Page 26 of Keeping a Warrior

Rhys’s mouth flapped open and closed uselessly.

“She was hanging out with them,” Mullet went on. “Drinking with them, you know? A real party girl. Got into a relationship with this dude, and when he tried to break it off ’cause of his fiancée, she turned on him, tried to ruin his career.”

“Where did you hear this?” Rhys croaked. “Did she tell you this?”

“Nah.” Mullet shook his head. “You think El-Tee isn’t gonna vet anyone we’re bringing on board?”

Rhys’s face went hot with anger. “And then what, our leadership just sat down and gossiped with you about it, knowing it could destroy unit cohesion before it even had a chance to form? No way. Try again, and leave El-Tee out of your bullshit story.”

“Fuck you with the gossip and the bullshit,” Mullet growled. “All you need to know is it’s a fact that accusations were made, there was an investigation and Lowe was transferred off the team.”

The team Rhys had been a part of for such a short time. One mission. The mission where Devon had made such an impression on him.

“It’s your life, Halloran, but that girl’s trouble, and if I were you, I’d keep it strictly business.”

He strode off, leaving Rhys numb with shock. He sucked in a few deep breaths, horror freezing his blood when he saw Devon standing there, an ice bucket in her hand, her face white as a sheet.

Oh, God. She must’ve heard everything.

“Devon.” Rhys took a step toward her, and she put up a shaking hand to ward him off.

“Just in case you’re wondering if his facts are true,” she said tonelessly, “they are.”

Devon’s knuckles clenched white on the bucket, her lips twisting in a bitter smile. She shoved open her door, and right before she disappeared inside, she turned to look back at Rhys.

“Not all war stories are heroic, you know.”

The door closed with a quiet click.

Chapter Five

I’m not a slut.

Devon gazed up at the ceiling in the predawn darkness and willed herself to believe it.

I’m not a walking mattress. I’m not a whore.

As if on autopilot she rose from the rumpled bed and stumbled to the bathroom. She leaned against the sink and stared at herself in the mirror. Red-rimmed eyes and a wild tangle of hair stared back at her.

Her body leaden with exhaustion, Devon climbed into the shower. Mullet’s words stabbed into her like so many needles, burrowing deep. What he thought of her. What so many thought of her.

Rhys’s shocked face swam behind her eyes, and Devon bit back a sob. Fuck, she’d enjoyed her time with him out looking at the planes. The way he’d made her a pad to sit on without being asked. The way he’d asked if she minded before he had a beer, but not pressuring her to have one, too. Their comfortable silences, the easy conversation.

For a little while there, she thought maybe she’d made a friend.

What a fool.

Heaving a ragged sigh, Devon dried off and got dressed. No civilian clothes this time, but a uniform—desert cammies with boots. She twisted her wet hair into a bun and set her soft cover gently on her head. Then she stood at attention, resolve stiffening her spine.

You can do this, soldier girl.

She had to forget about Mullet. He wasn’t repeating anything that wasn’t common knowledge throughout the community. She had to forget about Rhys. He wasn’t her friend; she wasn’t here to make friends.

No, today she was here to jump out of a goddamn airplane. Time to put the A in SEAL.

Out in the parking lot the guys were milling around with coffee cups in hand, joking, talking about their latest foray to the strip club. A couple of them tossed her an offhanded “good morning,” nothing out of the ordinary. Mullet was nowhere in sight, and neither was Rhys. Devon slumped in relief. She didn’t have to face them yet.

“Hey, wanna help me pull the vans around?”