War Games_Valiant Knox

by Jess Anastasi

  But maybe her humiliation wasn’t all to do with ogling him. Maybe part of it was because she hadn’t given him a chance. She’d believed the worst about him over one bad mission that had happened a decade ago. And though it was hard to admit, even to herself, if it wasn’t for the things Jordie had told her, she probably would have respected the hell out of McAllister. Probably would have liked him, even. Maybe liked him more than just a little. Liked him in a way that left her stomach flipping.

  “I think I owe you an apology.”

  McAllister’s sudden words brought her attention up to him. He was staring straight at her now, the intensity in his gaze making her pulse skip.

  “Why?”

  He shifted in his seat, and though she’d had trouble reading him before now, she could see he was trying to choose his words carefully.

  “You were right. You’re not your brother. I should have given you the same chance I’d give any other soldier instead of assuming the worst. But FYI, operationally speaking, you shouldn’t have engaged those two men in the village without checking with me first.”

  “That’s your idea of an apology?” She added a grin to her words, so he’d know she was only teasing. “Disguising a lecture by admitting you were wrong?”

  He crossed his arms, slouching back into his seat. “There’s a certain art to accepting you’re wrong, but making sure the other person understands you were right about something else.”

  At that, she couldn’t help but laugh. “Seems like you’ve got it perfected.”

  “Damn straight,” he muttered, returning her grin.

  “Okay,” she conceded, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table. “Then I’ll concede maybe I could have handled the situation with the men in the village a little differently. But in my defense, I was worried that if I went out looking for you, they’d be gone and so would my chance to find out any information about the crash site.”

  “See? You’re just as good at the apology and deflect maneuver.”

  “Thanks,” she returned dryly. “And same goes for you. I should have given you a chance instead of assuming the worst.”

  He held his hand out across the table. “Should we start again?”

  “That’d probably be a good idea.” She reached out to take his hand, his palm warm, calluses a little rough against her skin.

  “Colonel Cameron McAllister. Most people call me Cam when they’re not addressing me by rank.”

  Her pulse skittered. He was giving her permission to use his nickname? It shouldn’t have signified. Seb and Alpha called him Cam most of the time, so why not her as well? Especially if they were going to put everything behind them and start over.

  “Lieutenant Theresa Brenner. Everyone calls me Bren. And don’t ever—”

  “Call you Theresa?”

  She swallowed, since the way he’d used a low, teasing tone made her breath catch in her throat. When he murmured her name like that, it didn’t sound so bad—

  Giving herself a mental slap, she gently tugged her hand from his. What the hell was wrong with her? She’d always hated her name, even when a few boyfriends in the past had tried to use it and get all romantic. She’d shut them down quick smart.

  “That’s right. Glad we’ve got that established.”

  “I won’t make that mistake again.” He sat back in his chair, seeming more relaxed now. “Thought you were going to deck me over it last time.”

  “Probably if I hadn’t had my foot stuck in that trap, I would have.”

  “Noted.” He sent her a smile that was almost intimate. Like now they had an in-joke. Something only the two of them would get.

  Perhaps he’d made a mistake when he’d been a decade younger and not as experienced in life and war, resulting in the worst possible outcome of an operation. But he’d grown into someone much different. War tended to bring out the best or worst in people and maybe over time, he’d simply experienced both.

  …

  After finishing lunch, they’d checked out the barn, but like the house, it had been stripped of anything useful. They walked the outer perimeter of both buildings to make sure there weren’t any signs of the CSS and then returned to the slight rise above the crash site to see if anything had changed.

  The half dozen soldiers still milled around looking bored out of their minds. She and Cam stayed on the rise for two hours, observing and discussing possible plans for approaching the wreckage after dark, running all kinds of scenarios. Cam’s scenarios started getting more and more outlandish until she was unsuccessfully smothering her laughter.

  Apparently, he had a deeply hidden, but ridiculous sense of humor. She’d always wondered how he was such good friends with Seb and Alpha, when he’d seemed so distant, serious, and sometimes cold. But it was clear that was just the professional mask he put on around people he didn’t know, or when the chips were down and he had a job to do.

  Next time he was up on the Knox and got dragged to Harley’s after shift by her coworkers, she’d have to tag along, because she was becoming more and more curious to see what he’d be like when he really let his hair down and got a few drinks into him.

  Late afternoon shadows were stretching across the field when Cam slid back from the rise and got to his feet, taking a few short steps as he stretched.

  “There’s probably nothing else useful we can see here. Might as well go back to the farmhouse and get some rest before we head out tonight.”

  She tucked her scope away and then slid back as well. When she got to her feet, her entire body was aching, muscles stiff. Her ankle was throbbing. Not in real pain, it was more of a dull ache. All of the days walking were finally catching up with her.

  As she followed Cam down the gentle incline, she tried not to limp, or move awkwardly, with the way all of her muscles were protesting.

  Cam glanced at her as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Feeling it, right?”

  She gave into the urge to grimace. “And here I thought I was doing a good job of pretending otherwise. I thought I was fit, but obviously I was fooling myself.”

