21 Marine Salute: 21 Always a Marine Tales (115 page)

Her huffed little sigh snagged his attention and he spared a look at her, but she didn’t watch him anymore. Instead, her gaze fixed between the driver’s seat and the window. Worry marred her expression and she chewed on her lower lip while tapping a rhythm against her knees with nervous fingers.

Fuck. I scared her
.

Regret left a bitter taste in his mouth. “We’ll be fine,” he murmured in an even tone. He should have realized she’d be frightened, any sane person would be. Hell, hardcore Marines recognized the safety offered by a healthy dose of fear and wariness.

“Sorry.” She grimaced and swung the mega-wattage of her green eyes in his direction. Even in the gloom of the vehicle, they glittered like a pair of faceted emeralds in a jewelry shop window. According to his sister, no one had that color naturally. He’d have to tell Naomi she’d been wrong. “I was fine until we got in here.”

Did
here
mean the MRAP, a heavily armored transport? Hardly the most comfortable of vehicles, it afforded sturdy protection from stray bullets or worse. Or did it mean in Afghanistan? Figuring a run down on what the vehicle could withstand wouldn’t help ease her worry, he covered one of her hands instead.

“What are you planning to make for Turkey Day?”

“Hey, that’s cheating,” Hernandez cut in from the driver’s seat. “We’ve got money riding on this.”

Charlie snorted. “And the bets are all in, so it doesn’t hurt to know whether we won or not before we get back.”

The betting pool opened the morning the commander announced their Thanksgiving Day plans. The base would eat in shifts, because every man and woman stationed there would have work duty, but in addition to the meal, they’d have two large rooms with games playing and a third with a news crew filming their messages to transmit home during the day stateside.

“What if I haven’t made my bet?” Humor eased the corporal’s challenging tone, not that Charlie minded it in friendly conversation. After the dark, dour times of late, it sounded good.

“Then don’t tell me, so I can’t order you not to act on any privileged information you learn.” A smile stretched his mouth.

“Sir, yes sir.” Hernandez grinned. “Help us out, ma’am. What are you fixing for Thanksgiving?”

Jana laughed and the musical sound of it filled the MRAP. The open warmth wore at Charlie’s determination to keep his distance.
A few letters does not a real acquaintance make
.

“We’re going to have a feast.” She clapped her hands together. A southern drawl kissed her words. “We received several turkeys and brisket that we’ll hopefully have enough time to cook so it falls apart when the fork touches it. I also convinced several of the butchers at home to part with these terrific roasts. I think I may have brought too much meat, but I figured what couldn’t be eaten on that day could be used for sandwiches and leftovers. What’s a Turkey Day without leftovers?”

Charlie’s stomach rumbled with anticipation. Hernandez was a hell of a lot more vocal about his pleasure.

“Oh, damn. I don’t care who wins the bet; I just want to eat. Please tell me there’s going to be sweet potatoes…?”

The corporal’s enthusiasm elicited another laugh from Jana. “Sweet potatoes with marshmallows, mashed potatoes, creamed corn, and, if the mess officer I spoke to is correct, snap beans.”

Yes, he’d died and gotten a first class ticket to heaven—or maybe hell, because he all but salivated, ready to tear into the crates in the other truck.

“Do I dare tell you about dessert?” she teased and Charlie made the mistake of looking at her again. Their gazes collided and heat coiled through his gut. He didn’t really care what she offered—no confection could match the sweet promise of her lips, or whet his appetite more than the idea of kissing her.

“I don’t know if my heart can take more. I’d settle for a candy bar at this point,” Hernandez encouraged her. “But say pumpkin pie and I’m yours, ma’am.”

No way in hell
. An immediate, violent possessiveness gripped him and Charlie counted to ten to keep from ripping the corporal’s head off. He’d been on the original team intended to provide Jana’s protection during her stay. The too-friendly banter earned him a ticket to an assignment as far away from her as Charlie could manage.

Only half-listening to her describe the cobblers and pies she’d like to make—her choices hinged on what the mess detail had available—he sorted through the roster of men he could assign, and none would do.

It had to be him.

