Until There Was You (Coming Home, #2) (19 page)

“Damn it, Evan, this is neither the time nor the place,” she said quietly. “We can’t do this here.”

She sniffed and took a step back, bunching her fists by her sides. Shaking her head, she looked down the hallway, toward the sound of the battle. Her bottom lip shook as she finally met his gaze. “Reza is the best friend I have. And I don’t have the courage to do what it takes to get him to stop drinking.” She swallowed hard, her words bitter and harsh. “And he is likely going to die because of it. Because I’m a coward and I don’t want to lose one of the only friends I’ve got.”

Shock, thick and viscous, flashed across his face. Her mouth went dry, waiting for his reaction.

“Claire—”

“Don’t, Evan. Just don’t. Okay? We need to get through this evaluation.” Her words trembled. Her eyes filled. She tried to walk past him.

He stepped in front of her, blocking her retreat.

Again.

* * *

They were in the middle of the empty frame of the building. The pretend battle popped off down the street. Duty called.

But Evan could no more break away than he could slice his own flesh. He raised his fingertips to the soft curve of her cheek, skimming her flushed skin. He lowered his mouth to hers but stopped just short of touching her. Her breath flitted across his lips and he imagined he could taste her. A thousand memories from last night rose, tormenting
him with that too brief taste of perfection. He nudged her top lip gently with his own, opening his mouth just a hint more.

“You’re not alone,” he whispered.

The warmth of her breath teased him and with a hesitation born of desperate need, he slowly, so slowly, touched his tongue to hers. Felt her quick hiss of breath, then his own sigh as she stroked her tongue against his.

There were a million reasons why kissing her was a bad idea and only one that made him slant his mouth against hers and take everything she was willing to give him: this was Claire, a bright and brilliant spark in the center of his ragged soul.

He felt burned to the soles of his feet. There was no more cold. No more frozen fingers. The fear around his heart clenched tightly, resisting the warmth from her touch. Until there was nothing but the heat from her lips, the fire from the barest touch of his fingers on her cheeks.

He eased back, tugging on her bottom lip gently as he did. He stroked his thumb where his teeth had just been, then lowered his hand, granting her unspoken plea and letting her go.

Chaos stormed in her eyes and she looked ready for war.

And then she was gone, leaving him with too many questions, far too many regrets.

Claire watched as Engle’s support platoon ran through their pre-combat checks for the second mission of the morning. Evan’s kiss still lingered on her lips, a faint touch, a memory of the one good thing that she had done her best to destroy. Not on purpose. No, it was just how she was built.

Sarah strolled up and Claire offered a distracted smile as she watched the formation. Sarah’s platoon was getting ready to run through the mission today in the mock-up of the Iraqi town in the middle of the snow-covered training area.

“Not exactly desert conditions,” Sarah remarked, hooking her thumbs in the shoulders of her body armor and mirroring Claire’s stance. “But miserable enough, so I guess it’ll work.”

Claire grinned and watched Reza take LT Engle and her platoon sergeant through checking their soldiers’ gear: weapons, ammo and water, along with first-aid kits. “Engle seems like she’s torn between being a cock tease and doing a good job,” Claire said, toeing a dirty clump of snow.

“When she’s good, she’s really good. When she doesn’t bring her A game, she’s a disaster.” Sarah sniffed and adjusted the neck of her sweater beneath her gear. “So my battalion commander is pretty pissed.”

“Why?”

“Oh a little nasty-gram coming from brigade about Engle’s platoon missing the close-out briefing because they stayed late at the shoot house.”

Claire suppressed a smile. “Maybe Colonel Danvers was paying attention to the nightly status report, then. Glad to see it wasn’t a wasted effort.” Sarah stared hard at her and Claire frowned. “What?”

“The brigade commander is king here, Claire. If you don’t play ball with him, you’re done, and there’s nothing anyone else can do about it.” Sarah and Claire were silent for a moment, watching Engle fix the gear of one of her soldiers. The platoon sergeant sent another soldier to the water buffalo to fill up his CamelBak.

Claire studied her friend intently for a moment. Sarah glanced in her direction when the silence became heavy. “That is one well-put-together man,” Sarah said, and the look in her eye suggested that she was mentally undressing Reza. When Claire didn’t respond, Sarah cocked her head to one side. “It was a joke, Claire. I am allowed to have a sense of humor, you know.”

