Chapter Two
Colonel Cam McAllister stopped at a couple of intersecting passageways, trying to work out which direction he needed to take. This damn ship was like a maze. He had no idea how anyone found their way around, all closed in where a person didn’t see sky, just the blackness of zero atmosphere beyond the ship.
He hadn’t planned on spending this long up here. But neither had he planned on getting saddled with a couple of fighter pilots for his rendezvous with the rebels behind enemy lines. Lieutenant Rayne, he didn’t mind so much. Yeah, the guy was a cowboy, but he also was one heck of a soldier.
As for Lieutenant Theresa Brenner…
He actually didn’t know that much about her beyond the ridiculous tumble of blond curls—which surely couldn’t be regulation standard—and her clear blue eyes.
He’d always thought she was gorgeous. Ever since the day he’d met her ten years ago. But she was off limits. She’d always been off limits. Initially, because her brother had been in the first unit he’d commanded. Then later, because of Jordie Brenner and the consummate fuck-up that had almost ended Cam’s career. One Brenner in his life was more than enough. And while a person could probably argue Jordie’s sister wasn’t necessarily cut from the same cloth, he’d just as happily never find out.
She might have been attractive enough to make his blood run hot, but he wasn’t dumb enough to go there. Without a doubt, the woman would be more trouble than she was worth.
He’d made damn sure to stay out of her way. She must have been a fairly good fighter pilot to make CAFF, and Alpha definitely respected her, but he had no clue what kind of solider she was and didn’t want to know.
But apparently, she was coming with him on his super-sensitive mission, so no matter that he’d happily avoided her until now, he was about to get acquainted with her real well behind enemy lines. Of all the damned luck.
A couple of fighter pilots came down the corridor toward him, and he waylaid one of them for directions. A few turns and passageways later, and he was standing outside Lieutenant Brenner’s office.
She sat at the desk, attention on a datapad. He knocked on the doorframe, bringing her head up.
He didn’t fail to notice the way her gaze cooled considerably at the sight of him, her blue eyes taking on a definite bite of frost. She’d always been reserved around him. He assumed it had to do with the fact that he’d been there when Jordie had died.
“Lieutenant, Rayne and I are about ready to head down, if you’re coming?”
She returned her attention to the datapad in front of her, the light above catching highlights in those ridiculous, gorgeous curls like wisps of sunlight.
“Just give me a sec to close out these reports.”
He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway, watching her work, gaze lingering on her mouth when she caught her lower lip between her teeth. Pity they shared an unspoken agreement of extreme dislike, because there were things about her that had caught his attention over the years. All of them superficial. But he was a man, and a guy would have to be blind not to notice how sexy she was. The line was drawn at his actions. He had way too much pride and self-respect to make a move on a woman he barely liked, especially when he knew she felt the same way.
After a long minute, she put the datapad away in one of the desk drawers and then stood.
Instead of her usual shipwear, she’d changed into the dark green uniform the ground forces wore when operating in the thick forests of Ilari. The formfitting cargo pants and plain T-shirt accented curves he’d tried to never notice were under the looser ship uniform.
She went to the couch on the adjacent wall and shrugged into a matching jacket, took a second to secure her hair back in a thick messy bun, and then finally picked up the pack sitting on the floor.
“Okay, I’m ready.” She didn’t even bother looking at him as she brushed by and headed out into the passageway.
Cold shoulder it was.
Clearly, she was about as happy going along with this as he was. Well, that was fine. They could agree on their mutual disdain of dealing with each other.
The short trip to the launch bay went by in completely blunt silence. Neither of them wanted to talk to the other, and apparently they both knew it.
Well, that was fine. It made the fact that he didn’t want her on this dangerous hike easier.
At the personnel carrier, Seb was talking to the Command Intelligence agent he’d recently gotten in a tangle over. Jenny—no, Jenna. He sent a nod to Seb as he passed, overhearing her telling him to watch his ass. No words of being careful or not doing anything crazy—that was pretty much Seb in a nutshell. She obviously knew him well enough that those kind of parting words would be a waste of breath.
He took a seat in the back of the ship, most of the others already taken with soldiers going to the ground. Bren sat up front in the opposite aisle—probably about as far from him as she could get without seating herself in the cargo hold.
A few more passengers boarded, and Seb came to sit right next to him as the shuttle vibrated to life.
“Where’s Bren?” he asked, kicking one leg over the other in a slouch.
He nodded his chin toward the front of the ship. “Down there.”
Seb followed his line and then frowned. “Didn’t you two walk down here together?”
“Kind of.”
“Did you sit away from her, or did she sit away from you?” Seb stared at him, a curious light in his gaze. The guy might be a cowboy and make questionable decisions some of the time, but there was no denying he was sharp. He didn’t miss anything.
