’s so loud and I’m not sure they even spoke English. Well, I don’t really even have a chance to extricate myself before their boyfriends show up. Big, tough dudes, right? And I was maybe a hundred fifty pounds back then. So they start jawing at me in Spanish, and I’m an idiot and yelling at them in English, so the next thing I know, I’ve got four dudes dragging me outside.
    “They get me out to the alley behind the building, and one of them comes up with a knife. I figure I’m about to either die or go to the hospital or both. And then here comes Rafa, flying out the back door. He sized them on the run and took the guy with the knife out before any of them even had time to turn. One guy got a good gut shot in on me, but Rafa punched him right in the kidney--”
    “Liver,” Rafa said.
    “So right in the liver. Dude’s down howling in pain. At that point it’s two on two and I’m useless, but the other two guys just back up. Whatever they saw in Rafa, they didn’t want any more of it. Saved my life, probably.”
    “What’s your point, Paul?” Christa was very much not enjoying his story.
    “My point is that Rafael Carpenter is as cool under pressure as they come, and he always has been. And he still is.” He looked across the hot tub, meeting Rafa’s eye. “That kind of stuff, it doesn’t have anything to do with how big or tough you are. Or whether both your legs are flesh or metal. It’s all about attitude.” He tapped his forehead. “About what’s up here.”
    It was a nice story, but it made Emily wonder who the girl was. She made a mental note to ask about her later.
    Rafa scooped his glass off the edge of the tub behind Emily and raised it. “Cheers.”
    Emily toasted him, and took a sip of the brandy. Her other hand slid from Rafa’s thigh to his extremely erect manhood and squeezed.
    He nearly dropped his glass.
    “Hey, Em, do you want to help me get the food started?” Christa asked.
    Emily gave Rafa another squeeze, smiling sweetly as his eyes bulged.