Semper Mine (Sons of War #1)(16)

If there’s anyone I should keep distant from, it’s her. That much I know, even if I’m not yet sure why.

***

My alarm goes off at five, an hour before sunrise. It’s the time I always get up. From what I’ve read about kids, controlling them is dependent on managing their energy levels. Which means, before our day officially starts, we’re going to do some drills.

I roll out of bed, refreshed and ready for the first full day of camp.

“Katya,” I call quietly. “Lights on.”

I give her a minute and go to the bathroom to change and get ready. When I return, I flip on the lights.

She hasn’t moved.

“Katya,” I say more loudly. “Time to get up!”

“What?” she replies sleepily, and pulls a pillow over her head. “What time is it?”

“Five.”

“We don’t have to be at breakfast until eight.”

“Come on. We’ve got work to do.”

“No way.”

Why do I have a feeling she’s going to be harder to manage than the six kids we’re assigned?

Rather than arguing, I go out to wake up everyone else. The light going on wakes half the kids. Pulling out my phone, I flip through my music files, turn up the volume, and blast Reveille.

The piercing, quick-paced bugle song can wake a man from the dead. Its effect is immediate.

The kids bound up.

I hit pause. “Good morning, team,” I start. “You have ten minutes to get ready and be outside in a line, tallest to shortest. Understood?”

They’re staring at me. A few nod.

“Understood?” I repeat in sharper tone.

“Yes, Captain Mathis,” two chirp. Their words are echoed by others.

The team gets up, grabbing their clothing and bathroom bags in varying degrees of urgency and head out of the barracks to the community bathrooms located at the center of the barracks.

Except one. We have a range of kids in our group, from the sixteen-year-old girl and boy, to the six-year-old girl still sitting in her bed. She’s blinking back tears, and I wait.

“You, too, Jenna,” I tell her firmly.

“I can’t.”

Clasping my hands behind my back, I approach her bed.

“Why can’t – oh, Jesus.” Her bed reeks of urine.

The tears start.

I sit down on the bed opposite her, frowning. “You’re six. You’re too old to be wetting the bed.” At least according to my research she is.

“I d…didn’t mean t…to.” She sniffles pitifully.

“We may need to call your mother. I’m not sure this is going to work out,” I say.

“My mother is … dead.”

Fuck. I read the list of kids and their issues last night five times. I don’t remember her mother being mentioned as the one killed in battle. In fact, I know it wasn’t on the sheet. Her father died last year in Afghanistan.

Jenna’s wail makes me jerk. I sit, frozen, debating how to handle her. I know how to deal with Marines who get scared in battle or those who have medical issues. But they’re not six.

“Holy hell, Sawyer. What did you do?” Katya hurries into the bay. Blinking but awake, she’s in a t-shirt and underwear, eyes on the screaming kid. Without waiting for a response, she crouches down in the space between me and the kid, her long, wild hair brushing my forearms. There’s something insanely sexy about her mussed state.

Jenna points to the bed and keeps sobbing.

I grimace.

“C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Katya’s voice is cheerful, and she stands, picking up Jenna. Immediately, the little girl starts to calm.

“Ten minutes,” I call after her. “Workout attire.”

Katya shoots me a dirty look over her shoulder but doesn’t respond. She walks back towards our room, completely unaware of how f*cking sexy she is in her underwear. My eyes travel down her body, lingering on the rounds of her ass, visible beneath the boy short-style underwear, and down her shapely thighs. She’s toned in a way that says she does yoga or Pilates, definitely not in the way of a hardcore athlete.

She has a small limp, one I hadn’t noticed before, either. I don’t see anything wrong with her shapely legs but don’t wonder about it too long, because I’m not the only one staring at her.

The sixteen-year-old boy, the oldest on our team, is frozen in the doorway of the barracks. His jaw is slack, his eyes wide as he stares at her ass.

“I forgot my … my …” He stops.

“Turn around, and go to the showers,” I order.

He’s still staring.

“Now,” I bark.

The kid stumbles away from the door. I watch, understanding exactly what he’s thinking at the moment.

Within about fifteen minutes, all five of them are outside, standing in a line as directed. A little antsy – or maybe cold – they don’t seem to be capable of standing still.

Not that I care at this point. I don’t need perfection from a bunch of untrained civilians, just effort. I walk around them and send in those who forgot water or in one case, meds, to retrieve them.

At the twenty-minute mark, Jenna dashes out of the barracks and assumes her spot at the end of the line. She’s clean, dressed and carrying her water like she’s supposed to.