It's Always Been You

by Jessica Scott

  He glanced at her then, his eyes dark with uncertainty and shaded in doubt. “This is the part where I’d normally have a snappy comeback. But I seem to lose my stride around you.”

  She dropped her hand, because to leave it in place would take this conversation to a place she wasn’t ready to go. Not with Ben, not with anyone.

  She smiled, grasping for something light and flip to ease some of the want pounding in her veins. The space between them crackled with heat, with electric energy. “That’s good. It means I’m keeping you on your toes.”

  “You think so?”

  She backed up, one hand on the locker room door. “I’m leaving now.”

  “Hey.” She paused and turned back. He stood where she’d left him, his assault pack thrown over one shoulder. His eyes were dark, his mouth wide and far too beautiful. “Thank you, Olivia.”

  She offered a light smile, knowing it was a mistake and making it anyway. There wasn’t room for her to feel this way. Not for Ben Teague. She had to work with him. “You’re welcome,” was all she said instead.

  He left her there, holding on to the fleeting connection for as long as she could.

  Chapter Nine

  “Am I correct in understanding that you had two soldiers picked up from the police this morning?” Major Denis asked.

  Later that morning, Ben stood in the XO’s office, biting the inside of his lip to keep from smarting off at the field grade officer. He had absolutely zero business questioning Ben about his company. Zero.

  But First Sergeant Sorren had told him to play nice so he was trying to play nice. At least that’s what he kept telling himself. First Sergeant had threatened to lay his hands on Ben if he didn’t keep his smart mouth in check and Ben was reasonably certain that he did not mean it in a “heal his immortal soul” kind of way.

  “Roger, sir.”

  “Why didn’t you complete the proper paperwork?”

  Ben fought down a smart-ass remark. “Because they weren’t arrested. They didn’t meet the requirements for the serious incident report.”

  “That’s no excuse for not informing battalion.”

  Ben sucked on his teeth and considered how to play this. He didn’t really need a confrontational relationship with the battalion executive officer but then again, what did he care what Major Denis thought? Denis had lost Ben’s respect a long time ago.

  Ben wasn’t here to kiss his ass, or anyone else’s for that matter, and while his soldiers were guilty of going out and drinking and generally making asses of themselves, they hadn’t done anything wrong. Maybe in the lily white pure world of Major Denis, who’d never bothered to descend out of his ivory tower to the mud and muck and grime where the soldiers lived and worked and played. Denis had never lived with the men; he’d never walked patrols.

  He’d spent his first deployment avoiding the war, hiding out on the FOB and always finding some excuse not to go out in sector. Now he was in charge of a combined arms battalion, trying to lead sergeants and officers who knew the truth about the kind of man he was and called him on it.

  Ben had never judged anyone too harshly for what they did on a deployment but damn it, the war had been going on for eight years now and Ben was reasonably certain the only time Denis had fired his weapon was on a range. How the hell did that happen as an infantry officer?

  “I’m waiting for your answer, Captain Teague,” Denis demanded, interrupting Ben’s mental gymnastics.

  “I informed the battalion commander, sir.”

  “You think you should have thought about who else needed to know?”

  “Yep, and I made sure my first sergeant told the sergeant major.”

  Denis spit into the bottle on his desk. “You’re pushing your luck, Teague.”

  “I’m doing nothing of the sort. I’m pushing you out of commander’s business, sir. You’re responsible for maintenance and supply, not my soldiers’ actions, adverse or otherwise,” Ben snapped.

  He was going to have to go for another run before the day was over to get his temper reined in.

  “Did it ever occur to you that if I’m asking you for information, the boss has already given me my marching orders?” Denis asked.

  “And did it ever occur to you that if you step into commander’s business, that I would ignore you?” Ben said.

  “Remember who you’re talking to, Captain.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I got it, sir. Are you done pissing on my leg? I’ve got soldiers I need to take care of. Unless you need me to fill out paperwork for that?”

