“And Blinski…I’m not sure he’ll make it either. Pretty severe burns from the looks of it.”
Liam exchanged a long look with Freeman, who shook his head in disbelief. Three fellow Night Stalkers gone in one horrible accident, three friends and comrades taken way too soon. And that triple-A gun had nearly taken them down tonight as well. If he’d died, there would have been no one to inform back home. No one to send his personal effects to. It was a sobering realization and made him immediately think of Honor.
“The other two okay?” he asked Yates.
“Think so. They looked pretty banged up though.”
Liam nodded. “I’ll go see them, do what I can for them when I’m done at HQ.”
“I’ll go with you,” Freeman said in a low voice. He’d gone through selection with Gustafson. Liam set a hand on his co-pilot’s shoulder and squeezed. Freeman nodded his thanks and started unbuckling his harness.
Muscles stiff and achy, Liam climbed out onto the tarmac and took a deep breath. The lingering scent of jet fuel tinged the cool night air as he waited for Freeman to join him. Rubbing a hand over the back of his head he turned toward the closest building but froze when he saw Honor walking up to the assembled crowd their arrival had drawn.
She studied the helo with a worried look on her face and when her gaze cut past it and landed on him, she froze as well. After staring into his eyes for a few seconds, she scanned him all over, an expression of sheer relief passing over her features as she saw he was okay.
In that moment it hit him that she was the one person outside of his regiment who would have cared if he’d died out there tonight. Somehow, despite everything that had happened and everything he’d said and done—or not done—she still cared.
Holding her gaze, Liam wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and bury his face in the side of her neck. Just hold her and have her hold him back, offering comfort so the loss wouldn’t hurt so much.
There was no way that was going to happen with an audience looking on. But he wanted that so much he ached.
Her lips curved into a sad smile that he saw reflected in her eyes. Nodding to him once in acknowledgement, she turned and disappeared into the crowd. Liam stared at the spot where she’d just stood, and knew he had to see her one last time before she left.
Alone.
Chapter Eleven
Honor shifted her stance to ease the ache in her upper back as she bent over the counter in her commander’s office, reviewing the inventory paperwork she’d been working on for the past fifteen minutes. Five days after the attack her muscles were still sore and bruised feeling. The wounds in her shoulder were healing up well and the headaches were less frequent. But then Erin had left this morning. It was already harder without her here.
With her service obligation done and Wade waiting for her back home, Honor knew her bestie would never return to Bagram. She’d probably stay in either Montana or Wyoming, get married and start a family with Wade. Honor was happy for her even though she was going to miss her. Thankfully she only had a few days left here herself, but still, it sucked to have Erin gone.
“Ms. Girard. Can I talk to you a second?” Specialist Andrews said as he came up beside her.
Annnd, cue another headache.
The formal address from him was a good sign, and he was being very respectful in his approach. Honor laid her pen aside, glad he wasn’t singling her out in private this time. Three other people could see them right now. Their last conversation about a job she’d given him hadn’t gone well; at least this time there’d be witnesses around.
“Sure.” Leaning her hip against the counter, she gave him her full attention. “What can I do for you?”
His dark blue stare was direct, brimming with resentment. “I think you know.”
Honor bit back a sigh. “If you mean what I think you do, we’ve been through this already. There’s nothing more I can do for you on that matter.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw and the anger simmering in his eyes set off her internal radar. Something about him had always seemed…off. “Do you know what I’m going home to when we get back?”
“No.”
“Nothing. My wife says she’s leaving me.”
Not surprising. In addition to him hating his job and hating being deployed to a combat zone, from what she’d heard from his NCOs, his marriage wasn’t in much better shape than Ipman’s. “I’m sorry.”
He gave a tight shrug. “I’ll be better off, once the legal stuff’s all over with.”
Okaaay then. Honor kept her expression carefully blank, waiting for him to continue.
“I want to make sergeant.”
She barely withheld another sigh. “Then you have to bring up your marksmanship and PT scores if you want a chance at getting into the Warrior Leader Course.” And getting one hell of an attitude adjustment while you’re at it wouldn’t be a bad idea either.
He’d been better over the past couple months, less outwardly hostile whenever he had a conflict with someone, but his personality still left a lot to be desired when it came to working with others. He and Ipman had that in common, although Ipman had the shorter fuse but was less erratic. It was no secret that Andrews resented being passed over time and time again by his superiors. Though he knew exactly why he hadn’t received a promotion because his sergeants had counseled him on what was holding him back. She’d read their reports personally.
“Our unit only gets a few seats in the class you need, and the number of promotion points you’d need to make the next cutoff are—”
“Almost impossible to get. I know,” he muttered, and glanced away, frustration etched into his face. “I need this one,” he said in a less forceful tone. “Need it bad.”
She could all but smell the desperation coming off him. Maybe he’d finally realized that being a sullen asshole with his coworkers wasn’t the best way to go about getting what he wanted. Maybe a promotion would increase his self-esteem and make him a happier person. She didn’t know. “You’ve already spoken to Sergeant Smithers about this again?”
He nodded, meeting her eyes once more, his stare direct and unflinching. Something about it chilled her.
“You realize that even if you get into the school you need, you still might not earn enough points to get the promotion?”
Back during the height of this war, the Army had changed the regulations so that attending school wasn’t mandatory for promotion. All in an effort to keep NCOs, the backbone of the Army, where they were needed most: overseas with their soldiers instead of back home attending courses. Now that the drawdown was in full swing, the latest version of the Enlisted Promotions regulation stated that E-4s who hadn’t yet made enough points probably wouldn’t get a slot in WLC unless all of the E-5s that need the school have already gone through.
“All I want is a shot,” he insisted. “A fair shot.”
At the emphasis on the word fair, Honor gave him a cool stare. He wasn’t being overtly hostile—he wasn’t stupid—but she knew he resented the hell out of her for passing him by and that he thought she’d earned her WO insignia simply because she had breasts and a vagina. A totally archaic mindset, but unfortunately, still all too common in the military. So she didn’t bother sugar coating her response. “You want a real shot, you know what you have to do.”
Those deep blue eyes flashed with something she couldn’t quite identify. Something that seemed a lot like hatred. “I’m going to make corporal.”
Maybe. If not this time, then probably in the near future. Go, Army.