Sal was contemplating throwing his computer out the front window when his first sergeant knocked on his office door. Sal had been nervous when he’d been told he was taking command in a unit where the entire chain of command had been fired, but when Delgado had been assigned as his first sergeant, Sal knew he’d be able to focus on command instead of having to babysit his first sergeant.

NCOs like Delgado were rare, too rare.

Delgado walked into the office and toed the door shut.

“So does Pizzaro at least have a good story?” Sal asked.

Delgado shook his head and braced his hands on his hips. “Not really. Something stupid about a fight at Ropers again last night.”

Sal leaned back and braced his hands on the top of his head. “We need him when we go downrange, Top. You know that. But this is getting out of control.”

Delgado shifted and his sleeves inched up, revealing a glimpse of the tattoos that he knew extended to full sleeves and then reached across Delgado’s upper back.

Delgado shifted. “I’ve got this, sir. I’ll get his ass in line. We can’t go downrange missing a platoon sergeant because we decided that NCOs doing what NCOs do is suddenly upsetting to the higher ups.”

Delgado wasn’t wrong. Raising hell was part of being a soldier. Sal leaned forward and slid a sheet of paper toward his first sergeant. “Then what are we going to do about this?”

It was the blotter report—the official notification by the civilian police to the military that a soldier had actually been arrested last night. Pizarro’s name was highlighted in yellow at the top of the block of text. “It’s in official channels now. We’re not going to be able to protect him.”

The muscle in Delgado’s jaw clenched. “I’ll get it taken care of.”

“Do I want to know how you’re going to get this taken care of?”

“It’s better if you have plausible deniability, sir,” Delgado said.

Sal grinned. “Roger that, Top.”

He had an idea that the blotter report was going to turn up missing and Sal honestly wasn’t worried about it. Pizarro hadn’t killed anyone, hadn’t gone on a drunken rage. He’d gotten in a bar fight. Sal had been in so many he’d lost count.

If Pizarro’s report turned up missing, then so be it. It didn’t matter if Pizarro was blowing off steam or how so long as no one got hurt—it mattered that he was on a plane in six months heading back to Iraq and the simple chaos that was the war.

Sal needed warriors. “Get his shit locked in tight, Top. This needs to stop. If the boss decides to get involved, I’m not sure how much interference I’m going to be able to run.”

Delgado nodded sharply. “Got it, sir.”

“Good. Now what’s going on with the range next week?”

“We need to get the support company to get their soldiers in line. Can you talk to their commander? I’m liable to choke their acting first sergeant.”

“I’m afraid to ask why my XO hasn’t handled this.”

“He’s too busy getting some pussy from one of the platoon leaders in the special troops battalion. Needs some damn saltpeter in his energy drink to get his head back in the game.”

Sal grunted. “I’ll take care of that one.”

“Worry about the XO after you kick the support company in the balls first. We need that ammo lined up sooner rather than later and if I go back over there, I’m going to drop-kick someone in the teeth.”

Sal stood and grabbed his headgear. “I’ll take these files to battalion then head over there and see what I can’t get straightened out.”

“Roger that, sir.” Delgado paused. “Are we really only shooting from the prone, sir? We’re going to be kicking in doors in six months. We need to be shooting on the move, not knocking down paper targets.”

Sal stilled and tried to come up with a diplomatic answer. Tried and failed. “The boss wants our stats up before we deploy. Our stats involve paper targets.”

The rage burned beneath his heart and it was matched by the anger in Delgado’s eyes looking back at him. “Those stats aren’t going to bring our boys home, sir.”

Sal paused, knowing his first sergeant was right and hating the feeling of impotence that circled his guts for not doing more to fight the entire stupid range. They were wasting ammo on shooting paper targets when they needed to be doing more, so much more, to prepare for the war. “I know, Top. I’m working on alternatives but unless we get more ammo, we’re screwed.”

They were going downrange undertrained and unprepared and there was nothing, nothing Sal could do about it. For a commander in the world’s most powerful army, the sense of helplessness tore at him.

They stepped into the main office. Pizarro stood at parade rest near Delgado’s office. His black t-shirt sported a white skeleton with a sombrero and was ripped across the chest. Pizarro’s black hair was shaved close to his scalp in a cut that matched Delgado’s—a high and tight that was just inside of authorized.

