His mouth twisted as he thought about how fake she was with everyone. She pretended to be one of them, pretended to care about them, but she was only in it for herself and he was sick to death of putting up with her bullshit, holier-than-thou attitude.
From day one she’d given him the worst shifts and the shittiest jobs, always passing him by when it came to recommending guys from their unit for a spot in an overseas military work exchange program that would allow him to escape his pitiful surroundings and let him stretch his wings a little. Instead of supporting him and helping nurture his career, she’d clipped his wings and grounded him.
The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that she was to blame for his current predicament. She’d driven him to this point in his life. She was the reason he now wrestled with his conscience on a daily basis for what he’d done. For what he’d involved himself in, and what he’d already agreed to do in a week’s time.
It was too late to get out now, he was locked in. Even if he admitted what he’d done and warned everyone, the men who’d paid him for the intel and expected him to go through with his part of the attack would eventually hunt him down and kill him. Though chances were he’d be in jail within hours of opening his mouth about the plot anyway, he couldn’t risk it.
There was no way to deny his involvement once he told them about the plot, especially once they started digging. The FBI and countless other intelligence agencies would be all over him. He’d spend the rest of his miserable life rotting in some maximum-security prison like a discarded animal.
His jaw clenched. That’s all he was to his wife and people like Girard in the Army: garbage, to be cleaned out and discarded.
Agitated all over again, he sat up quickly, pushed to his feet and began pacing the length of the room as the familiar swell of anger rose inside him.
No. No going back, only forward. The money they’d paid him was already long gone to cover previous gambling debts, and if he lived through the attacks and managed to get out of the country as he’d been promised, the remainder of what they owed him would allow him to start over elsewhere. He’d have a new life, one he wouldn’t screw up.
He refused to feel guilty for what was coming or the collateral damage it would cause. He wanted to punish the Army. He wanted to punish Honor Girard, too, make her suffer for what she’d done to him.
The plan he’d been toying with over the past several weeks began to take shape in his mind again. Once the attack was underway everyone would be caught up in the chaos, they’d be too preoccupied with their own safety to worry about anyone else.
He would find out Girard’s schedule that day and make sure he was there waiting when the attack went down. That bitch was going to pay for everything she’d done to him—with her life.
Chapter Sixteen
Honor left work two days later with a killer headache and a seriously bad mood. On top of dealing with one hassle after another all day, the parts they’d been waiting on for more than a week for a high priority job had finally arrived—missing half of what she’d ordered. The repair was already ten days past the expected completion date; now it would be at least ten days more before they could finish up.
Add in that she’d been scrambling to shunt soldiers over to Smithers’s crew since Ipman was out of action with his busted hand and on a short mandatory leave while his legal situation was being looked into. Andrews had called in sick, and with all that going on, little wonder it felt like her head was in imminent danger of exploding.
On the plus side, at least she’d been saved from dealing with any more drama from either of her two troubled soldiers today. Liam had called and texted again as he had every day since arriving back, but she hadn’t answered.
As always the traffic was heavy on the I-5 as she headed north away from base. With the A/C blowing across her face she rubbed a hand over the back of her neck and rolled her head from side to side in an effort to ease the tension in her neck and shoulder muscles. She needed some aspirin, a hot bath to soak in, and her bed. In that order.
But when she arrived home and pulled around to her parking spot, the sight of Liam’s truck out front made her heart stutter in her chest. Simultaneous jolts of dread and elation shot through her, increasing the relentless pounding at the base of her skull and pushing the headache to the razor-thin edge between severe pain and migraine.
Shit. Why tonight of all nights, she thought with a mental groan.
On some level she’d known this was coming, but while she wasn’t exactly surprised to see him here, she wasn’t fully prepared, either. For the past five days he’d sent random texts throughout the day and tried calling several times, though she’d never called him back.
In the messages he told her he missed her, apologized again and stirred up old memories when he mentioned things they’d done back when they were together. Happy or funny things that pulled a grudging smile or even a chuckle out of her.
Liam wasn’t the most romantic guy in the world, not even when they’d been together, but he’d sure been trying hard this week. Since leaving the flowers on her doorstep he’d also sent treats like a chocolate-covered fruit bouquet, a certificate to her favorite nail place for a pedicure and an online gift card to feed her reading addiction. She recognized the effort he was putting into wooing her into talking to him, and dammit, yeah, a small part of her was hopeful that he realized what an ass he’d been and that he really did want to get back together.
Her logical side wanted to bitch slap that romantic part of her into unconsciousness.
The nail thing made her suspicious too. They hadn’t been together for a long time so there was no way he could know where her favorite place was. He had to be getting help. Her money was on Devon.
The wooing period hadn’t lasted long. As she’d suspected, he’d finally run out of patience and was here to talk in person, putting action to words about wanting to talk. She still wasn’t ready to let him past her defensive shields though.
She parked her car beside his truck and spotted him standing on the front step of her townhouse. Wearing dark jeans with his arms folded across the front of his light blue button-down, he met her gaze and gave a little smile of greeting that made her stomach flip.
God, she just wasn’t up to this right now.
Honor sighed. Much as she didn’t feel like doing this tonight, she had no choice. He wasn’t going to give up until she made him, and avoiding this would only put it off until later. They might as well talk tonight and get it over with. Didn’t matter if he wanted to get back together; she couldn’t risk it.
So resigned, she headed up the front walkway. The cement radiated heat up at her from the sunshine it had absorbed, but she was more aware of those intense green eyes on her every step of the way.
Liam pushed away from the wall as she approached, his sheer physical presence making the front stoop seem way smaller than it actually was. As always, he looked good enough to eat, and that wasn’t something she wanted to be thinking right now.
“Hey,” he said, his gaze running over her and coming to rest on her face.
“Hi.” She stopped five feet from him, steeled herself. “Guess you didn’t like taking no for an answer, huh?”
The barest hint of a smile curved his lips. “Night Stalkers never quit,” he murmured, reciting their regiment’s motto.
You quit on us, she thought bitterly, but held the words back because she knew they were hypocritical. She’d quit on them first, after all.
Stepping past him, trying and failing not to notice his clean, spicy scent, she put the key in the lock, her whole body buzzing at his nearness. “Come on in.” She couldn’t muster any enthusiasm in her response though.