by Lizzy Ford
“I love you, sis,” he says with a wink. “You can throw as many shoes as you want at me, but I’m going.”
Pursing my lips, I’m about to put my foot down and remind him exactly what the doctor said, when there’s a knock at the door to his room.
“This isn’t over,” I warn him.
I’m hoping it’s the nurse he’s been eyeballing, the only other person who might be able to convince him to wait until the end of the week, after his final round of tests, before he tries to break in the new leg doing something stupid.
Opening the door, I spot the dress uniform of a Marine and frown, then look up at him. Dark hair and eyes, olive complexion, heavy jaw, tapered nose, full lips and a low brow. He smells clean and of some light, sweet cologne that reminds me of coconuts. He’s got the lean physique and wide upper body of a swimmer that I’d drool over, if he were any other man.
“You,” I hiss.
Captain Sawyer Mathis has an intensity and calmness around him that infuriates me, especially when I think of how detached and cold he was at Mikael’s funeral, like saying farewell to my brother was a chore. His brown eyes are on me.
He’s as handsome as he is good at taking out the men of my family. Why Petr and Baba like him, I have no idea.
“Ma’am,” he replies.
“You here to make sure my other brother ends up six feet under?”
“No, ma’am. I’m here to check in on him.”
“These are family only visiting hours.” I slam the door closed, or try to.
His foot is jammed in the door. “With all due respect, ma’am, your brothers saved my life, which makes them more than family in my book.”
“With all due respect, Captain, I think you’ve done enough for my family.”
I swing the door open, realizing his foot isn’t about to budge. Planting my hands on my hips, I’m not about to move from the doorway.
Seeing him reminds me too much of Mikael and how I’ll never see my brother again. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let the man who got Mikael killed come near my Petr.
Captain Mathis’ jaw is clenched. I’m not sure what he can be thinking, but he sure as hell isn’t expressing anything that makes me think he’s more human than he was at Mikael’s funeral. I don’t know why he bothered showing up that day.
“If you want in, you’ll have to move me out of the way,” I tell him.
“You can’t weigh more than one thirty. I’ve carried packs heavier than you.” His gaze sweeps over me. “I’ll be out of your way in five minutes, ma’am,” he adds calmly. “But I won’t leave until I get that five minutes with your brother.”
“Violence and threats are the weapons of choice, I see. Guess it comes naturally to someone who thinks invading some sovereign country over oil and getting innocent people killed is the right thing to do.”
A flare of something crosses his gaze and vanishes quickly. “And I imagine you think saving the whales is more important than funding the equipment people like your brothers needed to stay alive in a hostile environment.”
“There wouldn’t be a hostile environment if we had a policy of peace rather than war,” I point out.
“I didn’t start the war, ma’am, but I will win it so people like you can maintain your way of life.”
“You aren’t going to win if you keep killing off your own men!” God, what an asshole!
We glare at one another, the air between us charged and thick. I hit a nerve with him and sense it. I’m happy for it. I hate this man, because he came back when my Mikael didn’t. Not even Captain Mathis’ thick biceps and broad chest can make up for him being what he is: the representation of everything I despise about the military and war that took my brother away.
“Step aside, ma’am.” The order is gravelly, low and quiet in the resolute tone of a natural leader. It cuts through my anger. His gaze is piercing.
He’s not like my brothers and father. He’s not backing down.
“Oh, Kitty-Khav, I think I need some … Tylenol.” Petr says from behind me, pain in his voice. “Can you get the nurse?”
At once, my attention shifts to my brother. He’s seated on the bed, forehead in one hand. I panic at the sight of him in pain. There were so many times I thought we were going to lose him … I’d do anything to keep him from going through the misery he’s spent the past four months in.
“Yes, of course!”
Captain Mathis forgotten, I push by him out of the room, intent on finding the nearest nurse I can, even if I have to drag one out of someone else’s room.
