Until There Was You (Coming Home, #2) (13 page)

“I’ve been fairly good at it so far.” He was strung out and tight, afraid that she would destroy the fragile remnants of his restraint.

She licked her lips, her eyes dark with promise. “If we were to get naked, would you lose control? Or would you stay wound too tight?”

She rubbed the tip of her index finger along the seam of his lips.

“There’s only one right answer, Evan.”

* * *

She sighed softly as his palms skimmed the swell of her breasts, an electric, erotic shock to her system. She slipped from his embrace, circling him. Raw power surged through her—whatever this was, he would let her set the pace.

His stomach tightened beneath her touch as she raked her nails down his sides,
sliding her fingers beneath his shirt to claw gently at his skin.

“Claire—”

She met his gaze, her green eyes glittering darkly. Not once in a decade had she done this. Not like this. Not when she would have to face the man the next morning.

This was more than just sex. There would be consequences. Evan would not be a reckless lover, she thought, shifting against him slowly.

His arousal was hard and thick between them, rigid against her belly. A temptation. A seductive pressure. Her hand moved then, sliding from his hips to the bulge in his pants.

* * *

Her mouth was warm and wet and so incredibly soft as she sucked his tongue, even as her palm stroked him. He struggled not to thread his fingers into her hair and tear control from her.

“I’m going to die if you keep that up.” A ragged moan ripped from his throat as she squeezed him.

She flicked her tongue against the seam of his mouth. “That would be a disappointing end to the evening.”

The laugh tore from somewhere deep inside him, unexpected and … welcome. And then he was done thinking. She took his mouth again, circling her tongue with his and driving him closer to the edge.

His stomach flexed beneath her touch, and his cock tensed and tightened beneath her wandering touch. With a gentle kiss, she stood, her mouth a whisper from his. “Tell me. Does Captain America carry condoms?” she whispered.

He kissed her then—fierce and hard and deep—his tongue sparring with hers in a wild release of wicked tension. His fingers dug into her hips and he tried to guide her to
the bed, but Claire slipped from his grip.

Someone was pounding on the door as if the lodge were on fire. Evan dropped his forehead to hers. “Someone needs to die,” he murmured.

Arousal faded from his blood, leaving him aching and hard. But Claire was already gone, answering the door in the middle of the night.

Because that’s what good soldiers did.

* * *

Claire wasn’t exactly sure when her room became Grand Central, but at some point in the last hour, Sarah, Engle, Reza, and of course Evan had all ended up in the living area of her suite. It was a testament to how worried Sarah was about the training that she’d dragged her lieutenant out in the dead of night in the snow. Sure, it was late and they’d been working all day, but apparently none of them could sleep. Irritation ran thick through the group and the consensus was that they were wasting their time.

The briefing slides were displayed on Sarah’s computer and there were half a dozen empty bottles of alcohol sitting around the suite. For once, Reza wasn’t pounding the hard stuff, sticking to beer, and thankfully he was staying away from Engle, too.

Engle swore and threw her pen down. “This is stupid, Ma’am,” she said to Sarah. “Maybe I’m just not cut out for the army, because doing what the colonel says is dumb if he’s got a bad plan. We need to be on the ranges, practicing driving in convoys, not talking about safe traveling distances between vehicles in the convoy.”

Sarah studied her lieutenant for a long moment, and Claire waited with interest to see how she would handle Engle’s snit fit. Granted, she agreed with this particular fit, but still.

Sarah’s words were a quiet dose of reality to the group of malcontents. “You know, I might have disagreed with him when he said it, but when the Secretary of
Defense said you go to war with the army you have, not the army you wish you had, he was right. We’re going to war with Colonel Danvers, LT. We can piss and moan about it or we can figure out how to deal with it and keep our soldiers alive.”

Engle opened her mouth to speak, but Evan held up a hand, silencing her.

“Your commander is right,” Evan said. “You have to make do with what you have.”

Engle frowned and glared at the slides, as though the answer to the problem was going to magically appear from the PowerPoint gods. “This is bullshit,” she mumbled.

