Ben’s green eyes sparked at the taunt. “Dude, that is so wrong.” He thrust his pointer finger up. “What matters is I got the stupid diploma. Now, I think I’ll trail Khalon to Nigeria.”
“Don’t think so,” Khalon said with a smirk.
Even as the group started chatting again, Owen felt a seismic shift that sent his gaze to the girl shrouded in mystery. Wondered at the strange thing plucking at his conscience that said to protect her.
“You must be really into the older sis to stare at her like that.”
He glanced at Soph. “Jealous much?” he teased as he combed the crowd for RCG, but she had vanished, leaving him with the haunting sense that she was in danger. A lot of it.
2
Present Day
Sterling, Virginia
“That looks to be about it, Corporal. Now, to make it official.” The balding civilian behind the desk spun a stack of papers toward Owen. “Give this a quick look-see to be sure we have the correct info and put your John Hancock at the bottom. Then you’ll be cleared and officially separated from the Army.”
Un-freakin-believable. He’d never seen this happening. How had it come to this?
Black ink pen in hand, Owen stared at the DD214. Palming the desk, he let his gaze drift over the information. Five years and this was all he had to show for something he’d intended to do for over two decades, for his career?
“Problem?” the guy asked around a bite of a greasy fast-food burger.
“No,” Owen grunted and scratched his name at the bottom, huffed, and tossed the pen down. Slid both back to the civil service member in charge of out-processing. Unceremonious and anticlimactic.
“Okay, you’re officially no longer a slave to the US government.” The guy grinned, burger stuck between his teeth, before slurping soda from a straw. He printed some copies, then handed over a file of his records.
“That stuff will kill you,” Owen muttered as he hiked his pack onto his shoulder and stepped back.
“That’s the plan,” the guy said, unrepentant. “Have a good life!”
“Right. Yeah.” Owen backstepped again. “Thanks.”
What on earth was he thanking the guy for? For officially telling him he’d come up short again?
Owen pivoted on his heels and stalked out of the building. Headed to his truck and climbed in. Got heading west, back toward his parents’ house. The road noise and blaring rock music did little to drown the voice screaming in his head that said he wasn’t good enough. Wouldn’t ever be good enough. Twenty-two years old and he was going back home to live with Dad and Mom.
So much for being a prodigy.
He was a prodigy all right—at always missing the mark. Falling short. Ears hollowed by the vacuum that had become his life, he had no idea what was next. Whack, how his entire career trajectory disintegrated.
“Call from Pike Auberon,” intoned Siri through the truck’s dash console.
“Yeah, right,” he muttered, then added, “No, thanks.”
“You haven’t even heard the question.”
Owen jerked straight, nearly veering into the right lane as he realized Siri had answered the call. Shoot. “I…” His brain dropped out of adrenaline mode, and he reminded himself what this guy wanted. More of the same. “Yeah, not interested.”
“You realize who you’re talking to?”
“Arrogant much?”
A sniff carried through the speakers. “Just want to be sure you didn’t think I was calling to offer lower interest rates.”
Owen nearly smiled. “Sorry, sir. Not?—”
“Heard you separated today.”
