Diablo Blanco Club 2, Under Control by Qwillia Rain

the nozzle in place. Leaning against the sun-baked metal of his truck, he watched the sun hover on the ocean‟s edge and wondered what the hell he was going to do next for a job.

    * * * * *
    After reaching the office of his commanding officer, Vance had spent little time discussing his decision to resign.
    “The offer still stands, Justiss.” His CO had tapped his fingers against the forms in front of him. “Coronado or Lejeune could use a man with your skills and background.”
    “Understood, sir, and I appreciate the suggestion, but I think it‟s time I start looking toward the future.” A future with Ben in it, if he’ll have me.
    A medical retirement had been inevitable. If he hadn‟t offered it voluntarily, he‟d only have had to deal with a forced discharge once he‟d gone through the rest of his rehab therapy and failed his fitness tests. His particular skills—languages, tactics, and infiltration—were needed, but not when they came with a bum leg and reduced strength and dexterity in his dominant hand. The shrapnel had done a number on the muscles and nerves in both.
    A post as an instructor for Marine Force Recon had been mentioned while he‟d been recovering, but he wanted more.
    Now that it had been presented, Vance had no difficulty turning 58
    Qwillia Rain
    down the offer of a position as an instructor, knowing that a big part of his new life was going to include Ben. Denying what he felt for the other man was tantamount to breaking his word to Aimee.
    And that he wasn‟t going to do.
    “Well”—the officer rose and offered his hand—“you will be missed, Gunnery Sergeant.”
    “Thank you, sir.” Vance had taken the proffered hand, confident in the knowledge that whatever came next, he could face it as long as he had Ben beside him.

    * * * * *
    The trigger on the gas pump snapped off with a hollow, metallic thunk , drawing him out of his thoughts. Vance went through the motions of returning the nozzle, collecting his receipt, and twisting the cap back into place before he climbed back into his truck. Unlocking the center console, he placed the gas receipt on top of the .38 and locked the compartment. He was still another thirty minutes from Ben‟s house, but the clock on the dash assured him that his friend should be off his shift at the hospital by the time he arrived. Maybe Vance would know what he was going to say to him by the time he got there.
    Too angry to be exhausted, Ben didn‟t bother turning on the lights as he entered his house. The setting sun cast a crimson glow through the sliding glass doors leading onto the back deck. Throughout the day, he‟d repeatedly tried to reach Vance on his cell but had received no answer. He‟d left requests on the other man‟s message machine at his apartment, but the bastard hadn‟t called him back yet.
    Text messaging and voice mails had gone ignored as well.
    Diablo Blanco Club: Under Control
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    Stripping off his stained scrubs, Ben stepped into the shower and let the cool water calm him enough so he would be able to face Vance without wanting to pound his smug ass into the ground.
    And face him he would.
    As the day had worn on, Ben‟s fear that his lover‟s body would be wheeled into the emergency room after Vance had done something to end his life had dissipated. As vague as the letter had been, the eight years of friendship and what they‟d shared the previous evening had forged a connection between them. If there was one thing he knew about Vance, it was that he took pride in being a marine. And marines weren‟t quitters.
    He didn‟t doubt this feeling.
    What he did doubt, Ben determined as he slammed his fist against the tiled wall, was his ability to keep from beating the shit out of the hardheaded son of a bitch when he finally showed up.
    As Vance pulled into the driveway, the dark house faced him, and he was not sure where to go next. The sun had set when he‟d hit the outskirts of San Diablo. Full darkness had fallen