by Cat Johnson
“I’m telling you, there’s more going on than meets the eye. Mysterious phone calls before dawn. His rushing off to the base and not in uniform. The fact his apartment is almost empty of personal stuff. He’s some kind of Black Ops like in the movies. You’ll see.” Marissa wasn’t letting this go but Lydia had to.
She sighed. “Fine. Believe whatever you want, but right now I have to shower and find where I put my books.”
After the eventful weekend she’d had, the last time she’d been to classes seemed like a year ago, rather than just days.
“Your books are under the sofa,” Marissa called after her.
Lydia let out a breath as the memory of shoving them under there before she left for Virginia Beach hit her.
When had Marissa become the roommate who knew where the books were and Lydia be the one who had to shower off the remnants of her wild night of sex with a man who ran off on a moment’s notice?
Perhaps she was in the middle of some crazy dream.
The sad part was, the chances were far greater that this was all real. In that case, Lydia had a phone call to make. Perhaps talking to her mother would give her the information to get to the bottom of this James mystery.
CHAPTER 15
“There’s evidence ISIS might be using females as couriers. Possibly even fighters. We’ve known for a long time they’ve been actively recruiting females and using them to recruit males, but them placing females in these other roles is news.” Grant Milton sat opposite Mack in what had become their ad hoc meeting room since the team’s arrival.
Rocky let out a breath. “Them using females as fighters goes against everything we know about them and how they treat their women.”
Brody let out a snort. “Yup.”
Grant nodded. “Correct. But if we know one thing, it’s that they as an organization will adapt if it suits their purposes.”
Thom, seated next to Brody, looked weary. Mack could relate. The team had been guests of their allies for weeks, cooling their heels in Turkey along the Syrian border.
Their efforts still had yet to locate and acquire the target they were after, but in the meantime they’d accomplished their secondary goal. They’d gotten a good look at what was happening in Syria.
Raqqa was a disaster. ISIS had shut down the roads tight, trapping innocents in the wreck of a city, which was being routinely bombed in an attempt to rid the population of ISIS.
Electricity was out. Buildings were abandoned. Work for the population was getting scarce. Luxuries were non-existent.
Still, the population put up with the bombings, for one, because they had no way to stop them. But more, they still had hope of taking back their once liberal city from the extremist group that had already dictated what women could wear, made smoking cigarettes illegal and forced schools to close.
“Well, lucky for you all, it’s not our problem to fix anymore.” Grant tipped his head. “You’re all ready to go home, I assume.”
Thom shook his head. “I still don’t get why they’re sending us home.”
“The defense secretary has approved deploying up to forty additional special operations force members in addition to the support personnel. We, for whatever reason, were not among them.” Grant lifted one shoulder and acted as if he didn’t care, but beneath the surface simmered barely concealed emotion.
Tightly controlled anger? Annoyance. Frustration. Probably all of the above.
“Ours not to reason why . . .” Softly, Brody quoted a line from Tennyson all men at arms understand too well.
Ours but to do and die. Mack finished the rest silently in his head.
“This ever-revolving door of personnel is not helping the fight against ISIS, I can tell you that.” Rocky let out a huff.
“Know the enemy and know yourself, and you need not fear the result of a hundred battles,” Brody quoted
“The Art of War?” Rocky asked.
“Yup.”
Mack swiveled his head to stare at Brody. “You’re just full of philosophical shit today.”
Brody lifted one shoulder. “Rick was always quoting Sun Tzu when he was still on the team. Besides, it seemed fitting.”
Mack lifted a brow. He was still getting used to this team, and he realized he had a lot to learn about these guys.
Thom blew out a breath. “The world hasn’t even agreed what to call them yet. The press, the president, it’s different all the time. ISIL. ISIS. Islamic State. Daesh. If the allies can’t even settle on a single name for a common enemy, that doesn’t bode well for that whole know thy enemy philosophy.”
Grant let out a snort. “Sad but true. Actually, I personally prefer Daesh myself. The enemy hates that one. It’s got derogatory meaning for them. And I find it’s always good to insult the enemy as often as possible.”
Their commander’s deadpan, dry sense of humor caused a few snickers from the men around the table.
“Well then, I propose we all use Daesh from now on. All in favor?” Brody glanced around him as he raised his arm high to vote for his own proposal.
Every man in the room followed suit.
Brody nodded, looking pleased with himself. “It’s unanimous. Motion carries.”
Not that it mattered what the team chose to call ISIS or Daesh, as the vote had determined. As Grant had mentioned previously, they were heading home to live among civilians who most likely wouldn’t understand the term or their reason for using it.
Mack always had mixed feelings about going back home.
Of course he wanted to be stateside where hot showers and good food and a decent night’s sleep were a bit less scarce than where he was. But going home, transitioning from war zone to suburbia, was a challenge.
Being surrounded by his team twenty-four-seven one day and then alone in his apartment the next was jarring.
Fighting to stay alive here, but then being expected to flip a switch and be normal for lack of a better word the moment he stepped foot in Virginia was difficult.
