Phoenix (11 page)

“What’s your verdict?” Jack asked, before realizing he needed to clarify. “With regard to Candidate Gerard?”

“She is a capable candidate who needs a challenge. To be quite honest, she should be sitting at this table with us.”

He wasn't quite ready for that. Not when she shot daggers at him every time he got anywhere near her. “What kind of challenge would that be?”

“Kitchen duty.”

Jack tried not to laugh. Talk about the oldest trick in the stereotypical military playbook. Did Flaherty want to punish or reward her? Maybe his esoteric interpretations were lightly coated in bias. “She can't cook,” he said.

Flaherty clasped his hands together. Jack must have said the magic words. “All the better,” he said. “She's made it clear the kind of assignment she wants, the kind she'd be good at. See how she responds when you throw her into a situation where she has to work harder than she normally would.”

Caroline was indeed a hard worker but she’d been able to skate by on a lot of things too. Having an assignment she loathed would keep her focused. Driven. And a little angry. She'd both hate it and love it. The idea had merit. And the best part was he hadn't even come up with it. 

“Let’s do that,” Jack said. “Make your assignments and get these recruits on the way to full, active duty.”

*              *              *              *              *

The past few weeks of training had been simple enough. Caroline and the guys were split up and partnered with a few other recruits in two separate units. Maybe the tide was turning when it came to expanding the rebellion’s ranks. Caroline, Jones, Crunch, and Gig were with a guy named Sherman, while Gabe was shuffled off with the others. She couldn’t help but wonder if that had been an intentional decision, perhaps from someone higher up than her trainers.

Caroline took to their day to day routine easily despite her initially tenuous relationship with Major Flaherty and the drill sergeant assigned to her unit; training reminded her of sparring with Crunch in the basement of the safe house in D.C. She could handle direction easily and felt most at peace when she was occupied. The time they spent in a classroom was minimal, which was good since she relished being in the California sun, fatigues and all.

She had friends in ROTC in college, spent time on military bases and knew limited protocol from her time in Congress, but much of it was new to her. She concentrated on strategy, anticipating the enemy’s moves, learning to hone her self-defense skills even further. Once a slow runner who hated doing pushups, she excelled at PT and easily covered the minimum passing requirements on the first day. Trudging around on the base, engaging in hypothetical combat scenarios, improving her aim at the range and in the field…she had finally found something to distract her from everything else in her life.

She came home every evening exhausted and was able to enjoy a few well-rested nights. Never in the dark, of course. That fear still remained, which was why she made sure she had a pack of spare lightbulbs in the nightstand. Complete darkness was a huge no-no, and multiple nightlights were her constant evening companion.

But those dreamless sleeps were wonderful. When she wasn’t plagued by images of the people she’d lost, the people she’d hurt, the people she’d left behind. She pressed her painful memories to the side and let herself pass out on the bed, sometimes not even pausing to take off her uniform.

Caroline would then start the process over the next day. As the first few weeks progressed, Flaherty gave her increased responsibility in the unit, occasionally nodded approvingly at her, even threw her a compliment once or twice. She almost felt normal, though she would often imagine the ghosts of the past tapping on her shoulder. But she was too tired to acknowledge them.

Was she winning Flaherty over? She couldn’t figure any of these men out. She’d spent most of her life getting by on her charisma but had no more to give. All she had was her work ethic and a fucking ax to grind. And grind she did, with nary a smile or a flip comment. She took the same approach she had in Congress, minus the enigmatic engagement. She shut up and did her damn job.

Her pleasure in training was short-lived, however. She was placed on an officer track as expected given her educational background, but her MOS was something else entirely. When Flaherty handed her the assignment she’d have for the next four weeks, she shook her head.

“The cafeteria?” she said. “Is this a joke?”

He didn’t smile. His compliments had been limited to her time on the range and in the field. “Do you have a problem, Candidate Gerard?”

They’d never given her the results of her tests, but her aptitude for anything involving food preparation was a major stretch. “I’m not skilled in that particular area.”