“I know.” A slow smile spread over her lips when she realized that Sarah was telling the truth. She’d lost her husband a few years ago at the Battle of First Fallujah. The fact that she was making jokes about a man, even an enlisted man, was a sign of good health. “How’s Anna?”

“Growing like a weed. She’s giving me fits. One of her friends has an older sister who watches TV that’s waaay too old for her.”

Claire raised both eyebrows, suppressing a shiver from the cold. “Define too old.”

“How does
Twilight
sound?”

“What’s
Twilight
?”

“You’ve lived in a cave, right? Teen girl. Vampire-and-werewolf love triangle. Hugely popular.”

Claire shook her head and tried not to look at her friend like she was crazy. “Not ringing any bells. Sorry.”

“The short version is that it’s too old for my four-going-on-fourteen-year-old.” Sarah shifted her body armor and tightened the Velcro around her waist.

“You’re really okay.” It wasn’t a question.

Sarah stared out at the formation. “There are still bad days. I miss Jack.” She turned and looked at Claire. “I don’t think that will ever change. But that doesn’t change
the fact that I have to stop hurting enough to get out of bed every day.” She pushed her glasses up. “Besides, I’m getting ready to deploy. Time to get my head in the game, don’t you think?”

“Have I told you lately that you’re amazing?”

“I am pretty awesome.” Sarah laughed. “That was weak. I’m just a mom, trying to raise my little girl without her daddy. I have to find things to laugh at or she’ll grow up feeling like she’s living in a mortuary.”

“Why did you stay? In the army, I mean.”

Sarah paused for a long moment. “Because it helps me feel closer to him.”

“It’s just good to see you back. All the way back. I missed you.” She sniffed and swallowed the sudden rise of emotion in her throat. “I didn’t think you’d ever be you again after Jack died.”

“Jack was a good man and I’ll love him every day of my life. And can we please change the subject? I’ve got a damn mission to supervise and my glasses are going to fog up if you make me cry.”

Claire laughed. “Some things never change.”

“You’ve got that right. Lieutenant Engle!” Sarah moved off, her voice ringing across the snow.

* * *

Evan approached Iaconelli after the last vehicle rumbled out of the assembly area. He didn’t know what he was going to say or even how to start.

It was an uncomfortable feeling for him. His goal was always to do the right thing. To follow the rules. But with Reza, the rules were no longer clear-cut. Sure, it would look like an easy choice to someone who hadn’t served. Turn him in, get him sent to rehab. But that would mean disregarding the combat awards on his chest, ignoring the
nearly fifty months in combat he had served and reducing the hero who stood before him to little more than an alcoholic.

The army had needed Reza and men like him. Men who would run toward the fire when everyone else hightailed it in the opposite direction. Evan had thought he was that type of a man, too. But now, approaching a man who was so much more than just a fellow soldier, Evan felt doubt. Reza was important to Claire. And that simple fact made him so much more important than just another one of Evan’s soldiers.

There was no way this conversation would go well.

The wind shifted then, sending a frigid blast of tequila-scented air straight toward Evan. Already keyed up from last night’s fiasco, Evan grabbed Reza and pulled him aside, forgetting he was supposed to ease into this conversation. “Are you drunk?”

Reza rubbed his hand over his mouth, a dark scowl across his forehead. “No.”

Another waft of pure alcohol came off him. Evan swore beneath his breath. “You need to go sleep this shit off in the truck.”

His smile fading, Reza spit into the snow, a hard look on his face. One that brokered no argument. “I’m fine. You’re not my commander anymore. Sir.” He spat the word.

Evan’s temper snapped. “One of these days you’re going to get someone hurt. You need to dial it down a notch. Especially after the other night.”

“That’s really rich. You’re a real Boy Scout, aren’t you? I can see why Claire calls you Captain America.”

“This isn’t about me and this isn’t about Claire, Ike. This is about people who are worried about you.”

Reza spat into the snow. “I tried to be cool with this whole babysitting thing that Claire started, but now that you’re panting after her, you’ve picked up on—”

“Watch your mouth.” Evan stepped into Reza’s space, itching for a fight with the man who was causing Claire so much pain. “You have no right to drag her into this.”