Sometimes being a good son and law abiding, model citizen felt harder than taking down the terrorists.
This time there was another layer of feelings he had to deal with when he thought about going home.
There was a discomfort deep inside him, like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch, caused by business left unfinished.
Lydia was a huge part of it. His father was right. For better or worse, he had a new family now. He needed to go home and set the record straight with them. That meant confessing he’d only told them half truths.
How would Lydia take the fact he’d been dishonest?
Now he knew how his father felt. That he’d honored Mack’s request and not told his new wife the complete truth yet meant Mack owed the man a big debt.
The least Mack could do was end the charade as soon as possible and relieve his father from having to lie and tell half truths any longer.
He’d come clean, but they’d have to accept that most times he wouldn’t be able to tell them what he did or where he went. At least now they’d know why.
Grant pushed back his chair from the table. “I got things to do. Talk to you all later.”
When he was gone, Brody blew out a breath. “It’ll be good to be home. I just wish they’d leave us stateside for more than a week at a damn time.”
Rocky knocked his elbow into Mack’s on the table. “Notice how now that he has a girl, he wants to be home? Before he’d be happy if we were out of the country ten out of twelve months.”
A frown creased Brody’s brow. “Not true. I always liked going home as much as the next guy.”
“Uh, huh. Sure. But especially now.” Rocky got a childish grin on his face.
Brody rolled his eyes. “Okay, yeah, it would be nice if I was home long enough so that Ashley could come for a visit without the risk of me getting recalled the moment she gets there.”
Mack couldn’t argue with Brody’s reasoning. Having a girl waiting stateside was a powerful motivation to get there.
This was something Mack didn’t have much experience with. Something he’d have to think about more because right now, he wasn’t sure what Lydia was to him. She wasn’t really his girl
The way he’d left, she probably thought she was only some hook-up.
All of his pondering did no good as long as he had no idea what she was thinking and feeling.
Hell, Lydia was an attractive, fun loving college girl. Who knew how many guys she had at school?
That thought had the male ego inside Mack bristling.
He’d never wanted to tie himself down into a steady relationship with one woman before, but now he was considering it, if only to put in a claim on Lydia as his own and keep other guys away from her.
So this was how men ended up finding themselves married. Pure animalistic territoriality.
Maybe a little more than that. The girl made him smile. That was something he hadn’t done all that much of recently.
Smiling. Was that enough to build a relationship on? He supposed it was a start. It was definitely more than he’d had with other females in his past.
Rocky turned to Mack. “You’re quiet.”
Brody laughed. “Mack’s always quiet.”
Mack hoped Brody’s smart ass comment would end the conversation he didn’t want to have.
“True, but it seems more than usual. What’s up?” Rocky asked.
Given it was a direct question, Mack had to respond somehow, but it didn’t mean he had to tell the truth. He lifted one shoulder. “Nothing.”
Brody laughed again. “See? Told ya.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re always right. But I hope it is nothing because if one more of you guys gets pussywhipped by some girl, I’m going to be the only single one left. Then who the hell is going to hang out at the bar with me?”
Brody scowled. “Screw you. I’m not whipped.”
Rocky let out a snort. “If you say so.”
Crossing his arms, Mack leaned back and settled in, more than happy to watch these two sparring about any topic other than him and his love life.
A love life. Damn, he might actually have one of those.
It wasn’t lost on Mack that he’d faced some of the most evil men in the world without fear, but his having a real relationship was a scary concept.
Dawson, one of the guys who’d joined the team not long before Mack, popped his head through the doorway. “Passing the word. Rally at zero-three hundred at the airfield.”
Rocky’s eyes popped wide. “We’re heading out tonight?”
“That’s the word from command.” The kid slipped out as quickly as he’d come.
Brody let out a laugh. “Don’t get excited. You know we’ll get there and sit waiting for hours.”
“Or get stuck at a transport station for days.” Thom scowled but still, it was good news.
They were heading home. Mack would be there soon enough.
CHAPTER 16
Lydia glanced at the clock and huffed out an annoyed breath. She had to get into the bathroom and get ready for class.
She’d be fine forgoing the shower in favor of throwing her hair into a ponytail, but there were other pressing things she needed to do before class such as brushing her teeth and washing her face. And all her makeup was in there too.
In her desperation, Lydia would be happy to just use the kitchen sink. Unfortunately, the bathroom was not only occupied, but the door was locked so she couldn’t even reach in and grab her toothbrush and makeup.
She heard the water in the shower still running which meant this was going to be a long wait. Her roommate had a long shower ritual. Lydia didn’t have the leisure to wait for her this morning.
Lydia pounded on the door with her fist. “Marissa!”
“What?”
“I need to get in there. I’ve got class.”
“All right. One second.”
The sound of the lock turning spurred Lydia into action. She opened the door and was hit by a face full of hot steam.
Marissa peered out from behind the shower curtain. “Come in or go out but close the door. You’re letting the cold air in.”
“Fine.” Lydia closed the door and tried to see through the low visibility conditions to find what she needed.
