Sarah frowned. Someone had opened fire over the crowd’s head. Then the report got confusing. Someone had called weapons free at the same time someone else had called cease-fire. There was an explosion consistent with a grenade.
It took three minutes for the shooting to stop, according to the commander’s report. Another two had passed before Smith was able to establish a secure perimeter, and by the time the commander had finished calling in the troops in contact, he had three wounded and a vehicle disabled.
The previous commander concluded in his after action report that he was unclear about exactly what had happened in what sequence of events so he ordered the platoon leader—Smith—to investigate. “See Attached” was all Sarah had regarding Smith’s investigation.
The key now, then, was Smith’s report. She glanced into Sean’s office where he hadn’t moved since she’d sat down, almost two hours ago. She wondered if Ambien always made him act the way he had this morning. She wondered how often he took a sleeping pill.
And she wondered what haunted his dreams to make him crave the oblivion of a sleeping pill in the first place. She looked back at her notes.
She’d been charged with finding out what was behind Kearney and Smith’s hostility to each other. Without Smith’s report and Kearney’s rebuttal, she wasn’t going to be able to finalize her report.
She frowned. She was missing something. The whole thing felt off. Like it was entirely too easy for her to point to a single incident. She leaned back, kicking her feet up on Sean’s conference room table, and began sorting through the sworn statements.
She landed on Smith’s statement, remembering how he’d refused to make another one. She tapped her pen against her lips. If he had nothing to hide, why not make another statement? She needed to talk to him again. He had the right to remain silent but she had every right to ask about the escalation of force incident.
She made a note. Interview Smith.
Monday. Major Wilson wasn’t going to like it because she was going to be late but tough crap.
Since she couldn’t come right out and ask Major Wilson, she had to go with what she knew. Jansen was Smith’s uncle and he was assigned to the Cav. Jansen was in a position to call in favors to look out for his nephew. Sarah wished she’d been part of the Cav for a lot longer than she was now. She’d know who had been whose aide, or who had worked with whom before. Not understanding the relationships made things treacherous for Sarah, especially considering what Lieutenant Colonel Meister had told her.
She had a ton of questions and no answers.
“He’s gone. Haves, you can’t help him anymore.”
She jumped at Sean’s sudden outburst and glanced in his office, expecting to see him sitting up. Instead he looked braced for battle.
And he was dead asleep.
There was never a question in her mind that she would approach but she did so cautiously, aware that as a combat veteran, he could react violently. That was assuming she could wake him. That was assuming he knew where he was before he did any real harm.
She moved around the couch to the small space between the wall and Sean’s head. His face was turned into his arm, his brows drawn into a frown. He was breathing hard, his lips parted.
“I don’t give a fuck about them. Listen to me.” He flinched and Sarah wondered what he’d just seen in his nightmare. “Goddamn it, Kearney!”
She knelt and jostled his shoulder. “Sean. Sean wake up.”
She thought of the night terrors Anna used to have. The nightmares where she would cry and scream inconsolably, refusing comfort until Sarah managed to wake her. Only upon waking would Anna curl her little body into Sarah and allow herself to be comforted back to sleep. “Sean.” She leaned down, speaking his name sharply near his ear.
He jerked upright with a shout. His hands dug into the fabric of the couch as he sucked in hard breaths, gauging his surroundings. The ragged edge of the nightmare eased back and she saw realization spread across his features. Saw his breathing slow. His fingers relax.
He smiled wryly. “So much for my pride.”
She moved then and sat next to him. Sean nodded and she tried not to be hurt when she dragged her fingers down the scar on his forearm. “Where did you get this?”
“Can’t you guess?” he asked, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees.
“Fallujah?”
He swallowed and nodded once more, the muscles in his arms clenching tightly as he worked his fingers open and closed. As though he was trying to release the tension in his entire body through his fingers.
“Do you have nightmares a lot?”
His lips pressed together, flat and humorless. “Almost every night. Sometimes worse, sometimes not. Most nights I just deal with it.”
