Fuck. Next to my name on the sheet the cute brunette handed out is Katya’s name. Being around her is about as pleasant as being pinned down in a firefight – without any weapons. Of the three civilians I could’ve been paired with, I’d take Harris over Katya, even knowing how right Petr is about the guy. I don’t need to talk to him to sense there’s something really off about him.
War brings out courage in those who never thought themselves capable of it. It can also shine a light on the darkness in someone’s soul, when they’re pushed to the point where they don’t just snap, they take everyone down with them.
Harris is one of those men. If he hasn’t snapped yet, he will one day, and it won’t be pleasant.
I could really use my good luck charm this week. I’m still upset with myself for losing it in the battle that took Mikael’s life. It was given to me by the Marine who inspired me to join, an heirloom of sorts passed to him from his grandfather, who served in World War One. I had carried it with me for ten years, since I was sixteen.
“Can we swap partners?” Katya asks.
Equally dissatisfied with my luck, I’m surprised she has the balls to ask for a new one. I’m not the one who’s wearing heels and forgot a sleeping bag, and I’d never throw mud on her or disrespect Petr by admitting out loud I don’t want shit to do with her.
“Who you got?” Petr asks, leaning over to see her paper. His gaze flies up to mine. He smiles. “Everyone here wants Captain Mathis. He’s always got his shit together and never loses.”
“Then someone here will be happy to swap with me,” she replies coolly.
The guys exchange looks around me, not sure what to make of her insistence.
“I’ll trade you, Sawyer,” Harris offers.
“Nope. No swaps,” Petr says quickly. “Captain Mathis is the best man out here, and that’s who you’re teamed up with.”
By the astonished look on Katya’s face, her brother has never put his foot down before.
I’ll admit, as childish as it sounds, the fact she wants nothing to do with me provokes the side of me that wants to show her why she’s wrong. Again. I’m not sure how this girl gets under my skin, but she does.
“I need long-sleeved shirts,” Katya says, peering with dissatisfaction into her bag.
What is with her? I’m ready to write her and her shirts off as crazy when Brianna responds.
“Something wrong with short sleeves? Fat arms or a few scars you don’t want anyone to see?” she laughs.
Katya’s face is red. I’m thinking there’s some knowledge between the two about the shirts. I can’t begin to guess what it is, or why I have a feeling Katya and Brianna are going to be at each other’s throats this week.
The awkward silence that falls is interrupted by Mr. Khavalov.
“It is with my deepest gratitude that I thank you all,” he says in his thick accent. “Mikael meant the world to Petr, Katya and me. That you all have come so far to honor him, honors us, too. We are here to honor Mikael and use his legacy to help children who have lost a parent. He was a noble man, and this is a noble cause.”
It’s truly an incredible thing they’ve done here. It makes me view Katya in a little better light, knowing that her general hatred towards me stems from love for her brothers. I respect her loyalty, even if her anger leaves me wishing for a new partner for the week.
“I think I speak for everyone here when I say it’s an honor to be here today, Mr. Khavalov,” I respond. “Mikael would be proud, and this is a touching way to remember him and help others.”
Mr. Khavalov smiles. “I like you, Captain Mathis.” He chuckles. “Come! Brianna will show you all the grounds.”
We all gather our bags and trail the sexy brunette out of the welcome center. She leads us around the small but modern campsite, explaining everything. While the log structures and stone walkways are quaint, the camp has modern amenities like private showers, air conditioned dorms with high quality beds and wardrobes, and a mess hall that I immediately wish I’d had at any point in my career. There’s an immense obstacle course, swimming pools, horse stables, and other activities, in addition to the camp sitting on a lake with pristine paddleboats loosely corralled by a rope near a new dock.
It’s clear the Khavalovs put a great deal of money into the camp, another sign of how serious they are about honoring Mikael.
Each set of partners is assigned a dorm, where we’ll stay with the kids on our team. We’re given an hour to set up then instructions to go to the reception center for some team building exercises.
I go to my truck to grab my gear and return to the barracks I’ve been assigned with Katya. Each entrance to a barracks is decorated by a flag in a different color. We’re the blue team.
Walking around the interior, she’s got her arms crossed and is peering into corners.
I’m not even going to ask. I go to the back, where there’s a break room stocked with healthy snacks and water, a laundry room and a second room for the counselors with two bunk beds and two sets of dressers. We have our own bathroom while the kids have a larger, community one they share with the others.
I’m not sure how the two of us are going to sleep in the same room. She seems like the kind who might try to kill me in my sleep. Might be a good thing I rarely sleep.
“Any preference as to which rack you want, ma’am?” I call.
“No.”
I claim one side of the room. It takes me ten minutes to make my bed, position everything in drawers, and stow the rest out of sight, ensuring an aesthetically pleasing room.
“You don’t have to do that,” she says from the doorway.
I glance at her. “Do what?”
“That.” She’s pointing at the corners of my bed, which are crisp and tight. “You can relax.”
“Discipline stems from routine,” I reply automatically.
“Right. They don’t let you jarheads think, do they?” She sighs and walks in, gazing around, unimpressed with our comfortable quarters. “You allergic to peppermint?”
“No.”
“Okay, good.” Katya goes to the corner and pulls a dark glass bottle from her large purse. Pinching the top of the dropper-lid, she deposits a few drops of something into the corner.
“What is that?” I ask.
“Peppermint oil. Keeps spiders away.”
No sleeping bag or halfway decent shoes, but she remembers bug repellant? I don’t think this woman has an ounce of sense.
This isn’t going to work. I watch her deposit oil into each corner then under the window, unable to find a polite way to tell her that her priorities suck.