“I have faith in you,” Flaherty said. “Given everything else you’ve done so far, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Caroline knew who’d had a hand in this decision. Dare she ask? Was it worth the risk? “I was hoping for something a little more…aggressive. Like the infantry.”

Flaherty smiled with a professional detachment she’d come to recognize over the past month. “We are well aware of your ability to destroy all objects within your reach.”

And yet she, the only woman in the class, had been assigned to the cafeteria. She’d choose to believe him, for now. He and the other majors played things so close to the vest that she never knew what was legitimate and what was a test. The rebellion had tricks to weed the players from the fakers. She could get through four more weeks. Then she’d be free and clear and would hopefully be given a permanent assignment better suited to her skill set.

“All right,” she said. “When do I start?”

Caroline showed up at the cafeteria in the early morning hours, since she’d been instructed to help with breakfast. She knew there was a decent sized staff that made sure that everyone got fed every day, but had no idea of the complexities of the system until she was given a chance to look around.

Sergeant Cedric Boone oversaw a crew of thirty men and was in charge of all of the food preparation. He was quite surprised that Caroline had been assigned to him and practically bowed when she shook his hand.

“It’s an honor,” he said.

Funny, he was one of the few people she believed when they said stuff like that. Caroline patted his shoulder. “You haven’t seen me cook yet.”

He laughed. “I got no idea why they’re making you slum around here but we’ll make the best of it.”

She spent the morning peeling potatoes, only because she finally convinced him she could handle it. That it wouldn’t bother her to do, as he put it, the shit work. He seemed happy to have her there but remained concerned that her skills weren’t being utilized properly.

Yeah. She’d figured that out too. She suspected Boone knew as well as she why she’d been assigned to him. Though time consuming, food prep made the hours pass quickly. As the weeks passed she shared baking tips with him, helped him perfect cookie recipes, and allowed herself to enjoy the experience. It was yet another avenue she could pursue without having to think about heavy stuff. There were deadlines and rules and procedures that had to be followed or the day’s tasks wouldn’t be accomplished. His kitchen staff was likable, efficient, and innovative.

Boone was a native of Chicago, so they had plenty to talk about. He wandered west once he graduated from high school, hoping to catch on wherever he could – a food truck, a restaurant, anywhere anyone would take him. He’d been running his own barbecue and blues joint in L.A. when the United States went to shit. It took a split second for him to decide to join the rebellion, regardless of what he was giving up. His sister ran his restaurant while he ladled soup to officers and enlisted men who had no clue about his background. Probably because they’d never bothered to ask.

Caroline wondered if Jack and his advisors knew how much work went into keeping a few hundred hungry soldiers fed on a daily basis. Though she’d been doing a spectacular job of shunning him, she’d catch him stealing glances at her in the hallways or as she walked across the base. He’d never engage, not even when she grabbed Gabe’s hand as the two of them passed him on the way to the commissary. An unnecessarily cruel gesture, yet she’d done it without a second thought.

The days passed and her training was almost over when Jack caught up with her one day after lunch. When she was once again with Gabe. He had the world’s most perfect timing.

“Caroline, might I have a word?” Jack asked.

She should have known she wouldn’t be able to avoid him forever. “Fine.” She turned to Gabe. “I’ll catch up with you in a bit.”

Jack watched Gabe walk down the hall and out of sight. “I hear your training is going well,” he said.

“So I’ve been told,” she said. “Although the cafeteria was a curious assignment.”

“I’m sure you’ll receive a rank and role appropriate for your experience once you’re finished.”

A delicate sidestep. “What do you want?”

She could still read him. His tics, his habits. He was in no mood to beat around the bush. Perhaps seeing her with Gabe had lessened his desire to make small talk.

“If you’re going to keep treating me like shit, I have a right to know why,” he said. “I haven’t said a word about your…relationship with that man, nor about the fact that you refuse to live with or even converse with me.”

The jealousy practically seeped out of his pores, the tiny puppet continuing to dance. And she’d barely done anything at all, which made it easier to continue doing it. “I wasn’t aware you had a right to dictate my behavior.”

