“Roger, sir.” Sal was trying to pay attention to the wire brush his boss was currently running over his ass but he was completely unable to focus. It would probably be a bad thing to tell his boss he needed to step up his game on the ass-chewing front.

The phone burned in his palm with the need to check on Holly but calling her right now would be a massive mistake. The sergeant major had pulled all the senior NCOs into his office. It was the last time he’d seen Holly before he got called in for his own come-to-Jesus meeting with the battalion commander, which was a special one-on-one event reserved specifically for Sal.

NCOs might believe in mass punishment but Sal’s battalion commander was not so egalitarian. No, LTC Gilliad believed in applying direct force to the offending neck.

Good times.

Gilliad was pissed. “Explain to me why I have a commander and first sergeant fighting at a bar in Harker Heights. Because for the life of me, I can’t come up with a reason for this that passes the common sense test.”

Sal took a deep breath, stalling to buy enough time to yank his temper back from the edge. He held it until his lungs burned before releasing it slowly. “No one was arrested, sir. And I’m tracking this actually seems to be the status quo for officers in this battalion?”

Gilliad held up his index finger. “Don’t you dare bring up the other commanders’ shenanigans when I’m chewing your ass, Commander.”

“Roger, sir. Won’t happen again.”

Gilliad’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Don’t get smart, Captain,” he said.

Finally his temper snapped its leash. “Sir, what would you rather? I let my guy get arrested or worse, get the hell beat out of him? We’re short on senior leaders across this battalion and I need all my guys at work. Pizzaro is at work today because he did not get arrested this weekend. Which means I can have him running the range and doing all sorts of shit that does not involve paying a bail bondsman, finding a lawyer, and all the other assorted fun that comes with being arrested.”

Gilliad leaned back on his desk. “And yet you had him arrested last week.”

“Roger, sir, I did. I’m trying to send a message to the formation that the bullshit Pizarro is pulling won’t fly. Not even for him.”

“Everyone’s replaceable, Sal.”

Sal ground his teeth. Closed his eyes and felt the burn deep in his soul at his commander’s words. “Sir, I respectfully submit that you try running your battalion staff without your sergeant major, your XO or your S3, then we can discuss who is replaceable and who isn’t.”

“What the hell is your problem, Bello? You’ve been given the opportunity to command and you’re pissing and moaning because you don’t have enough men? You go to war with the army you have, not the army you want.”

Sal stiffened. That quote felt like claws scraping down his spine. “I hate that quote, sir. It’s an excuse for failing to properly plan and prepare for combat. And there are very few things that we are required to do properly in order to put rounds on target. Which we have been short-changing in favor of meetings to discuss people’s therapy requirements and medical appointments.”

“You disagree with how I’m running this battalion.” A statement of fact.

Sal could have backed away from the edge of the abyss where he found himself looking at the end of his career. He could have stopped from making the hole he’d already dug any deeper.

But that simply wasn’t in the cards. “Well, sir, since you mention it, have we discussed how many hours a week we lose in meetings that are absolutely pointless and do nothing to improve our actual combat effectiveness?”

Gilliad leaned back against his desk, bracing his hands on the edge. “Oh, do tell, young captain. What should we be doing instead?”

“Training. Shooting our weapons. Working on our battle drills and our logistics. Instead we sit in meetings and argue ad nauseum about medical profiles and legal issues and goddamned government travel cards. Government travel cards aren’t going to protect our troops and they damn sure aren’t going to make a difference whether someone deploys or not.”

“Well, young captain,” and the tone in Gilliad’s voice told Sal he was about to get his attitude adjusted whether he wanted it or not. “Since you clearly have a better idea on how to run things than I do, I invite you to brief the brigade commander—tomorrow—on the state of your organization’s preparedness. I strongly advise you to be prepared.”

Sal frowned. That wasn’t exactly a punishment. A briefing? That was the result of Sal shooting off at the mouth again?

Sal said nothing. There was nothing he could say to dig his ass out of the hole in the ground he found himself in and he was honestly trying to figure out what the hell the catch was.

Briefing the brigade commander was a Very Big Deal in the grand scheme of things. Given that pretty much every commander in the battalion had been fired a few months ago and the new teams were considered very much the renegades of the battalion, it meant that Sal’s performance was going to reflect on every other commander in the unit.

Still. As punishments went, it felt very mild.

But there was no backing out now.

“Roger that, sir.”

“No protest?”

“Not much point, is there, sir?”

Gillian straightened and circled his desk, putting it between them. “No. I expect you in my office at five tomorrow morning for the first rehearsal.”

Oh, there would be rehearsals. “Roger that, sir.”

“You were all full of piss and vinegar a few minutes ago, Captain. What’s happened?”

