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Badass

Shannon West

Nick thought he’d been through just about everything life could

throw at him, including being wounded in Afghanistan. He’s working

as an ROTC officer at a university, and is struggling along. Then he

sees English professor Brad, a ghost from his past, a man he’s wanted

for many years.

Brad is straight, and when Nick tried to take their friendship to

the next level, he lost a good friend. Now Brad is back and on a reck-

less mission. He has come to find Nick and discover if they can make a

go of it as lovers. If they fail, they’ll lose each other—this time for good.

B ADASS

Shannon West

Chapter One

“Hey, watch it! You almost knocked me down!” Nick fell back

against the wall of the crowded corridor, students streaming out of a

large class that had just dismissed pushing past him.

A few students cast apologetic glances back at him as they

walked away and waved a hand in a placating gesture. He sighed,

shaking his head, and pushed away from the wall. His pain level today

was high, at least a seven or eight.

Nick had a reputation as a badass around the small Southern

college campus, as the resident ROTC instructor and the owner-oper-

ator of a nasty, hair-trigger temper. He was making a considerable ef-

fort not to shout at the students.

The dean had already given him a stern warning about yelling at

them, so he’d been trying hard to control his anger. Obviously he

needed to try a bit harder. He tamped down the urge to snap some-

body’s head off the next time someone careened into him, jarring his

already aching leg.

Obviously, it wasn’t anyone’s fault he was in pain. He had signed

up with the Army to defend his country and he was proud of his ser-

vice. He’d left several very good friends behind in Iraq. Those guys

5/97

were never coming home, so he really had no right to complain, and he

knew it.

Still, the pain was severe at times, and on those days it seemed

his whole world shrank down to just the throbbing, burning pain in his

leg. At other times the pain wasn’t so bad, and he was able to live a

more normal life.

He had pain pills he took, of course, for the really bad days, but

they made him so dizzy he couldn’t effectively work. Most days he left

them off and popped a couple of extra-strength Tylenol and tried to

gut it out. He wondered on those bad days if keeping his leg had really

been worth it.

The doctors had given him a choice. Amputate, or live with a

good deal of pain for the rest of his life from the nerve damage. He’d

chosen to keep his leg. Vanity, he supposed, or sheer cussedness on his

part. Either way, it had made for a very interesting couple of years

since his injury. Never a dull moment, that’s for sure.

By keeping his leg and undergoing months of therapy, he’d been

able to regain a good range of motion, and even was able to pass the

physical requirements for becoming an ROTC officer. Most days he

thought it was a good trade—a little pain for being able to stay associ-

ated with the military he loved.

He’d gotten his wound in Iraq, the result of an HBIED. These

bombs, mostly used by the insurgent forces in Iraq, were called House

Borne Improvised Explosive Devices, because these explosives were

usually homemade bombs. They often contained items like nails and

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