“I don’t. But I’d like a little acknowledgment. This hasn’t been easy for me.”

Poor baby. “I’m supposed to worship at the altar of your magnanimity? No thanks.”

“You know what I mean. You haven’t told me anything.” 

Oh, he wanted to know what had happened during their year apart. Like she was ever going to talk about that. She’d found a way to block it out and no one could make her dredge it up again. Not even him. “You’ve got spies. You can get the story from them. I’m sure The Fed kept meticulous notes.”

“I don’t care about what anyone else has to say about it but you.” His tone softened. “None of this can be easy. Let me help you get through it.”

“I don’t need you for that.”

“Oh, right. You’ve got your hero boytoy. How foolish of me.”

Interesting. Jack remained convinced she spent more than her lunches with Gabe. And oh, was his possessiveness palpable. “Don’t talk about him like that.”

“How old is he? Twenty-five?”

“Like you have any room to talk. I seem to remember you having your fair share of young, vapid groupies before you met me. And not that it’s any of your business, but he’s thirty-four.”

“Any man who’s fucking my wife is my business.”

Yes, much more than lunch. She didn’t correct his mistaken impression. It didn’t hurt to keep playing. “Gabe was there for me when no one else was, including you. I’d be dead if it weren’t for him.”

“You don’t think he had something to gain from it?”

“Like what?”

“Oh, a free ticket to a rebel stronghold, maybe?”

He didn’t trust her friends. Even more interesting. And they’d passed muster anyway. “This free ticket resulted in a fractured nose and broken cheekbone thanks to Corporal Buchanan. To say nothing of that bit of emotional abuse that you insisted was a run of the mill interrogation. You have no idea what his motivations are.”

“Neither do you.”

“That’s it, I’m not having this discussion with you. I don’t owe you any answers, I don’t have to talk to you, I don’t have to see you, I can go on my merry way if you want.”

Jack closed the gap between them and cupped her cheek in his palm. “I miss you, baby. Don’t you miss me?”

Dammit. She should have seen that coming. Whenever she got pissed at him he often resorted to physical affection to get her to cave. His skin was warm. And soft. He knew damn well what he did to her when he touched her. She couldn’t get tangled in that web. Caroline swatted his hand away. “No,” she said. “I don’t. And don’t call me that. Ever again.”

“You’re lying,” he said. “I know it.”

Jack was the only obstacle preventing a quick exit down the hall, and Caroline tried to get around him to leave. He grabbed her arms to keep her from squirming away. Her sleeves rode up and he clamped his mouth shut.

Her scars were showing. The prisoner number was visible. And he’d seen it all.

“Jesus Christ,” he said. “Caroline, what happ-?”

She yanked her arms away and pulled the sleeves down, unable to keep her hands from trembling. “Don’t touch me.”

He closed his eyes, pressing one hand to the wall. “What did they do to you?” he whispered.

“None of your fucking business.”

Jack couldn’t hide the anguish in his voice. She did her best to ignore it. Another trick, another trap he’d pull out of his repertoire to suck her back in. “Please…talk to me.” His voice caught. “Even if you don’t want to be with me, please let me help.”

Caroline regained her composure the best she could. “No. Stay away from me. If you can’t handle that, I’ll find someplace else to go.”

“No, you can stay. I want you here.” He reached out to her. “Caroline, I’ll never-”

No. She wasn’t ready for confession time. She didn’t want to know how that sentence was going to end. Caroline scooted away, shuffling down the hall as fast as she could. He didn’t follow.

*              *              *              *              *

Jack had been avoiding her. Doing his best not to set her off. He was trying to take Dr. Haddad’s advice to heart and give Caroline her space, but it was getting harder and harder. He spent his days in his office wishing she was with him – in
any
capacity – and his nights tossing and turning knowing every hour they spent apart made the distance between them increase.

