Until There Was You (Coming Home, #2) (7 page)

He threaded one hand in her braided hair and kissed her, hard and fierce. “I feel so cheap. You won’t even offer to cuddle afterwards?” Where the hell had that come from? It was a playfulness that Evan had not allowed himself in … years. And then she slid down the length of his body, her nails scraping against his sides and … digging into his forearms until they drew blood
.

The screech of tires against asphalt ripped through the darkness. The stench of burning oil seared his nose. He tried to open his eyes. Casey. Where was she? Where was his sister?

* * *

Evan bolted awake, arousal wrestling with absolute grief. Grief won, crushing the lingering power of the dream beneath its heel, leaving only a sad emptiness inside him. He sat up, breathing deeply until his heart rate slowed and his mind no longer sped along that dark curving road.

He glanced at the phone on the bed stand. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d called his parents. Months? Had it been before he’d deployed? The phone calls never lasted long and he always ended up filled with more regret and bitterness.

It was easier not to call.

He pushed himself out of bed before the familiar melancholy dragged him under. He’d learned a long time ago that wallowing only produced more wallowing, so he pulled on workout clothes and headed downstairs to the gym, offering a silent thank-you prayer to the budget people who’d screwed up and sent them to the lodge instead of the barracks on main post Fort Carson.

He should have gotten some coffee before he’d headed to the gym, but it was too
late now. He glanced inside the racquetball courts as he walked past, then stopped and backed up. The nightmare, the grief and the aching loneliness fell away as he stood and watched Claire writhe and twist in a graceful dance of hands and feet.

She moved in a way that was elegant and confident and sharply arousing. There was no hint of the trembling fear he’d seen last night. No trace of the wounded woman who’d leaned against him as she’d reined her panic back under control.

He lost himself in the mesmerizing dance of her body with the air, remembering with poignant clarity the way that body had molded to his. Funny, he’d never thought of her as controlled before but watching her now, knowing the panic that lay dormant within her, he realized she had much more control than he’d ever given her credit for. Her body was fluid, her arms and legs stretching and twisting in a graceful dance. It was such a far cry from how he was used to seeing her, he almost doubted what he saw. Her brow furrowed as she twisted into a new pose, as though she were battling demons only she could see.

Except that now he’d caught a glimpse of those demons.

Her trim, athletic frame belied the strength she kept concealed beneath uniforms that were too big. He wondered if she knew how much the physical fitness uniform T-shirt she wore accented the swell of her breasts.

Claire opened her eyes. One moment she was moving, fluid and graceful. The next, she’d frozen, her eyes colliding with Evan’s in the mirror. Arousal slammed into him hard and fierce as she shifted and slouched, in effect shielding herself from his gaze. In that instant, he realized that she hid herself on purpose.

She’d put away anything that was soft and feminine and oh so vulnerable when they’d been downrange, and she was doing the same thing here at Fort Carson.

Claire Montoya was afraid to face the world without the rank on her chest.

He didn’t move for a long moment as he wrestled with the fractured emotions raging out of his tight control. Claire had always known which buttons to push with
him—the perfect ways to drive him crazy with frustration. Now? Now there was more between them. Something they shared beyond the scars they both carried from combat.

He cleared his throat roughly, trying to push past the block of thick arousal gripping him. When he finally spoke, he chose the most innocuous words possible.

“Good morning.”

* * *

“Good morning,” Claire said, her light words belying the powerful crush of energy that had pulsed through her veins the moment he stepped into the room. His cheeks cut sharply against the shadows beneath his dark, dark eyes.

He hadn’t slept well and she wondered why. She couldn’t see the almighty Evan Loehr succumbing to nightmares. That would be too common of him. But she wondered if he dreamed. And in those dreams, did he let himself go or did he retain the tight control she saw now, pulsing through his clenched jaw and the tight muscles in his neck?

The hard contours of his chest stood out in stark relief against the grey cotton T-shirt. She smiled faintly. He wore his dog tags even in civilian clothes to work out. Always a soldier.