  Denis slammed his hand onto his desk, scattering papers and knocking over the dip bottle. “Goddamn it, Teague, watch your fucking mouth.”

  Ben offered a two-fingered mock salute as Sorren appeared in the doorway. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Get your ass back here, Captain. I’m not done with you.”

  “Sir, you’re not allowed to do anything with my ass. That would be a violation of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.”

  Ben walked out, falling into step with his first sergeant as they walked down the hallway and out of the headquarters. He could hear Denis still yelling as they left the building.

  “Did you have to go out of your way to piss him off?” Sorren asked after a while.

  “I make a special effort with him.”

  “Any particular reason why?”

  “Our history is long and distinguished, but primarily because he takes pleasure in being a pretentious asshole and I just like to remind him that he’s not all that special.”

  “That seems to be a trait common in the officer corps these days. Something about pinning on field grade makes all y’all’s brains turn to mush.”

  Ben slapped Sorren’s shoulder with a grin. “Don’t worry, the same thing will happen to you when you pin sergeant major.”

  “Nah, not me.” Sorren shook his head. “I’m probably retiring after this tour.”

  Ben glanced over at his first sergeant, not bothering to hide his shock. “Why?”

  They started walking back toward the company ops. “The army’s not the place for me anymore.”

  Ben frowned and stuffed his hands in his pockets until Sorren glared at him and he pulled them back out. “Why do you say that?”

  “I think I’ve reached max effectiveness as a first sergeant. I don’t think I’ll politic well enough to make sergeant major.”

  “I’m sure if you hold your nose, you can kiss the right hairy ass to get picked up.”

  Sorren grunted, clearly unamused. “It’s not about politicking. It’s about bringing our boys home from combat. And I don’t think I can do that at any higher level. If they’d let me stay a first sergeant forever, I’d do it.”

  “The army’s changing, that’s for sure.” Ben cleared his throat.

  “So I’ve got some bad news,” Sorren said as they entered the company. “Foster ended up getting himself arrested.”

  “Ah hell.” Ben scrubbed his hand over his mouth. “For what?”

  “He decided to get lippy with the cop. Who happened to be the father of the girl Foster’s seeing. That girl was the reason Foster got into a bar fight in the first place.”

  “Lovely,” Ben muttered. “Well, let’s go get him.”

  Sorren shook his head. “We can’t do that, sir.” He toed the door to Ben’s office shut behind him. “We’ve got to let him make his own bail.”

  A warning tickled in the back of Ben’s neck. “We can’t just leave him there.”

  “We can and we will. I’ve played this game before. When the civilians have them, we leave them there until the civilians either turn them over to us or they make bail.”

  Ben couldn’t shake the unease that settled in his guts. It was nerves. He knew it was nerves and still, he couldn’t rein it in.

  He couldn’t leave Foster in jail.

  “I’m going to go visit him at least,” Ben said quietly.

  Sorren studied him, his eyes filled with weariness and resignation. “I figured you’d sa
y that.”

  An hour later, Sorren pulled up to a traffic light, slowing his vehicle to turn into the Bell County parking lot. “We’re just going to make sure he’s not being mistreated, if there’s anything we can bring him and all that stuff.”

  Ben nodded, not saying anything.

  He’d done a lot of stupid shit over the years. Hell, a lot of it had been done with Foster in their wilder days.

  But he’d never had to visit Foster in jail.

  A thousand emotions rioted inside him, unspent anger and shame that he’d left his friend behind when Ben had taken up the mantle of command.

  And now, when he had all the power in the world, there was nothing he could do. They pulled up to Bell County jail and went through the check-in procedures. Foster was brought out into one of the visiting areas. He was gaunt, his eyes sunken and hollow. His bones cut harsh lines beneath his skin. His fingernails were dirty and crusted and there were harsh black smudges beneath his eyes.

  He looked nothing like the smart-mouthed gunner Ben had served with. Panic twisted in Ben’s guts. “What the hell happened to you?”

