“Did not see that coming,” she whispered.
“What’s that?” His voice was a brush of air against her skin.
“You being a really good kisser.”
He frowned and tipped his chin. “Huh?”
She smiled slowly. “You’re so stubborn and aggressive; I figured you’d kind of maul my mouth.”
He blinked several times. “I don’t even know what to say to that.” But there was a small crease near the edge of his lips.
She leaned up, nipping his full bottom lip. “Let’s just say you’ve exceeded expectations.”
She kissed him again, giving in to the need to be stupid and free of expectations about her rank and her position. For a moment she wanted to be nothing more than a woman with a man and to hell with the rules that said this was wrong.
And then he was taking over, wrestling control away from her and she was drowning in arousal and heat and need and a thousand twisted, aching feminine things.
It was a long time before she eased back. She brushed her thumb over his bottom lip. “We’ll have to do this again some time,” she whispered.
“It’s going to get complicated,” he said quietly.
“Maybe.” She slid her palm over his cheek. “Let’s keep it simple for as long as we can.”
It was as good as they could do at the moment.
And for the moment, it was enough.
10
The memories came when she least expected them. They always did.
She was used to them. Their appearance, if not their timing.
At least that’s what she kept telling herself.
She leaned over the edge of her bed. Her bare foot brushed up against one worn combat boot. The suede was soft against her skin.
There used to be two pairs of boots beneath her bed. Once upon a time when she’d had more of a life than living and breathing army all day every day.
Now, there were just hers left.
And even though he’d deserved it, it was hard knowing you were responsible for killing someone you’d loved once upon a time.
She ran her hand through her hair, breathing deeply and letting the memories come. It didn’t do any good to fight them. She never won.
The best she could hope for was that her thoughts would wander off down some less haunted path so she could curl into a ball and try to get some sleep. At least enough so that she could fake it the next day at work.
But tonight, the memories were alive and thriving in the dark. The shadows moved and twisted as the lights from passing cars out on the main road illuminated the dark room.
“No, no, no,” she whispered. She didn’t want to go back to that terrible day. She didn’t want to walk through the darkness again.
She couldn’t forget. But she damn sure was tired of remembering.
It was a terrible thing to wake up in the hospital.
It was worse to be told your entire world had changed in an instant that you no longer remembered.
But the memories came back.
The awful squeal of metal. The cascade of broken glass.
She closed her eyes, feeling the glass slicing into her palms again. The scars had long since healed over.
But the emotional wounds never really healed. Every so often, they bled like they were freshly sliced skin.
There was no escaping the onslaught of memories.
So she sat. And let them run their course.
Until the shadows stopped moving.
And the night was silent yet again.
She twitched and realized that she’d fallen back to sleep.
Her phone was vibrating next to her bed. Her commander. Which meant only bad things. “Yes ma’am?”
“Top, we’ve got MPs en route to the barracks. There’s a disturbance and the CQ couldn’t get it under control.”
Holly pulled on her uniform pants and started buckling her belt. “Already on my way,” she said, pulling on her t-shirt and tucking it into her uniform pants. “Do we know who is involved?”
“No, that’s all I have now,” Captain Reheres said.
“Okay, ma’am. I’ll update you as soon as I know more.”
“Thanks, Top.”
It was a quick ride to Fort Hood in the middle of the night. She pulled up to the barracks a few minutes later, just in time to see the MPs walking up to the CQ desk.
She did not miss the fact that they’d brought along a drug dog. Good times.
“What seems to be the issue tonight?” she asked, interrupting whatever conversation had been about to happen.
One MP looked at her, then his eyes widened as he realized he was addressing a first sergeant. “Top, we received a call from the CQ that someone was playing their music too loud in the barracks. When we arrived, we smelled something we believe to be marijuana coming from somewhere in the building.”
Holly glanced over at the duty NCO. The thin sergeant was at parade rest, her expression carefully blank. “Any ideas who might be reenacting Friday up there, Sarn’t?”
“Friday, First Sergeant?”
“It’s a movie. Never mind.” Nothing like a botched cultural reference to make a girl feel old. “So what happened?”
The duty NCO hesitated and Holly found herself wondering how much of what she was hearing was bullshit and how much was the truth. “Private Balboa and Sarn’t Freeman started arguing and things got loud. For a moment it looked like she was going to hit him but then he left.”
“Balboa.” Holly was reasonably certain Captain Reheres had given Freeman a no-contact order for Balboa. “What room is he in?”
“235,” the duty NCO said. “I don’t think he’s there anymore, though.”
“Then what room is Sarn’t Freeman in?”
“236, Top.”
“Wow, someone needs to reassign some barracks rooms around here, that’s for damn sure.” She turned to the MPs. “Feel free to walk the dogs around. If they hit on anything, let me know and we’ll get the commander to authorize a search if it’s one of our rooms.”
“Roger, Top,” the MP said. The police vehicle rocked as he approached, the police dog inside wanting badly to get out and do his job.
Holly had never had a run-in with a police dog. She’d just as soon keep it that way because that was one big, hostile animal in the back of that vehicle.
