by Julie Rowe
What. The. Fuck. “When have I ever broken a regulation?”
He stared at her. “The incident in Germany isn’t going to go away. You disobeyed an order from an officer. The judge advocate general is considering charges.”
“The officer who gave me those orders wasn’t a member of the United States military. Those orders would have compromised the safety of Max and the wounded German officer.”
“Those distinctions may or may not matter in the long run.”
The long run.
What was her long run? She’d been in the military for eight years. She’d graduated from Brown with a degree in Psychology and Cognitive Science, thinking she would concentrate on dealing with cultures and languages in some capacity. It turned out her martial arts training, begun as a child, ended up being even more valuable.
It had started by accident during Basic. An instructor called upon her to demonstrate how to resist a takedown technique, only she did too good a job. She’d put the instructor on his back and when he continued to come at her, she put him down twice more. He asked what training she had, so she told him. Black belt in Brazilian jujitsu, expert in Krav Maga and some Muay Thai.
He’d asked her if she’d killed anyone.
She’d told him the truth. Yes, but it was in self-defense.
The next day, she’d been told not to participate, only observe the training sessions. Which she was fine to do, until the instructor demonstrated a technique completely wrong. She’d walked forward then, begged the instructor’s indulgence, and demonstrated the technique correctly as an alternative. The instructor proved he wasn’t an idiot by naming another technique and having her demonstrate it. Then she offered slight corrections based on size of attacker and defender.
That evening, the instructor asked her to train him after hours. Four other instructors showed up for training three days later.
Two weeks after that, her father came to see her. Her skills in combat and instruction were more valuable to the army than her university degree.
She’d looked on it as a challenge. Before long she was training the military elite and teaching them that women aren’t weak.
Eight years of combat training.
She’d made enemies during that time. Twice she’d fought off men who thought she needed to be brought down a peg or two through rape. Others had tried to remove her using other means, but her skill and the support of the majority of the men she trained had thwarted their efforts.
What was her long run?
She’d helped to train some exceptional soldiers. Some of them had the skills and enthusiasm to take over her training role for the Special Forces. They could carry on, should she decide on a different path for her career.
Max’s group was doing important work. Work that would become only more important in the future.
“I agree,” she said to the man who was her commander as well as her father. “If I were to stay in my training role.”
He sat back, as was his habit, to consider what she said and didn’t say. “Are you thinking of a permanent transfer to Max’s team?”
“They need me. Special Forces doesn’t. There are a half-dozen men just as qualified to teach hand-to-hand combat as I am.”
“Most of them you trained yourself.”
She smiled. “Exactly. I know how good they are.”
Her father pursed his lips like he’d taken a big bite of a lemon. “Max needs you. He can’t shoot and couldn’t fight his way out of a kindergarten class.”
“True.”
The general drummed his fingers on his desk for a moment, then leaned forward and said, “He’s not someone you can fix, Ali.”
“I don’t want to fix him, Dad. I want to help him fix himself.”
“You don’t know what’s wrong with him.”
“Do you?”
“Not entirely.”
“I thought he was an arrogant ass for a long time, but I’ve changed my mind. He’s not arrogant, he’s focused. So much so that he doesn’t always know what to say and who to say it with. He’s almost too honest. He needs someone like me to bridge the gap between his people and the rest of the army.”
General Stone grunted. “So, tell me again how having an argument in public is going to help the situation with Akbar.”
“I want to see if we can send inaccurate information by way of the grapevine to Akbar. Fool him into thinking Max’s people aren’t all on the same page. Convince him we’re divided on a number of issues and any response we might make will take longer or go in the wrong direction. I also want to plant doubt in the minds of the men supporting Akbar, help them see that he’s as much a danger to them as we are.”
“Baiting a man like Akbar is dangerous, Ali.” Concern creased her father’s face, and for him to show it meant he was scared.
“It’s our best chance at catching him.” She did her best to project confidence. If she didn’t find a way to reassure her father, he could put a stop to the whole thing. “Before he’s ready with whatever plague he comes up with next.”
“Akbar isn’t playing a game, he’s lost his moral compass. That makes him dangerous and he’s not going to be easy to predict.”
“He’s an extremely intelligent, angry, vengeful man,” she said to her father. “I think predicting his actions will be the least of our worries.”
“How many people he’s going to kill...” the general began.
“...is the bigger one,” his daughter finished for him. “We need to keep him off his game. If his allies start asking questions or begin to doubt his stated agenda, we win.”
He sat back and stared off into space for a long while.
Her father was not a man to waffle on a decision, but he did take other opinions into account, if those opinions were based in facts, sound strategy and good tactics.
