by Caro Carson
No. I’m worried about you because you’re important to me, Baby. If anything bad happened to you, it would be bad for me, too.
Chloe felt her heart beating, hard, in time with the blinking of the cursor.
After long seconds, she typed one word: Same.
Lame. She was so lame. She carried her laptop into her bedroom, closed it and plugged it in to its docking station. The sound of its familiar click brought tears to her eyes.
Tears? She refused to cry as she pulled a nightgown out from the drawer below her PT uniforms. It was just a click. Nothing but a stupid click.
It was all she had.
Drummer was the perfect guy. He genuinely cared about her. She had a friend in him, a confidant, but every time she went to bed, she was alone.
She crawled into bed and lay silently in the dark, when what she wanted to do was rage at the universe that life was unfair. She couldn’t take a laptop to dinner and a movie. She couldn’t kiss a laptop. She was twenty-two years old. She wanted more. She wanted passion. She wanted sex, but it had to be with someone who meant something to her.
Not possible. The only man she was interested in was the one in her laptop.
She tried to imagine what it would be like if her virtual boyfriend became reality. She’d have a man to rest against. Maybe they’d fall asleep together while spooning, her back to his chest.
Chloe felt herself drifting off to sleep, lulled by her own fantasy. He’d have his arm around her waist, and she’d know when he was falling asleep because the weight of his arm would grow heavier.
She snuggled the side of her face into her pillow, almost smiling as she imagined snuggling with her nameless, faceless him. She would be warm when she spooned against him, maybe too warm, but she wouldn’t move because she loved falling asleep like this, knowing that the last face she saw before she fell asleep would be the first face she’d see when she woke up.
He’d have a handsome face. Very handsome, with light-colored eyes that crinkled at the corners a bit because he was smiling at her, enjoying every word she said, laughing at every joke.
Chloe jerked awake.
That was Thane Carter’s face. Wrong man. So very wrong, and she needed him to get out of her head. She punched her pillow once, twice, and tried to fall back asleep.
Damn it.
She wished that she’d never laid eyes on First Lieutenant Thane Carter. He already made her real life harder. Now he was ruining her imaginary one, too.
Chapter Eleven
Chloe sat at her desk and struggled not to fall asleep in front of Carter.
She’d only been here two weeks, but she’d fallen asleep in her office chair twice. Carter just loved to wake her up. The first time, he’d put his phone on her desk quietly, like a sneaky weasel, then set it off to play the reveille bugle call. The next time, he’d sailed a paper airplane right into her head while he stood in the hallway. Judging from the paper airplanes littering the floor around her desk, it had taken him at least four tries to land a plane on her head—or else he’d hit her four times but she’d been sleeping too hard to notice.
If the paperwork part of her job wasn’t so boring, it wouldn’t be so hard to stay awake. It would also help if she wasn’t trying to stay awake for thirty-six hours at a stretch. She was part of the regular duty officer rotation now. She’d come to one conclusion: there had to be a better way.
A leader didn’t bring a problem to his or her superior’s attention without also presenting a possible solution. She knew what the sleep-deprivation problem was. She needed to come up with a solution.
“Yo, Carter. Where can I find the schedule for the duty officers?”
“Don’t worry, you’re done for the month. No more garrison duty. We’ll go into training for our combat missions now. This is your last thirty-six hours for two months.”
“I wasn’t worried. I want to see the old schedule. Is it all laid out on a calendar somewhere?”
It was like pulling teeth to get him to do it, but Carter finally sent a file from his army laptop to hers with the dates and names going back a month. She read it over, mulled it over. When there’d been only three lieutenants, it must have been brutal. With four lieutenants, it was still exhausting.
They weren’t at war. They weren’t deployed in a volatile part of the world. They weren’t even training to handle sleep deprivation in a future war zone. This was just actual sleep deprivation, and she couldn’t see a reason to punish themselves physically like this. Instead, there was a very good reason for them not to: they were performing a real law enforcement mission, not rehearsing for one, and that mission required them to make decisions with clear heads, not exhausted ones.
“What are you frowning at?” Carter asked. The man sure did watch her a lot, considering she was only worth talking to if no other single women were around.
Ha—there were no other single women around. She was it. Tough luck for him; she didn’t feel like talking. “Nothing.”
When Chloe wanted to see a problem, it worked better when she could sketch it out with old-fashioned pencil and paper. Chloe pushed her laptop out of her way and flipped the least-important-looking document on her desk over. The back was a plain white page, beckoning her to find a pencil and make it come alive. She made columns and rows, sketching out a calendar, then wrote in the days of the week. With one eye on the computer screen, she started transferring names and dates, turning them from a list of words on the screen into something she could see as a picture, shading in work with diagonal lines, shading in time off with crosshatches.
“What are you doing?” Carter asked, sounding irritated.
“I’m concentrating.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him looking up at the ceiling as if he was praying for patience, but she ignored that and the too-familiar pang in her heart. Handsome man; hates me.
It had only been a couple of weeks. She’d get used to it.
