pretty shitty attempt to cover the darkness twisting beneath the surface. He took a deep breath. “I’m a big boy. I’ll do what has to be done.”
“I didn’t imply that you wouldn’t. But that doesn’t mean it’s not bothering you.”
He drummed his fingers on the table. “Let’s finish this up. I’ve got to get down to my company and start digging out from the mountain of crap that my predecessor left me.”
He brushed her off. The action was as insignificant as a paper cut.
She leaned back and picked up the next packet and wished it didn’t sting like it did. Then she made the mistake of meeting his gaze. There was such a dark lack of hope in his eyes. A bleak resignation to the things he was forced to confront. She almost reached for his hand. It would have been a simple gesture of support. But he looked at her as though a single touch might have shattered him.
He was not her problem. She didn’t do damaged and introspective.
Because there were people counting on her not to get distracted.
But looking at him now, she wondered about the glimpse of the tired warrior she saw behind those tormented brown eyes.
Chapter Four
Ben walked into the Bandit company ops—his company—and noticed that everyone stilled as he walked through. No one approached. No one said anything but there was an undercurrent to the watchfulness. Almost as though they were waiting for the other boot to hit the floor.
This week was one for the record books. An entire battalion’s worth of commanders fired. Soldiers in jail, friends being accused of horrible things.
Ben didn’t want this job. He never had. He never wanted to balance the scales of his friends’ actions.
And yet, here he was.
Good times.
He stopped in the orderly room. All activity came to a grinding halt.
“It occurs to me that maybe the company probably should be called to attention?” Ben said. The ops sergeant glanced toward the commander’s office. Lights on. Looked like someone was home—oh joy. The former commander was there.
“That explains things,” Ben muttered.
Captain James P. Marshall the Third himself. Ben had to remind himself that Marshall was just another man, and not a good one at that. He was a bully and he was cruel.
The banality of Marshall’s cruelty, though, had permeated everything around him. None of the higher ups had a clue that Marshall had been poisoning the atmosphere across the entire battalion from the time he’d been a platoon leader through his time as a commander. That alone led Ben to wonder what the environment really was in this battalion for the soldiers who’d had to suffer under the yoke of Marshall’s shitty leadership.
Now? Karma had finally come through for him. Ben might not want to command but damn it, if doing so took Marshall’s power away from him? Oh, it was a beautiful thing. And this was a target of opportunity, one that did wonders for Ben’s shitty mood.
He walked into what was now his office and there was Marshall sitting behind Ben’s desk. As if he was still in charge.
“I guess you didn’t get the memo about needing a new job?”
Marshall looked up, his jaw tense. “I’m here to brief you on the legal stuff.”
Ben smiled and it lit up the shadows around his heart. He’d been waiting for years for Marshall to get what he deserved, ever since Marshall had tried to get Escoberra and Ben fired after their outpost had been overrun. “So yeah, I’m gonna need you to clear out your desk.” He paused for dramatic effect. “And get the hell out of my company.”
The words felt strange and foreign on Ben’s tongue. His company. Words he once would have embraced. Words that now tasted bitter.
But seeing Marshall’s expression twitch made it all better.
“Do you want to know about these cases or not?”
“Not really much you can tell me, seeing how you haven’t done jack shit about them.” Ben folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the door. “You know, if it