Evan continued easily but there was tension in his voice, a deep disquiet that he probably didn’t know was there. Claire watched him closely, wondering what demons he wrestled. “We’ve got to focus more on what we can do and less on what we can’t.” He glanced at his watch. “Otherwise, we’re wasting what little time we do have.”

“Can I ask a stupid question?” Engle asked, glancing between Claire, Evan, and Sarah. Claire noticed she deliberately did not look at Reza. “Why are you so hung up on doing this the way the brigade commander wants? I mean, if no plan survives first contact, why are we so hung up on doing it his way instead of improvising and making the mission happen? Doesn’t it matter more that it gets done?”

A shadow crossed Evan’s face and Claire felt a punch of shared emotion in that single look. She cleared her throat.

“When we were getting ready for the initial invasion—” Claire said quietly. All eyes turned to her. “—we spent days developing the commander’s plan. Mission analysis about routes and tribal identities and enemy capabilities. All of it went to shit about thirty minutes after the first troops rolled into Baghdad.”

Engle latched on to the wrong point. “Right. So why spend so much time on it?”

Claire’s voice was quiet, hoping she got the words right. “There comes a point when the commander’s plan becomes the be-all and end-all. An eighty percent solution now is better than a ninety-nine percent solution an hour too late. And when you’re going
to knowingly disobey orders, you’d better know why you’re doing it and what the consequences are.”

“When you break the rules,” Reza said, finally adding to the discussion, “you better have a really good reason for doing it. Just disagreeing with your commander doesn’t qualify as a good reason.”

Sarah shook her head. “That doesn’t help me figure out how to get everything done. You heard Colonel Danvers: if I can’t accomplish the mission, he’ll find someone else who can. And I’m not leaving my team.”

Claire pulled her knees up to her chest. “Sarah, I don’t know how to help you,” she said, fear tainting her words. “Because, honestly, I think the focus of this plan is all wrong. It would almost be worth it to check the block on the unimportant stuff so we could focus on the important things.”

“So you’d falsify training reports?” Engle asked.

Claire started to speak, but Evan cut her off. “No, LT, no one’s going to falsify training reports. There has to be a reason why the brigade commander wants things done this way. We have to figure out how to get it done.”

Claire stood, fed up with Evan, the whole mission and the helplessness of knowing there was little she could do to make a difference. “Look, Sarah, go home. You too, Engle, get some sleep. The first day of field training is tomorrow. You all need to be on your game.”

It wouldn’t do any good to keep this conversation going in front of Evan. He’d simply shut it down. She hugged her friend and, for once, was sociable to LT Engle as they left the room. She didn’t bother to look and see if Reza followed Engle or simply went to bed. At the moment, she didn’t care what he did or with whom he did it. Too many sleepless nights were finally catching up to her.

* * *

The door closed behind Iaconelli, leaving them alone in the silence. Evan turned back to see Claire picking up the papers and stacking them neatly in piles. Busy work.

“What’s wrong?” Evan asked.

They were alone in her suite again and he could see the conflicted emotions written all over Claire’s face. She looked exhausted, but more, she looked like a ghost had risen from the dead and was howling on the wind outside.

“Nothing, Evan.” She turned away, looking out the wide bay window, which was white with snow.

“Talk to me, Claire,” he whispered, wanting so badly to approach but the relentless barriers between them were back, higher than ever.

“Not everything requires psychoanalysis.”

“I was just asking a question,” he said quietly. “Forgive me for confusing you with someone capable of rational conversation.”

Anger flashed in her eyes. “Do we really need to do this tonight? I don’t have any energy left to fight with you.”

Evan stepped in front of her, frustration clawing at him that she continued to shut him out. “You know what I’m not in the mood for? For you encouraging young officers like Engle to play fast and loose with the rules. You’re teaching them to be reckless and reckless gets people killed.”

Claire held up both hands, fatigue written across her features. “Look, I’m just tired of having to kiss the boss’s ass just because he’s the commander. Commanders aren’t God, Evan. They make mistakes. Danvers is making a mistake, and I think you know it but you’re too much of a play-by-the-rules guy to argue with him. I just want out of this ski lodge and I want to go blow something up. Is that reckless enough for you?”

