He frowned, folding his arms over his chest. His uniform stretched over his chest, drawing Olivia’s gaze to the raw power of the man in front of her. “I thought you didn’t have a combat patch.”
“I was in Kuwait. I don’t feel right wearing a combat patch when I wasn’t in harm’s way.”
He frowned then, studying her carefully. “That’s an unusual attitude,” he admitted. “You know you’ve opened yourself up to problems down here by not wearing your patch, right?”
She lifted a single shoulder. “When I earn a combat patch for going to combat, I’ll wear one,” she said quietly. “I’m not going to wear it just for the sake of it.”
He lifted one eyebrow. “That’s either really brave, or really stupid,” he said easily.
Her own grin caught her off guard. “I’ll let you know how it turns out,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. What was it about this man who could so easily disarm all her defenses?
“Thanks for helping me out with Zittoro. He has too much pride to fall out around a female.”
She swallowed, tipping her chin to study him. “Why did you do that with him?”
Ben scrubbed his hand over his mouth. “Because he’s had a rough time of things. He’s a good kid who has problems. He’s still a soldier.”
Her heart caught in her throat at the raw determination in his eyes. “You want to save him.”
His mouth pressed into a flat line. “There are worse things for a commander to want,” he said roughly.
She took a single step toward him. It was stupid for him to care this much, this deeply about a soldier he couldn’t save.
“You have to know you can’t,” she whispered. The urge to curl her fingers over his heart, to reach out to him, was damn near overwhelming.
He swallowed, his movement violent and filled with hurt. “Maybe I have to try,” he whispered. “Otherwise, what’s the point of all this power and responsibility?”
There were so many things she could say to that. So many things that would make this harder, not easier.
Instead she said nothing.
She looked away, her gaze landing on a couple of soldiers walking by, sporting their Stetsons. Something about those things made the troopers down here walk taller.
“Did you get yours yet?”
“You mean the black cowboy hat everyone wears here?” She shook her head, grateful for the reprieve from a painful subject. “Sarn’t Major Cox mentioned it.”
“Stetson,” Ben corrected. “You’re an officer. You need one before next Friday.”
She frowned, wishing she had her phone with her calendar on it. “What happens next Friday?”
“We wear them instead of our regular headgear to Stable Call. It’s tradition.”
“Stable Call. I’ll assume you didn’t just speak a foreign language.” She smiled and it was warmer than it should have been toward Ben Teague.
“Mandatory fun. We all go to Legends Sports Bar and listen to our fearless leaders pontificate on the meaning of life, the universe, and everything.”
Olivia smiled, grateful for the easy subject for once. Funny, she never would have thought talking about a silly hat would make her feel more at ease with him. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll add it to my to-do list. Where do I get one?”
“The Cav Museum or there’s a place off post off Stan Schlueter Loop.”
Her throat moved as she swallowed. Ben’s gaze fell to the soft line of her neck. He cleared his throat roughly. “They’ll take care of you at either place. Just tell them you need officer cords.”
“I have no idea what that means but I’m sure I’ll figure it out.”
She met his gaze, unsteady in this strange truce between them. But Ben’s kindness was something out of the ordinary. And it stood in stark contrast to how he’d been that first day.
Ben swiped his cheek against his shoulder. “Thanks for running with me and Zittoro, Olivia,” he murmured.
“You already said that,” she said softly, undone by the quiet ease in his voice. “You did a kind thing. Kindness these days is in short supply.”
His smile was warm. “I’ll try to remember that.”
He stood a little too close. She could smell the heady mixture of soap and sweat, of man, primal and raw.
This man called to her. This man, who’d been kind to a soldier who’d fallen out of a run, tempted her to step out of her comfort zone.
This man, she needed to get far, far away from.
* * *
Ben walked into the company ops—into his company ops—to see a pissed-off first sergeant pacing the orderly room. It was just after eight a.m. and Ben had just come from the gym and a cold shower because the gym’s hot water had been out.
