Maximum Force: A Career Soldier Military Romance Read online

  Max tensed visibly, drawing back from me as his eyes went cool. “And so you were marching out here, complaining about that, were you? Must be nice to have both the moral high ground, and the time and leisure to throw a little tantrum when you don’t like how things work.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “I wasn’t throwing a tantrum. None of us out here were. We were supporting someone who isn’t physically capable of standing up for himself just now, and we were protesting the Army’s attempt to supersede the law of the land and make its problems conveniently disappear. We have every right to do it.”

  “Having a right doesn’t mean you have to exercise it.” He leaned down so that his face was close to mine. “Tell me something, flower child. Do you even know the guy who got hurt? Is he a friend of yours? Have you gone to visit him in the hospital, or stopped by to see his family and find out if they need anything?”

  Guilt twanged in my stomach. Without thinking about it, I took a small step backward, bumping my ass into the side of the car. “No. I don’t know them. I’ve only lived here for a little while, and I—”

  “Did any of the people marching with you out here know him?”

  I wracked my brain. The one man had told me that he’d lived in Petersburg all of his life, but he hadn’t mentioned the victim. “Well, I didn’t take a poll. But some of them . . . might know him.”

  “Hmmm.” Max straightened, nodding as he rubbed his chin. “Who organized this little shin-dig today?”

  I drew in a deep breath. “That would be me, although we got the call from one of our advocacy organizations to make it happen.”

  “Where did they get their information about the incident from? I mean, who told them what happened Saturday night?”

  “I have no idea.” I hunched my shoulders. “I’m sure it was from a trustworthy source, though.”

  “Really? So you got a bunch of people fired up and mad enough to stand outside and wave signs on the strength of information from an unknown source? Do you do this a lot, then? March around and shout about shit you know nothing about?”

  That was the last straw. I surged forward until my chest was nearly touching his. “No, actually, that is not what I do. I take part in organized protests against shit the government or the military or fucking big business is trying to do to this country, because I care about what happens to me and my fellow citizens. I feel that it is our responsibility to be the ones who stand up and make sure they know they can’t get away with breaking the law or denying us our rights. Someone’s got to do it, or people like you and your brothers-in-arms will roll right over us.”

  My heart was thudding against my chest, as righteous anger sent adrenaline into my blood. I was breathing so hard that the tips of my breasts were rising and falling rapidly, and I stood so near Max that those sensitive nubs were scraping the rough cloth of his uniform. I shouldn’t have been able to feel him through his clothes and mine, but I would have sworn that the heat of his body was licking against mine.

  He reached down, gripping my shoulder with one large hand, and for a heady, dizzying moment, I was sure he was about to pull me up against him and kiss me. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t have objected. But instead, after a few beats, he dropped his hand and stepped back.

  “What you think and what I think really doesn’t matter much, does it? You’re free to believe whatever you want, and I’ll keep on doing the same.”

  I bit down on my lip as disappointment filled me. I wasn’t someone who loved conflict, but I appreciated and thrived on good healthy debate. And Max backing down meant I had to step aside, too.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.” I wanted to sound cool and aloof, but my voice was slightly hoarse, possibly because even though this guy had raised my hackles with his assumptions and pointed questions, he’d also raised my temperature with his very nearness.

  “Do you have roadside assistance? Is there someone you can call who will tow the car?”

  I shook my head, feeling like an irresponsible three-year-old. “No, I’ve never felt the need to pay for it. When I lived up north, assistance was included with my insurance policy, but there aren’t any places that accept that coverage around here.”

  Max gave me a brief nod. “I know someone who can tow it for you. And if you don’t have a mechanic you trust, I can recommend someone.” He hesitated. “One of the guys in my company lives in town, and he and his brother-in-law do a little automotive work for his friends on the side. He’d take care of your car for you, if you want. You could trust him, and he wouldn’t fleece you on price, either. Basically, you’d just cover the parts.”

  I looked up at him in surprise. “Seriously? Two minutes ago, you’re telling me I’m basically an idiot, and now you’re offering to help me get my car fixed?”

  He frowned. “What does one thing have to do with the other? I’m just giving you an option. It’s called trying to be a nice person.” He glanced around the field. “It’s going to be dark soon, and I’m not leaving you here by yourself with a broken-down vehicle. You wouldn’t be safe. So I can call my buddy, who’ll tow it to Specialist Evans’ house, or we can just keep standing out here until you figure out another solution. What’s it going to be?”

  He sounded so calm and reasonable, with his words so full of common sense, that I wanted to scream. Instead, I tossed up my hands. “Fine. Do whatever you need to do.”

  He smirked again, and this time there was definite snark. “Good thinking, flower child.” He slid a phone from his pocket and punched a button. A few seconds after he lifted it to his ear, I heard a voice on the other end. Max spoke briefly and to the point, in that infuriating way that men seem to have, giving only the barest of facts about ‘a lady just off post whose car is broken down.’ He sounded so casual and unaffected, as though saving random women were an every-day occurrence for him.

  “And what if it is?” I muttered to myself, stalking away to stand on the other side of my car. “What do I care? He’s just some misogynist military pig who toes the line and says yes sir every time they tell him to jump—”

  “You know I can hear you, right?”

  I startled. Max was leaning on the trunk of my car, watching me with an expression in his eyes that I couldn’t quite read.

  “Can you? Hmmm.” I shrugged and turned my back, feeling all the more like a petulant child.

  “I’m not a misogynist pig. Military, yeah, you got me there. I do toe the line, because that’s part of my job. And I say yes sir to anyone who outranks me. I don’t think any of them have ever told me to jump though.” He cocked his head. “Oh, wait, that’s not true. In airborne school, they told us to jump out of a perfectly good airplane, but that was a sergeant, not an officer, so it doesn’t count.”

