Chapter Nine
Bren had tried really hard not to notice, but McAllister had been quiet since they’d left the small rise overlooking the crash site. Not that he’d exactly been chatty before now, but this silence had been different. More weighted, somehow.
Or maybe it was just her imagination.
But ever since that little blowout in the alley, things hadn’t been the same between them, and probably never would be again. There was an undeniable tension. They’d crossed a line—or more like torn it to shreds—and couldn’t go back. Mentioning Jordie had been a tipping point that had spilled long unspoken sentiments between them into a mess.
Honestly, she was actually relieved to have it all out in the open, even though it’d created this invisible tie between them. Yet perhaps those ties—the ones that kept Jordie around like a ghost hovering in the background—had always been there, only she’d never noticed them before.
Whatever the case, it was all out, and she hadn’t wanted to hold back any longer. She had no qualms about telling McAllister exactly how it was, whether he liked it or not.
The man was hard to read. He was so locked down, so in control and calm most of the time. It was impossible to know what he was thinking. Like why the hell he’d suddenly agreed with checking out the wreckage, but then insisted the two of them go off on their own while the rest of the team continued to the next village.
Operationally, it was a logical decision. But personal history added to the mix made it a minefield. McAllister was playing the professional-soldier-all-the-way card and not letting a little thing like emotional entanglement—of the bad kind—get in the way of his mission.
Or, he thought he needed to keep an extra eye on her because of whatever had gone down between him and Jordie all those years ago. At least without the rest of the team around, they didn’t have to keep up the façade. They could loathe each other and snipe all they wanted.
As they approached the farmhouse, she turned her attention to what she should have been concentrating on—their surrounds to make sure no CS soldier snuck up on them.
She couldn’t ever remember being this distracted on a mission, and if she wasn’t careful, she was going to end up making a mistake that put the rest of the team in danger—which would confirm McAllister’s poor opinion of her. That brush with the hunter’s trap had been enough, though that could have happened to anyone.
Still, she had to separate the tangled mess of emotions that being around McAllister caused.
The colonel certainly didn’t seem to be having the same issue, though, she doubted anything would ever knock him off-kilter. So far, he’d proven to be a rock—steady, solid, and quietly self-assured. She could see why men followed him into danger. He was the type of soldier a person could trust to see them home safely.
It struck her how none of these qualities ran with what Jordie had told her about McAllister.
Any wonder she was so conflicted. With each passing hour they spent together, everything she’d believed about him was erased, to be replaced with a completely different view. Found herself needing to remember it was the wrong time and place to be questioning exactly what her feelings were changing into.
They approached the farmhouse from the side, this time passing on the opposite side of the barn. Besides a sad air of neglect, one of the buildings would be a good place to camp out until nightfall. All of the windows were still intact, and the doors solid. From the dust and leaves on the porch, it didn’t seem like anyone had been there in a long time. She was careful not to disturb the leaf litter or leave any footsteps as she crossed to the door.
It was unlocked and swung inward on noisy hinges. The interior was dim, and McAllister had his flashlight out before her.
Despite it seeming abandoned, they proceeded quietly, splitting up to search the entire house just to be sure. A few random pieces of furniture remained, but anything of real value had been stripped out, probably by the CSS who were always stealing what they called “donations” from the poor population.
They both finished their search in the kitchen.
“Find anything?” McAllister asked as he shrugged out of his pack and set it on the dusty table.
“Nothing of interest.” She dropped her pack by the back door and went over to check the pantry, even though she knew there wouldn’t be a single thing in there…well, apart from some cobwebs and a spider that went skittering into the corner when the light hit it. “Looks like it’s MREs for dinner.”
“You were expecting something different?” McAllister actually smiled fleetingly as he pulled a few things out of his pack.
“Would have been nice,” she muttered, resigned to getting her own packets of dehydrated food out of her bag.
“Maybe if you’d eaten that breakfast I ordered instead of just drinking juice.”
