“They weren’t tight like that. Anyhow, I’ve said too much to the newbie. Part of the training... We’ve been encouraged to fight our instincts. Do what doesn’t come naturally and be more transparent—whatever that means.”
He led her through a maze of boxes and random equipment, then opened a door to the area they’d been in yesterday. Luke wasn’t in his office. Rodgers stopped outside a door marked Men and went inside. Alessa followed.
“Heads-up.” Rodgers yelled, and Alessa averted her gaze as four men in various stages of undress quickly pulled on clothes and slapped on towels.
“This is Alessa Parrino.” He turned to her. “What do you prefer to be called?”
“Parrino is fine.”
“You the one who kicked his baby bottom yesterday?” one of the men asked.
Rodgers took it in stride. “Yep, so I’d watch myself if I were you guys. She’s mightier than she looks.”
Each of the men stood in turn and introduced himself. The tall African American man showing off a set of perfect abs over low-slung jeans was Boots. The baby-faced man with freckles on his nose and a mop of curly red hair was Steele, the dark-haired, dark-eyed man with a pockmarked face was Dan, and the skinny man with the easy smile was Dimples. They each gave her a hard handshake with a warm welcome in their eyes. She also noted that they were all around her age.
“There’s no women’s locker room. You’re welcome to use ours or use the bathroom in Luke’s office while we’re here.”
“What, Luke doesn’t have a nickname?”
The men looked at each other. “Not one he knows about.”
Alessa put a hand on her hip. “Out with it. Remember, I’m the one who’ll be planning where you stay and what you eat.”
The men exchanged another round of glances.
“All right, then, roach-infested motels and MREs it is,” Alessa said, crossing her arms.
Rodgers held up his hand. “It’s Fabio.”
Alessa laughed and the men joined in. “That’s perfect for him.” While Luke’s golden locks were cropped short, he had the kind of swoon-worthy looks that could grace the covers of romance novels. With his playboy reputation, the name fit.
“What do you guys think of Colonel McBride?” If the collective nose-scrunching and eye-rolling was anything to go on, they felt the same way about the colonel as she did.
“That guy really needs to retire. But the only way he’s leaving the army is if he’s six feet under,” Steele muttered. They all nodded their agreement. These were good men, and Alessa felt a frisson of excitement roll through her. This was what she loved about the army, the camaraderie and feeling of being part of a team. “Do you have a nickname for him?” she asked.
“Nothing that’s stuck.” Dimples spoke for the group.
“I’ve got one.” Alessa smiled. “Black Tag.”
There was a beat, then the room filled with roaring laughter. In disaster triage, medics and doctors were taught to tag people according to the severity of their illnesses or injuries. Red tags for those who needed urgent care, black tags for those who couldn’t be saved or were already dead.
“That’s just perfect. Something goes down, that old coot is the first one I’m leaving behind.” Rodgers hooted.
And just like that, Alessa was one of them. No matter how “un-army” Luke wanted the unit to be, nothing changed the fact that Luke was their immediate commanding officer and the enlisted would band together.
Rodgers took her to a cubicle and motioned for her to sit. He handed her a piece of paper. “Here’s your computer login and password. Unit ships out in a month. The stack of files there is the equipment and transport we need, and a list of lodging options. I’ll be in the training pit with the other guys—come get me if you have a question.”
“Let me know if you need any help. Training, that is.” She wiggled her brows and Rodgers laughed.
“Guess I deserve that.” He turned, then stopped and looked back at her. “I am sorry Black Tag screwed you. You should be in the pit with us. The guys know it, too. Once we get in the field, things will be different.”
He wouldn’t say more, but Alessa smiled. If the men respected her, they would let her help on ops. Being in theatre was very different than being on post. At her rank, in combat, she commanded a small squad of men and women. On post she fetched coffee.
All day, she kept an eye on Luke’s office, but it remained empty. The men ordered pizza for lunch and invited her to eat with them in the pit, which was their term for the warehouse-like space with the Plexiglas box in the center. The ten by ten foot box had been set up for training exercises, and it was where she had fought Rodgers. She didn’t ask where Luke was and none of them commented on his absence. They talked easily about Fort Belvoir and gave her tips on what to avoid if she ate at the mess hall.
It had been a while since she’d been one of the guys, and Alessa felt less anxious about the transfer. Even if she was stuck doing grunt work, it was worth it to be away from Aidan and get her career back on track.
“So how did each of you end up on the unit?” Alessa asked through a mouthful of pepperoni pizza. It wasn’t as good as her mom’s homemade version, but far better than anything cooked up in a mess hall.
Rodgers answered first. “Back in the Sandbox, I worked with General Williams. When Ethan started the unit, the general called and asked me to apply. I was going through a divorce and it was a nice distraction.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Alessa said quietly. Though Rodgers said it nonchalantly, she sensed the divorce hadn’t been so easy on him.
He shrugged. “Army life is hard on spouses.”
Alessa looked around and saw several of the men nodding in more than just congenial agreement. Steele spoke up. “I’ve been through two divorces—the first when I enlisted after 9/11 and my high school sweetheart decided she wasn’t going to support me, and the second after three back-to-back tours. My second wife decided she wanted someone who was home for more than a weekend a year. She wanted kids and was tired of waiting on me. By the time I applied for this unit, I was a free bird.”
Alessa swallowed. On the few occasions she talked to her mother, she was diligently reminded that her window to have children was rapidly closing and if she ever wanted anything more than a bunk bed in a barrack, she needed to find a husband. She usually tuned her mother out, but ever since Aidan, each conversation had pinged her heart in a way the admonition never had before.
“Maybe you should marry another soldier,” Alessa said lightly.
They all shook their heads and turned to Dan, who rolled his eyes. “You’re going to make me tell her, aren’t you?”
Dimples slapped him on the back and Dan smiled at Alessa.
“When I was a young private buck, I fell head over heels for a wide-eyed doe, also a private. It was love in the headlights and we were married within weeks. Then we got deployed to the same desert and I loved it and she didn’t. Got her leg blown off and decided I wasn’t good enough for her anymore.” Dan’s casual shrug and broad smile did little to hide the raw pain in his eyes. A heavy silence fell over the room and Dan’s too-bright smile dropped.
Boots finally broke the somber mood. “Well, I’ve never been married.”
“That’s ’cause there’s no woman out there that can stand the smell of your feet,” Dimples teased.
In response, Boots lifted his foot and shoved it toward Dimples, who smacked it away. Alessa laughed along with the guys, enjoying the good-natured ribbing.
“We’re all here because we love the army,” Boots said more seriously. “I had