  “Couldn’t really sleep last night, worrying about my virtue,” Foster said, trying to grin. “For a county lockup, there are some horny bastards in here.”

  Ben rolled his eyes. “That’s not funny.”

  “It’s a little funny.” Foster grinned but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Nice of you to finally come by,” Foster muttered.

  “Sir. You will remember your military bearing,” Sorren corrected.

  Foster jerked a thumb toward Sorren. “Where’d you dig this guy up?”

  Sorren took a step toward Foster, who took a corresponding step backward, hands held up in supplication. “Whoa, there, big fella.” Foster glanced at Ben with a grin. “Someone needs a hug.”

  Sorren made a noise deep in his throat and Ben laughed. “Stop picking at him, Foster. Jeez, I need you two to play nice together.”

  “Did you come to bail me out?” Foster asked.

  Ben sucked in a deep breath. “I can’t, man.”

  “Nice,” Foster said. “The only reason I’m in here is because Monica’s dad doesn’t like me.”

  “Maybe you should have made more of an effort to get along with her dad,” Sorren said gruffly.

  Foster leaned forward, cupping his chin in one palm. “Sounds like someone is an angst-y dad. Someone’s daughter start dating?”

  Ben glanced at Sorren. “You have a kid?”

  The muscle in Sorren’s jaw pulsed, tight and tense. “Yeah. She lives around here with her mom.”

  A slow smile spread across Ben’s mouth. “Oh, really?”

  “Now is neither the time nor the place for this conversation,” Sorren said roughly. “And you need to mind your own damn business, smart ass,” he said to Foster.

  “Oh, I can’t wait to post bail,” Foster said. “Life around the company is going to be so much more interesting now. You really can’t spot me the bail money?” he said to Ben.

  The comment was light but beneath it was a seriousness. A very real edge. Being in jail wasn’t fun, no matter how much Foster was trying to make light of the situation.

  Ben swallowed, the words bitter in his throat. “I can’t.”

  “I’m not sleeping. I want to come home.”

  “Do you have any family or anything to help with your bail?” Ben asked, memories twisting inside him, like a knife beneath his ribs. Seeing his soldier in jail—no matter how stupid the charges—grated on his last nerve.

  And there was nothing he could do.

  Foster shook his head. “I’ll see if I can’t line something up with one of the bail bondsmen,” he said. He looked up at Ben sheepishly. “Sorry if this got you in trouble with your boss.”

  Ben shrugged. “It’s not my boss I’m worried about.”

  Foster stood as one of the guards came in. “Time’s up. Hopefully, I can post bail soon.” He looked up at Sorren. “Nice to meet you,” he said with a grin.

  “Oh, I can see you’re going to be incredibly fun to have around,” Sorren said roughly.

  “I shall aim to please,” Foster said.

  He shuffled to the door where the guard waited. Ben didn’t move, hating himself for leaving Foster there.

  Foster paused, looking back.

  And Ben saw it. The very real fear of going back into lockup. He swallowed the sudden dryness in his throat.

  He hadn’t even been in command a week and he was already turning his back on the soldiers who depended on him. Foster tried to play it off but Ben could see the look of betrayal on Foster’s face as they left. It burned, deeply, that he wasn’t supposed to do shit like bail his buddies out of jail anymore. It felt like betrayal—because that’s what it was. It penetrated Ben’s sense of self and ate away at who he thought he was.

  Already he was becoming what he feared. A man more concerned about accomplishing the mission than taking care of his soldiers.

  And Foster was the first victim on that sacrificial altar.

  He followed Sorren out of the county jail, his thoughts a million miles and a half a war away.

  Which is why he ran straight into Olivia Hale.

  * * *

  “I’m noticing a pattern,” Olivia said dryly.

  “Sorry,” Ben mumbled.

  He was distracted, deeply so. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and his mouth was pressed into a humorless, flat line. “I’m actually glad you’re here,” she said.