Because the universe was screwing with him.
“You know you can’t do that again,” Sorren said.
“Who pissed in your corn flakes?” Ben asked.
“You did, sir.”
Ben stopped short. “Sorry?”
“You can’t leave the entire formation to go back for one guy, sir. That’s what we have NCOs for.”
Ben breathed deeply. “I didn’t see any NCOs heading back to scoop him up.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll deal with them at first formation ’cause that is going to be the one and only time something like that happens.” Sorren downed his cup of coffee and Ben wondered if it had been hot when the big man had gulped it down. “Now take me through our problem children.”
Forty minutes later, Ben thought about offering Sorren a beer.
“I honestly didn’t think that was possible,” Sorren said after his fifth cup of coffee. He glanced mournfully at his mug then at the ancient coffee pot, that looked like it was about to die at any moment. “I think it’s going to take a lot more than coffee to get through all this.”
“We’ve got our work cut out for us, that’s for sure.” Sorren scrubbed a big hand over his jaw. He was the kind of guy who needed to shave three times a day. “We need a better coffee pot than this fucking relic. Where the hell did that thing even come from?”
“A twelve-dollar one from the Goodwill, most likely.” Ben thought longingly of the espresso machine in the battalion headquarters. Maybe he’d start a coffee fund and get one for the company ops. Maybe he’d lead a stealth mission to steal the espresso machine. “New generation doesn’t believe in caffeine. They’re all about the energy drinks and soda.”
Sorren made a disgusted face. “What the hell is wrong with kids these days?”
Ben kicked his feet up on the table. One of the legal packets slipped over the edge and onto the floor. Ben just sat there looking at it for a long time.
Zittoro, Anthony. The name written in neat block letters. Ben stared at it over the edge of his coffee cup, resting his elbows on his knees. The packet would end the career of a once solid infantryman who’d hadn’t been able to beat his addiction and could no longer stay in the fight.
And Ben had to put him out of the army knowing the kid had nowhere to go.
Ben looked into his own coffee cup and wished he could find some smart-ass comment to lighten the weight around his heart.
He looked up to find Sorren watching him.
“You don’t want this job, do you, sir.”
It wasn’t a question.
Instead, he said nothing. Because there were no words to describe the fierce tension rioting inside him.
“What makes you say that?” was all he said after the silence hung on too long.
Sorren shoved Ben’s boots off the table, then leaned down to pick up the folder. He tossed it onto the table and sat back down.
“Why don’t we clear the air on this right now,” Sorren said. He leaned forward and Ben leaned back.
Right then, his first sergeant was pissed and it was all directed straight at Ben. Once upon a time, he might have been intimidated. Now? Now he was just tired. Far too burned out and cynical for his age.
“We’ve got eight months to get ready to head back
downrange. Whether or not you go with us is up for discussion.” Sorren jabbed a thumb at his own chest. “I’ve got a job to do but to do that, I need you to do yours. So whatever angst or teenage drama or unresolved trauma you need to overcome to do your fucking job, I need you to get over it. I’ve buried enough soldiers. I’m not going to let another petulant captain ruin my men.”
Ben rocked slowly in his chair, contemplating the myriad of things he could say. His first sarn’t was like most senior NCOs, wary of the officer corps that led them. Far too many officers had thrown their senior enlisted man under the bus to save their own asses.
His throat constricted with a wave of guilt. Escoberra had taken the hit when their base had gotten overrun, despite Ben trying to shield him.
Goddamn it, he was going to take care of Escoberra this time. He wouldn’t fail a second time.
But Sorren’s words hit home with an accuracy born from experience. Ben wondered just how much beer it would take to get Sorren to open up.
There would be time for that some other day.
“I’ll do my job, First Sarn’t.” He had no idea how he was going to do that, but he’d figure it out. Maybe start drinking at lunch or some other self-destructive habit. Get Emily to give him some free therapy.