“Show me where Sarn’t Freeman is,” she said to the duty NCO.
“Roger, Top.”
She’d been needing to talk to Freeman anyway. And there was no time like the present to get acquainted with the barracks layout.
She didn’t need sleep anyway.
* * *
Holly hadn’t expected to find Sarn’t Freeman’s barracks room door ajar but it was. And wasn’t it extra convenient that the young NCO was standing by her bathroom sink, wiping her eyes with tissue when Holly knocked on the door a little too hard so that it swung open, revealing—well, “chaos” was putting it lightly.
“NCOs should not be living like they’re in a college dorm room,” Holly said, leaning against the doorframe.
Freeman stiffened and spun around, going instantly to parade rest. “I didn’t see you, First Sarn’t,” she said. “I wasn’t planning on visitors.”
Her normal defiance was missing tonight. Left in its place was a young girl Holly recognized all too well. It was like looking into a mirror of her own past.
The sensation left her unsettled and on edge. Neither feeling was welcome.
“Obviously,” Holly said dryly. “Do you always live like this or is this just a particularly bad day?”
There was a pile of laundry on the other bed—Freeman was apparently one of the lucky few who didn’t have a roommate. Holly really needed to scrub the barracks rosters and find out who was living where and then she’d get to deal with the civilians who ran the barracks program like it was their personal little fiefdom. Hell, the last thing she needed was to find out some private had moved his local wife and all six of her cousins into th
e barracks with him.
It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. She’d seen it in Korea when a young soldier had married a Russian woman. Three months later, she and her sisters had been caught living in the barracks.
Hadn’t that been fun to sort through with the local authorities. All the sisters had had their passports stolen when they’d been illegally transported into the country to work in Korea’s bars and nightclubs. But the Korean officials had been more upset about them not having passports than with how they came to be without passports. All the while, the U.S. military had no official position on the matter.
“I could lie and tell you it was just a bad day but…” Freeman held her hands wide, indicating the mess that occupied every inch of surface space. “I’ve been going through a rough spot, Top.”
“Want to tell me about it? Because this guessing game I’ve got going with the Diablo Company commander isn’t really all that entertaining.”
Sarn’t Freeman frowned. “First Sarn’t?”
“Never mind,” Holly mumbled. “So you want to tell me what’s going on that I got called here because you’re in a screaming match with someone who I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to be talking to?”
Freeman’s hands fell by her sides. Her shoulders sagged just a little. “I told him he was going to get in trouble.” She sat on the edge of her bed.
“Which ‘him’ are we talking about?”
“Balboa,” Freeman admitted.
“Is this the soldier also known as Baggins Balboa?”
“Yes, First Sergeant.”
Holly wasn’t necessarily buying this suddenly submissive and meek Sergeant Freeman but she’d let it fly for the moment.
“I had a pass but he didn’t and he couldn’t get his NCO to answer the phone. He didn’t want me going to Austin by myself, Top.” She looked up at Holly. “He was worried about me, First Sarn’t. Isn’t that what battle buddies are supposed to do?”
“It is. But they’re also supposed to get permission to oh, I don’t know, not be at work.” Holly nodded once. “It also doesn’t explain why you broke the no-contact order and why you were screaming at him in the quad a little bit ago.”
She studied the young sergeant in front of her. Freeman wasn’t petite. She was muscular, the kind of body that suggested she spent a lot of time at the gym and not in aerobics classes. But there was something soft in her face, something young and vulnerable that reminded Holly of what it was like to be a young sergeant, trying to figure out how you fit into your unit and your life.
“You…I don’t want him to get in trouble, Top,” Freeman said softly.
“He’s already in trouble. The only reason he’s not facing formal charges right now is because he came back before twenty-four hours was up. And you should know better. You’re a damn NCO and you’re letting a private give you orders?”
“It’s not like that, Top.” Freeman blinked rapidly and Holly’s bullshit meter started pinging wildly. “He’s in love with me.”
Holly sighed. “Yes, I’m sure it sounded like love when the MPs were called earlier, because the entire four-block area could hear you profess your devotion to each other.”
“He started drinking too much. He doesn’t hold his liquor well.” She leaned forward. “I’m ruining his life.” Freeman’s words were so soft, Holly wasn’t sure she’d heard her correctly.
Holly bit back a sarcastic response and said nothing instead. Waiting.
“I had to bring my car to Austin. I needed to try and sell it.”
Holly counted to one hundred, then kept counting before she completely lost her shit. “That’s about as bad of an excuse as I’ve ever heard,” she said, struggling to keep her voice level.
“It’s true. The dealer in Austin said he’d give me five grand for it,” Freeman said.
“Why do you need to sell the car so badly?”
Freeman didn’t answer for a long moment and Holly felt like taking notes to keep track of all the bullshit.
Then Freeman looked up at her and the raw honesty there just about slammed Holly to the ground. “I’m trying to pay back Sarn’t Pizarro some money he lent me.”
Holly started counting again. When she was sure she could keep her voice level, she finally spoke. “Is he hitting you?”
