Off Base(9)

Kenna had been on her own ever since. That’s how she intended to keep it. Because while she loved her parents unconditionally, she knew what happened when you loved someone too much. They only loved you back until your usefulness ran out. So instead of pretending she wanted that shiny romantic future like everyone else seemed determined to have, she left base every few months, met some drunk ex-frat boy with a chip on his shoulder and engaged in a meaningless one-night stand.

It worked for her and no one got hurt.

“Glad to hear it.” Her father broke back into her confidential thoughts, making Kenna cringe. Think about puppies or unicorns. “I need you here for dinner tonight, please. Nineteen hundred hours, on the nose. We’re having a guest.”

“Yes, sir,” she responded tonelessly, although hearing he wanted her around filled her chest with helium. Her father might have—in essence—kicked her ass out, but that specter of the friendship they’d developed still loomed. “Do you need me to come early? I can throw something together—”

“No, thank you. Tina has it covered.”

Tina. Her father’s new wife. She and Kenna were cordial, but they didn’t exactly exchange chatty text messages or do makeovers on each other. Apart from the day Tina had exchanged vows with the lieutenant general in their landscaped backyard, Kenna hadn’t even been invited over once. Maybe that would change after dinner tonight?

“Should I bring—”

“We have everything. Just don’t be late.”

She nodded even though he couldn’t see her. “I won’t be late. See you later, sir.”

When she hung up, she ignored the sympathetic look from Darla.





Chapter Four




Beck sipped the whiskey he’d just been handed from Lieutenant General Sutton. Truth be told, he’d never much cared for spirits. The occasional beer or two during a football game seemed to fit the bill fine without hindering his ability to think, but he welcomed the unfamiliar burn of whiskey now because the taste reminded him of Kenna. If that wasn’t a warning shot, he didn’t know what was. The girl made him think of being drunk and out of control. Made him want to get that way. Who needed the ability to think when his brain seemed determined to keep her image dangling in front of his eyes like a carrot? Flashes of her sparked in front of his eyes now. The feel of her mouth, the weight of her in his lap. Pathetically, he even thought of how she’d almost made him a sandwich. He wanted to pin her down and ask her why she’d wanted to make him a sandwich. Wanted to go back in time and let her make the darn thing.

Clearly the whiskey was already taking effect.

And okay, he might have also felt the need to indulge tonight for more than one reason. Chiefly among them, the lieutenant general had invited him for dinner, wanting to congratulate him for his role in the evacuation of five Army POWs. Scouting their location, placing surveillance on the makeshift prison, leading the extraction, despite the mission being compromised by a major explosion. He didn’t want to be honored. Didn’t want to be patted on the back for a job well done when he’d lost a good man on the very same mission. He banished the vision of Xander and locked out the upcoming meeting with Cullen where he would have to relate news details he wanted only to forget.

Beck shifted to ease the pressure on his right side, as if the throbbing had grown worse because of the memories. Like a lifeline, he drew Kenna’s face to the forefront once more. Why? Why would he put himself through the torture when she’d left him? Lord, he’d made a fool of himself in front of her. Begging, pulling on her pretty hair. Having no idea if he should touch her to make her stop writhing around on his thigh. She’d probably laughed her way out the door when he’d fallen asleep. Had she gone back to a boyfriend? Girls who looked and smelled and made sandwiches like her had boyfriends.

When he realized his hand had tightened on the tumbler of whiskey with enough force to shatter it, he took a deep breath and loosened his grip. Lord, this aggression wasn’t like him. His cool head had been a factor in earning him so many promotions. What was it about this girl?

While they waited for the final guest to arrive, Lieutenant General Sutton was relating a story of his time on the ground during the Gulf War, speaking in the hushed tones people reserved for tales of ghosts and battle. Beck’s mind struggled to distance itself, find a quiet place a million miles away from thoughts of where he’d just returned from, but he wanted to be respectful, so he forced himself to pay attention to every word.

“We didn’t know it at the time, but we were the lucky ones.” Sutton slapped him on the back. “Same as you. Lucky enough to be alive with the life education most men aren’t privy to. It’ll serve you well, whether you know it or not.”

Beck nodded once. “Thank you, sir. I—”

“Sorry, I’m late.” A muffled female voice, followed by familiar booted footsteps, came from the front entryway, and Beck’s body went screaming into high alert. All five senses sharpened the way they did before going into battle, his shoulders bracing for impact. He was experiencing déjà vu, not because his subconscious was rerunning this scene. No, because he’d expected it. Maybe not this exact way, but he’d expected to see her again. Would have gone to find her himself, if necessary.

Kenna was the final dinner guest? But they were waiting for Sutton’s daughter. Beck felt sucker-punched as reality dawned. Kenna—the girl who’d gotten on her knees and pleasured him—was Lieutenant General Sutton’s daughter. For the love of God.