She glanced up at him. There hadn’t been any heat in the words, just casual observation. He’d noticed how much she’d eaten? She found the notion…endearing? No, that was stupid. The only reason he’d noticed was that she was currently under his charge, and he was a decent kind of CO who cared about how the people he was leading fared.
“I wasn’t hungry, but I’ll remember that for next time.”
He’d finished finding a couple of protein bars, an MRE, and had his water in hand, motioning to the back door. “I’m going to eat outside.”
She used her foot to shove her pack out of the way and then grabbed up her canteen as well.
Outside, they found a quaint back garden. Once upon a time, when it’d been tended and loved, she could easily imagine it would have been beautiful. An old cast-iron chair and table sat in the far corner, beneath a large weeping tree and next to a dried up pond. The chairs and table were rusted, but sturdy. McAllister righted them and dusted them off before waving for her to sit.
As she set out her sad excuse for a meal, he dropped down opposite her, casting a quick glance around the garden, then ripping open one of the protein bars.
The whole thing struck her as intimate. Which was ridiculous.
Okay, she couldn’t keep denying the man was attractive.
What would she have thought of McAllister if she’d met him under different circumstances?
She subtly raised her eyes to study him across the table. He was looking out across the field, sitting forward with one forearm braced against the table, his square features in profile. He rubbed the back of his neck, making his biceps flex, drawing her gaze down to the wide breadth of his shoulders, the strong column of his neck, where his shirt opened a little at the top, leaving her wondering what she would find if she unclasped a few fasteners.
She flushed hot and snapped her gaze down to her food. Even though he’d never have any idea she’d just blatantly checked him out, embarrassment still swelled, and she had to close her eyes.
But maybe her humiliation wasn’t all to do with ogling him. Maybe part of it was because she hadn’t given him a chance. She’d believed the worst about him over one bad mission that had happened a decade ago. And though it was hard to admit, even to herself, if it wasn’t for the things Jordie had told her, she probably would have respected the hell out of McAllister. Probably would have liked him, even. Maybe liked him more than just a little. Liked him in a way that left her stomach flipping.
“I think I owe you an apology.”
McAllister’s sudden words brought her attention up to him. He was staring straight at her now, the intensity in his gaze making her pulse skip.
“Why?”
He shifted in his seat, and though she’d had trouble reading him before now, she could see he was trying to choose his words carefully.
“You were right. You’re not your brother. I should have given you the same chance I’d give any other soldier instead of assuming the worst. But FYI, operationally speaking, you shouldn’t have engaged those two men in the village without checking with me first.”
“That’s your idea of an apology?” She added a grin to her words, so he’d know she was only teasing. “Disguising a lecture by admitting you were wrong?”
He crossed his arms, slouching back into his seat. “There’s a certain art to accepting you’re wrong, but making sure the other person understands you were right about something else.”
At that, she couldn’t help but laugh. “Seems like you’ve got it perfected.”
“Damn straight,” he muttered, returning her grin.
“Okay,” she conceded, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table. “Then I’ll concede maybe I could have handled the situation with the men in the village a little differently. But in my defense, I was worried that if I went out looking for you, they’d be gone and so would my chance to find out any information about the crash site.”
“See? You’re just as good at the apology and deflect maneuver.”
“Thanks,” she returned dryly. “And same goes for you. I should have given you a chance instead of assuming the worst.”
He held his hand out across the table. “Should we start again?”
“That’d probably be a good idea.” She reached out to take his hand, his palm warm, calluses a little rough against her skin.
“Colonel Cameron McAllister. Most people call me Cam when they’re not addressing me by rank.”
Her pulse skittered. He was giving her permission to use his nickname? It shouldn’t have signified. Seb and Alpha called him Cam most of the time, so why not her as well? Especially if they were going to put everything behind them and start over.
“Lieutenant Theresa Brenner. Everyone calls me Bren. And don’t ever—”
“Call you Theresa?”
She swallowed, since the way he’d used a low, teasing tone made her breath catch in her throat. When he murmured her name like that, it didn’t sound so bad—
Giving herself a mental slap, she gently tugged her hand from his. What the hell was wrong with her? She’d always hated her name, even when a few boyfriends in the past had tried to use it and get all romantic. She’d shut them down quick smart.