Chapter Three: Sawyer
It takes me a moment to recover. I’ve never wanted to put hands on a woman before and talk some sense in her or worse, take her out onto the battlefield and show her what real war is like. I can’t recall the last time someone got under my skin like that. It doesn’t help that it’s impossible to take my eyes off her. Katya Khavalov is stunning, more so when she’s angry, and I hesitated long enough for her to set up the battlefield to her advantage. I gave her enough time to mount a pre-emptive attack and do what no insurgents can: piss me off.
I gotta get better at dealing with civilians. Or maybe just this civilian, if I’m going to spend the week with Petr. No more giving her a chance to lure me into a minefield.
Refocusing mentally, I step into Petr’s room.
Petr bounces to his feet. “Hey, sir.” He’s grinning and moving around like the new leg is a part of him already. It’s nearly impossible to keep a spec-ops guy down for long. I know this and am proud of him.
And relieved.
“We’ve got about sixty seconds before she comes back,” he says and grabs his wallet off the stand. He picks up a pack half the size of his sister and slings it over one shoulder with ease.
“So you’re not hurting,” I guess, a smile spreading across my face.
“I’ll throw myself on a grenade for you, but I will not get in her line of fire,” Petr replies. With a quick, efficient walk, he leads me out of the room and down another hallway quickly, using techniques we employ in a war zone to evade detection in order to avoid his sister.
Not that I blame him. They weren’t exaggerating about her temper.
“Freedom!” Petr breathes when we step outside the hospital. It’s a private clinic I read about online with specialists that only families like Petr’s can afford. When I asked him why, he said it was because he could afford treatment that most other injured soldiers couldn’t, so to save the government resources for them.
They did him up right, I have to admit. He’s happy, healthy, strong and fully recovered.
“You drove, Iceman?” Petr asks with a glance over his shoulder.
“Black F-350.” I point to the largest truck in the parking lot.
“She’ll find us, but it helps to have a head start.”
I laugh. “Three tours in Iraq, and you’re running from your sister.”
“You heard that tongue. Before, it was divided between Mik and me. Now there’s just me. I’ve had no peace since waking up from the coma.”
“I take it she’s got no boyfriend?” Why did I just ask that? I want nothing to do with his sister, let alone care about her life.
“She did, but he left her. She spent weeks with me at the hospital and not enough time with him. We know how that goes.”
“Unfortunately.” Life in the military is as hard on those in it as it is on those who support loved ones who are deployed. I don’t know any member of the team who hasn’t gotten a Dear John email at some point over the past few years.
Unlocking the truck, I open the door and slide into the seat. He tosses his pack in the back then climbs into the passenger’s side.
“You move like you’ve got no problems at all,” I say, curious about his new appendage. “How does it feel?’
“Amazing. I want two legs like this.”
“According to your sister, hanging around me will probably get you another one.”
“The louder sh
e yells, the more it means she loves you,” he says. “Baba says so, at least. She means well.”
“I suppose.” She comes across more like a spoiled bitch with a two-dimensional view of the world to me, but I’m not going to tell him that. I’m not sure how the Khav twins can be related to her. They’re laid back, adventure seekers who never complained a day they were in my command. They definitely didn’t have the liberal indignation of their sister.
I’m pretty sure Katya and I would be at each other’s throats before the end of the first day, and I’d kick her off my team faster than I’d dive on a grenade for her brothers.
“Did I mention she runs fast, too?” Petr says with a grunt.
I glance up from adjusting the climate control dials. I can’t get over how much I miss AC.
Katya is close enough that her run slows to a walk as she nears the parking lot. Her glare is on me, like I’m kidnapping her brother. Her features are flushed in a way that brings out her hazel eyes even more, and I find myself looking at her too long again instead of taking the opportunity to escape.
Without the bulky black dress from the funeral, I can see the hourglass shape of her body beneath the tapered leggings and Bohemian style blouse she’s wearing. She’s got an incredible body, looks to kill, and a mouth bound to drive away any man with sense who wants a piece of that otherwise perfect package. Though I have a feeling she’d be worth the effort.