  He frowned, glancing at his first sergeant. “That is a really strange thing to say in front of the county jail,” he said wryly.

  She grinned. “Not if I need you to take custody of one of your soldiers.”

  Relief washed over his face, raw and primitive. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Bell County doesn’t want to hold Foster. They want to turn him over to us to deal with his case.”

  “You realize there’s no case there, right?” Ben asked.

  She lifted one shoulder. “I figured you’d say that,” she said. “But we’ll get all the paperwork together and see about getting him out.”

  Ben licked his lips, pressing his mouth flat. “What’s the catch?”

  Olivia exhaled deeply. “You’ll have to make the decision of whether to go forward with charges, for him getting into trouble off post.” She studied him carefully, watching his expression closely. “Think you can handle that?”

  His throat moved as he swallowed. “Yeah, I can do that.”

  It was a ridiculously long process to get a soldier out of jail but she was reasonably certain she’d never seen Ben relax more visibly than when Foster walked out a free man. She sat on one of the waiting room plastic chairs, reviewing paperwork while they waited.

  Escoberra’s packet was on her lap. God, but this case was such a disaster. CPS hadn’t managed to get anything done.

  It was going to drag out forever.

  She glanced over at Ben. She knew how badly he wanted to believe in his platoon sergeant but the paperwork simply didn’t match up with Ben’s version of reality.

  Escoberra had put Hailey in the hospital.

  She turned the page, double-checking all the paperwork in the packet. She frowned. An awards citation. Tucked into the very back of the folder. Army Commendation Medal with V device for valor. Awards weren’t usually part of military justice packets. Not like this.

  Olivia read the citation carefully, then turned the page for the awards form. Second Lieutenant Ben Teague had written the award.

  Escoberra had been wounded in combat and Ben had been the officer who’d put him in for an award. An award for valor was a very big deal. Those didn’t happen often.

  She read the write-up then turned it over.

  It had been downgraded.

  Sir, a talented soldier but valorous action occurs every day. This is not worthy of a Bronze Star.

  Olivia frowned at the summary rejection of Ben’s recommendation. She read the award again and the
captain’s remarks on the back. Captain Paul Denis. She frowned. Surely this couldn’t be the same Denis as the executive officer in Ben’s battalion?

  That would explain a lot of the interpersonal hostility she sensed whenever Denis and Ben were in the same room.

  She knew Ben and Escoberra had served together, but this? This said there was more to this story than she knew. She looked up at Ben, where he stood talking to Sorren and Foster, waiting on the final paperwork.

  Would he tell her if she asked? She had her doubts.

  She read the comment on the back of the award again. Something about it struck her as cold. Uncaring. Escoberra had received three bullet wounds—luckily none life-threatening—and his commander had, with the stroke of a pen, said his actions weren’t enough to warrant a higher award.

  What kind of man thought like that?

  Was this what Ben was afraid of becoming?

  Suddenly, some of his reluctance to take command made sense. If this was the kind of man Ben had served with, no wonder he was worried about what the power of the job would do to him.

  And what had that downgrade done to Escoberra? More, what had it done to Ben?

  She looked at the date of the firefight and wondered if she could find out anything else about it. There was something here. Something that nagged at her. A missing piece to the mystery that was Ben Teague.

  She didn’t think that Ben would defend Escoberra on a whim—it should be a no-brainer with the man’s being charged with that kind of violence against a child.

  But his slap at her the other day when he’d told her she wouldn’t understand what combat did to someone stung, not because he was wrong but because he was right: she didn’t know.

  She watched him laugh with Foster.

  And reading the award citation, she wanted to know, badly, how that incident had shaped and changed the man now in charge of Bandit Company.

  She should just stop being a coward and ask Ben. But despite their awkward truce, she wasn’t sure he would talk to her about it.

  Maybe he would.

  Whatever had happened during that firefight was personal. One, if not more, of his soldiers had gotten wounded. She remembered the scar she’d seen on his stomach. Had that happened during the same battle? How could it be anything but personal?