She refused to glance at the clock on his wall. She knew the time today was ticking by. She had so much to do before the ball. But she sat and threaded her fingers with his. He tensed, then turned their twined fingers until her palm rested on top of his.
“Make any progress?” he asked. She didn’t object to his changing the subject, but she had the distinct feeling that they might have this conversation again.
“Some. I need to get a copy of Smith’s investigation from downrange.”
Sean shook his head. “I can see if Evan or anyone else has copies from downrange, though. Maybe it’s still on the SharePoint portal.”
“That would help, especially since I don’t think Smith is going to cooperate if I try to interview him about downrange.” Now she did glance at the clock on the wall. Thirteen hundred. She was running out of time. “I’ve still got to set up my Dress Blues for tonight and feed my babysitter before cocktail hour.”
He smiled and this time his eyes crinkled with warmth. “Can I be your date?”
She bumped his shoulder and shook her head. “Yeah, there’s a fast track to getting thrown off the case and possibly out of the brigade.”
He smelled good. Warm and sleepy, mixed with the edge of adrenaline from his dream. It might not have been real, but his body had reacted like it might as well have been. He leaned into her suddenly, twisting his upper body to reach across and cup her cheek. He bussed her nose with his, brushing his lips over hers in the barest hint of a kiss. “Will you at least save me a dance?”
She smiled against his lips, enjoying the sensation as his scent wrapped around her, heating her blood. “Yes, Sean, I’ll dance with you.”
He didn’t kiss her but he didn’t release her. “Things are only complicated until you finalize your investigation,” he said softly.
His lips were parted, his breath warm and mingling with hers. She knew she was destined to disappoint him. “Things only get more complicated after that.”
“They don’t have to be.”
She smiled against his mouth. “Will you stop talking and kiss me?”
His tongue traced her top lip, tempting her with a promise of more. “Not until you answer me. Why are things complicated?”
She sighed at the faint contact. “Because of my daughter.”
He pulled her bottom lip between his teeth, sucking gently. Fire sparked in her blood and set her skin alive. “I can live with that,” he murmured.
She leaned back. “You can?”
“Yes.” He traced his tongue over her bottom lip where his teeth had scraped. He kissed her then. The kind of kiss that bolted through her as his tongue slid into her mouth. She wanted him. She couldn’t deny that. She wanted Sean. Not just someone to satisfy the need she’d denied since she’d last said good-bye to Jack. This wasn’t about the physical. It was so much more with Sean.
This was Sean. And his touch meant so much more because of who he was. Of the past they shared. The love, once upon a time. The loss that had touched them both so deeply.
Sean broke away, his breath ragged. “I want…God, I want to touch you.”
“Sean.” A jagged whisper. Torture in a single breathless word.
Nineteen
&
nbsp; Sarah pulled on the deep navy blue skirt but it hung open in the back, her panty hose holding in the worst of her dietary sins. She wore a beige lace bra, knowing the neutral color would blend beneath her white dress shirt if she removed her jacket later.
She wished for one hot second that she had something slightly less functional to wear beneath her uniform. Her body hummed with awareness that Sean would be there tonight. She had Jamie staying the night, even though Sarah had no intention of staying out all night. She’d given herself time, though, time to take a chance and let herself feel.
She’d managed to get her hair restrained in a stylish bun and pulled her bangs down to a side swoop that she never would have attempted during duty hours. If she’d been a spouse, she would have gone to the ball decked out in a formal gown or at least a more formal cocktail dress. But she was part of the unit so her outfit tonight was dictated by Army customs and uniform regulations.
She wore her uniform like every other soldier. Captain’s bars rested on her shoulders. Her medals and awards were pinned straight above her left breast. The Purple Heart next to her Army Commendation Medal.
Sean would know that award for what it was. He would ask. And she wouldn’t be able to hide the real reason she’d been sent home from Iraq and removed from command early.