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself. This takes a different kind of endurance not many people are ever prepared for.”

  “You and your guys don’t seem to be having any problems,” she grumbled.

  He shrugged as if the answer should have been obvious. “We’re trained for this kind of thing. I bet Seb isn’t any better off than you. In fact, he’s probably worse, since they spent the day covering all those miles to the village. He’s probably bitching like a rookie on their first march.”

  “I know what you’re up to”—she cut him a censuring look—“trying to make me feel better about myself. I didn’t think we had that kind of relationship, McAllister.”

  “Thought I’d try something different so we could actually be civil. Makes things a bit easier, don’t you think?” The words were flippant, but his intense regard told her that whatever her answer, it was going to mean something, or tell him something about her.

  “Than when we were passive-aggressive frenemies? Yeah, this is easier.”

  He sent her one of his rare smiles, leaving her needing to glance away from him and remind herself how to breathe.

  Getting along with Cam was definitely easier.

  Jordie wouldn’t be happy if he were alive. Of course, if he were still with her, she wouldn’t have loathed Cameron McAllister

  Her brother had warned her to never trust him, yet she’d put her life in his hands, confident he had the skill and experience to help her recover her missing pilot.

  She was tired of holding onto that negativity, even though it was all she had left of her brother. Like if she was angry enough at Cam, part of her brother still remained.

  Maybe it was time to let go, just a little. Because Cam was right—getting along with him was much easier than clashing over every little thing. And perhaps, in time, she’d feel less guilt over betraying the vow she’d made to her brother that Cameron McAllister would ne
ver be forgiven for the things he’d done.

  Chapter Ten

  The sun was starting to set when they returned to the farmhouse. They only went inside long enough to get another meal of MREs and protein bars out of their packs and sat on the porch, watching the sun go down.

  Usually Cam hated downtime, hated quiet periods, or inactivity. He’d worked hard since joining the military, going above and beyond to do his small part in this decades-long war, even though maybe in the long run his contributions hadn’t made much of an impact.

  But this time was different. This time, he’d been tasked with a mission that could actually provide them a turning point, could change the tides of this war once and for all.

  In the past, he’d always hated getting even five minutes to himself. Would go find something extra to do, because in the quiet times, that’s when the thoughts and memories caught up with him. That’s when he started thinking about what the enemy might be up to—especially since the bombing on base a few months ago.

  Yet this evening, as he ate his unappetizing protein bar, made small talk with Bren, listened to the birds and insects chirping, and watched how the golden light of the setting sun washed over the landscape, for once he didn’t want to be anywhere else, to be doing anything else.

  Maybe because he could see a storm coming and knew he had to enjoy this lull, as it might be the last one he got for a while. Perhaps finally separating Bren and Jordie in his mind had also altered other, less noticeable things. Whatever the reason, he was probably too damn relaxed, considering they were currently hanging out behind enemy lines.

  “We should head inside,” he said, reluctance clear in his voice once the sun had completely disappeared, leaving the sky a deep purple gray.

  It was much harder to see in the darkened house, but they managed to get their bedrolls set up on the kitchen floor. A chill had already started creeping in. Would have been nice to set a fire in the hearth, but they couldn’t risk either the light or the smoke.

  “I’ll take first watch,” he offered once they were ready for the night.

  She cast him a quick glance, and even in the shadows, he could see she was ready to argue.

  “You’ve still got that ankle to look after, and like I said before, I’m trained for this kind of mission. You’re not used to walking so many long hours. Take the rest while you can get it.”

  “Fine,” she muttered, huffing as she climbed into her bedroll.

  Turned out the woman could be reasonable. Maybe she was more tired than she’d let on.

  He shifted to sit with his back against the door. The sounds of birds gave way to night insects, and a small silver sliver of light cut across the floor from one of Ilari’s moons.

  It’d probably been an hour and a half since the sun had gone down, when a scraping noise emanated from the front of the house, echoing through the still night shadows.

  Cam scrambled over to Bren, gathering his pack and bedroll as he went. When he got to her, he shook her shoulder, setting his hand lightly over her mouth—not enough to freak her out when she came around and realized someone had their hand on her face, but just enough for her to realize she needed to be quiet.

  As he’d hoped, she quickly roused, staring up at him with wide, questioning eyes, just as a very definite creak of floorboards reached him.

  He tugged at the fastening on the side of her bedroll, leaning down closer to her so she’d hear his whisper.

  “There’s someone in the house.”

  She gave a single nod and then shimmied out of her bedroll. Leaving her to it, he grabbed her pack and hurried over to the pantry, shoving everything in as quickly as he could without making a noise.

  Bren joined him, and he pulled her in, flush up against him, swinging the door over and closing them into almost complete darkness, apart from the tiny crack he left to see through.

  He shifted, trying to make more room in the impossibly small space. Bren pressed harder into him, muttering a curse under her breath. Those curves of hers he’d always tried his best to ignore were currently imprinting themselves on the length of his body, sending his blood surging, even though he had other things he should be putting his full concentration toward.

