Semper Mine (Sons of War #1)(44)

“Sawyer …”

“That’s all I’m saying.”

He studies me and then looks out at the dark forest. “I always knew he was a predator.”

“You’d be right. You’re right about her needing someone to take care of her, too. I thought about handling it on my own, but …”

“I need to do it.” The firmness in Petr’s voice is an indication I was right. “I’ve been medicated and treated like an invalid for the past few weeks. It’s f*cking frustrating. If he thinks he can roll over my family because I’m twenty five percent metal …” He shakes his head, face hard. “I appreciate you letting me handle it.”

“Not a problem.” I feel better knowing he’s aware now. Petr isn’t going to let anything happen to his sister.

I’m still going to have what my guys refer to as a wall-to-wall counseling session with Harris before I leave. If he ever comes near Katya again, Petr can handle him first, and I’ll finish him off.

“I can’t believe she said something to you and not me.” He’s scrutinizing me now. “Something else you want to tell me?”

Jenna emerges from the head, dressed and dragging her towel behind her.

“It’s bedtime,” I say with a half-smile.

“That’s it?”

“Nothing else to tell.” I stand.

Jenna glances up but doesn’t stop, going into the barracks silently.

“Poor girl had a rough day.” Petr is watching her with a grin. He waits until the door closes behind her before standing to face me. “I love you like a brother, but Katya …”

“I wouldn’t dishonor her, you or Mikael,” I reply.

“I trust you, Sawyer.” He studies me briefly. “See you tomorrow.”

“Night.”

He walks back to his barracks. I wait, feeling even more determined to put up a barricade between my emotions and Katya.

Walking into the barracks, I see Jenna climbing into bed. I lock the door before heading back to the room I share with Katya. Fortunately, she’s in the break room. I slide into our room, grab a pair of boxers and sweats and go to the bathroom. I miss the way women smell, the mix of bathing and hair products.

I just wish they weren’t so damn messy.

“Damn civilians.” Her stuff is everywhere again. I can’t stand the disorder and straighten up before hopping in for a quick, hot shower.

When I emerge, she’s seated on the edge of her bed, concentrating hard on wrapping her right wrist with her non-dominant hand. It’s instinctive for me to help out younger Marines or distressed civilians. Tossing my t-shirt on the bed, I automatically cross to her side of the room and kneel in front of her.

“Did you ice it?” I ask, taking her wrist in one hand and the bandage in the other.

“Yeah.”

Her smooth, toned legs are on either side of me, and she’s in a long-sleeved t-shirt again, as if I hadn’t already seen the scars on her back.

I unwrap her wrist and start over. “You want to alternate so it creates more stability,” I explain and slowly begin wrapping.

She’s unusually quiet.

I glance up at her face and pause. Her eyes are rimmed with red. Her wet hair is in a braid down her back, her gorgeous hazel gaze on her wrist.

“Does it hurt?” I ask.

“A little.”

“What’s wrong?” Too late, I debated whether or not I should ask.

She shrugs.

I hate that response, little less than the none of your business answer she gives me. Choosing to ignore it and the stir of my blood at being so close to her, I focus on wrapping her wrist.

“Jenna’s fine,” I say.

“The medic called to tell me. I’m glad.” She sighs.

“Is that what’s bothering you?”

“Does it matter?”

The testy answer is confirmation. For once, I’m not in the mood for a fight. “You did good today, Katya.”

“No, I didn’t! It’s my fault she fell.” Her voice trembles.

“You saved her.”

She tries to yank her arm away. I keep it tight.

“Sometimes shit happens, even if you do everything right,” I say firmly. “You can’t always control all the circumstances. You go off your best judgment and then make a call.”

She’s silent.

Another look at her face stops me once more. Katya is the worst person I’ve ever met at hiding emotions, and those swimming in her gaze are more intense than usual. She’s gazing at me a little too openly for my comfort. Petr’s shared insight has me thinking I know why she’s looking at me this way, like she’s both waiting for more and uncertain she wants me to continue.

“Sometimes even if you’re ninety nine percent certain of an outcome, something else happens,” I add. “You do what you did today: react as intelligently as you can. But it’s not your fault she fell, Katya.” Those words are the hardest to say, because I feel responsible for the decision that cost Mikael his life.

“I still feel guilty.”

“I understand.” I don’t think that ever goes away. Clearing my throat, I finish her wrist. I’ve never met anyone who wears their emotions on their sleeves like she does. I’m not sure what to say to help or even if I can.