“We sat away from each other. Why does that matter?”
Seb shrugged, but it was deceptively uncaring. “It’s just interesting. I’ve never known Bren to dislike anyone unless they did something to really piss her off. Then she could hold a grudge until hell freezes over. I didn’t think you two knew each other, but now I’m wondering what you did to earn the infamous Brenner cut-direct.”
He almost denied it outright. Except they were about to spend the next few days living in each other’s pockets. Dismissing it or lying would be pointless.
“We don’t know each other, but we do kind of have history.” His damned traitorous gaze ended up on the back of her head and the tumble of corkscrew curls already escaping the bun to sit on her neck. Just begging to be touched. “I served with her brother early on.”
“I didn’t know Bren had a brother.” The surprise at this not-so-little tidbit came through loud and clear in Seb’s voice. “I’ve known her for a decade, and she’s never mentioned him once.”
“He died.”
“Oh.” Seb went uncharacteristically quiet. Probably thinking about the people he’d known who hadn’t made it through this war.
God knew, every single one he’d lost was burned into his brain. And there were a lot of them, especially after the bombing at the main base a few months ago he’d barely survived himself. If not for the fact he’d left his comm sitting next to his bunk and had gone back for it, he would have been as dead as the rest of the senior officers.
It was then the true extent of the infiltration by the CSS had come to light. For years, the enemy had been planting double agents into their ranks and they’d never had a clue, not until it was too late. They’d been completely undermined, the CSS plan devastatingly successful because now solider mistrusted soldier, morale in the ranks continued to decline, and even the government had been questioning the Valiant Knox’s security in manning the planet, and Commander Yang’s personal handle on the situation, as he’d been captured and held by the enemy for over the year.
There were rumors the Valiant Knox was going to be pulled out and a completely new ship and contingent of soldiers would take over the “peacekeeping” efforts.
But if the information Seb had obtained behind enemy lines proved to be true, things had become even more precarious. The Pontifex—a man who’d been the UEF government representative for Ilari, but decided to appoint himself a type of religious leader and defy the UEF by declaring a sovereign state—was failing in health and mind. It wouldn’t be long before the man was dead, and he reportedly hadn’t appointed anyone to take his place.
The infighting was already beginning. It should have been the perfect time for the UEF to press their advantage and finally retake control of the system. Instead, a third threat had entered the fray, one that wanted the conflict in this solar system to spread to the rest of the galaxy in an uprising against the UEF that would set the entire universe at war.
They couldn’t let that happen. Especially after two decades of skirmishes that had achieved nothing, except making the poor planet of Ilari even poorer.
It was all coming to a head, led by Ilari’s own people, who were sick of living under the regime of the Pontifex. What had once been a small, scattered movement of rebels had organized and mobilized in the past months, making inroads against the CSS forces in key places behind the lines the UEF forces had never been able to reach.
Both Commander Emmanuel, who ran the Ilari UEF ground base, and Commander Yang had agreed that contacting and joining forces with the rebels might be the best way of defeating the enemy more effectively than increasing troop numbers and sending reinforcements.
Emmanuel had tasked Cam with infiltrating deep behind enemy lines to establish contact with the rebels, assess their force and capabilities, and possibly begin negotiations toward working together to bring down the CSS.
He’d handpicked a team of three other soldiers, definitely not anticipating he’d end up with baggage in the form of two fighter pilots who had their own agenda.
So, his small party of four had become a somewhat bigger contingent of six. A little harder to remain conspicuous. Especially with Bren and that hair tagging along. She’d stand out like a pretty, shiny beacon.
He’d have to tell her to keep it covered, at least. She wouldn’t be impressed about it; he could only imagine what she was going to say. But he was more than happy to take to it with a set of electric trimmers, especially if it meant the difference between moving through enemy territory in stealth or getting noticed by every damned soldier or man they passed.
Cam had met all types of women in the ranks; they made up almost half of all deployed soldiers. He’d pegged Bren as one of those gorgeous women who had no idea the effect she had on men. Completely clueless. Or maybe she just didn’t care.
Not that she was his type. Her being gorgeous was purely an aesthetical observation, the same way the sky was blue and water was wet. Because if she was anything like her brother, that meant not only was she definitely not his type of woman, but she also wasn’t his type of soldier.
The sooner they could find her downed fighter pilot and he could send them on their way so he could get on with his business, the better.
Seb asked him about the other soldiers in the team, and they spent the rest of the trip to the ground talking logistics.
Once the personnel carrier landed and they disembarked, Bren approached Seb and him.
“When do we leave?” Her pack was secure, and she looked like she was ready to march out the gates right that minute.
