Page 13 of Indirect Attack
But the medicine hadn’t made him slur his words nor waver on his feet. Nor, when he spoke, did it make his breath smell like alcohol.
A wave of disgust overtook my previously warming thoughts about him, seriously jeopardizing my goal to give his newfound maturity a chance to prove itself.
“Are you drunk?” I asked, the words laced with antipathy even to my ears.
“Just a few drinks at the bar when I got in,” he said, waving in a vague direction that didn’t tell me anything. “Have to take advantage of this place and our expense account.”
You haven’t changed at all. The words were on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them. Greg was my supervisor, and he had helped me get on the team. I could be civil and polite if it meant this dream trip went well.
He watched me for a moment longer, his eyes on my face before slipping lower for an uncomfortable moment. “Can I come in?”
Greg made to slip past me into the room before I could answer, and I quickly stepped over to block him, bringing the door closer to being closed behind me.
“I’m really tired,” I said sweetly, pasting a smile on my face. “I just got in, and all I want is a shower and food and sleep. Raincheck?”
For a moment, Greg looked like he wanted to argue. But then he shook his head and took a step back. “Sure, raincheck.”
“All right, then. Goodnight.”
It was still bright daylight outside, but I slipped back inside and shut the door firmly in Greg’s face.
Taking a deep breath, I sank back against the door in relief, then turned to make sure he left. It took a moment, but I watched through the peephole as he wobbled away from the door and disappeared.
I padded back into the room and picked up the room service menu, dialing the number and ordering an early dinner before grabbing my laptop out of my bag.
Settling on the bed, I opened the top and powered it on to go through my emails. Before I’d taken off that morning, I’d seen the subject line with the rules of the trip and the dig. It was a long, detailed list. We were still in a country recovering from war, after all, and there were dangerous places to be and dangerous times to be there. However, I was glad to see that American Marines were stationed here as part of the UN peacekeeping effort—the thought made me feel safer.
A knock on the door was the food, and I settled in to clean out my inbox while I ate. The sun was approaching the horizon when I finished both, and I moved back onto the balcony to take in the sunset over the city’s roofs and the water beyond.
As the sky blossomed into shades of fiery orange and vivid pinks, the water reflecting the colors like a painting, I watched the boats in the distance moving toward the docks, sea birds swooping and calling to one another. Down below, a few cars weaved past foot traffic as people wandered slowly down the sidewalks, alone, together, silent, talking, their conversations indistinct rises and falls in tone this far up.
In the distance, a soldier walked over the cobbles, clearly American from his fatigues. A Marine, I could see as he grew closer.
A jolt shot through me, prickles of ice and heat. Something about the set of the Marine’s shoulders, his walk, the profile I couldn’t quite see in the long shadows of early evening reminded me of Ben. I leaned over the railing to get a better look, but he disappeared into a building and was gone.
I stepped back from the edge, taking a deep, shaky breath, my heart racing. There was no way that was Ben. There was no way it would be that much of a coincidence that, of every place in the world the two of us could have been, it would be here. My mind must have seen Marine in the email and flashed to Ben. Istill couldn’t see a uniform or a commercial without memories surfacing, swirls of emotion coming along with them.
Padding back inside, hands still shaking, I shut and locked the doors firmly behind me.
There was no way.
Chapter 7
Ben
SOFT CONVERSATION RIPPLEDthrough the room, indistinct words in a dozen different languages. I was fluent in two languages and knew enough to converse in several others, but I could only pick out a few words here and there. My attention was elsewhere, anyway.
It was another day, another meeting with the UN representatives. Being halfway decent at diplomacy and with the number of languages I had picked up, the powers that be had taken early advantage of me and put me at the forefront of most cooperative operations like this.
Despite the flak I got from the rest of the guys for my special appointment, this was actually the part of the job I liked the most. I was, at heart, an introvert, just like Mom. Still, there was a particular art to the sometimes-delicate negotiations when multiple countries and their armed forces were involved because of the number of personalities involved. And most of those personalities belonged to soldiers who had spent a long time climbing the ladder and expected to be obeyed. They weren’t used to listening to a lowly Marine sergeant, and it took finesse to bring them around.
Ensuring they all got along and that we all came to some arrangement or understanding was like a puzzle or a painting that I wasn’t quite sure how to take from my mind to a canvas.
My unit had been in Gilderslavia for the past six months, overseeing peacekeeping, mopping up insurgent hotspots, aiding in cleanup, and getting the country and its people back on their feet. Achieving normalcy would take years, if not decades, but even in the short months I’d been here, I’d already seen life picking back up again. The citizens of Gilderslavia were returning to work, home, and life. It was slow progress, but it was there, which counted.
I could see people in the open-air market across the street from the conference room the UN forces used for meetings. What had been a handful of booths with paltry offerings had blossomed into dozens of stalls. Granted, that had been the middle of winter, and now it was the end of summer, but I could see a difference in how people greeted each other, with less tension in their shoulders and more food in their bags.
This was the other part of the job I liked—the part where instead of destroying and killing, I was able to help. I still had a gun in my hand or slung over my shoulder, but that was more about protection. In this position, I could put good into the world, not destruction.