How her roommate could stand such long hot showers that it made the bathroom more like a steam room was beyond her.
“What’s wrong with you this morning?” Marissa asked from in the shower stall.
Besides being locked out of the bathroom when she had a class? “Nothing. I’m just going to be late if I don’t get moving.”
Lydia knew it was more than that. It had been nearly three weeks and not one peep from Mack.
Even after she’d called her mother every day this week to check in and had dropped as many hints as she could without spilling the beans, she still had no more information about the ever-elusive James MacIntyre.
Though she supposed she had all she needed to know already—they’d spent two nights together and he hadn’t made any attempt to contact her. In fact, by all indications, he was actively avoiding her.
Like an idiot, she’d driven to her mother’s house for the past two weekends. Even packing a bag and spending Friday through Sunday there. Her mother loved it. Of course her mother also thought Lydia’s trips were motivated by her being a devoted daughter.
Lydia knew the truth. She was dangerously close to becoming a full blown stalker. She drove to and from her mother’s place by way of Mack’s apartment.
She’d stopped short of staking out his block but she had driven by his place every Friday night and again every Sunday afternoon. She checked for his motorcycle—which wasn’t there. She looked for lights on in his windows, but had yet to see any.
Lydia had even stopped in the bar last Friday even with as dangerous as that was. Given the last time she’d been there the guy hitting on her had ended up on the floor facedown, she probably should have avoided the place.
Braving running into the creep, she’d sat and ordered a soda. And she’d questioned the bartender. Casually, of course. She’d said she wanted to thank Mack for helping her out that other night.
Either the bartender was covering for Mack or he was telling the truth, but he said he hadn’t seen Mack around lately.
That left her only source of information his father, hence the extended visits both weekends. But even that hadn’t yielded much of anything.
If she weren’t completely paranoid, she’d swear his father clammed up every time she asked about Mack, and his career in the military, and what he was doing for the weekend.
It was all extremely draining. Every day, every week, whittled away at her self confidence until Lydia was convinced of one thing—he not only didn’t want to see her again, he’d even avoid his own father just to steer clear of her.
“You want to meet at The Caf for lunch after your class?” Marissa asked from behind the curtain.
Mouth filled with toothpaste, Lydia managed to answer, “Sure.”
The Caf was way more than a dining hall. The fresh baked cookies, which Lydia had consumed way too many of during her four years at this school, were worth the trip alone. Throw in things like Moroccan chicken and she was in heaven.
Besides, Lydia could use the distraction of lunch on the crowded campus. She wasn’t really mad at Marissa. More mad at herself. And at Mack, of course.
Lunch would be good, and then drinks tonight and not in Virginia Beach while stalking her two-night stand.
The pitiful pining and the stalking ended now.
Weekends at college were for having fun. She was in her senior year. It was time she went back to acting like it, before she graduated and missed her chance.
Lydia rinsed out her mouth. “Are we going out tonight?”
“Definitely. Where do you wanna go?” Marissa asked.
“I don’t know. We can figure that out over lunch, I guess.”
“Sounds good,” Marissa said over the sound of the water.<
br />
Yeah, it did sound good.
Lydia grabbed her makeup case and turned for the door. It was way too steamy to attempt to see in the bathroom. The bedroom mirror would have to do.
She might not be able to take back her bathroom right now but it was more than time to take back her life from the memories of James MacIntyre. Starting now.
CHAPTER 17
Marissa rubbed one hand over her stomach. “Ugh. I’m so full I could burst. But, I’m not too full for this.” With a grin she picked up a huge gooey chocolate chip cookie from her plate.
Lydia shook her head, torn between hating her roommate and her overactive metabolism, and laughing at the sheer ridiculous amount the girl could put away and still not gain an ounce.
She settled on being happy with the belief that one day time and all those calories would catch up with Marissa. Until then, Lydia would have to be satisfied with the memories that Mack hadn’t seemed to mind the freshman fifteen she’d put on four years ago and had never been able to take off, only add to.
Mack. Just thinking his name had her sighing.
“What’s wrong?” Marissa asked.
“Same thing as usual.”
“Your secret agent hottie?”
Lydia laughed. “Stop. He’s not.”
“How can you be so sure?” Marissa asked the question for what had to be the dozenth time over the past few weeks.
“Because . . .” Lydia was running out of new reasons why Mack was not—couldn’t be—some sort of special agent.
“Yes?” Marissa cocked one perfectly shaped eyebrow.
“Oh, hush up. I just know.”
Marissa smiled as if the victory was hers. Lydia decided to leave her to her delusions and focus on finishing the last of her Asian Salad, tasty even if it wasn’t a chocolate chip cookie.
She stabbed the tiny wedge of Mandarin orange and pretended she wasn’t drooling over Marissa’s cookie.
Lucky for Lydia, Marissa didn’t dally over finishing it. The tantalizing treat disappeared as quickly as the girl’s metabolism would probably burn it up.
Giving up, Lydia tossed her napkin and fork on top of her salad plate and pushed it forward. “Ready to go? I’ve got another class.”
