In the Likely Event(15)

“I’m not supposed to be here.”

“No shit. I highly doubt Holt’s security detail is in his room drinking from his minibar.”

“That’s not what I mean.” The corners of Nate’s mouth turned up, but it wasn’t quite a smile, so at least I didn’t have to deal with that dimple of his making an appearance.

Nothing knocked off a few IQ points like the sight of that dimple.

“Please, do stop speaking in army-guy codes.” My gaze narrowed slightly. “Assuming that you’re still army?” They’d told us we’d have Special Forces as our security, but there was a black-and-white name tape on the left side of his chest that read Green, not Phelan.

No matter what name he was using, he still looked so damned good. Someone hadn’t been skipping the gym.

Stop it.

What was it about being in the same room with Nathaniel Phelan that made me revert back to eighteen years old?

“Yeah, I’m still in the army. Just the part that no one talks about,” he answered slowly, raising his eyebrows. “And as for my phone, my email, my social media . . . it was all sanitized.”

“Okay then.” A tiny kernel of something like hope took root in my stomach at the small but openly offered truth. “And that’s why you don’t . . . exist anymore.” The days and months following his disappearance had been maddening, but part of me had always known why he’d fallen off the face of the earth. This had always been his dream.

Making his obsolete had become mine.

He nodded.

“And Green?” I motioned to his name tag. “Is that your call sign or whatever?”

“No. These”—he pointed to the name tag—“are for you guys, not us. It’s what you need to call me—if I stay. I told you I’m not supposed to be here.” He glanced toward the window and then back, as if meeting my eyes was something . . . painful.

“Where are you supposed to be?” Was there someone else in his life now? Someone who had the right to know if he made it home? Someone waiting? A nauseating twist of jealousy struck deep inside me, souring my stomach.

“On leave in the Maldives.” He had the decency to look a little guilty.

I blinked. “You were going to the Maldives?” Indignation heated my blood. “Funny, but I thought that was an October thing.” Did our pact mean absolutely nothing to him? Of course it didn’t. He’d blatantly shown me that for the last three years.

“Yeah.” He flinched. “But Sergeant Brown came down with something, so I filled in for him.”

“Let me guess. Sergeant Brown isn’t his real name either?”

“Just roll with it.” He finished off his water and twisted the top back on. “Point is, you walked off that plane.”

“And?” I shrugged and forced a fake smile. “You can still go to the Maldives. Just assign me to someone else.” It sounded empty and fake because it was. It didn’t matter how pissed I was at Nate, how wrong things had gone the last time we’d been in the same room; I couldn’t bear the thought of him walking away. Not again. Not like this.

“Yeah, okay.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh and sent me a pointed stare. “Because it’s that easy.”

My heart stumbled through its next few beats. The air thickened and charged as we stood there, our eyes locked on each other across the small, mine-laden distance between us. One wrong step and we’d both bleed out.

“I know,” I admitted softly. “It’s not easy. Never has been.”

He nodded curtly and looked away, breaking the spell.

I sucked in a breath.

“I don’t get it. You’re about to spend two weeks in some of the most inhospitable areas known to man, hopping province to province, all so you can what? Feel better about how not stable this country is and label it fact-finding?”

My spine jerked ramrod stiff. “We’re here to write down our observations about how the drawdown is going, and you know it.”

“And you won’t go home?” His eyes met mine, the plea blatant.

“No.” I swallowed back the truth on the tip of my tongue. If he knew why I was really here, would he help? Or throw me out faster? “I’ll do the tour Senator Lauren requested and then meet her when she arrives next week. And no one is supposed to know—”

“You’re here. Yeah, I get that a lot.” He raked his hand over his thick, dark hair and blew out a slow breath.

I felt his sigh in every bone of my body, until it became my own.

“Fine. Then this is how it’s going to go.” He pushed off the door and chucked the bottle into the trash with excellent aim. “I’m Sergeant Green to you. Not Nate. You can never call me Nate. Not out there. Not in here. Not anywhere. Got it?”

“If you insist.” I had to tilt my head back to keep eye contact as he came closer—whether it was the fact that I was barefoot and he was in boots, or just being apart for three years, the guy felt huge next to me.

“I insist. Anonymity is a requirement in this line of work. In here, you can be as belligerent and . . .” He struggled for a word. “Izzy as you want, but out there”—he pointed to the door—“out there you listen to what I say, and do what I ask when I ask it.”