Irked by the thought, I clear my head. It’s been over a year since I’ve gotten laid. That’s all this is.
“Shit,” Petr says. “It was worth a try.”
“You’ve seen me combat drive. Not an issue,” I reply and start the truck.
“Well … except I’m her ride,” he says. “She can’t drive my motorcycle. If you don’t want her in the truck, I’ll take her on the bike she doesn’t know I own and will yell at me about.”
The last thing I want is her in my truck, but I’d do anything for my guys, even manage Petr’s sister for him.
“I’ll handle it.”
Petr glances at me, surprised. “I’ll give the eulogy.”
I’m not about to shy away from a little girl half my size who happens to have scared her spec-ops brothers and a former KGB officer shitless. If I can handle the super-alphas on my team, insurgents and the politics of being an officer in today’s military, I can handle her.
I close the door to the truck, calm as ever before a mission, and circle the vehicle.
She stops, glaring up at me, hands on hips again. “My brother is not going with you.”
“You’ve got a choice, ma’am,” I tell her. “You’re welcome to accompany us in silence, or you can walk to the retreat.”
“He’s not well enough to leave!”
“That’s not up for debate.”
“But Petr –”
“Not. Up. For. Debate,” I repeat more slowly.
Her eyes narrow. “I know he didn’t invite you to the retreat.” She’s referring to the reason I’m in town. After Mikael’s death, her family opened up a foundation in his name to help underprivileged children of military families where a parent had been lost. The first annual camp for the kids is kicking off this evening.
“As a matter of fact, he did,” I reply. “I’m the keynote speaker giving the initial address and sticking around for the week to help out as a camp counselor.”
Her fiery look goes to her brother.
“So, ride with us quietly or walk. Your call.” I’m using my calmest command voice, the one I’ve used to defuse situations between friendlies and restless allies.
“I’m not riding with you.”
Normally, I wouldn’t care how she got there. But I’ve got a competitive streak, one she managed to poke awake in the hospital. Our disagreement has elevated to a matter of principal, and I’m going to win this round.
“It’s twenty four clicks from here. You aren’t walking.” Jesus. How did they grow up with her and stay sane? “I’m going to count to five. Have your ass in the truck by the time I’m done, or I’ll put you there.”
She rolls her eyes. “You got any other tactics except for resorting to violence, hero?”
I don’t take her barb this time. Instead, I take off my cap and set it on the hood of the truck.
“One.” It’s followed by my dress jacket, which I fold neatly and place beside it. “Two.” I’ve got her attention now. She’s eyeing my biceps, which I will freely admit are huge, thanks in part to training I did with her brothers. I taught them to swim like a SEAL, and they helped me bulk up. “Three.”
“Petr said you jarheads are crazy.” She’s watching me as if trying to figure out how serious I am.
I suspect no one in her family has ever told her no or failed to give in when she yelled. But I’m not like anyone else she’s met before, and she’s about to learn that.
“Four.” Off go the shoes.
Katya moves slowly towards the truck, muttering something I’m pretty sure I don’t want to hear. She opens the door to the back, gets in and slams it.
I’d like to think she’s got the sense to know when she’s outmatched, but I think she’s more interested in making sure I don’t kill her brother between here and the retreat.
Damn civilians. I take my time to replace my clothing and rein in my temper before getting in the truck.
It’s quiet in the cab. I’m not sure why I’m so surprised.
Petr looks at me like I’m crazy but doesn’t speak, as if afraid to provoke the can of worms seated unhappily in the back seat.
“One big happy family,” I mutter and pull out of the parking lot.
It’s days like these where I’m almost glad I’m an orphan.
Chapter Four: Katya
Captain Mathis is an asshole with awesome biceps. I’m normally a thigh girl, but I have to admit – I could be swayed, if he wasn’t such a dick.