A half hour later, she had a new plan. It ought to work, it could work, but she didn’t know how to go about presenting it to the level at which it needed to be approved. She looked over at Thane. It would be nice to ask his advice, but he’d made his feelings toward her clear the first night they’d worked together. It was up to her to keep up with him, not for him to mentor her.
Maybe Salvatore would look it over for her. She took her paper and pencil and started out the door.
“Done for the day?” Carter asked.
“Are you done for the day?” she countered. “Then I’m not, either.”
Like it or not, she was tied to Thane Carter. They worked together and they had to suffer together, but if her new plan could be implemented, at least they would both get more sleep. Maybe they wouldn’t get on each other’s nerves so badly if they were well rested.
It was worth a try.
* * *
Thane took his place at the conference room table in the battalion headquarters building.
The commanders of each of the companies that made up the battalion were here, as well as the command sergeant-major and the primary members of the battalion staff. Notebooks, pencils, inside jokes and barbs were all brought to the table as everyone waited for the battalion commander, Colonel Stephens, to arrive.
Thane wasn’t normally a part of battalion-level meetings. He’d just returned to Fort Hood yesterday after a week with his parents for Thanksgiving. As soon as he’d signed back in, the CO had signed out, taking off for his own week’s leave. As the most senior platoon leader in the 584th, Thane also served as the executive officer, or XO.
The XO took over the CO’s duties in his absence, so Thane was sitting in his CO’s place at the battalion commander’s weekly meeting.
It wasn’t his first. He enjoyed them. The senior members worked well together, and that attitude transferred all the way down to the newest private.
The operations officer, Major Nord, came in and dropped a notebook onto the table. Right behind him was...Chloe.
/> The pang in Thane’s chest was instant and too familiar. Pretty woman; hates me.
Thane ignored that. He’d had no idea Michaels was coming to the meeting today. It made a commander look bad when he didn’t know what his own people were up to.
She took a seat behind the major, in a chair against the wall rather than at the table. Why was a butter bar who’d only been in the battalion for three weeks here at a battalion staff meeting? Michaels should have briefed him on her purpose here. Hell, she ought to have given him a heads-up that she’d be here at all. Thane glared at her. She pretended she didn’t see him.
“Staff. Atten—tion.” The major called the room to attention, and everyone stood, heels together, arms straight by their sides, as the colonel entered the conference room.
“At ease,” Colonel Stephens said. He sat at the head of the table, then everyone took their seats. Colonel Stephens looked up one side of the table and down the other, no doubt doing a quick mental roll call of his own staff. He nodded Thane’s way. “I see we’ve got Lieutenant Carter here today.”
“Good morning, sir.”
“All right, let’s get out of here on time for once. S-1. Go.”
The S-1 was the staff officer who handled administration for the battalion. As the captain went over his current challenges, Thane found his attention wandering...to Michaels. Why the ever-loving hell was she here? She wasn’t taking notes, or else he’d assume she was a Goody Two-shoes who’d asked to sit in for her own professional development.
The S-2 began her report, covering intel and physical security of the property. Finally, thirty minutes into the meeting, the S-3 began his report. Major Nord sat forward in his chair. “As we discussed, sir, we’re considering changing the current schedule for the MPDOs.”
Thane glanced at Michaels. MPDO, the Military Police Duty Officer, concerned them personally. Since they were lieutenants, they were the only two in the room who actually pulled that duty.
Major Nord turned and motioned to Michaels to come to the table. She stood to his left. “I’ve asked Lieutenant Michaels to be present to answer questions. She designed the new schedule.”
Holy hell. She’d been here three weeks. Three weeks.
Michaels’s plan was simple. The lieutenants of two companies would share MPDO duties, making at least eight lieutenants available. They’d be on call for two months instead of one, but they’d serve every eighth day instead of every fourth. This would be less disruptive to each company’s training, and it would be less taxing on the individual lieutenants physically. It also meant that lieutenants from one company would be the officer in charge while another company had its usual month of garrison duty, but Michaels pointed out that lieutenants covered shifts for lieutenants from other companies on occasion already.
It took Michaels just minutes to present the idea. She stated her objective, outlined the current course of action and compared it to her alternate course of action, presenting her logic in the same order as a damned battalion-level MDMP, a formal and lengthy process to develop missions.
Total overkill.
Granted, she kept it brief and there was nothing wrong with following that MDMP sequence, but it was overkill for a platoon leader to use the format. It was overkill for a new lieutenant to be here at all.
Then again, this was the girl who’d held court at the grill, decreeing what ketchup and mustard represented while everyone listened. Why shouldn’t she stand here and tell a roomful of company commanders that she could schedule their lieutenants more effectively?
The S-3 had already endorsed the plan, obviously, or he wouldn’t have had Michaels present it. Thane had to admit that pulling those thirty-six hours less than once a week sounded a hell of a lot better than the way they’d been doing it. Honestly, he didn’t know whether to love her or hate her.
Love was out of the question. Hate crept in.
It crept in, and it found a resentful place to stay when the battalion commander turned to Thane and put him on the spot. “You’ve been pulling these thirty-six-hour days for how long now? How long have you been in my battalion?”