***

Charlie didn’t relax his guard even a fraction until they were inside the secured perimeter, and even then his spine felt locked in an intractable back brace. Hernandez drove them directly under cover and parallel-parked their vehicle beside the building, with Jana Grimaldi’s side closest to the entrance. She didn’t unbuckle and try to exit, but glanced at Charlie and waited instead.

Good girl
. Pleased at her decision to listen to his instructions for the second time since they picked her up, he checked his helmet and exited. They’d only had two on-base incidents in fourteen months, but that was two too many. He scanned the area. Some of the guys were taking advantage of their downtime and played basketball on a makeshift court. A handful of others actually sprawled on split, discolored loungers, soaking up the weak winter sun. Everything else seemed in order—Marines going about their business, including the sentries on the walls and the patrols following their assigned routes.

Hernandez waited next to Jana’s side of the vehicle and Charlie nodded at him as he circled around. Paranoia kept people alive. Without giving her time to sightsee, they shuttled her inside, backing off only once four walls enclosed her and ended any possible line of sight from a sniper.

Directing Hernandez and two others to handle the unloading of her supplies and things, Charlie led her to the room they’d set aside for her. Lieutenant Braxton was stateside on leave, and his officer’s quarters were sparse, but comfortable enough for her three-day stay.

Opening the door for her, he slid back a step and let her enter.

“This isn’t where my brother slept, is it?” The quiet question opened a can of worms.

“No, ma’am. He shared a bunkroom with others and it wouldn’t be appropriate for you to sleep there.” The guys wouldn’t mind, but no way in hell would it happen on his watch.
And that has nothing to do with not wanting to share her attention
.

“Oh.” Disappointment rippled across her expression. She took a tentative step into the room and looked from the card table with its lamp and hard back chair to the cot-like bed ready to be made with the fresh sheets and blanket folded on it. Buttoned down and ready to go, the room was all hers and they’d moved the lieutenant’s few personal items for the duration.

He half-expected her to say something more, but stared around the empty room. The dark flak jacket and helmet made her positively tiny.

“Ma’am?”

Nothing.

Adjusting the clip on his gun and securing it, he swung the strap over his shoulder to free his hands. Debating whether he should overstep, he put aside the concern when her shoulders began shaking. Touching a hand to her back, he wasn’t prepared for her to turn and bury her face against his chest. He’d never been a fan of a woman’s tears or the sound of crying, but Jana’s near-silent sob rent his heart in two.

Her need overruled his objections and he wrapped his arms around her. The duel flak jackets made it awkward, but he doubted she noticed. If not for the trembling of her body, he wouldn’t even have known she still cried. His kid sister did the same thing when something upset her and she tried to hide it.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “No one else can hear you.”

The dam cracked, her gulp audible above the sub-vocal crying. A second whisper of sound rode the first and her shaking increased. Worried he might be making it worse, Charlie pulled away a fraction and studied her tear-stained face.

Instead of anguish, laughter creased her cheeks. Confused, he stepped back further. “Ma’am?” Had she cracked upon arriving in Afghanistan? The odd little high-pitched note punching the end of her laughter turned into a hiccup.

She tried to wipe away her tears and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I thought when I got here I’d—I’d feel closer to him and I do, and I don’t, and it’s surreal, and this room is so—empty.” Sucking in a noisy hiss of air, she plucked at the front of her jacket. “Can I take this off, please? I can’t breathe.”

A fresh tear splashed down her cheek and she beat at the snaps. Brushing her hand aside, he opened the catches and helped her strip out of it. The helmet came next. Disliking her pallor and shallow respiration, he ushered her back to the bed, sat her down, and urged her head between her knees.

“Breathe,” he ordered and rubbed her back. If she didn’t calm down in the next thirty seconds, he’d call for a medic. The woman had light hair—golden and soft— pulled back into a ponytail. Between her sweet personality, blonde hair and green eyes, he asked for trouble. She was exactly the type of woman he adored.

Mind on the job, Marine
.

Gradually, the shudders wracking her shoulders ceased and her hard pants slowed. Easing away, he squatted in front of her to meet her gaze. “Better?”

Sitting up a straighter, she swiped at the tears again. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually go basket case on strangers.”