  “What’s wrong?” he whispered, even though they should have maintained absolute silence.

  “Put my hand in a cobweb,” she whispered in return.

  “And?” He bent slightly so he could see more clearly through the crack of the doorjamb.

  “So, there was a big-ass spider in it earlier today. If I get bitten, you’re going to know about it, McAllister.”

  “Swap,” he said, landing his hands on her hips.

  “What?” She sounded confused.

  “Hurry, before whoever it is comes in here. Let’s swap places.”

  He didn’t wait for her answer, but spun her like they were dancing. Except, he managed to bump both his elbow and knee by the time they’d reversed positions and he ended up on the spider-inhabited side of the cupboard.

  Shifting once again, he put his eye to the crack, waiting and watching the shafts of moonlight coming in through the windows. For a few long minutes, there was nothing but silence, and he started questioning whether the person had heard them and left, or maybe he’d just imagined it in the first place.

  But then a light tread of footsteps preceded a slight shadow entering the kitchen.

  It was a kid. A small kid wearing layers of ragged clothing and light hair of indeterminate color poking out from beneath as overlarge knitted cap.

  He glanced at Bren. “It’s just a kid.”

  Though he couldn’t quite see her face in the darkness, he got the sense her features twisted a little.

  The kid pulled a few things out of their pockets—food, it took him a second to work out. Because none of it was anything he would have ever touched. Scraps and leftovers that were obviously other people’s trash.

  Just as the kid raised the first bite to eat, desperation lit in his chest and he burst out of the cupboard.

  “Wait, don’t eat that!”

  The kid whipped around, took one look at him with wide, terrified eyes, and then bolted.

  “Idiot,” Bren muttered as she shoved past him to chase after the kid.

  Okay, clearly he could have handled that a lot better. But he couldn’t stand by and watch the kid eat something that’d probably make anyone sick.

  He shook his head at himself and trailed after Bren. The kid went out one of the front windows, but Bren took the door, the screen squeaking and then slamming as she went through. He lost sight of them until he got out onto the porch.

  The kid was fast, but halfway across the yard, under the silver moonlight, Bren managed to gain ground and reached out to catch the scampering bundle.

  However, the kid started up a howling like nothing he’d ever heard before. Bren picked the kid up and hurried back toward the farmhouse.

  “That noise needs to stop now,” he said loudly to be heard over the racket as he held the door open for her and the kid, who appeared to be kicking and fighting her hold.

  “She’s scared out of her mind,” Bren answered, heading back toward the kitchen.

  She? The ragged bundle fighting like a hellcat was a little girl?

  In the kitchen, Bren set the girl down on a chair, but she immediately sprung up and made a run for it. However, when she saw Cam standing in the doorway, she quickly switched directions, but ended up scrunching herself into an empty corner of the kitchen, her cries turning to whimpers.

  Jesus. The sound was doing a number on his central nervous system, making his heart clench. Why the hell was she out here alone in the dark, eating what amounted to garbage? Every cell of his body ached for her in a way he’d never felt before.

  Bren cast him a desperate glance, as if she was as clueless what to do about this as he was. But then she crouched down and shuffled closer to the small girl.

  “Hey, we’re not trying to hurt you. We just wanted to make sure y
ou’re okay.”

  The girl didn’t look up, but pushed herself tighter into the corner.

  Bren backed up, then looked to him again, and he could see in her troubled gaze that this upset her as well.

  He glanced around, gaze passing over the pathetic pile of scraps again, sparking an idea.

  Hurrying to the cupboard where he’d stashed their packs earlier, he shoved his hand into one without even checking whose it was, searching by feel alone since he couldn’t see anything in the dark.

  He came up with a couple of MREs and went back to the corner of the kitchen, going with Bren’s play to crouch down and make himself look less imposing.

  “I’m sorry if I scared you,” he started in a low, calm voice. “I just didn’t want you to eat the food you brought. I was worried it would make you sick. If you’re hungry, I’ve got something here that’s much better.”

  The whimpering stopped and the girl shifted slightly to peek out at him through the mop of tangles falling from beneath the skewed, knitted cap. She stared at his extended hand, where he held out the MREs.

  “They’re good. I promise.” He ripped one open and took a bite to demonstrate.

  Well, maybe good was stretching it, but they wouldn’t make her sick, at least.

  Finally, she moved, shooting out a small hand with lightning fast reflexes to snatch the food from his hand. She sniffed it once, then nibbled on the corner. But the poor kid must have been starving, because she then took a huge bite, gulping down the MRE in a matter of moments.

  Bren nudged him, and he glanced over to see her holding out a canteen. He took it and then looked back at the girl.

  “Thirsty?”

  She was already reaching for the water as he started to pass it over.

  Thighs starting to cramp, he shifted to sit on the floor, handing over two protein bars and watching her devour them like she hadn’t eaten properly in months.

  “Better?” he asked once she took another drink and wiped her mouth on the tattered sleeve of her jacket.

  She gave a hesitant nod, glancing back and forth between Bren and him.