“You know what’s reckless, Claire?”

She released a sigh, heavy with resignation. “Yeah, I do. And I’m asking reckless
to leave my room right now so I can be a true daredevil and go to sleep. There’s no point in arguing about this any more. I can’t win. Not with you. Not with Colonel Danvers.”

“You’re giving up?” It was such a simple question, but her unwillingness to fight sparked a deep, unsettled concern in him.

* * *

“I’m going to bed. Alone, if you don’t mind.” She folded her arms over her chest, keenly aware of his closeness. But the sensual connection between them was gone, replaced with a long-standing familiar argument about how an officer was supposed to lead, supposed to act. Supposed to genuflect before the will of the commander, regardless of whether that commander was right or wrong.

Evan refused to back down. “I can’t believe you’re giving up. Just because it’s not going your way?”

“It’s got nothing to do with my way, Evan.” Fear gripped her, denying her the escape she so desperately needed. She knew what she’d do if Captain America wasn’t there. She’d do exactly what she suggested to Engle: check the block on the stupid stuff and spend time doing the important training. But she couldn’t do that with Captain America looking over her shoulder. He’d never let her lie, even if it would save lives. “I just don’t know what else to do. We’re wasting time on bullshit training and these guys are leaving unprepared. And I can’t keep fighting with you or Colonel Danvers. I’ll do my job and I’ll do my best. But I can’t keep going through these mental gymnastics because it hurts too much.” The admission pained her but he needed to hear it.

“And sometimes, you need to find a way to get the best out of a shitty situation.” He approached her then, stepping too close, and traced the tip of one finger down the side of her neck. “I never took you for a coward, Claire.”

“I’m not a coward. I just don’t see the point in fighting a losing battle.” She didn’t
flinch away from his touch, but it was a close thing. “I’ll do my job. Isn’t that what you wanted? No more arguing? No more fighting about how to train?”

But her words were filled with defeat. Maybe it was time to admit that there was nothing she could do to help her friend’s team. The helplessness galled her, but it was the fear that she would be standing at Sarah’s memorial that threatened to drown her.

“Sometimes, the only battle worth fighting is the one that lets you keep your integrity.”

“Integrity doesn’t mean anything when you’re dead.” She shook her head, sadness threatening to spill down her cheeks. “I’ve seen that movie, Evan. The correct answer is that we die honorably. The right answer is that we cheat.” She lifted her chin. “I’ll choose to cheat every time if that means someone comes home alive.”

He took a single step backwards. “That says more about you than anything else you’ve ever done,” he murmured.

She said nothing for a long moment, and then the door closed quietly behind him, his words cutting her deeply. They shouldn’t have hurt the way they did. She’d given him what he wanted: an officer who would do her job. So why did he disapprove of her decision?

And worse, why did it matter?

It was still snowing lightly the next morning as Claire and Reza drove up to the edge of the training area and pulled to a stop.

Evan was at another training area, which was good. She was pretty sure he’d knocked on her door this morning. She’d ignored him. He was going to accuse her of being childish, but she wasn’t. She was pissed, and it wasn’t just because of their disagreement the night before.

He’d hurt her. And she was pissed at herself for letting him get close enough for her to want what she could never have. She sucked at relationships. No amount of wishful thinking would change that. At least she knew where she stood with him now. It was better to cauterize the wound before it did any permanent damage.

Funny how the road to hell was paved with all those unkept resolutions.

As she was pulling her body armor out of the back of the truck, Reza approached. “Don’t you love wearing body armor?”

Claire smiled. “We train how we fight,” she said dryly. “Wouldn’t want to break the rules and train out of uniform, now would we?”

Reza snorted, then pointed toward the small group of soldiers near the edge of the training area. “We have a problem.”

She sighed as she hitched her helmet up, tightening the chin strap. “What’s the problem?”

“You’re looking at it.”

Claire followed his gaze away from the SUV, and her eyes widened with disbelief as she took in the small formation. “This is it?”

A single platoon stood in front of them, no more than thirty soldiers, and other
than Lieutenant Engle the highest-ranking person was a sergeant.