“I didn’t see anything.” The least he could offer was her dignity.

“Thank you for that, for escorting me here, and for the letters you sent.” She swallowed.

Gut-checked, he decided the time for strategic withdrawal had arrived. “I’ll let you get settled in and cleaned up. The room has a private shower. It’s small, but you should have enough hot water at this time of day.”

“Wait.” She caught his arm before he could rise, and he stilled at the contact. Her hand was delicate, soft with rounded, well-manicured nails. She had no business being in Afghanistan. “Please.” She tacked the word on as though it were an afterthought. “You knew Robbie, right?”

Even expecting the question would come didn’t make it easier to face. “Unfortunately, not as well as you might have hoped. I
knew
of him. We’d been introduced and I saw him around, but we didn’t work together that often.” He regretted the disappointment flickering across her face.

“You wrote the nicest letter about him.”

“No one had anything bad to say about your brother. I didn’t know him, but I wished I had—after.” Guilt lodged like a dead weight against his chest. “He was a stand-up guy, well-respected, dedicated, and damn good at his job.”

“So you said.” A smile flickered around the corners of her mouth. She had the prettiest pale pink lips.

And I don’t need to think about her mouth or what she could be doing with it
.

Distance. He needed distance. “Miss Grimaldi, this isn’t going to be a fun three days for you.” Maybe she didn’t need his advice and she certainly hadn’t asked for it. “Are you really sure that you want to do this? It’s not too late to back out. No harm, no foul.”

I’ll make sure you’re on a flight back home tonight—where you belong, safe and sound
.

“Jana, remember? And I don’t want to back out.” She sniffled once. “You have brothers, Captain?”

“Charlie.” Acquiescing to her demand. “Yeah, I do.” Three brothers and one sister.

“Robbie was my only brother and older than me by four years. I can’t remember a time in my life when he wasn’t sticking up for me or picking me up after I hurt myself or helping me. Even when he deployed here, he used to send me pep talks in his letters. He called me on every holiday, just to see how I was doing. He never complained about going without and he never worried about himself. I’m never going to get another call or letter from him again. I never got to be the one to take care of him.” She sucked her upper lip between her teeth and went silent so long Charlie thought she might have forgotten him.

Exhaling, Jana leaned forward and clasped her hands. “I had a plan. I’ve been studying all about PTSD and therapeutic recovery and reintegration—I had a plan to be his person and be there for him the way he’d always been for me. But I don’t get to do that anymore, and I’m angry, and I’m sad, and I want to understand how this happened, and it’s no one’s fault—it’s what happened, but it didn’t just happen to him.”

“It happened to you, too.” He got that. An accident took his brother Brent’s leg years before and it happened to his whole family, too. “I wish I had the words to tell you how sorry I am.”

“I didn’t come here for that,” she murmured. “I promise you, this isn’t about blame or seeking some kind of restitution. It’s about doing something for Robbie. He loved the Marines so much. I can’t spend Thanksgiving with him, but I can spend it with all of you and make this the best possible Thanksgiving I can. I’m sorry I cried on you, but please don’t ask me if I want to go home. I have three days and then I’ll go, but until then, I’m here and all in.”

God help him, she was even prettier on the inside. His objections washed away in the face of such fierce devotion. “Okay. It’ll be my honor to help in any way that I can.”

A tremulous smile lightened the sadness in her face. “Thank you, Charlie.”

“My pleasure.” His body tightened at the thought. “But first things first. Take a shower, change your clothes, and then I’ll escort you to the mess and you can talk to the cooks.”

“Okay.” She rubbed a hand over her face again, as though trying to wipe away the tear tracks staining her cheeks. “How do I tell you I’m ready?”

“I’m right next door.” He pointed to the left. “Knock on the wall.”

The lukewarm shower did a great deal to restore her equilibrium. Jana couldn’t believe she’d cried all over the captain. Despite his fantastic letters, and the genuine apology in his behavior and words, he was a stranger, and she’d wept brokenly in his arms.

“And then I laughed.” She stared at the small round mirror affixed to the wall in the tiny bathroom. “Laughed like a lunatic.”