And those scars…he didn’t want to think about the others. The ones he couldn’t see, whether they were physical or not. He’d failed to notice that she was always in sweaters or long sleeved shirts when out of uniform, in spite of San Diego’s quite temperate weather. When she’d been in Congress she’d picked up the habit of rolling up her blouse sleeves at every opportunity, even during the winter, but not anymore.

He needed to keep his distance. To respect her wishes. But would it kill her to talk to him? He knew she wanted him; he could tell by her demeanor, by the way she held her head. And especially by the way she reacted every time he touched her, no matter how insignificant the contact. He didn’t give a fuck about whatever she had going on with that asshole Morton. She’d figure out soon enough that she needed to be with her husband. Where she belonged. But she might need a little help along the way.

Jack McIntyre could play the game and play it well. Always could, always would. So if he had to be a little more forceful than necessary, he’d do it. Forget his boundaries and fuck her inhibitions. When he saw her returning to her apartment alone one night, he knew he’d found his opportunity.

She rolled her eyes the instant she saw him. “What do you want?”

Was he that predictable? He’d barely bothered her at all in the past couple of weeks. But she’d probably figured out how often he trailed after her like some lost little duckling. Fuck that. Now wasn’t the time to be pathetic. Now was the time for decisiveness. For action.

“You’ll be finished with training soon,” he said. “Just wanted to check in.”

“By following me home from dinner? Do you do that with all the recruits?”

Jack made a mental note to follow up with the rest of the trainees, just to prove her wrong. Or right. He wasn’t sure anymore. “I do now.” He shrugged. “Sometimes I get bored.”

Caroline fiddled around in her pocket for her keys. “Training is fine. Everything’s fine.”

She was lying but she was getting better at it. Few things depressed him more than watching a sincere person cross over into the contrived. She’d never been one to skirt the truth. But so much had changed. He could have hardly expected her to remain the same. He moved closer to her and she backed away. Was she afraid of him?

“Come on, Caroline. I’m not going to try anything.”

“Leave me alone,” she said softly.

She didn’t want him to leave her alone. She wanted him to stay. He seized the moment, closing the gap between them until she was backed up against the wall. Hours of working off grief and frustration had left him much stronger and much more determined than he’d been before.

“Is that what you want?” he whispered. “For me to leave? Tell me, does Mr. Morton hold your attention? Aren’t you afraid you might get sick of him? What are you going to do when that happens?”

She gave him a halfhearted shove. “You’re full of shit, McIntyre.”

Oh, he’d touched a nerve. Maybe he could touch more than that if he played his cards right. “Don’t you miss me? We used to have such a good time together. You were unbelievable. You’d blow my mind, again and again.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

It would get him everywhere. He just had to keep trying. “You always craved me even when you were pissed as hell at me. Tell me, how does Gabe measure up?”

She blushed. His wife hadn’t been with many men, but she’d sung his praises on multiple occasions both before and after they were married. His sexual confidence could still throw her off, at least temporarily.

Caroline shook her head back and forth. “Gabe is
enormously
skilled in bed,” she said. “Fantastic. Absolutely no complaints. He knows exactly how to treat me.”

Goddammit, she was pushing his buttons on purpose. It made him sick to think about that asshole touching her. That privilege was for her husband alone. Jack held her firmly against the wall, his mouth against her ear, tracing his fingers across her lips. “I always gave you what you wanted. What you needed. You don’t need him.”

“I sure as hell don’t need you.”

She kept her hands plastered to her sides. Remarkable restraint. His techniques weren’t working. Every tactic he tried pushed her further away. He could feel it, the emotional and sexual tension between them…still they seemed miles apart. Jack pulled back and slammed his palms against the wall above her head, his aggravation bubbling over.

“Goddammit, Caroline,” he thundered. “Enough of this bullshit. Fight for me! Fight for us!”

She shoved him. “I don’t
want
to!”

“Why not?” he asked. “What did I do? What the fuck did I do to deserve to be treated this way?”

Caroline grabbed his shirt, trying to push him away before stomping on his foot. At least she wasn’t wearing stilettos. He yelped in pain and backed away from her. “What the hell was that for?”