“No, Sergeant, I can’t condone this social experiment of yours. The situation is too volatile.”
Well, shit.
“Understood, sir.” She stood and saluted.
Her father returned her salute, then ordered, “Keep the verbal sparring down to a dull roar or you might find yourself facing those charges.”
Alicia left the general’s office and marched toward the lab.
Max was going to be happy to have the general on his side. She, on the other hand...
Son of a bitch.
No matter how mad she was, she was going to have to keep it tucked away where no one could even get a whiff of it. For her father to mention those possible charges meant it wasn’t an idle threat. He didn’t do that.
She didn’t have time for legal stupidity. Max needed her.
Needed her in a way no one had for a couple of years.
In many ways Max was the perfect soldier. Built to protect at the cost of his own life, he took his fear and used it to fuel his brain. He was one of those guys who thought of his own safety last. If someone threw a grenade into a crowded room, he’d throw himself on it.
The problem was, he wasn’t disposable. There were only a few people who could step into his role and all of them were busy running their own organizations.
She made her way back to her quarters and made a couple of phone calls to the men who had stepped into her role as a combat instructor. Just in case those charges stuck.
They reported no issues and seemed enthusiastic about the work. If she ended up on trial or decided to transfer permanently, the program would be in good hands.
A few seconds after she hung up, her phone went off.
“Stone,” she said.
“This is Private Walsh,” Eugene said to her, his voice high with stress. “Colonel Maximillian would like to see you in his office.”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes.” She hung up. For Eugene to sound so s
trung out, Max had to be pissed off.
When she entered the lab building, Eugene was on his computer, but his hunched shoulders told her he wasn’t a happy camper.
A female soldier was standing to one side by several boxes, writing on a tablet.
Alicia met Eugene’s gaze.
The private’s expression didn’t change.
“Is he in?” she asked.
“Yes, Sergeant.” The private swallowed hard, but nodded. “Go right in.”
“Thanks.” She gave him a nod, then opened the door and stepped inside Max’s office. The snick of the door closing sounded louder than usual.
“You asked for me, sir?” she asked from her spot just inside the door.
Max stared at her, then said, “I just got a call from General Stone.”
She didn’t reply, except to shrug.
“Then I got a call from the Judge Advocate General’s office.”
He watched her body go rigid.
“Do you know what they asked me?”
“Not specifically, sir.”
“They asked me if I wanted to press charges against you for insubordination. It seems they’d heard of our slight disagreement at lunch.”
She didn’t reply.
“I told them it was a private matter. They informed me that they were considering insubordination charges related to another incident with a different officer.”
She remained silent.
“So I explained our unique situation to them, how horrible my shooting and unarmed combat skills are, and how, when it comes to training, you’re in charge regardless of your student’s rank. I also told them that sometimes, officers who’ve been in a position of authority for a long time forgot that.”
She made eye contact with him then, surprise relaxing her face a tiny bit. “Thank you, sir.”
“No thanks needed. It’s the truth. It’s also the truth when I say going over my head to your father isn’t going to change anything. This is my team, and when we’re not training, I’m in charge. Are we clear on that, Sergeant?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good, you’re dismissed.”
“Don’t forget our sparring session, sir.”
“I’m unlikely to forget,” he said wryly. “I’ve been offered condolences for my upcoming ass whooping.”
Her jaw dropped. “Really?”
“Ever since our conversation at lunch, people appear convinced that you’re going to pound me into the mats. I haven’t had anyone point and laugh at me yet, but it might be just a matter of time.”
“No one would laugh at an officer of your rank.”
“Maybe not where I can see them.” He shrugged. “But it may make things awkward for my staff to have the whole base gossiping about us.”
“I told you before,” she said. “Anyone I find gawking or making fun will have to face me on the mat instead. See you at fourteen hundred, sir.”
She left the office, wondering how she could make this situation work. When she looked up, she found herself the subject of Eugene’s gaze.
“He’s all yours, Eugene.”
“Um, thanks?” the private said, uncertainty making the statement a question.
* * *
The sparring room was unusually busy that afternoon, yet Alicia found herself in a wide circle of open space. She glared at the men who were working hard at not looking at her while she waited for Max to arrive.
She’d shown up five minutes early to give herself time to claim adequate space. That didn’t look like it was going to be a problem.
A couple of minutes later Max arrived and joined her on the mat. He looked around sourly and fixed her with an accusatory stare. “Are you going to beat up everyone in the room?”
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Let me start with you first.”
He sighed in resignation, but came toward her.
She started by demonstrating a simple judo throw used against an attacker coming at a person directly. She went through the motions, landing Max on the mats quite gently three times. Then it was his turn to throw her.