“I hope so, sir,” Sorren said roughly.
Instead, Ben set the coffee cup on the conference room table and stretched. “Well, I’m glad we got that out of the way. Want to go take a warm shower together and sing kumbayah?”
Sorren just looked at him for a minute. A tick at the corner of his left eye jumped. Ben seriously wondered if he’d be able to move fast enough if Sorren tried to take a swing at him.
Sorren’s sudden laugh surprised him. “All right then, sir.” He stood and slapped Ben’s shoulder and damn near knocked it out of joint. “Let’s go to the motor pool and get some work done.”
Ben turned around in his chair to see Sarn’t Major Cox standing in his orderly room. Sorren moved to his feet quickly and called, “At ease!” Sorren moved to his feet quickly. Ben turned around in his chair to see Sarn’t Major Cox standing in his orderly room.
Ben frowned. “Has hell frozen over?”
As usual, Cox didn’t appreciate the joke. “I need a few minutes of your time, Commander.”
* * *
“I’m sorry? I don’t think I heard you correctly.” Olivia reached for her water bottle, hoping to push the lump down in her throat.
There was a fellow major sitting across from her. He was a thin man—wiry would be an apt description—and his eyes shifted constantly, darting around the office she had yet to claim as her own.
There was a meanness about Major Denis that had her backbone up. There was something lethal about him that had nothing to do with the bad things in this battalion, but everything to do with the man himself. She’d decided she didn’t like the Death Dealer battalion executive officer the minute she’d met him. Five minutes was all it had taken to turn that dislike into active loathing.
“I need the files on Captain Marshall.”
“Again, Major Denis, I’m not sure how you think this works but I deal with your battalion commander on these things.”
He cleared his throat, shifting in his chair. “I’m working legal actions for the battalion commander. I’m trying to get caught up on the legal situation before the briefing.”
Olivia felt the anger start to simmer someplace deep inside of her. “I’m under specific orders to deal only with commanders on several of these cases. This is one of them. So while I appreciate your desire to get caught up—” and she made air quotes around “caught up” to emphasize her point just in case he missed it—“I’m not giving you those files.”
Denis’s face darkened as a flush crept up his neck. “Fine. We’ll see what the boss says about this. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to know how you’re negatively impacting the processing of legal actions.”
Olivia set the water bottle down roughly and stood. “Don’t threaten me,” she said quietly. “I’m the very last person you’re going to swell up on and try to intimidate. And if you don’t like the way I’m doing my job, go find someone who gives a damn, because I’m not the one.”
Denis stood and leaned over her desk, trying to force her to either sit down or step back. She did neither. “You think you can come down here and just run things the way you want? We do things differently down here. You’d better learn that.”
She stood her ground, refusing to back down. She glanced over his shoulder at the man who’d just stepped into the doorway. “Captain Teague, did you need something?”
Ben stared hard at Denis quietly, but Olivia could see the barely restrained violence in his stillness. Without taking his eyes off Denis, he pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket. “Just need a few minutes of your time, ma’am.”
“What are you doing here, Teague?” Denis asked. “You’re supposed to be in the motor pool conducting inventories.”
Ben’s smile was ice cold, his fingers tight around a dinged-up water bottle as he slipped his phone back into his pocket with his other hand. “Commander business,” he said quietly.
The tension between the two men was palpable. Something physical and something real.
She wondered at the history between them. But this wasn’t the time to ask. Ben didn’t take his eyes off the skinny major as Denis shuffled out of the office, leaving a trail of grease hanging in the air after him.
“Nice timing,” she said, gesturing toward the chair recently vacated by her new BFF. “What’s the story there?”
“That would take a hell of a lot longer than we’ve got right now.” Ben glanced over his shoulder and halfway out of the office to make sure Denis was gone. “He was my commander, once upon a war. Between us girls, you might want to watch your back with that one. He’s a nasty little fucker.”
