“In what way? It happened over two years ago. The main thing that strikes me is that I shouldn’t have remained angry for this long.”
“What about Ben? I got the feeling from what you said that he was annoyed with you, too.”
“Annoyed would be an understatement. I was furious that Larry hadn’t let me know that article was coming. Maybe I could have found a way to distance myself, but he sideswiped me. He was really angry with me that I couldn’t understand his position.”
He sighed. “Ben was right, though. If anyone had found out what he was doing, there’d have been a lot of pressure on the paper and maybe on Larry to squash it. Not that I’d have told anyone in so many words. Hell, I didn’t even have to know what it was about. Just mentioning in an ear or two that something was coming and that I didn’t have any other clue might have been enough to stall this storm. At least the part that dumped on me.”
“So it ruined your career?” She folded her sandwich wrapper and reminded herself not to make this sound like an interrogation. He probably wouldn’t like it, and she didn’t want to stem the flow of confidences now that they were coming. She couldn’t help the feeling that they were teetering on the edge of something important. “How could it do that?”
“Easy. Don’t rock the boat.”
“But you didn’t do the rocking.”
“Doesn’t matter. I wasn’t involved in any way with what Larry did. Hell, I didn’t even know until the article appeared that any of it had happened. It sure as hell didn’t involve me or my troops, and it didn’t happen anywhere in my chain of command. A few lower-ranking men in another regiment were arrested, but somebody way up must’ve been chapped. Or felt threatened. Anyway, I was an easy target. Nobody could have touched Larry after that article was published. Maybe they thought they could get back at him through me.” He shrugged. “Whatever. It’s done.”
She hesitated, creasing the waxy paper in front of her until the edges were sharp. “How have they ruined your career? You arrived here in uniform.”
“I’m still in uniform and will be until I hit twenty years. Then I’ll be out.”
She lifted her head, feeling seriously disturbed. “How can you know that?”
“Because my performance reports sank. I should be a lieutenant colonel in order to continue after twenty. I’m now considered ‘low retention,’ which means I’m definitely not going to be asked to stay on.”
“But how can they do that?” Her feelings about this were starting to get tangled. She needed to understand.
“It’s simple. There are a limited number of people who can get promoted. They don’t find a slot for me, I’m on the way out.”
“What did Ben mean by a star?”
His faint smile looked sour. “I was being fast-tracked and looking good to become a general eventually. I became a major early. Prospects were bright. Now they’re very dim.”
She let that sink in. As she thought it over, however, she could understand why he felt his career had been ruined. She didn’t necessarily understand how all that worked, but he did. He was part of the machinery.
“I’m sorry,” she said, feeling genuinely saddened.
“Me, too. And as the performance reports didn’t improve, I got madder. Ben was right about one thing. I was being selfish.”
The admission surprised her. “Why? Your career was wrecked. That had to be infuriating.”
“Sure, but was that worth cutting off my brother? He’d done the right thing, but I didn’t. I wish it weren’t too late.”
No way to answer that. No point in arguing against feelings. She sighed, then rose and gathered up the remains of their meal. “So now you want justice.”
“I would have wanted it regardless. For Larry.”
She believed him, felt a touch of his grief. “What a mess.”
“Oh yeah.”
She wiped up stray crumbs, then tried to smile at him. “Coffee?”
“I’ve intruded too much.”
She put a hand on her hip. “I might have thought so earlier, but I’m not feeling that way now. This is important. I give a damn about Larry, and now I give a damn about you. You might not want it, but I care. So quiet down. Coffee? Or something else?”
“A beer if you have another.”
As it happened, she did. “I buy this so rarely that you’re in luck.”
“Then why did you buy it?”
“Larry,” she answered simply.
For the first time, they shared a look of real understanding. The sense of connection warmed her. She hadn’t expected to feel this way, not when it came to Duke. Maybe it helped to realize he wasn’t just a monolith of anger and unswaying determination.
As Cat returned to her seat, she said, “You put me off initially.”
Another half smile from him. “I never would have guessed.”
A laugh escaped her, brief but genuine. “I’m usually better at concealing my reactions to people. But there you were, looking like a battering ram. You sure looked hard and angry. Nothing about you made me want to get into a tussle.”
He looked at the beer bottle he held. “Most people don’t want to tangle with me. I can understand your reaction. I came through that door loaded for bear. Too much time to think on the way here, maybe.”
“You looked like walking death,” she told him frankly. “An icy-cold fury. Worse, in my opinion, than a heated rage. Scary.”
“Comes with the territory,” he said after a moment, then took a swig of his beer.
She could probably wonder until the cows came home exactly what he meant by that. Maybe it was better not to know. But she still had other questions.
“Duke? That article Larry wrote? Can you be sure it’s not relevant?”
“It’s been a while. Just over two years.”
“That doesn’t mean it can’t fit into this.”
He shook his head. “It was about a murder-for-hire scheme within the military.”
Cat was taken aback. “Murder for hire? Someone wanted to get rid of