Freeman didn’t answer. Holly swore mentally but kept her composure dialed in tight. Freeman was not the right person to unleash her fury on. “Have you talked to anyone?”
“Balboa.”
“He’s not a counselor,” Holly said. She really had to stop thinking of that kid as a hobbit.
“He’s a really great listener.” Freeman paused. “Besides, it’s not like counseling is going to fix what ails me.”
“You’d be surprised what you can fix if you put your mind to it.” Not everything, she added silently. But enough to keep functioning well enough on most days.
She needed to talk to Sal about this. And Captain Reheres. The MP walked by the open door with the drug dog. The dog didn’t hit on anything. At least not that Holly could see. Which was a good thing. One less thing to worry about.
Freeman’s eyes widened. “Top, I can’t go to counseling. I’ll lose my security clearance.”
Holly frowned. “How do you figure?”
“If you get any mental health flags on your record, you can lose your security clearance. You can get thrown out of the Army.”
Holly raised both eyebrows. “I’m not sure which barracks lawyer you’ve been talking to but I promise you that is not true.” She reached forward and gripped the younger sergeant’s shoulder. “Besides, even if it is true, you need to take care of you. Up here.” She tapped her temple then her heart. “And here. The army will find someone else if you can’t serve. Sacrificing your mental health on the altar of hoah isn’t worth it.”
The young sergeant flushed then looked up slowly. “Thanks for talking to me tonight, Top.” There was no deception in her voice. For once.
“Oh, we’ve only just begun chatting.” Holly shifted, dropping her hand from the young woman’s shoulder. “Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow at PT formation.” She paused. “Won’t I?”
Freeman nodded. “Yeah. I mean, yes, Firs’ Sarn’t. I won’t miss formation again.”
“Good.” Holly stopped near the door. “And for the love of all that’s holy, keep the damn music turned down or I’ll have you on corrective training for a month.”
* * *
Sal sat. Sure, it was past midnight. But it was Thursday night and they didn’t have formation the next day because it was a four-day weekend. Of course, there were other ways Sal would have preferred to spend the beginning of his four-day.
But there he was. And at that moment, there was nowhere else where he was needed more.
So he sat.
Next to Baggins on the tailgate of his truck. Just listening as Baggins recounted the worst day of his life.
Baggins was half in the bag and slurring. But that didn’t actually matter to Sal.
What mattered was that Baggins still trusted him enough to have called him. Despite the fact that Baggins was likely going to get his ass handed to him for skipping work with his girlfriend—a course of action that Sal had not yet decided upon—Baggins hadn’t taken too many pills or driven around with a bottle of Jack between his thighs.
He’d called Sal.
And that was okay.
Because Sal had been there on the worst day of Baggins’ life and goddamn it, he’d be there when the kid relived it.
“You know I thought about getting out,” Baggins said. He was slurring pretty bad at this point. “Of the Army. After our deployment.”
Sal didn’t care how drunk the kid was. He was talking and that was all that mattered right then. “Yeah? What were you going to do?”
“Probably be homeless. My old man got laid off from a paper mill about ten years ago. Been on disability every since.”
Sal frowned. “Where are you from that your dad
worked in a paper mill?”
“Northern Maine,” Baggins said.
“Huh. Never met anyone from Maine before,” Sal said.
“I get that all the time.” Baggins looked down at the beer he cradled between his thumb and index finger. “Not much for me to go home to,” he said. “Mills are shutting down. I could drive a truck but I kind of don’t really like driving if I can avoid it.”
“And yet, you drove Sarn’t Freeman to Austin the other day,” Sal said dryly.
“Yeah, well, necessity and all that.”
“Want to tell me what y’all were arguing about tonight that set this off?”
Baggins stilled. “It’s complicated.”
“Try me.”
“It’s not what it sounds like,” Baggins said quickly. “She’s trying to leave her boyfriend.”
“This boyfriend wouldn’t happen to be one of my platoon sergeants, would he?” Sal glanced over and took Baggins’ silence for agreement. “What sparked tonight’s fight?”
“He beat her really bad when we got back from Iraq a couple of months ago. Put her in the hospital for two weeks when she was on leave.” Baggins looked over at him. “You can’t tell First Sarn’t Washington. She doesn’t want anyone to know she got beat up.”
Sal’s throat tightened and he wondered if Baggins was going to remember this conversation in the morning. “She knows it’s not her fault, right?”
Baggins shook his head. “I don’t think she does, sir. I mean, she took forever to tell me. And she’s going to be pissed if she finds out I told you.” Baggins gripped his upper arm. “But I trust you. Because you wouldn’t leave our boys behind. And no one gets that. You know they don’t believe me when I tell them that story?”
Sal shook his head. “Telling war stories again?”
“Only every chance I get. Dude, you were like Leonidas from 300.”
“I don’t have a glorious beard like Leonidas,” Sal said after a moment, trying to find something to lighten up the situation. He suddenly wished for Holly right then. He could have used her sense of humor.
Because Baggins needed a distraction from where he was heading tonight and Sal wasn’t the one to bring him back from the brink.
Forged in Fire Page 9