“Before dawn, while it’s still dark enough to conceal us leaving the base and crossing enemy lines for anyone who might be watching.” He nodded toward the main building in the center of the compound. “Until then, there’s a rack in the central transient barracks you can use. Commissary starts serving food at sixteen hundred.”
Seb rubbed his hands together. “I hear they get better food down here. And if we’re going to have to live on protein bars and MREs for the next few days, I’m going to start stuffing my face at exactly sixteen hundred hours and not stop until I’ve got to pop the fastener on my pants.”
Bren rolled her eyes. “No doubt we’ll be setting a hard pace tomorrow, Seb. Waddling isn’t going to get you very far.”
Cam almost laughed at the unexpected comeback, and Seb’s mildly but not-really insulted expression didn’t help. He’d never imagined Bren would have such a quick sense of humor. Jordie had been a pain in the ass with zero sense of humor. More likely to complain than crack a joke.
“Bet I can eat more servings that you.” Seb stuck his hand out, and Bren took it without hesitation.
“Deal. I’m going to eat you under the table, Rayne.” They shook, passing a look of familiar challenge between themselves as if they’d engaged in this type of combat before.
“I’ll leave you to find your own way. I’ve got a few last-minute things to take care of.” He clapped Seb on the shoulder, who murmured a “see ya later” as he passed.
Bren glanced at him—the first time she’d directly looked at him since back in her office on the Knox. Her blue eyes seemed to hold a challenge for him as well, which he found more than a little intriguing despite himself. Made his pulse pick up speed, made him want to match her move for move.
He held her gaze, not afraid to let her know he would be monitoring her closely every step of this mission. There was no way he was going to stand by and watch another Brenner make a stupid decision that put the rest of the team in mortal danger.
…
The sun was just about to touch the horizon on its decent as Cam forced his lactic-acid aching legs to increase their pounding against the packed earth of the track. The path wound up a low rise to the back of the compound and was occasionally used by foot patrols when base security was on high alert, but it was mostly used for physical training.
The incline was just the right steepness to make him work at the end of his PT and not completely kill him. At the top of the rise, if he timed it just right, he’d arrive as the sun disappeared into a riot of colors behind the bank of clouds in the distance.
A lot of guys at his level of command only kept up with the most basic personal fitness. But most of them weren’t deployment ready, either. He hadn’t reached the point where he wanted to spend the rest of his career behind a desk. Still had that craving to be part of a team, to be the boots on the ground making a difference through action, not through paperwork inside the secure base.
He’d reached his midthirties this year, but he was as fit as ever. Maybe even more so since the bombing at the other base. He’d started sleeping less and training more, trying to work the shadows out of his mind that seemed to have become permanent residents.
The crest of the hill came into sight, and he forced his legs to pick up the pace, the ache now smoldering in his chest as his lungs worked harder to get enough oxygen into his body. But he welcomed the burn, loved reaching that mental peak moment of exertion when his body otherwise could have stopped.
Coming over the top to the flat plateau was always anticlimactic. The resistance ended and his pace slowed, jogging it out, winding down to a walk, instead of just flat-out stopping. As he finally halted and hiked his hands onto his hips, sucking air while his heart rate slowed, the steady thump of footsteps came from the opposite side of the hill he’d crested.
Bren topped the rise, curls catching the last of the day’s light in orange-gold highlights, held back from her face with a haphazardly tied bandanna. She had music buds in her ears and her eyes trained downward, so it took her a second before she realized anyone else was up here.
She pulled up, sweating and puffing almost as hard as he was. She plucked the buds out of her ears and slipped them into a zip pocket on the hip of her pants, leaving his gaze skipping over how her curves fit into the second-skin workout gear she had on. Serious curves. Making a new kind of sweat threaten to break out on his skin.
When his perusal made it back to her face, she arched an eyebrow at him.
Shit, she’d noticed how he’d taken in every single line of her body. Had totally checked her out, even though he hadn’t meant to. But hell, he was a red-blooded man, and when a woman who looked like her went around looking like that—and put in the workout to match the gear, leaving her flushed and too damned down to earth—well, it was just a matter of instinct and chemicals. Instinct that whispered she’d be one hell of an armful and would leave him desperate for more.
“Sorry.” When the word came out almost automatically, he couldn’t say who was more surprised. He pushed on, since he’d already opened his mouth. And he should apologize, anyway. His mamma had taught him better than blatantly ogling women. “That was inappropriate of me.”
“No harm done,” she returned, though the words were a little wary. For a long moment they stared at each other, but then a grin tugged at the edges of her lips. “Take your shirt off, and we’ll be even.”
Hell, he didn’t know whether to laugh or be insulted.
But without giving it a second thought—not sure what he was doing because it was completely out of character for him—he whipped off his T-shirt and used it to mop his face. When he was done and met her gaze, she’d crossed her arms, making no secret of the fact she was checking him out in return.