Olivia chewed on Ben’s words for a moment. “Oh, I already figured that out.”
Ben shook his head as he sat and folded his hands in his lap. “No, I don’t think you’re following. He’s well connected and he could easily start something at echelons well above your pay grade that could get you into a world of shit.”
Olivia’s skin went cold. She tucked that little piece of information away someplace safe. Maybe she’d need it, maybe she wouldn’t, but she wasn’t one to brush off advice. She reached for her water bottle.
“Well, I guess I’ll just have to watch my back. I appreciate the warning.” She twisted the lid off her water bottle. “What can I help you with?”
He tapped his finger against the lip of his bottle. “I have a problem.”
She waited for him to continue, not wanting to poison the well by jumping to conclusions. Warmth spread over her skin as she sat with him. Recollection of that morning’s earlier conversation hung in the air between them. A jagged scar that she’d wanted to trace with her fingers. Her gaze dropped to his belly, covered now by his uniform. Scars like that changed a man. What had he been like before his body had been broken by the war?
What had he been like?
She looked up to find him watching her. Heat rose inside her, heat that she had no business feeling toward this man. She licked her bottom lip, wishing that things were simpler. That she wasn’t a bundle of screwed up everything, and that he wasn’t as dark and wounded as she suspected he was.
She couldn’t save him.
No matter how much she might want to take away his pain, his memories were his own.
Still, that knowledge didn’t stop her from wanting to soothe some of the jagged pain she saw in his eyes.
She needed some distance, and some perspective on the complicated man in front of her.
She let the silence stand between them until he found the words he needed.
“Sergeant First Class Escoberra.”
Olivia swallowed but stayed quiet. Cold washed over her skin. She couldn’t afford to jump to conclusions but damn it was hard. “What about him?”
&nb
sp; He turned the cap on his bottle. On. Off. “Is there any way to speed this thing up?”
Olivia sank back in her chair. He wasn’t asking her to break the rules. At least she didn’t think he was. “What’s going on?”
Ben’s eyes flashed darkly. Just a moment before he looked away, down at his hands. “I can’t go into that with you,” he said quietly. “But it would mean a hell of a lot to me if we could get his case wrapped up. I don’t care how it ends but we can’t have this one dragging out forever and a day.”
There was a warning there. A plea. “There’s little we can do until Child Protective Services finishes their investigation,” she said quietly.
Ben studied the water bottle in his hands.
“You still want to defend him?” Olivia couldn’t keep the incredulity from her voice.
Ben met her gaze. “You know why,” he whispered.
Frustration clawed at her. How could she get him to see that the man he was defending was not the man he knew? Or maybe he was.
But Ben needed to see the truth before he made any more decisions. He needed to understand what his platoon sergeant had done to his daughter—a man he defended so willingly.
She searched through the stack of files until she found Escoberra’s. Flipped it open and tossed it onto her desk. “Before you say another word, explain to me how this happened. Then we’ll have this conversation again.”
Ben looked at the pictures, then looked away. “Jesus Christ.”
* * *
Hailey—Escoberra’s stepdaughter—oh God, Hailey. Her back. Black and blue bruises covered her back in the photos. Ben had could see knuckle marks embedded in her pale skin, the open slash in her shoulder.
Ben covered his mouth, feeling sick, his brain rioting denial even as his eyes remained glued to the pictures.
Slowly, Ben shook his head. “There’s got to be something we’re missing.”
“Does that excuse his action if we are?”
Ben’s gaze collided with hers. “I can’t believe this man did this to his little girl. He loves that kid. He loves his family.”
But the sickness churned in his guts, doubt twisting like a knife.
“All the love in the world doesn’t explain this,” she said quietly. Olivia crossed her arms over her chest. Ben had never seen her angry before. Her pale skin flushed. He wished he didn’t notice. “Stop looking for ways to break the rules,” she said.
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