She came at him slowly, allowing him to grab her shirt just like he was supposed to. Instead of pulling her forward and twisting his torso like he should have, he tripped over his own feet, fell to the mat on his back and yanked her on top of him.
A couple of people chuckled and she untangled herself from Max as she identified the ones who had laughed.
She called both men over and told them to attack. They decided to double team her, but she didn’t hesitate to take them both down. One of them rolled to his feet to attack her from behind.
Did he think she couldn’t handle that? Of course, knowing a woman trains Special Forces in hand-to-hand and discovering she can beat your ass at the same time as beating another guy were two different things.
She put him on his back again. And again.
When he got up a fourth time, Max stepped in. “You’re done and you’re cutting into my training time.”
The soldier sneered at Max and took two swaggering steps toward him.
Max just looked at him for a couple more seconds.
“Permission to leave, sir?” the guy asked, all the bravado wiped off his face.
Max nodded once and the moron took off. His buddy picked himself up off the mats and followed him out.
“Now,” Max said, turning back to her. “Where were we?”
Alicia sighed. “Two left feet, that’s where we were.”
“If it makes you feel any better I can’t dance either.”
“Not really.” She considered him for a moment, then shook herself and continued with the lesson.
She put Max on the mats in every position imaginable—front, back, sides and practically standing on his head. She didn’t say much beyond “Up.” And “Again.”
Max didn’t say anything at all.
The men sparring around them moved slower than usual, obviously watching with increasing amazement as she, half the size of the colonel, threw him around. She moved from judo to the other martial arts she was an expert in, careful to pull her punches, kicks and strikes, or she’d have knocked Max cold a dozen times or more.
He tried to stay out of reach, tried to defend himself, but she moved with speed and confidence.
Near the end of their sparring session she began to see the expressions of the soldiers watching them, clandestinely or she would have called them on it, shift into extreme respect for her and sympathy for him.
It wasn’t the rumor she’d wanted, but it might do. For now.
One man cleared his throat after Max was pinned to the mat by a move she was sure he hadn’t even seen coming.
“Excuse me, Sergeant,” the soldier said with respect. “Could I ask which martial art you just demonstrated to the colonel? I’ve never seen that takedown before.”
“Krav Maga,” she responded.
The soldier’s eyes widened. “Any chance I could sign up for lessons?”
“At the moment my plate is full.” She glanced at Max, whose expression could only be described as patient. “But if things change,” she continued, “I’ll post a sign-up sheet near the gym doors.”
“Thanks, Sergeant,” the soldier said to her, then he nodded at Max and went back to his own sparring partner.
Stone glanced at her watch. “That’s enough for now, Colonel.”
“Thank you, Sergeant.” He walked out of the training area.
How did he do it, maintain his calm demeanor? He wasn’t emotionless or cold, just inhumanly composed.
She quickly washed up, changed into a clean uniform and went to his office.
They needed to have a little chat.
She knocked on his door.
“Come,” he said.
Alicia walked in. He was buttoning his uniform shirt. She raised an eyebrow at his not quite dressed state, and closed the door.
“Quite a performance,” he said to her. “Have you had to do that before?”
If she hadn’t been intrigued by his behavior before, that question alone would have sparked her interest. Instead of calling her on her shitty attitude, disciplining her for her lack of respect or getting plain mad because she wasn’t entirely cooperating with him in the way he wanted, he showed concern and curiosity.
What would it take to make him lose it?
She looked at him. “Unfortunately, several times. The guy who asked for lessons is just about the best-case scenario I can expect. It means no one else is going to test me.” She tilted her head to one side, studying him.
He caught her expression. “What?”
“You’re calm. After a very difficult training session, you look like you’ve done nothing more strenuous than going for a stroll.”
“Officers are supposed to retain their ability to think and divorce themselves from strong emotion during an attack. It’s the only way to ensure your decisions are the right ones. Anyone who allows emotion to cloud their thinking or dictate their actions is a dangerous liability.”
“Yeah, but officers are human beings too. I just realized I’ve never seen you angry. The way you reacted to that asshole I tossed around was the closest thing to anger I’ve ever seen from you, but you weren’t really angry, more...annoyed.”
“He forgot who I was.” Max shrugged. “I reminded him.”
She nodded and pressed her lips together. “What would make you angry?”
“You want to motivate me to fight with emotion?”
At least he didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Yes.”
“Not going to happen.”
She blinked, genuinely confused. “Why not?”
“Because,” he told her, “that’s one thing no man of moral character ever does.”
For a moment she stared at him as one of the pieces of Max’s puzzle finally became visible.
He’d been hurt. Badly.
This was a man with bruises on his soul, bruises so deep it was going to take a lifetime to heal them.