She pulled her rampant thoughts roughly in line, then dug her nails into her palms to keep herself grounded in the moment. A deep, primitive hunger clawed at her and made her want what she could not have. “So, ah, about last night …” Claire really didn’t have the words to put what she needed to say into anything resembling coherent conversation. Too bad her brain was somewhere between her thighs at the moment.

He said nothing for the longest time. Then he exhaled sharply. “There’s a storm coming in tomorrow.”

That was it? A kiss that rocked her entire way of looking at Evan Loehr and he wanted to talk about a snowstorm. Wow, how was that for a confidence boost? She
narrowed her eyes. He wanted to avoid the subject. Fine. She damn sure wasn’t about to beg him to talk about it.

“I just got off the phone with the brigade ops officer. Colonel Danvers is talking about cancelling training because of the snowstorm.”

Claire swore beneath her breath, pissed about Evan’s brush-off and fully irritated at the thought of the snowstorm interrupting the training timeline. “Damn it, first we waste half a day with that stupid bonfire. Now a storm? Are we ever going to get any training done?”

“If the roads are too dangerous, they need to shut them down. Otherwise, people do stupid things like try to drive on them.” He shrugged and a shadow crossed his face, a hint of old memories. Something in his eyes pulled at her and she stomped it down, uncomfortable with the direction of her thoughts. This. This was why she didn’t fool around with people she worked with.

“Yeah, well, there’s such a thing as being too risk averse. We’re not getting anything done.”

“I can’t believe you’re complaining about this,” he snapped. “You can’t control the weather, Claire.”

Her mouth worked but nothing came out for a long moment. This was an old, familiar path between them. The tension of that awkward-as-hell kiss was gone, melted into the floor like a pool of melted snow. “Really? Well, on the bright side, if they close the post, maybe they’ll cut out a day of death by PowerPoint and we can get out to the range and start blowing things up instead of just
talking
about blowing things up.”

Anger flashed across Evan’s face. “You honestly think they’re going to cancel the briefings? If anything, they’ll tack on extra hours to each day to fit them in.”

“Heaven forbid we don’t teach a lieutenant how to brief.” Claire let the irritation rip, glad for the cover it offered from the lingering distraction of his kiss. She didn’t want to remember the feel of his lips moving over hers or the thread of his fingers through her
hair. She felt needy. Claire hated feeling needy. “You could recommend it,” she said suddenly.

“Recommend what, exactly?”

“Recommend to Colonel Danvers that he change the focus to ranges and weapons training instead of insisting on all these stupid meetings.” A faint wisp of hope uncurled in the vicinity of her chest.

Evan shook his head. “Do you have any idea what it’s like with some of these guys? I’m a captain. Captains don’t recommend that a full bird colonel change his training plan just because someone on my team thinks it’s stupid.”

“What part of combat operations leads you to think that a PowerPoint slide on the proper storage of gasoline in Iraq is important? What war have you been fighting? Because the one I’ve gone to? The check-the-block stuff isn’t what saves lives. We need warriors teaching these kids how to survive.”

“Warriors like Iaconelli?”

“Yes, warriors like Reza,” Claire snapped. “Don’t start again.”

“He’s got a big problem if last night’s bender was anything close to routine for him.”

“So what are you going to do, Evan? Call up our brigade commander and tell Colonel Richter the Wonder Twins are screwing up again? ’Cause that’s what you want to do, right? Just like with the range fire?”

“You burned down fifteen acres of Fort Hood,” he said, his words harsh. “It’s not like I could hide that little fact from the boss.”

She smiled thinly. “You’re right, Evan. There was always only one option, right? Notify the commander. Not let Reza and me get things under control first. Make sure you brief that shit went to hell in a handbasket and we were the ones carrying it.” She sniffed and pulled on her sneakers. “You’d never guess that Reza used to work for you. You wouldn’t piss on him if he was on fire if it wasn’t in accordance with the regulations.”

“Claire, you’re being unreasonable.”

“No, Evan, I’m being completely reasonable. Because you’ve never once broken the rules in your entire life. I shouldn’t expect you to start now.”

* * *

An hour later, Evan walked out of the gym, nearly plowing into Iaconelli. Irritation reached up and grabbed him by the throat. “Surprised to see you upright.”

