The Silent Ones [✔️] (#2 in the Chilvati Series)

TWENTY-NINE

"Tora Bora, fourteen years ago, searching the caves for bin Laden. My squad teamed up with some Northern Alliance fighters down on the ground."

Her hands stilled. "How old were you?"

"I was twenty-two. It was my first active duty. Hell of an eye-opening experience. The terrain was brutal and those al-Qaeda fuckers"—he looked over at her and grimaced an apology—"knew the area so well, it was like trying to dig rabbits from their holes. Of course, now there are all these theories over what went wrong, but when you are thrust into the middle of it, you're just trying to do your bit."

"Yes, I can well imagine. Were you posted here after that?"

". . . No."

When he offered nothing else, she muttered a snappish "okay" and returned to her unpacking.

Bruce was not comfortable with where the discussion had headed, but he didn't want it to end there either. He studied her face as she moved about the room. Freckles gave her a cute, little-girl look, but it was all an illusion. Even from the short time he had been around her, he knew she was older than her years. She was pretty in a no-muss-no-fuss kind of way with her hair kept under control in that tight bun. He tried to picture it loose and flowing, wondering how long it would be. It was a pretty shade of blonde from what he could see of it. And those big dark eyes . . . well, he was going to have to spend some more time examining all their chocolaty tones in order to render an opinion on exactly what color they were.

Not happening. You are here to examine Morris, not the good doctor.

Ignoring his own silent advice, a little twinge of anxiety hit him with the possibility that there could be a Mr. Wilson. "Your husband must miss you being away all the time."

"I'm not married."

"Boyfriend?"

Claire narrowed her eyes. "Just so you know, I don't get involved with the men on base."

Bruce brought his palms up. "Sorry, just trying to make conversation. That sounds a little lonely, though, considering it is mostly men on base."

"I manage."

A knock at the door had both their heads turning toward it.

"Come in," Claire called.

The door opened . . . and in walked Morris. The guy personified the definition of a military career man with the graying brush cut, hardened physique, and commanding aura. Bruce stood to attention, grateful that saluting was not sanctioned in the field since his was more than a little rusty. "Sir."

Morris lifted his hand and waved him down. "Relax, Major. We are informal on base." He turned his interest to Claire with a smile. "Commander, how are you settling in?"

"Pretty good, sir. I'm hoping we can get that inventory done this afternoon so that I can get an order filled out by end of day for anything we are lacking." She turned around to retrieve the clipboard by the stack of boxes. "So far nothing looks desperate."

Morris drew with his eyes up and down Claire's uniform, and Bruce was pretty damn sure he wasn't checking for violations on the backside of all that camo.

Morris clapped his hands together and rubbed back and forth along his palms. "Good. Glad to hear it. Maybe you can drop it off at my office when you're done. I can have dinner brought in for the two of us if you like."

"Oh . . . that sounds—"

"I can drop that off, sir," Bruce interjected. "It'll give me a chance to take a look at your computer. I'll need to set you up on the network before we do the conversion."

Morris gave him a long look that was anything but friendly.

Bruce held the man's stare, unwilling to back down, rank having no influence in this situation. Go ahead. Show me what you got.

Morris's face suddenly brightened. Probably because Claire had torn her widened eyes off of Bruce and shifted them back to him. "That sounds like a fine idea, Major. How about we hold off till the morning then? Say zero six hundred?"

"Yes, sir."

The man turned and left. Bruce sat back down at the computer but could sense Claire's eyes on him. He looked up and cocked a brow.

"I didn't take you for a brown-noser," she said.

"And I thought you didn't get involved."

She jutted her chin. "Major General Morris meant no harm. The man is old enough to be my father."

"Like that's going to bother him," Bruce muttered.

Her face darkened. "I can manage my own affairs, Major."

When he raised both brows, she threw the clipboard down on the counter. "You know what I mean."

"Whatever you say, Doc."

The hands by her sides curled into fists. It looked like it took every ounce of her strength not to correct his little oversight a second time. Taking a deep breath, she dragged the clipboard off the counter and back into the fold of her arms. "I'll be in supply, doing inventory." She turned and left in a huff.

)l(

Claire slammed the door of the supply room and held the clipboard tight to her chest as she paced the tiny room. How dare he insult her—and the major general, who had been nothing but polite and helpful, even taking the time from his busy schedule to give her a private tour of the base. Yeah, maybe the man had stood a little too close at times, and his hands touched her back more often than she would have liked, but she had chalked that up to her own phobic hang-ups.

Just her luck to be paired with an arrogant, nosy, son of a ... Arrgh! Six months with him? How was she going to do it? Just ignore him, her good sense soothed. She stilled, straightened, and took a deep calming breath. Ignore him. Right. I can do that, she told herself, even though she knew it was easier said than done. They worked in a small space and that six-feet-plus wall of muscle took up a lot more room than the geeky computer nerd she had been picturing in her head. She'd sensed he was going to be a problem as soon as she had laid eyes on him. Well, that cocky smile might have gotten him into a lot of beds and out of responsibilities in the past, but he'd met his match now. They were here to work, and she was damn well going to make sure he pulled his weight.

END OF CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Looks like Bruce is back to his old self, annoying the ladies ;) We'll see more on Virginia and Mark soon, I promise.

Dedicated to @Rosie_80 , author of the Henderson Family Series, for reading, voting, commenting and always harassing me to update ;) Thank you!