She didn’t really think she’d earned the Purple Heart. She’d only taken a few scraps of shrapnel. It didn’t really compare with folks who’d taken a bullet or lost a limb.
Or their lives.
She had Jack’s award and medals tucked away in a velvet-lined box. She’d give them to Anna someday. Her father’s medals. Her father’s Bronze Star with V device. Her father’s Purple Heart for giving his life in service to his nation.
She swallowed and shrugged into her white dress shirt, buttoning it and tucking it into her skirt. She had thirty minutes to make it out of the house and on post. Thank God Anna was obsessed with Jamie Sorren.
She glanced over as Jamie padded into her bathroom carrying Anna in her arms. Anna looked at her in awe. “You look pretty, Mommy.”
“Thank you, baby.” She leaned over and kissed her daughter’s head.
She finished tucking in her shirt and fastened the black neck tab beneath her white collar, adjusting it until it was centered.
She put the essentials in a small night-out purse that she reserved for occasions such as this and set it by the door near her keys and her Stetson. Another reason why she didn’t opt for a bouffant hairdo. The mandatory Stetson required for all Cav officers would surely crush any efforts at a prom queen hairdo.
“Anna, come give me a kiss.” In a flash, Sarah had small arms wrapped around her neck and her daughter’s small head pressed to her heart. Things might be complicated with her and Sean but she wouldn’t change a thing in her life that had given Anna to her. “Be good tonight, okay?”
Jamie laughed. “We’re going to drink beer and smoke cigarettes and keep her up watching The Exorcist.”
“Ha, ha, ha,” Sarah said with a smile. Jamie was a good kid who’d gone through some pretty rough stuff in her young life. But she was working on things and Sarah figured the best thing she could do was help by providing some stability and a job. Her mother, Melanie, had pledged her eternal gratitude for Sarah hiring Jamie.
She hadn’t wanted to admit that she was looking forward to seeing Sean tonight. She didn’t want to allow the tease of his touch to draw her to the ball with any more excitement than it might have been otherwise. The temptation of a simple dance sent a nervous edge through her veins like she hadn’t felt since she’d been a nervous teenager.
She pulled up outside the Civic center and sat in the car for a moment, watching soldiers and their wives, men and women walking into the great hall, all in their Dress Blue formal uniforms. She smiled. Wives were on display tonight and many of them took the opportunity to go all out.
She swallowed and grabbed her Stetson, wondering if Claire was there yet or if Sarah would be standing alone in a corner, waiting for a friendly face to bail her out.
She didn’t have to wonder long. Within minutes of scoping out a small corner of the main hall near the door so she could watch the entrance, she spotted a familiar face weaving toward her through the crowd. She groaned, though, as Major Wilson appeared in her line of sight, looking somewhat cartoonish under heavy amounts of uncharacteristic makeup.
“Sarah, nice to see you tonight,” Wilson said, taking a sip from a glass of red wine. Sarah refrained from asking her if it was the blood of innocent staff officers. “Glad you were able to find suitable childcare arrangements.” She paused. “How’s the leg?”
Sarah bit her lip at the backhanded compliment and smiled thinly. “Fine, ma’am.” As much as she wanted to slap back at the major, she felt that in this case, discretion was probably the better part of valor. And her leg was back to normal. Or at least what passed for Sarah’s new normal. A little stiff. Sometimes sore. She’d managed to camouflage the worst of the scrapes on her knees for tonight and her palms were healing quickly.
But she was reasonably certain that Wilson didn’t give two shits about whether she was actually hurt.
“The investigation is still not complete, I take it.” A statement, laced with venom.
“Correct, ma’am. I’ve got to re-interview the LT and discuss an incident downrange.”
Wilson peered at her over the edge of her glass. “You’re slipping up, captain. There’s no place for you in this unit.”
Sarah opened her mouth to speak, to tell this woman exactly where she could get off when a familiar voice stopped her.
“Sarah, nice to see you.”
