Page 87 of Casualties of War
Had he been wearing the chain, even then? The little voice was cool. Analytical. It was a dash ofreason that countered the sweaty tangle of her thoughts.
Parris dropped her hands and rolled her head back against the wall, letting it knock sharply. She hissed, venting her frustration.
She studied the sleeping men. None of them was faking as far as she could tell. No one was tossing and turning. No one needed her right now.
Parris got to her feet.
I have to know.
She wouldn’t sleep untilshe did.
She eased across the cave, the soles of her boots absorbing sound, letting her creep to each concave arc and check it. Ramirez had taken one of them but he was the lone wolf of her pack and that was in character. Everyone knew he needed alone time, which was a rare commodity in a combat unit.
Adán was on the other side of the waterfall, in one of the last little recesses before thecave narrowed down to a passage that ended fifty yards farther on, closed off by a small mountain of rocks and dirt.
Like her, he was not sleeping. He was sitting sideways on the bag, one of the little LEDs next to him, turned down low. His knees were bent, his elbow resting on one, while he massaged his forehead.
He dropped the hand when he saw her. Otherwise, he did not react.
Parris loweredherself to her knees, her knees parked on the padded bag, her boot toes digging into the dirt in front. Her heart galloped. She shouldn’t be doing this. Not now. Only, she must know.
She reached out to touch his black shirt where the chain would sit, then realized it would be wrong to do that. She brought her hand back to her own chest and gripped the front of her shirt. “Do you ever take itoff?” she whispered.
Adán’s gaze met hers. He didn’t pretend to not understand or look puzzled. His gaze was steady. “Only if a director insisted. Even then, I sometimes argued the point.”
Her breath came faster. Her heart thudded. It was as bad—as good—as she had suspected. She swallowed. “I didn’t ask you to.”
“That’s why I wear it.”
“It’s been years, Adán!”
“Twenty-one years, three monthsand six days,” he said, without hesitation.
She stared at him, her horror rising. That hadn’t been when she had given him the necklace. Twenty-one years ago was when they first met, at that stupid party. He had been counting since then. “All that time…you could have been happy with somebody else,” she whispered.
“Somebody else wouldn’t have been you.” His voice was low. Strained.
She closedher eyes, suppressing a moan. It wasworsethan she had thought. “Why didn’t yousaysomething?” she breathed, her guilt and her horror mixing into a repulsive brew that made her feel ill.
“Because you were married. Then, because you wanted your freedom. You know the reasons, Parris. I told you, that night you came to see me.”
“You said you would ruin my life,” she said bitterly. Her eyes ached,warning her that she would cry if she kept this up. Crying here, where her men could see her…that was not good. That was very not good.
“And I would have,” he said gently. “Look at what you’ve achieved. Look around you. Look at the work you do. You could not have done that, with me in your life. You would have become a forgotten appendage of my own. It’s who I am. That’s what I do to people.That’s what the fame does.”
“Then why didn’t you take the masks off?” she demanded in a soft hiss. “If it was so impossible for us, you should have tossed them into the sea or melted them or sold them!”
His chest rose and fell. “I couldn’t,” he breathed, his voice strained.
Instead he had lived alone.
Parris pressed her lips together, holding in the words that pushed at her. She blinked hard,to disperse the moisture building in her eyes. “Even now, you’re not going to touch me, are you? Not voluntarily.”
His gaze met hers, sharp and hard. “Of course not,” he said, his voice still low and strained. “You’re an independent woman. What would I be, to try to change your mind that way?”
She pummeled her knee. “Oh, your damn Vistarian honor! You’re the most hot-blooded Latino man on theplanet and you won’t touch me because…because…”
He leaned forward. “Because you don’t know what you want right now,” he said, his voice even lower. His expression was calm. “You’re on the verge of tears, yet you’re still half-listening for sounds of your unit stirring and maybe hearing us. You’re conflicted, Parris.”