I want to think I’m old enough not to mope, but well, I’m pissed. This is my world, my brother, my retreat! When he’s involved, members of my family die. It’s taken every minute of every day to help get Petr healthy again, and I’m still scared that something might go wrong, that he, too, might be taken from me.
“Seatbelt,” Captain Mathis directs.
I pull it on.
Damn Marine. Not satisfied with killing people. He’s gotta kill the environment, too. I’m reduced to being a silent prisoner in the back of one of the eco-unfriendliest vehicles on the road.
No one speaks for a few minutes. It’s tense again, the way it was when I confronted him in Petr’s room.
My brother clears his throat. “It’s a beautiful day,” Petr says. “Will be fun getting back into the forest. Always loved it there.” By the smile on his face, I know he’s thinking about how he and Mikael built an insane obstacle course in the forest and would race each other through it every time they were home. “I’m definitely testing out the new leg this week,” he adds.
I open my mouth to protest, knowing the brutal, three-mile course is the last thing he should do before his final tests next week.
Captain Mathis gives me a warning look in the rearview mirror. “Fifteen clicks.”
I don’t exactly know what a click is, but I’m assuming it’s some military way of measuring distance. I do know that the asshole driving us would dump me on the side of the road in a heartbeat. If there’s one thing I sense about him, it’s that he doesn’t give idle threats.
I stare out the window, clamping my mouth closed.
Petr twists to glance at me. “First time for everything,” he says, impressed.
Biting my tongue, I lean forward and slap him on the back of the head.
He laughs. “Captain Sawyer Mathis, meet my sister, Katya.”
“We met at your brother’s funeral,” Captain Mathis says quietly. “She slapped me.”
“Katya!” Petr exclaims.
I ignore them both.
“No worries. Like a mosquito bite. Barely felt it,” Captain Mathis replies.
Get your jabs in now, jackass. The minute I’m out of the truck …
“Choking down the cookies she sent was worse.”
I gasp, staring at him.
“Ex-nay on the ookies-cay,” Petr says, laughing too hard. “They were a nice thought, Kitty-Khav. We all appreciated them.”
Hurt, I glare at Captain Mathis. I’m tempted to slap the back of his head, too, but something tells me he’s more likely to go ninja on me than my brother will. I’ll settle for making his life hell this week, since we’ll all be spending it together.
There’s nothing wrong with my cookies. Baba loves them. He’s the one always encouraging me to send them overseas to help cheer up deployed soldiers. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised a man with a nickname like Iceman doesn’t like cookies. He probably steals candy from kids and tells five year olds there’s no such thing as the Easter Bunny.
“Baba always asked what it’d take to keep you quiet, Kitty-Khav,” Petr says, smiling. “I guess the answer is a Force Recon Marine. God knows two Green Berets couldn’t.”
I’m glad he’s smiling. I just wish it wasn’t at my expense.
They chat about people they know, rattling off names of other service members. I’ve heard Petr mention a couple of them but can’t recall much about them. Gazing out the window, I watch as we exit the highway for a winding road leading through a forest. My family owns a lot of land along here. Our house is situated on about four hundred acres, a quarter of which was annexed from an old summer camp then renovated earlier this summer.
Mikael would love this camp idea.
Thinking of him makes me hurt inside. My chest gets tight, and my heart aches so much, I rub my left shoulder. I haven’t been to the forest since Mikael’s death. It didn’t seem right to return to his favorite place without him.
We turn down a dirt road, and Petr, too, falls silent. I have a feeling he’s thinking the same thing. I’ve gotten good at sensing his mood after sitting with him for most of the past four months. I was there when he awoke from his coma and when the night terrors seized him. He’d wake up screaming, and I’d crawl into the hospital bed with him and hold him until he stopped shaking. I helped him eat and take his meds when he was too weak or fevered to do it himself, and we developed our own little language for those days where he was too tired from the many surgeries to speak.