When she’s done, she faces me. The tension between us isn’t normal. She doesn’t look at me; she glares. There’s always fire burning in the depths of her gaze, and she’s tense. There’s a tiny part of me that wants to say something to help her.
The rest … well, I’m not sure what to do. I can’t remember anything ever feeling so awkward. Unaccustomed to dealing with civilians, I have a feeling my preferred way of handling her won’t go over well.
“This is gonna be a long week,” she voices what I’m thinking. “It’s not too late to go back to Iraq. You won’t be stuck with me.”
“I’m not afraid of you, Katya,” I assure her. “Even if your brother and father are.”
“You’re right. Staying here might keep your men from getting killed.”
“Might teach you a thing or two about what it means to work with someone else instead of running people like Petr over.”
“I don’t run him over. I’m taking care of him, something you should’ve done in the first place!” The fire is in her gaze. She strides up to me, pausing in my space.
The beauty glaring up at me might be a turn on, if her tongue wasn’t so fucking lethal.
“Maybe instead of telling him what he can’t do, you can have him show you what he can do,” I suggest.
“Maybe you should’ve been there for four months watching him heal instead of screwing him up and dropping him in my lap.” That glint is in her eyes, the one that says she’s about to slap me again.
“You got a freebie at Mikael’s funeral,” I warn her. “Slap me again, and things will go differently this time.”
“What? You’ll hit me back?”
“No, ma’am, I won’t ever raise a hand to you. But you won’t like what does happen,” I assure her. “There will be consequences.”
The taut silence that follows makes me think there’s more than frustration between us, something I’ll keep attributing to not getting laid in too long. She’s small enough for me to lift with one arm, her flushed features and the challenge in her gaze warming me on the inside.
Someone like this would be wild in the sack.
“If we’re done here, leave please, so I can change,” I tell her with forced politeness.
Another pause, and then she stalks out, slamming the door behind her.
I release my breath, suddenly identifying what I feel. It’s the sense I get before I walk into battle, the combination of roaring adrenaline, exhilaration and extreme focus.
Shaking tension from my shoulders, I know she’s angry but can’t quite write off everything she said.
Maybe you should’ve been there for four months watching him heal instead of screwing him up and dropping him in my lap.
There’s some truth in that, a sense of guilt I experience whenever I think of Petr. I promised to be there when he woke but wasn’t. I don’t know exactly what goes into amputation and giving someone a new leg, but I can’t imagine the experience is simple or remotely pleasant.
If there’s one thing I know about Katya, it’s that she didn’t leave his side the entire time. Which means, I brought the war home to her, too. One dead, one crippled for life, and one scarred emotionally.
I fucked up her family, her world. She’ll never forgive me.
That makes two of us.
I change quickly. The others are wearing jeans. After so long in uniform, I’ve lost some fashion sense, so I pull on dark jeans and don one of the polos, tucking it in. It irks me not to wear a belt; I end up using my uniform belt. I’m pulling on stiff hiking boots when someone knocks.
“Captain Mathis?” It’s Petr’s voice.
I cross to the door and open it. He’s dressed similarly, wearing an assigned polo.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Assuming Katya said something to him, I step aside and sit on my bunk, waiting.
“Just, uh … a request, sir,” he starts with a smile. “Please don’t trade Katya. I know she’ll be a pain in the ass. She’s never camped a day in her life. She’s a good girl, though, and I’d feel safer knowing she’s with you than anyone else.”
Assuming he’s thinking of the creep Harris, I nod. I owe him this, if nothing else.
“She’ll be a challenge.”
“I never back down from a challenge.” As much as I’d like to this time.
“I think you’re the only one here with the temperament to handle her, and …” Petr pauses. “I really want the man who saved my life and the woman who sat beside me for four months while I healed to be friends. Or maybe, at least not hate each other.”
Understanding softens some of my anger. “You asked for us to be partners?”
“I might’ve recommended it to Zach when he was creating the teams.” Petr gives a roguish grin.
“It’s my pleasure,” I reply with diplomacy I’ve learned as an officer.
He laughs. “No, it’s really not, sir. But I appreciate it.”
I can’t turn down a request like this, especially from him. It’s just a week and just an angry woman. It can’t be that bad. After all, she’s sexy as hell, even with the attitude.
“Your leg holding up okay?” I ask, glancing down at it.
“Awesome.” He slaps it. “Can’t wait to show the kids. I loved that shit when I was little.”
Smiling, I motion to the door.
We exit the dorm into the humid, warm afternoon. I automatically take accountability whenever I walk into a room or situation involving my men. The others are there, and I’m not surprised to see Riley flirting with the brunette, Brianna. Katya is the only one missing, and I glance around.
“Horse stables, sir,” Petr says before I can ask. “If you ever can’t find her, she’s there.”
“I’ll go get my partner,” I say. Not about to show him how reluctant I am to be dealing with his sister, I strike off in the direction of the stables and follow the stone trail.
The trees rustle from a warm breeze while blue sky peeks through the canopy above. I breathe in the scent of forest deeply. I can’t get the peppermint out of my nose, which makes me think there’s a drop of it somewhere, maybe on my shoes. Being overseas, I’ve missed four seasons and vegetation such as this. The setting is serene, cheerful, and a little surreal.
Katya is at the corral near the stables, her arms draped over the railing as she watches the horses in the paddock. Her position has caused her shirt to hitch up, and my gaze lingers on the perky ass and long thighs clad in her snug leggings.
Not now. Not her. I remind myself. I go to the railing a few feet from her, eyes following the movement of the two horses. A glance at her makes my jaw clench. Her eyes are rimmed with red.
Fuck. “I did that, didn’t I?” I ask quietly.