A small blond female stood next to him, also at parade rest.

“Who’s this?” Sal asked Delgado.

“Sergeant Rachel Freeman. From the support company,” Delgado said. “Not arrested, most likely because she lacked a penis,” Delgado said dryly.

“Why did you pick her up?” Sal asked.

“Because she was there and part of our battalion,” Delgado said.

It didn’t quite pass the sniff check—Delgado didn’t do things like that out of the goodness of his heart. Which meant there was more to the story. Sal would get it out of him later. Delgado was too good at staying one step ahead of the soldiers and their stupid little mental fuck fuck games.

Sal didn’t have to question Delgado’s methods. He knew they worked. There was no one better at kicking ass and getting young soldiers ready to face the crucible of combat. “Send her back to her company and let her commander deal with her.” Sal paused, wishing his life was less soap opera and more combat training, but every time he turned around, there was some new drama unfolding.

And half of it was coming from his battalion commander. Things were getting ridiculous. It was like the senior leadership was already pretending they were back to being a peacetime army instead of an army still at war.

“I’ll be back,” Sal said.

“Roger, sir.”

Pizarro said nothing as Sal walked past him. The female sergeant avoided looking at any of them. He couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed or pissed or a mixture of both.

Interesting.

Or at least it was while Pizarro’s divorce had been processing. Amanda Pizarro hadn’t been the kind of woman who put up with her husband fooling around. Which was probably why Delgado had to pick Pizarro up from jail as opposed to him calling his now ex-wife and posting bail. Now the fact that a sergeant first class was hooking up with a sergeant didn’t really matter to anyone unless there were other problems.

Sal sighed and headed to battalion.

Maybe someday, he’d get to go back to war. It was so much easier than pretending he was even remotely qualified to deal with the kids, marriage, and family problems.

Oh, he'd do it. But only because it would get him one day closer to getting on the plane and going back to the only thing he was good at: war.

* * *

“First name, Top?”

First Sarn’t Holly Washington looked down at the skinny private in the admin office. It was a sad commentary on her life that she had to think about her first name. It had been Sarn’t or Firs’ Sarn’t so long sometimes she forgot.

“Holly,” she said after a moment.

“Date of rank?”

“Can’t I just fill out the form and you enter it after I leave?” She had other things to do than sit here and wait while the skinny admin clerk hunted and pecked her name, social security number, and boot size into the personnel database.

“It’ll be easier if I just add it with you here, Top,” the private said.

Holly bit the inside of her cheek and prayed for patience as the ungodly slow soldier continued to enter her information into the database one agonizing key strike at a time. Didn’t they teach typing in high school anymore?

She pulled out her government-issued Blackberry and pretended to check her e-mail while scanning the new soldiers in the personnel office. A private first class sat in the office, looking guilty as all get out. Of what, she had no idea, but she definitely recognized the signs. “What’s the deal with that guy?” she asked the private.

“He was AWOL as of yesterday.”

Holly turned back around. “Why?” Soldiers usually went AWOL for a reason. It wasn’t usually a very good reason but they all didn’t just decide not to show up on a whim.

“Not sure, Top,” the private said.

Then it could be anything from porn addiction to gambling, to just not wanting someone to yell at you. “Is he flagged?”

“Not yet,” he said.

She had no clue about any of these guys or what the unit culture was like. She’d heard it was in a shit-ton of trouble and trying to get things straightened out but she couldn’t get a good read on things from just seeing how the brigade admin office worked.

She stood there and felt her frustration rising as the private hunted and pecked his way through her form. If she was ever the acting headquarters company first sergeant, that kid was going to a typing class. How the hell did he work in admin and not know how to type?

“Quetto!”

Holly turned at the voice that boomed through the admin office. The five soldiers who’d been shooting the shit at the counter stiffened visibly at the sound. Two slithered out the side door and the other three made themselves scarce. Kind of like roaches scattering in the light.

“What the hell? Is the Antichrist about to enter the building?” she muttered.

But Quetto was busy typing away, his shoulders hunched. He had the look of a mouse in the corner of a cage holding very still so the snake wouldn’t see him.