Oh, what the hell. He was already pretty much screwed, might as well nail the damn coffin shut before he tossed it to the bottom of the ocean. “Sir, you just put the reputation of the entire battalion in my lap.”

“And?”

“And I won’t fail my fellow commanders, sir.”

“So confident of that, are you?”

He pinned his commander with a hard look. “Sir, I may be a lot of things, but one thing I will never do is let one of my brothers down.”

* * *

Holly stood shoulder to shoulder with Sorren, Morgan, Iaconelli and the other first sergeants. She felt tiny between Sorren and Morgan and she was by no means a small woman.

The ass-chewing continued as Cox railed against incompetence, malfeasance, communism, and chicken pox. Okay, maybe not chicken pox but it was a close thing. It had been a long, long time since she’d seen Cox this pissed off.

He continued by threatening to fire every one of them then pulled out his little green notebook. Just like that, the come-to-Jesus was over and they were discussing soldier business. Like it was a completely normal meeting and the five first sergeants hadn’t just been compared to Stalin and the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse in the same breath.

“Washington, are you tracking you and your fun little band of miscreants have to be at the Corps Headquarters tonight?”

Holly kept her expression carefully blank. “I am now, Sarn’t Major. What offense am I going to take it in the shorts for?”

“One of your special little fuck sticks was apparently playing music too loud again.”

She closed her eyes. “Her name wouldn’t happen to be Freeman, would it?”

“How’d you guess?”

“Are we ready to start talking about taking her rank, Sarn’t Major? ’Cause I’m just about sick of her shit,” Holly mumbled.

Beside her, Sorren grunted. She wasn’t sure if that was a laugh or a sympathetic noise. “Not funny,” she said under her breath.

“Of course it is. You don’t think you’re going to be the only one of us who doesn’t get bent over by the Corps sergeant major, do you?”

“A girl could dream,” she said dryly.

“Iaconelli, I need a status report on your range qualifications. Are we ready to hit the shoot house next week?”

“Roger, Sarn’t Major,” Iaconelli said. Holly didn’t know the big guy very well but he was taking over for Sorren as Bandit Company’s first sergeant since Sorren had gone and had himself a heart attack.

Sorren got the unlucky job of taking charge of the rear detachment with the Captain Anders who was also new to the unit. Holly was pretty sure he would rather be going to Iraq. Hell, he’d be one dumb bastard if he wanted to stay home. No way she’d want the Rear D job.

“Gentlemen, I’m tired of the boss pissing on my leg about this formation,” Cox said after a moment.

Holly briefly thought about grabbing her breasts to see if she’d somehow morphed into a guy but thought better of it. Cox looked like he was about to blow a gasket and she honestly didn’t want to deal with him, especially since he was already fired up. “If I need to make it painful for you, I will. We’re starting a weekly high-risk meeting. Each week, you’re going to brief me on what your high-risk soldiers are doing and what we’re doing to mitigate that risk. I expect daily updates on legal packets on every troublemaker we’ve got in this formation and I want them gone. Sorren is going to have his hands full with the spouses and the sick, lame, weak, lazy or crazy we leave back here. He doesn’t need to be dealing with criminals, too.”

Sorren made a sound that was suspiciously like a sniff. Holly shot him a quick look but not before Cox figured out that Sorren was screwing with him. “You think it’s funny, Sorren?”

“I didn’t know you cared, Sarn’t Major,” Sorren said, sounding a little choked up.

“Did you hit your head when you had that heart attack?” Holly asked.

“Get the hell out,” Cox snapped. They all turned to go. “Not you, Washington.”

Holly stood fast. Damn it.

“What happened to your face?”

“Tried getting Pizarro out of a fight at Ropers. Didn’t work out so well,” she said. The truth, actually. It felt good not to lie to him. “Why didn’t Bello get his own platoon sergeant out of the fight?”

“He actually made things worse, Sarn’t Major. I had things under control until he showed up.”

Cox lifted one eyebrow. “So you’re still having problems out of him?”

Problems? No, she wouldn’t say problems. “We’ve come to a working agreement, Sarn’t Major.” She paused.

“Good. Don’t be late for the Corps sergeant major.”

Holly left before her mouth engaged again and wrote a check her ass couldn’t cash.

* * *

Holly apparently sucked at makeup. She hadn’t managed to hide the bruise on her jaw from Sarn’t Major Cox and Captain Reheres noticed the minute they stepped out of the command group. And of course, she called her on it.

“Did you decide to take up combatives this weekend?” she asked dryly at first formation.

She could let the lie stand, let Reheres fill in the blanks and not answer. But that would complicate an already complicated situation. What was the saying? It wasn’t the crime that did you in, but the lies covering it up.

“Not exactly. I got called to Ropers to get my favorite sergeant out of a tight spot and things didn’t go as planned.”

