Semper Mine (Sons of War #1)(29)

“Fucking A.” First my bacon, now my barbecue. If Katya is using food to wear me down, it’s working too f*cking well. Trained to lead by example, I present my plate anyway. “Load me up.”

The cook fixes up everyone a plate. I’m pretty sure the cornbread is all that I’ll be able to choke down. Like usual, the food isn’t bad. It’s not what I want right now, and it doesn’t taste like real food, even if the consistencies and coloring are similar.

The kids don’t complain, even though almost all of them avoid what the cook called tofu-cue. I don’t even know what tofu is, except that it can’t be anything that grows naturally. It’s definitely nothing I’ve seen served in a mess hall.

Too occupied trying to understand what I’m eating, I don’t notice that Katya isn’t there to enjoy the menu she picked out until I’m done. I finish before the kids, who aren’t used to eating quickly like I do in the field.

Bet she’s secretly eating a pulled pork sandwich and laughing. Twisting around, I assess Katya isn’t at dinner at all. I don’t think even she would wander off from this place, especially in the rain. It’s not like her to be absent. She may not like it, but thus far, she’s gone everywhere the team has.

Brianna is here, which makes me relax some, until I start to think maybe Brianna won their face off and buried her in the forest. Katya has heart, but I spent an hour with her teaching basic self-defense. If Brianna has an ounce of training, Katya isn’t going to win.

Harris isn’t here. The hair on the back of my neck rises the way it does when I’ve walked into a surveillance web. I tell myself it’s nothing. He may be in his tent or something. This isn’t a war zone, Sawyer. We aren’t surrounded by people trying to kill us.

Sometimes, it’s difficult to take your mind out of the war zone, even if your body already is. Shaking away my unease, I go back for another piece of cornbread.

Half an hour later, I march the kids back to their tent and turn them over to Riley. I imagine it’ll be more comfortable in the big tent and wish Katya could stay there instead of a pup tent. I’m sure Riley would gladly give up his cot, if the two women weren’t on the verge of killing one another.

Tomorrow will be an early day. We’re starting at six instead of eight. Our team, however, will get to sleep in an hour. I head back to the pup tent and unzip the opening. Stripping quickly out of my wet clothing, I roll everything tightly and enter the tent, which has a lit lantern hanging from the low ceiling. There’s enough room for two people and a few feet of space for packs at the other end. By military standards, this is luxurious.

Katya isn’t here. Irked, I pull out my phone and text her to ask where she is, not for the first time in the past two days.

Her response is quick. With the kids. Don’t wait up.

“Sometimes …” I stare at the phone. I’m not going to let her rattle me tonight.

I hang up my wet rain gear at the other end and set my shoes there, too. The patter of rain on the top of the tent promises to lull me into sleep. Stripping off my layered shirts and pants, I change quickly into sweats and sit on my sleeping bag.

Thunder grumbles. It’s far off and reminds me of the sound of a distant battle. I listen to it, recalling when the last time was that I heard a thunderstorm. It was the night before that horrible day four months ago when I lost four men.

My thoughts return to that night, and I close my eyes. I can almost smell blood and sulfur, feel the scorching heat of the explosion that took off Petr’s leg, hear the shouts of my team as they struggle to accomplish the mission while rescuing their fallen friends.

Worst night of my life. Yet, it led me here, to the peaceful forest helping children who are a lot like me. It’s one of those paradoxes I’m not certain what to do with. When I was sixteen, I mugged a Marine, a man who then became my mentor and the reason I joined the Corps.

If I hadn’t been involved in a life of crime, would I be here now? If I hadn’t walked into an ambush four months ago, would I be able to touch lives of orphans like me and perhaps inspire them, too, to join a service one day?

These are the kinds of thoughts that sweep me away when I’m completely alone like this. I’m used to being around people twenty four seven, and I’ve never noticed how lonely it is in a pup tent a few meters from everyone else. As much as she irritates me, sleeping in the same room as Katya keeps these thoughts from plaguing me.

Not wanting to dwell on the past or the emotions percolating, I turn off the lantern and crawl into my bag.

Folding my hands behind my head, I stare into the darkness. There are some days when I think I have a problem that runs a little deeper than the occasional nightmare. I hardly sleep anymore and when I do, it’s not well.

I’m beginning to think I’ll have to hunt Katya down when the door to the tent rustles and unzips. A gust of wet wind enters.

“Just me,” she says. “You awake?”

“Yep.”

“Oh.” She sounds disappointed and seals us back in. “Nice and warm in here.”

I ignore my anger. “You missed a fantastic dinner.”

There’s a pause, and then she chuckles.

“I assume you’re trying to torture or kill me with this food.”

“Hmm. Why would I want to … oh, yeah. Something about you killing my brother.”