Page 27 of Indirect Attack
“What can I help you with?” I asked, the prickles traveling down my skin now.
“Sergeant Rusev, early this morning, we received a complaint from the archeological group heading the Florin site.” The man’s accent was British, but with warmer tones that told me he wasn’t from the UK.
I swallowed, the prickles morphing into stabbing pricks of ice and a weight in the pit of my stomach. A premonition of where this conversation would lead was forming, which wasn’t any good.
“A complaint?” I forced my voice to remain neutral.
“The complaint stated that you were harassing one of their members.”
Taking a deep breath into my lungs, I quieted the anger that rose like a volcano in the center of my chest.
Greg. This had to be about Greg. The only question I had was whether it wasaboutthe guy from one of the archaeologists watching our spat the previous day orfromthe guy. Or it was Greg in both cases.
“Who is the complaint about?”
I wasn’t sure how I’d managed to keep my tone mild.
The UN messenger looked down at the phone gripped in his hand. “Jasmine Davis, a Ph.D. candidate on the dig.”
“That can’t be true.”
My tone was defensive even to my ears, hot and harsh, and the messenger’s eyes narrowed as his gaze flicked up to me. The corners of his mouth turned down into a frown, and he was slow to start talking again.
“The complaint came in this morning. It says you got a girl drunk, presumably this Jasmine Davis, and took her to her room.”
Of course, it was Greg behind his entire thing. Had he been watching us last night? The weasel. He couldn’t stand that Jasmine had chosen me over him, no matter how strenuously she’d rejected him.
I had to physically unclench my hand from the fist I’d made at my side—outward aggression wouldn’t do anyone any good, especially me, even if inside, I was seething with burning anger.
“Jasmine is an old friend of mine. We had dinner and drinks, we spent a long time talking, and then we went up to her room—sheaskedme,if you want to know, but it was a mutual decision. Neither of us was anywhere near drunk.”
“I understand you have your version of the story, but this is a serious misconduct allegation we will need to look into—”
Serious allegations and the resulting investigations that followed were never a good thing.
Ever.
“I can save you the trouble. Why don’t you call Jasmine and ask her yourself?” I couldn’t quite keep the growl out of my tone as I took my phone out of my pocket and held it out to the messenger. His gaze flicked to the device, then away, dismissing it.
“That won’t be necessary. We will carry out our own investigation. I have already notified your superior officer, and you are not to leave the base for any reason for the next twenty-four hours or until our investigation is completed.”
“What?”
But the representative had turned, ready to leave now that he’d delivered his message. With my longer stride, I managed to get in front of him, and he pulled up short, his eyes widening in temporary surprise before narrowing again. If this guy was going to head up the investigation, I was in trouble.
“You can’t do this. I’m supposed to take over guard of the site today. And with the terrorist threat, I have to be there—”
“Your CO is already seeing to the guard at the dig. You are not to contact Jasmine or anyone else on the archeological team. Is that clear?”
Anger froze me to the ground for a moment, white-hot and burning. But the UN rep hadn’t looked away from my gaze, and I knew I had to back down or face worse consequences. I stepped away, and the messenger’s shoulders relaxed from where they’d been near his ears.
“I will be in contact,” he said, taking a step to move toward the door. But he stopped as his phone rang. The man’s gaze flicked to the screen, then back to me. “Wait here.”
Where else was I going to wait? I almost threw the words against his back but thought better of it. Instead, I paced for amoment until I dropped down into my chair. I let my elbows rest on my thighs and buried my face in my hands, but it wasn’t enough to keep me still. Instead, I ran my palms roughly over my hair to the sound of an animated conversation in the next room in a language I couldn’t understand.
I’d just gotten Jasmine back, and now this? Would we ever have a relationship, or were we doomed to circle around complications forever?
One thing was sure—the next time I saw Greg, I would rip him in half. I knew, without a doubt, this was his handiwork.