“I’ve got every fucking right. You want to dig into my life, I’m going to dig into yours.”

“Do you have any idea how much watching you drink yourself to death is killing the people who care about you? Or are you too selfish to care?”

“Selfish? Are you serious? I pulled your happy ass out of a burning goddamn tank downrange and you’re going to stand here and lecture me about drinking too much?” He shoved Evan, hard enough that Evan took a step back. “I spilled a drink on my uniform this morning when I was cleaning up. Kiss my ass, you sanctimonious prick.”

The wind shifted again and Evan could no longer smell alcohol. He studied his former platoon sergeant, looking for any window into his soul, any way to reach the warrior he knew existed in the shell of the burned-out GI in front of him. Evan had no idea how to help him.

“You can’t keep doing this.” Evan straightened, looking at Reza and wondering what would finally send him over the line from needed soldier to homeless drunk.

“Don’t you have training to go evaluate?” Reza asked. He stalked off, heading to the ambush point near the objective for this mission. “Sir.”

Evan had never felt so utterly useless in his entire adult life. No, the last time he’d felt this useless was at this exact moment thirteen years ago, standing in the middle of a snow-covered field as an ambulance pulled away, not bothering with the sirens because it was too late.

* * *

Evan hadn’t gotten more than a glimpse of Claire all afternoon. She was working closely with LT Engle, while Evan worked with the opposing force to set up a scenario that was both realistic and challenging. After all, it wasn’t as if someone got to call “end of exercise” in the middle of a real-world mission.

It was the last mission of the day, and things had gone relatively well for a company that was not well prepared. Engle had done a lot to get her team all working together, a tremendous feat considering how poorly trained they’d been a few short days ago. He guessed her time in combat had served a purpose after all.

Reza had steered clear of him for the bulk of the day, for which Evan was grateful. It enabled him to shut down the emotional storm raging inside of him and lock it away. Focus on the mission. Just like always.

It was easier that way.

Evan watched Engle’s convoy approach the kill zone from inside one of the empty buildings across the intersection. Colonel Danvers walked through the battlefield, talking with soldiers, making notes, and observing the evaluation. It was the pivotal event for this phase of the operation, so nothing would be overlooked.

Snow glittered like diamonds in the silver daylight and his breath froze almost as soon as he exhaled. All in all, though, the weather was milder than it had been—the wind wasn’t blowing as sharply, which had taken the edge off the wicked chill. The star cluster went off, dripping through the sky like a fiery flow of diamonds, and the training was on once again.

As usual, there was a lot going on all at once. He turned his attention to the approaching vehicles. They rumbled down the snow-covered road, tires popping on snow, crunching through the frozen ice and salt. The gunner in the lead vehicle scanned his sector, his head on a swivel, watching all avenues of approach.

He almost missed Reza sprinting toward the back of the convoy, dressed like a local national, but the next thing he knew, Lieutenant Engle’s vehicle broke off from the rest of the convoy and headed after him. “What the hell is she doing?” Evan mumbled.

Evan saw the flash at the back of the convoy a split second before the concussion of the blast slammed into him. The gates of hell broke open as the convoy opened fire. Evan had a brief moment to be impressed that they’d gotten blank rounds for their
M240B machine guns and one of those puppies was rocking, then everything got twisted up in chaos and smoke. Bursts of muzzle fire melted deep pits into the banks around the road as more flashes went off, followed by far too realistic explosions.

Someone started screaming. Real screams, ringing with real pain.

Sounds he’d all heard before, but it still took him a moment to realize that the screams echoing off the walls of the fake houses were not part of the simulation.

He sprinted to the end of the intersection, his boots not carrying him fast enough toward the chaos. He was living a nightmare where he ran as fast as he could and got nowhere.

Finally he rounded the first truck. His gaze sharpened instantly on the scene and he mentally began forming the situation report.

Lieutenant Engle was laid out next to the driver’s side of her truck, her left arm bent at an awkward angle, twisted and unnatural. The front end of the truck had smashed into one of the buildings, and the smell of burning diesel seared the insides of his nostrils along with the reeking odor of spent sulfur.