“And potentially just as destructive,” he said without rancor as he snagged a box of pita crackers from the shelf.
“True. Or helpful.”
He conceded her point with a half nod and set the crackers and a tub of hummus on the bar across from her.“Hungry?”
At the sight of the food, her stomach rumbled. “Yes, but I need to start digging around at Aggressor, see if I can find the emails Duncan sent me. I’m hoping there’s a backup somewhere.”
“Eat and type.”
“Yes, sir.” She tapped her fingers to her brow.
“I wasn’t an officer.”
Reaching for a cracker, she caught his gaze. “So?”
“So. Only officers get saluted.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Tradition. It dates back to medieval knights showing respect and good intentions, and the military—especially the Marines—is hardcore about its rituals.”
“I know nothing about the military. If you weren’t an officer, what were you?”
“Enlisted.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Education.” He frowned at his fingers, which were splayed on the counter. “Officers have to have a bachelor’s degree.”
“Oh.” She’d had no idea that was how the military worked, but she absolutely understood the resentment that came with limited opportunity.
Just one more thing they had in common. One more reason she connected with him. Maybe even loved him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Falls Church, VA
Thursday, 3:30 a.m.
THAT BREATHY EXHALATION REMINDED SCOTT that Valerie was super techie-smart and he was nothing but a foul-mouthed grunt who’d had to bust his ass for a GED while behind bars. Okay, maybe he was a slightly enlightened grunt—he did read a lot now, and he had earned his Associate’s degree in the Corps—but a ground-pounder nonetheless.
His dad had beaten that into him well and good.
There had been moments in his younger days, glimmers of promise, when The Dick had seemed to care. Days when he was more sober than drunk, or things had gone his way, when the man had shown a modicum of interest in Scott. Just enough to tantalize, like a distant oasis that promises water only to reveal itself as a mirage.
But Scott had finally given up his childhood dreams of having a loving father. Probably the day his dad had literally stomped all over his science project.
“You think you’re smarter than me? That you can ‘be something?’” The Dick’s big foot landed squarely on top of the first miniature bridge, crushing it with the lug sole of his steel-toed boot. “You’re nothing, boy.Nothing. You hear me?”Crunch. The second bridge collapsed.
Scott tackled his dad, thrusting his shoulder into the man’s soft belly. “Stop it!Stop it!” His sobs rendered his attack ineffective as his body collapsed under his dad’s strong push and he fell to his butt on the scuffed linoleum.
The Dick waited for Scott to look up before he smashed the final bridge with a triumphant smirk. Then his face darkened and he straddled Scott, lifting him to his feet by his collar, tearing his T-shirt in the process. “You are nothing,” he said in a low voice full of menace. “You will always be nothing. Don’t you forget it.”
Scott hated how he trembled, how little control he had over his own body. “Yes, sir,” he said with as much of a voice as he could muster.
The man shoved him away, and Scott stumbled before catching himself against the wall. “You’re on dinner duty for the rest of the week. Your mom isn’t feeling well.”
Of course not. His dad had beaten her so badly she couldn’t move.