“That’s right. Glad we’ve got that established.”
“I won’t make that mistake again.” He sat back in his chair, seeming more relaxed now. “Thought you were going to deck me over it last time.”
“Probably if I hadn’t had my foot stuck in that trap, I would have.”
“Noted.” He sent her a smile that was almost intimate. Like now they had an in-joke. Something only the two of them would get.
Perhaps he’d made a mistake when he’d been a decade younger and not as experienced in life and war, resulting in the worst possible outcome of an operation. But he’d grown into someone much different. War tended to bring out the best or worst in people and maybe over time, he’d simply experienced both.
…
After finishing lunch, they’d checked out the barn, but like the house, it had been stripped of anything useful. They walked the outer perimeter of both buildings to make sure there weren’t any signs of the CSS and then returned to the slight rise above the crash site to see if anything had changed.
The half dozen soldiers still milled around looking bored out of their minds. She and Cam stayed on the rise for two hours, observing and discussing possible plans for approaching the wreckage after dark, running all kinds of scenarios. Cam’s scenarios started getting more and more outlandish until she was unsuccessfully smothering her laughter.
Apparently, he had a deeply hidden, but ridiculous sense of humor. She’d always wondered how he was such good friends with Seb and Alpha, when he’d seemed so distant, serious, and sometimes cold. But it was clear that was just the professional mask he put on around people he didn’t know, or when the chips were down and he had a job to do.
Next time he was up on the Knox and got dragged to Harley’s after shift by her coworkers, she’d have to tag along, because she was becoming more and more curious to see what he’d be like when he really let his hair down and got a few drinks into him.
Late afternoon shadows were stretching across the field when Cam slid back from the rise and got to his feet, taking a few short steps as he stretched.
“There’s probably nothing else useful we can see here. Might as well go back to the farmhouse and get some rest before we head out tonight.”
She tucked her scope away and then slid back as well. When she got to her feet, her entire body was aching, muscles stiff. Her ankle was throbbing. Not in real pain, it was more of a dull ache. All of the days walking were finally catching up with her.
As she followed Cam down the gentle incline, she tried not to limp, or move awkwardly, with the way all of her muscles were protesting.
Cam glanced at her as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Feeling it, right?”
She gave into the urge to grimace. “And here I thought I was doing a good job of pretending otherwise. I thought I was fit, but obviously I was fooling myself.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. This takes a different kind of endurance not many people are ever prepared for.”
“You and your guys don’t seem to be having any problems,” she grumbled.
He shrugged as if the answer should have been obvious. “We’re trained for this kind of thing. I bet Seb isn’t any better off than you. In fact, he’s probably worse, since they spent the day covering all those miles to the village. He’s probably bitching like a rookie on their first march.”
“I know what you’re up to”—she cut him a censuring look—“trying to make me feel better about myself. I didn’t think we had that kind of relationship, McAllister.”
“Thought I’d try something different so we could actually be civil. Makes things a bit easier, don’t you think?” The words were flippant, but his intense regard told her that whatever her answer, it was going to mean something, or tell him something about her.
“Than when we were passive-aggressive frenemies? Yeah, this is easier.”
He sent her one of his rare smiles, leaving her needing to glance away from him and remind herself how to breathe.
Getting along with Cam was definitely easier.
Jordie wouldn’t be happy if he were alive. Of course, if he were still with her, she wouldn’t have loathed Cameron McAllister
Her brother had warned her to never trust him, yet she’d put her life in his hands, confident he had the skill and experience to help her recover her missing pilot.
She was tired of holding onto that negativity, even though it was all she had left of her brother. Like if she was angry enough at Cam, part of her brother still remained.
Maybe it was time to let go, just a little. Because Cam was right—getting along with him was much easier than clashing over every little thing. And perhaps, in time, she’d feel less guilt over betraying the vow she’d made to her brother that Cameron McAllister would never be forgiven for the things he’d done.