“Oh yeah. We’re even now. Even and then some.” Her lips quirked upward briefly, and shockingly, he was pretty sure that was the first time she’d ever smiled at him. It hit him low in the guts, making him think that getting her to smile at him could be instantly addictive.
Her quick wit still surprised him, even though he’d heard her parry Seb with several very clever comebacks at commissary over dinnertime.
He’d thought it only polite to join his guests while they ate, even though he hadn’t been all that thrilled at the idea of sitting down to eat with Jordie Brenner’s little sister. However, in the coming days, they’d practically be in each other’s laps, so the quicker he got used to her, the better.
And he hadn’t thought Seb and Bren had been serious about the eating challenge they’d thrown down earlier in the afternoon, but that hadn’t been in jest, either.
The pair of them had picked a single dish—the double cheese and bacon burgers the base’s cook liked to whip up when he was feeling generous—and laid bets on how many they could devour.
True to her word, Bren had eaten Seb under the table, though he’d never have believed it unless he’d seen it with his own eyes. While she wasn’t solidly built, she also wasn’t a stick. She came into that healthy, somewhere in between, where she had the muscle and body to cope with the physical demands of being a soldier and fighter pilot—sexy as hell.
Speaking of which, he had no idea how she was out here running up the punishing hill a mere two hours after finishing all that food. If it’d been him, he would have gone and sat very still somewhere for at least a few hours. Seb had muttered something along those lines as he’d left the commissary with a hand on his stomach, like maybe that’d help keep the contents where they were meant to be.
And these were the specially trained soldiers who were meant to accompany him on the very dangerous journey behind enemy lines in the morning. Given their training was more about flying jets, but all fighter pilots went through testing to make sure they could survive in enemy territory as part of the requirements to join the exclusive FP squad.
Memories of Jordie stood between them like a physical wall. It was a solid barrier he had no interest in breaking down, but it made communication with her rife with difficulties.
Bren broke the stretched silence by turning away and taking a few steps toward the steepest drop-off. It was dotted with scrub and overgrown grasses down to the base’s electrified fence. It also had the best view over the distant forest and setting sun. She crossed her arms, golden-orange light making her skin look flawless and smooth. Touchable.
He could have told her good evening and started the easy jog back to his bunk, but instead, his feet took him over to stand next to her.
“I can’t remember the last time I saw a sunset. Must have been over a year at least,” she murmured, though whether it was to herself or directed at him, he couldn’t tell.
“I run up here nearly every night to watch it go down.”
This was why he never could have taken a posting on a ship. He couldn’t imagine not seeing a sunset for over a year. Such a simple thing, but it kept him grounded, reminded him that in the scheme of things, there was a bigger, wider universe out there, and the problems here on Ilari weren’t the beginning and end of everything.
Although, given what Seb had found out, if the war escaped this system and made it to the rest of the galaxy, then the beginning and end being here might be more accurate than he’d ever thought.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude on your routine.”
“No harm done,” he returned, possessed by the need to repeat her own words back to her. She sliced him a sideways look, and he held her gaze, as though they were taking each other’s measure.
“Do you think it’ll work?” she asked, expression unreadable.
“What?”
“Your mission. Contacting the rebels. Negotiating to provide weapons and supplies. Fighting alongside them.”
He hadn’t thought that far ahead—he liked to cross his bridges as he came to them. They might not even find the rebels, or the group might refuse to make contact with them. Initially, he was first and foremost focused on crossing the lines and getting into enemy territory. Once they made the rendezvous point, then he’d implement phase two.
“I don’t do what-ifs,” he answered. “Worrying about things that might not happen is a waste of energy. Deal with what you’ve got and push forward. That’s the way I do things. Maybe this mission will work, maybe it won’t. Those are variables for another day.”
Her brow creased, as if she were trying to figure out a puzzle in her mind.
“But you hope it works out, right? You’re not some droid. You’ve got wishes and dreams like the rest of us.”
“Hopes don’t often factor into war.”
Something in his answer surprised her, if the shift in her expression was anything to go by.
The last slither of sun dropped below the horizon, leaving the world a little dimmer, breaking the momentary accord, reminding him of exactly who he was talking to. He stepped back. “I’m heading down. Got an early start in the morning.”
She murmured a quiet agreement.
With a respectful parting nod, he fell into a jog, going back the way he’d come.
That conversation had been… Not odd. And not awkward. Perhaps diffident was the right way to describe it. While he’d agreed against his better interests to let her tag along on his mission, and while he didn’t hate her, he certainly didn’t know if he could trust her, and he didn’t have the time or inclination to make nice. Maybe that was harsh, but he had a mission to accomplish, and using half his mental energy trying to figure out Theresa Brenner wouldn’t be conducive to success.