“Two years, sir.”
“For two years, you’ve been pulling these shifts?”
Everyone was looking at Thane as if these shifts were something unusual—or as if he shouldn’t have been pulling them for two years.
Thane leaned forward. “That is the job, sir. I execute the mission as assigned. All the lieutenants in the battalion do, one month out of every three.”
His battalion CO studied him for a moment. “That’s good.”
You’re damned right, that’s good. I didn’t whine and complain about it like Michaels.
Colonel Stephens turned back to Major Nord. “I want the thirty-six hours cut down. After they work an overnight, I want the lieutenants to check in with their companies and handle any meetings or paperwork or whatever the hell the commanders want to do with them, but let’s get them off duty by 1100 hours. I don’t want a bunch of zombies behind the wheel after the flag goes down.”
“Yes, sir.” Major Nord jotted down the battalion commander’s new orders. “Are we adopting the new schedule, as well?”
Colonel Stephens settled back in his chair. “What do you say, Carter? You’re the one who’s been pulling these thirty-six-hour shifts.”
He didn’t even glance Michaels’s way. “I think it will work, sir.”
“Sure it will. It’s so simple it makes you wonder why nobody thought of it sooner.”
Thane kept his expression neutral. Inside, he was seething at the subtle criticism that Thane hadn’t brought this to his attention sooner.
“One company has to suck it down to get started. I know you just finished pulling rotation every fourth day, but are you LTs in the 584th volunteering to keep working another month with the 401st?”
Clearly the battalion commander thought Thane had seen the plan before this meeting. Maybe Thane’s CO had. If so, he’d failed to let Thane know whether or not he wanted his lieutenants to commit to another month of shifts. Even if those shifts would be only every eighth day, it would still take each of his lieutenants out of training and keep them on the duty schedule through December. If anyone had planned to take leave over Christmas, they might be forced to change their plans.
Make a decision, Lieutenant. It was a stock phrase, one meant to remind new officers that it was better to make a decision, even if it turned out to be the wrong one, than it was to waffle and never decide. Thane decided. “It looks like a good plan in the long run, sir. We’ll suck it down for the next month to put it in motion.”
The meeting moved on. Thane listened and contributed appropriately, but his thoughts were still focused on Michaels. On one hand, he admired her ability to see a problem, come up with a solution and present it to the battalion commander. That took chutzpah. That took confidence. And for just one second, as Thane looked at her profile, he remembered walking toward her on that pool deck, drawn like a magnet to that confidence.
He hadn’t realized he was staring at her, but she must have felt the weight of his stare, because she glanced at him.
He looked away. She’d gone around him to the S-3. Thane was right there in her office with her. As the senior platoon leader, he was the person she could have come to for input. As her acting XO, he was the person she should have come to before the commander. Hell, just as the guy whose desk was next to hers, he was the man to whom she should have casually mentioned her idea. Why hadn’t she?
No reason, except she wanted to catch him off guard. Publicly.
Love her or hate her? She’d tried to make him look bad in front of the battalion commander.
Hate it is, then.
* * *
“Michaels!”
Chloe had had enough of that drill sergeant tone to last her for the rest of her life. She turned around to find the person who’d just addressed her as if she were the lowliest plebe. It had better be someone who outranked her, or she’d be
pissed.
It was Carter. She was pissed.
He walked up to her. “I hope you’re happy.”
Big life. Happiness. Drummer respected those goals.
“I hope so, too. Why do you think I’m happy?”
“You succeeded in getting your revenge.”
“I succeeded in getting us a more sane duty schedule.”
“Never take your XO by surprise like that. You could have at least given me a warning order.”
Warning orders were basic communications that alerted units to stand by for new orders. She didn’t owe him any warning order. “What would I be getting revenge for?”
“For the flashlight episode. For the way you think I threw you on the radio that first night. Who knows what your beef is? You tell me.”
As if she’d open a discussion on how he treated single women with ugly faces when there was nobody better to talk to. That colored her opinion of him, but that was personal. She hadn’t let that motivate her to do anything positive or negative, professionally.
Chloe started walking. Carter did, too.
“So, you think I actually developed and presented a new duty officer schedule to the battalion commander not to solve a problem but just to get revenge on you for something about radios and flashlights? Let me put your mind at ease, Carter. I could give a rat’s tail about those things.”
“You should have told me you were attending the staff meeting today. Instead, you went behind my back to the battalion S-3. When does the most junior platoon leader in the whole battalion go hang out with the S-3?” Thane stopped short.
She stopped.
Darn it, she shouldn’t have stopped. “What now?”
“You know him from West Point, don’t you? The S-3 is a West Pointer.”
“He’s a major. He had to have graduated, like, when I was in fifth grade. I don’t know him. You seriously are paranoid.” She held up her right hand and flashed her class ring at him. “This really doesn’t communicate directly with the Pentagon. I told you that ring-knocker thing was a myth.”
She’d told him that during that long, cozy talk, the day she’d spent with a handsome man who, it turned out, hated her. In silence, she started walking again.