“Nice to see you, too, Sir.” Iaconelli straightened and held Evan’s gaze for a long time. “Is there something you need to say?”

Evan opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. To hell with it. “Yeah, there is. You acted like an ass last night. You ever feel like trying to be a little more responsible? You damn near crushed Claire when you fell on her.”

A dark emotion flickered across Iaconelli’s face, the muscles in his jaw pulsed, hostility abruptly replaced with deep concern. “Did I hurt her?”

“You honestly don’t remember?”

“It’s … fuzzy.” Iaconelli swallowed hard. “She okay?”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing you care about someone,” Evan said, watching the big man’s reaction with keen interest. He couldn’t ask about their relationship. Couldn’t face the possibility that there was more than just loyalty and friendship between Claire and Iaconelli. Not after he’d kissed her last night. Not without revealing the true depth of the complicated feelings he had for her. Just admitting that there were feelings at all was a major step for him.

“It’s not like that.” Iaconelli shifted his gym bag over his other shoulder. “Sir, that would be like fucking my little sister. If I had one. Which I don’t.”

For some reason, the thought of Claire having Reza looking out for her calmed the sharp bite of emotion swiping at his insides. Little sisters needed watching over.
That’s why they were issued big brothers. Or at least it should be. “Why’s that?”

“Why’s what?”

“Why would it be like fucking your fictional sister?”

Iaconelli scowled, finally noticing the edge in Evan’s voice. “I’ve known Claire for years. We served together when she was enlisted and again after she was a lieutenant in my brigade combat team on the initial invasion of Iraq.”

It was Evan’s turn to frown. He hadn’t known she’d been on the initial invasion. In the year following the September 11th attacks, the march to war with Iraq had been steady and constant, starting almost before the dust had settled in Afghanistan. When the war had started violently with the Shock and Awe bombing campaign, everyone had thought it would be over before it started.

But all of that changed when the U.S. troops got to Baghdad.

The Thunder Run had been engraved in army legend. A single army division—hell, it had really been one army brigade—had started and finished the fight against Saddam’s elite Republican Guard forces before the rest of the invasion force had even caught up with them. There were few if any modern parallels on the battlefield. Evan had watched the war unfold on the television monitors in the hallways of Armor Captains Career Course, anticipation mixing with a potent dose of adrenaline now that combat was no longer talked to death in PowerPoint classes.

The slice-and-dice operation through the center of Baghdad had been violent, and it had ended any rumors that the Iraqi Army wasn’t going to resist the U.S. invasion.

And Claire had been a part of that violent battle. So had Sarn’t Ike.

Evan looked at his former platoon sergeant with renewed respect. “Third Infantry Division?” The Third ID had pushed north, cutting through Iraq’s defenses like there was nothing there at all.

“Yeah.” Reza shifted his gym bag as they walked down the sterile hallway toward the locker room. “We lovingly refer to it as the You’re Fucking Kidding mission.”

“Why’s that?” Evan glanced inside the racquetball court where he’d spoken with Claire earlier. It was empty now. A vague and unexplainable disappointment settled in his stomach.

“Because that’s exactly what my battalion commander told his brigade commander when he was briefed on the plan. The Thunder Run was nuts, sir, totally nuts. We outran our supply lines.” Reza hooked his thumbs into the strap of his bag. “Claire took charge of the logistics resupply convoy trying to get us ammo and water.”

“You really ran out?”

Reza scowled. “Don’t look at me like I rolled out without my full load. We got pinned down and damn near used everything we had to keep ourselves alive. Got a piece of shrapnel in the ass to show for it, too.”

Evan pictured Claire running hell-bent for leather through the center of Baghdad, swearing the whole way. A fierce Valkyrie, leading her soldiers to victory. A twisted, grudging respect formed in his belly. She’d make a fierce opponent on the battlefield. Unpredictable and unrestrained.

Reza swiped his palm across his forehead. “By the way, if the briefing is delayed, I’m heading over to The Greasy Tube.”

Evan didn’t laugh. “And what the hell is The Greasy Tube?”

“A bar. I’ve got a potential date tonight.”

“Did the last five minutes of conversation actually happen? You need to cool it on the drinking and the catting around, Ike.”