Chapter 1
“I’m getting out.”
Sergeant Brandon Stokes jolted, ripping his gaze from the two attractive women across the crowded bar in the army mess hall. He looked for his best friend’s tell-tale lip twitch to prove he was having him on, but the lighting was too dim. “You’re kidding me, right?”
Sam shook his head. “It’s time, mate. That last tour to Afghanistan…” The despair in his eyes didn’t need to be spoken. They’d both been there. “Besides, Izzy’s due any minute and her partner’s walked out. The kid’s going to need his uncle. I’ve done my time.”
As if the army was a prison sentence. Perhaps for some it was. For Brandon it was penance. He clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder and while he wanted to shake some sense into him, he couldn’t argue with his reasoning. The prospect of not signing on for another four years had crossed his mind more than once in the past twelve months. But unlike Sam, he couldn’t face his family. Not after what he’d done.
He forced a smile. “So how much longer have I got to put up with you?”
“Another couple of months. Brass want me to spend time with the younger recruits, take them through their paces.” Sam smiled.
Not long at all. It wouldn’t be the same without Sam. “What are you going to do with yourself?” Brandon sipped his beer. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be sitting behind a desk pushing paper.
“Not sure yet. I’ve got enough saved to cover me for six months and I reckon Izzy will need me for at least that long if the baby doesn’t sleep.”
Brandon ignored the pain in his chest. His own sister, Georgiana was about Izzy’s age and he hadn’t seen her in over a year, not since she’d finished university and moved back to Retribution Bay. She sent him a chatty email every few months, but it had been a while since he’d heard from her.
“So, what about you?” Sam asked. “You re-enlisting?”
He shrugged. “What else would I do?”
“You could go home.”
Brandon shook his head. “You know I can’t.”
Sam studied him as he took a long mouthful of his beer. “Mate, don’t you think it’s time? We’re not getting any younger. I’m sure they’ve forgiven you.”
That wasn’t the problem. Brandon could never forgive himself. He tapped his middle finger on the bar. “Leave it.”
“That last tour almost killed us both—”
“I’ll think about it,” Brandon interrupted. His chest constricted at the memory. The intense barrage of ammunition, the race through the streets. They’d made it out. Just.
“What are you two moping about? You promised me a good time if I dragged myself out.” Arthur “Sherlock” Hammond stood stiffly at the table, as if the military posture had fused his spine.
Brandon grinned. “About time you showed.” Sherlock didn’t know the meaning of ‘at ease’, and rarely came out, always working on some extra task for the military, always trying to get ahead. “Sam’s just saying he’s not re-enlisting.” The absolute disbelief on Sherlock’s face made Brandon chuckle. The only way Sherlock would leave the army was in a body bag.
“Why?”
Sam shrugged. “I’ve got my sister to take care of.”
Sherlock flinched. “The army needs men like you.”
The words could have come out of Major Hammond’s mouth. Sherlock always parroted his father, only Brandon wasn’t convinced he believed what he said. The one time Brandon had cracked that stiff, duty-bound shell, he’d discovered an emotionally vulnerable man underneath.
“You’re staying in, aren’t you?” Sherlock asked him.
He nodded as his mobile rang and he grabbed it, glad for the distraction, even if it might be his brother, Darcy trying him again. It wasn’t.
Major Hammond. Not good. “Major.”
Across from him Sam raised his eyebrows and Sherlock stood even straighter.
“Sergeant Stokes, I need to see you in my office immediately.”
“Yes, sir. I’m on my way.” There was no other answer even though it was seven at night and he was off shift. Brandon stood as he ended the call.