Reheres lifted one brow in the shadows cast by the overhead light. “Oh, do tell.”

Holly shrugged. “Sarn’t Freeman broke restriction and her no-contact order again. I’m writing her up and adding to her packet. You’ll have the field grade Article Fifteen on your desk by noon.”

“You need a class on the proper use of concealer,” Reheres said as though Holly hadn’t just briefed her on one of their problem soldiers.

Holly looked at the younger captain sharply then. There was something in the younger woman’s tone that caught her attention, that sounded far too familiar. “Unless there’s something you need to tell me?”

Reheres flushed but did not look away. “I had a good friend once who was in a bad relationship. The one time I was around when he hit her, we spent some quality time at a makeup counter in Austin learning to hide the evidence.” Reheres shrugged, fidgeting with the edge of her notebook. “Funny thing. Turned out the makeup artist, her name was Faith, had a lot of experience with men and women. She volunteered at a local shelter for abused women.”

Holly released a quiet sigh. “I don’t suppose this story has a happy ending?”

Reheres tucked her hands into her reflective belt. “My friend got out of the army because her boyfriend threatened to kill himself if she didn’t.” She kicked at a random stone on the pavement. “We’ve lost touch.”

“I’m sorry,” Holly said after a moment.

“Can’t save everyone, right?” But there was nothing flip in her seemingly nonchalant words. There was pain beneath them, raw and fresh.

She gripped Reheres’ shoulder, hoping that the army wouldn’t destroy the kind soul in this young captain. It could be brutal on people who cared like she did. There was a healthy dose of cynicism needed to do this job well. But sometimes, people needed to be reminded that what they did mattered.

“Doesn’t mean the ones we can’t save don’t break our hearts.” Bad memories wrestled in the dark recesses of her heart.

“Isn’t that the truth? Anyway, what do I need to tell the battalion commander about this little number?” She motioned to the shadow on Holly’s jaw.

“The truth, I guess. Went to Ropers to try and get one of Diablo’s platoon sergeants out of an arrest. Things went poorly. Luckily, no one got arrested.”

“And the only incident we report is your heroic jaw.”

“First Sergeant!”

Holly stiffened at the anger in Sal’s voice. She was expecting it but still, it crawled up her spine and squeezed, reminding her that she was all too vulnerable.

She turned, bracing for what was coming, and saluted sharply. “Sir.”

“You plan on telling me why the battalion commander wasn’t tracking the hell that happened Saturday night?” Bello was visibly angry and for a moment, Holly doubted that this was staged.

“Which part, sir?” she said. Every eye in three companies was on them.

“The part where you got into a fight at the bar with my platoon sergeant? Do you always keep important information from your commanders?”

Reheres stepped to Holly’s side. “You’re out of line, Sal,” Reheres said.

Holly wanted to cheer for Reheres finding her backbone and standing up to Sal. Unfortunately, a thin coat of guilt covered her skin because the reason she was even standing there was based on a lie. Holly felt dirty.

“No, your first sergeant is out of line. I just got my ass ripped open because battalion commander wasn’t tracking the damn fight.”

“You were responsible for sending that information higher, sir.” Holly struggled to keep her voice level and calm. “I can do a lot but I’m damn sure not going to do your job for you.”

Echoes of older fights stood between them now. It was like the weekend hadn’t happened. That she hadn’t spent the night wrapped in this man’s arms, feeling his heart beating in time with hers.

It reminded her with brilliant, aching clarity why getting involved at work was stupid. It didn’t matter that the fight wasn’t real. It felt real.

She took a step backward, needing the distance from his anger. It was too close to home. Dredging up too many unplanned memories.

You don’t get a vote, Holly.

Don’t get it twisted, Todd. I most certainly do.

You fucking reported me?

And I’ll do it again if you ever put your hands on me again.

She hadn’t expected that memory to rise from the abyss, to twist around her spine and seize her guts until she thought she might puke right there on the PT field.

“I told you to send the report,” Sal said. She could hear the uncertainty in his voice, the hesitation behind the anger. Saw the flash of worry in his eyes.

“Again, you do your job and I’ll do mine, sir.” She glanced at Captain Reheres. “Ma’am, we need to do the huddle for the morning before the motorpool. I’ve got updates for you from over the weekend.”

“I wasn’t finished, First Sergeant,” he said.

She turned and offered a silent salute. “We’re done here, sir.”

She walked off, feeling dirty for lying to her commander, conflicted about everything that had just transpired. It had sounded good when she’d been cradled in his arms, felt his fingers threaded with hers.

But it was something different in the cold morning light.

Something that left a bad taste in her mouth. Something that felt like a betrayal of everything that she was, that she’d thought she’d stood for.