Sarah turned at a familiar male voice and smiled, relief at her rescue. “Colonel Jansen, sir. Good to see you.”
Jansen smiled warmly down at her and she remembered why she’d loved serving with him. He made her feel like she belonged, like what she did mattered. It was a rare talent for a leader. “I thought you were deployed,” he said.
“I was, sir. It’s a long story.”
“You’ll have to tell me about it sometime. Now you’re slumming down in Fifth Brigade? Need a job? I could use your sense of humor on my staff.”
“I’d love to, sir, but I think I’ve got my hands full at the moment. Speaking of which, Colonel Jansen, may I introduce my boss, Major Christine Wilson.”
“Oh, I already know Christine. She was my aide de camp a few years ago. You need to take good care of my girl here,” he said to Wilson. “She’s an incredible officer.”
Wilson’s smile could have cracked glass. “Yes, sir. She’s diving right into work. I’m sure she’ll be nothing but successful in the support battalion once she passes a PT test and fixes her childcare issues. If you’ll excuse me, sir? Sarah.”
Sarah fumed as Wilson melted away into the crowd.
“I take it you and Christine are getting along well?” Jansen asked dryly.
She shot him a baleful look. “We’re besties, sir.”
“Christine is tough but she’s good. Don’t let her get to you. Just do your job and she’ll back off. Eventually.”
“Thanks for the encouragement, sir.” It gave her hope, though, that she could handle Major Wilson. If she couldn’t, she didn’t deserve the rank on her shoulders. She might seek out Colonel Jansen for mentorship but she damn sure wasn’t going to piss on his leg about her boss being mean to her. “So I hear your nephew is in my brigade, sir,” she said, hoping her comment wasn’t as glaring a probe for information as it felt like it was.
Jansen’s mouth pressed into a flat line, the only hint of emotion at the mention of his nephew. “He is. He’d be a better officer if he wasn’t associated with me.”
“Sir? I’m not sure I follow.”
“You know, one of the things I liked about you, Sarah, was your no-bullshit way of telling me what I needed to hear, not what I wanted to hear. Some people don’t like that but once you make full colonel, everyone wants to kiss your ass and no one wa
nts to tell you the truth.” Jansen sighed. “My nephew seems to like dropping my name when he gets his ass in a sling and sadly, I can’t seem to get the message across that I’m not going to protect his little ass. He needs to do his job and stop pretending he’s already a full bird.”
“I wish I didn’t understand that, sir,” she said. She had no idea how to read between the lines there. If he was telling her to stick it to his nephew or if he was telling her to do her job and let the cards fall where they may. Damn it. So much for that idea.
Jansen clapped her on the shoulder and wandered off even as Sarah deserted her post to meet Claire halfway in the middle of the hall. It was shaping up to be an interesting evening; that was for sure.
* * *
“Will you quit fidgeting?” Morgan asked, taking a sip from his short glass of Crown and Coke. “You’re acting more nervous than a virgin on prom night.”
Sean grunted and said nothing. Morgan looked out of place without his index finger curled around a cigar but he cleaned up better than most. He still looked just as mean and ornery as ever, only now he wore a Stetson and Dress Blues. The lighter pants the men wore were a tribute to the days when soldiers’ pants were bleached a lighter color than the jacket from the sun.
They stood near the bar but Sean deliberately kept his back to the wall and his eye on the door. One was an old habit he’d started back when a local national had walked into a chow hall and killed twenty-two people. Sean had never sat with his back to the door since Iraq.
Tonight, though, he wasn’t looking for a suicide vest. He was looking for Sarah and of course Morgan had noticed and called him on it. Sean didn’t deny it but it was humbling to think that he was acting like an eighth grader at his first dance.
He saw her, and from across the room he felt a warmth slide through his veins like a drug when their eyes met. Her lips, lush and red, drew his gaze instantly when they curled into a slight smile. A hint of a nod and she started in his direction. He watched her while trying not to look like he was watching her and thought of their argument that afternoon.
After the War Page 17