’Course, that plan didn’t work when the snake had heat vision and could see the very visible pulsing of the mouse’s heart beneath its fur.

Kind of like the cold sweat on Quetto’s neck right then.

She expected to see General Patton himself walk through the door the way the soldiers were acting. Holly turned, more than a little curious about the kind of man that would inspire this much panic in young troopers.

Instead, a tall, broad captain with wide shoulders stalked into the admin area. His hair was shaved close to his scalp and really, did she expect anything less in this unit?

But it was his eyes that she noticed more than anything. Piercing brown, they were dark around the edges and lighter in the middle.

Dark black letters stitched above his heart told her the captain’s name was Bello. So this was the infamous Diablo commander.

She watched him approach and holy hell, was this one well put-together captain. Which didn’t help the situation at all when her hormones stood up and took notice.

She yanked her thoughts off that detour and focused on work. If Cox was right, the big captain needed to be pushed back a notch and be reminded that he was not running this battalion. And, well—since Sarn’t Major Cox had asked for her help and all, there was no time like the present to get started.

He scanned the admin office until his gaze landed on his prey. She found herself wondering if Quetto knew that’s what he was right then.

Bello dropped two packets on the counter in front of Quetto’s desk. “Hey, I need you to process these two packets for the lawyer like ASAP.”

Quetto stood sharply. “Roger, sir. I’ll get right on that as soon as I get Firs’ Sarn’t Washington in-processed.”

Bello’s eyes narrowed and he looked down at her. Literally looked down at her from a vantage point that was a good four inches above her.

She felt the weight of his visual inspection and lifted her chin. He was going to make it easy, huh?

“You don’t happen to be taking over the support company, do you?” he said.

Holly raised both eyebrows, ignoring the question and focusing instead on the blunt rudeness of the way he’d just looked her up and down. She wondered if this was going to be the guy she got into it with to prove she wasn’t going to take shit from any of them.

It was like prison rules: find the biggest, baddest dude and pick a fight. This guy looked like a prime candidate. She just wondered if he’d also be the guy to knock her teeth in.

Maybe today. But she damn sure wasn’t going to take his looking her over like she was one of his soldiers. “Wow, are you always this charming or do you just have a bad case of the Mondays?”

Bello scowled and wow was it a fierce look. Had she been a little bit younger or maybe a little bit wiser, she might have been intimidated. But she’d been around guys like this too many times. They looked like assholes but you just had to get past the sandpapery exterior. “It’s Wednesday.”

She flattened her lips into a dry line. “Sense of humor AWOL?”

Bello grunted.

Oh he was special.

“So is that your acknowledgment grunt or a fuck-off grunt? I’ll have to start writing down translations of the grunts, if this is your major form of communication.”

He looked at her like she had a dick growing out of her forehead, then shook his head and turned back to the private who was pretending to type.

“Let me know when those are processed? I need to meet with the lawyer before the end of the week.” His gaze flicked to the combat action badge over her heart before he turned his attention back to the unsuspecting Quetto. Quetto nodded quickly and went back to his typing. His hunting and pecking was all that much more peckish as he tried really hard to focus. “Are you the support company first sergeant or not?”

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.”

Bello sighed. "Jesus Christ, if you’re going to be a pain in the ass about things…”

Holly bristled but kept her cool. “Wow, you really are cranky. Sarn’t Major was right.”

Bello turned to go, paused, then turned back to her. “I need the damn ammo delivered to the range. I need your company to stop smoking all the goddamned weed in Killeen and do your damned jobs. Is that polite enough for you, First Sergeant?”

Holly arched one brow. “Oh, aren’t you just a bright little ray of sunshine?”

Bello ground his teeth and jammed his hands in his pockets but not before she saw him clench them by his sides. “I’m not really sure where you’re coming from, Top, but in case you missed the memo, you’re taking over a unit that’s going to deploy in less than six months.”

Oh hell no, he didn’t just imply that she didn’t give a shit about the impending deployment. “I assure you that I am very much aware of the timeline.”

Bello swore and stormed out of the office.

Holly looked at the empty space where he’d stood a moment before.

Working with him was going to be a real treat. And Holly was definitely up for the challenge.