  I didn’t turn around. Maybe he was trying to be nice by trying to be funny, but it wasn’t going to work. He’d insulted a set of principles and ideas that were important to me, and I didn’t forgive very easily.

  “But I’m not a woman-hater. On the contrary, I love women. Always have. Love their pretty hair, the way they smell . . . girls smell so much better than boys, you know? That’s not me being sexist, it’s just a fact of life. I always wondered how that happens. And I like the way women think, and how they can be both practical and dreamers at the same time.”

  His voice had gone soft, and I could feel myself melting. Still, I was too stubborn to face him when I replied.

  “If the world were run by women, things would be different. Better, some might say.” Yeah, I was being snippy. No, I didn’t care.

  “Some might say.” I was pretty sure there was laughter in his tone, and I wanted to turn around stick out my tongue. I refrained. Barely.

  “I’m not some flighty moron, you know. I don’t pick up a sign and march whenever the mood hits me. I believe in certain causes, and I’m not going to sit around whining about injustice. I get involved. I write to my congressmen and congresswomen, and I send editorials to the newspapers, and yes, I
protest. Maybe our protests don’t change everything, but they let people know that they can’t get away with lying or hiding their actions, and they remind people who’re weak that they’re not alone.”

  Silence stretched between us so long that I wondered if Max had walked away. So it was when he spoke this time, much closer to me than I expected, my heart jumped again.

  “I don’t know you. Maybe I jumped to conclusions, and if I offended you, I apologize. But looking at it from my point of view . . . my men lay their lives on the line for this country. For its people. For you. We make the best decisions we can under circumstances that aren’t always ideal. When people assume that any time something goes down that involves soldiers is automatically our fault, or that we’re going to bury it . . . yeah, it gets our backs up.”

  “Unchecked power is dangerous power.” I almost whispered the words I’d been hearing all my life.

  “I agree. We’re not unchecked. We have to operate under the rules the government hands down, and that’s not as easy as it sounds. We also have to co-exist as part of society, and yet not. We live among civilians, but we are not them. In the towns outside our posts, we’re resented and feared and mistrusted. And what we ask of our military families . . . can you imagine it? Think of relocating every two or three years, with little to no say as to where you’ll live next. Add to that the idea that if you’re a dependent, the soldier you love is going to deploy several times a year, even during peace. Oh, and then there’re the unaccompanied tours—the places where families can’t go with the soldier. This life is challenging.”

  I pivoted slowly until I was facing him. “But you chose that life. It’s not forced on you or any soldier.”

  Max’s mouth twisted. “It might look that way from your perspective. And sometimes that’s true.”

  “Even if someone feels trapped, it’s no excuse to attack someone else. The man who beat . . .” Shit, I couldn’t remember the victim’s name. “. . . uh, the guy in the bar, he had skills that he learned in the Army. He had an unfair advantage. It was like unleashing a killing machine.”

  Max snorted, and I raised one eyebrow.

  “Sorry, I’m just . . . I have a hard time seeing Reardon as a killing machine. He’s just a kid. A stupid kid who acted without thinking.”

  My mouth dropped open. “You know him? The soldier I’m talking about?”

  Immediately, Max’s face shuttered again. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s not information that—shit. Look.” He laid his hand on my shoulder again, this time lightly. “Do me a favor, please? Don’t repeat what I just said. I know that you think we’re trying to cover stuff up, but the truth is, right now we’re only trying to figure out what really happened. And if you go to the newspaper or the TV news and tell them what I said, it’s only going to complicate things more than they already are.”

  “I won’t.” I made the promise without thought or consideration, but it was an easy yes. Telling anyone what Max had accidentally let slip to me wasn’t going to accomplish anything. “But is the Army going to even consider doing the right thing here? Or can we expect the whole thing to be swept under the proverbial rug?”

  “That’s information above my paygrade.” He put his arms behind his back in an at-ease stance, and I wondered if that was part of his training: saying the right words and standing the right way, all the while hiding the truth from the world.

  “Yo, Remington.”

  Neither of us had noticed the truck pulling up behind Max’s car, but now we both turned as a tall man in jeans and a tight short-sleeved T-shirt loped across the grass. Max stepped away from me.

  “Hey, Kade.” The two men slapped each other on the backs in that typical guy way. “Thanks for coming over. Here’s your customer.” He pointed to me. “Samantha . . . uh, Crewe, was it? This is Kade Braggs. He’s going to tow your car to Specialist Evans’ house.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Kade grinned at me, frank appreciation in his gaze. And the feeling was mutual: he was easy on the eyes, with blond hair, green eyes and an adorable dimple on his left cheek. He wasn’t quite as built as Max was, and I had to admit that I didn’t feel the same pull toward him that I did to the other man, even if Kade did seem more interested in me than Max had.

  “I really appreciate it.” I glanced at the pick-up truck dubiously. “No offense, because I’m sure you know your stuff, but how exactly are you going to tow my car?” I didn’t see any of the attachments I was accustomed to seeing on wreckers.

  “Hey, sugar, no worries. I got a hitch and tow attachment.” He winked at me. “That’s just one of the many upgrades on the original package.” Kade’s eyebrows waggled, and I couldn’t help a very-unlike-me giggle.

  “Settle down, buddy.” Max didn’t sound as amused as I was. “Let’s just get this done. I had a long day, and I’m ready to be home with a beer and baseball game.”

  “Yeah, I heard about your day.” Kade shook his head, and I wondered if either man would elaborate. They didn’t. The curious part of my brain—well, let’s be honest; all of my brain was curious—wanted to know if Max’s long day had been connected to the situation in Petersburg.

  But I didn’t get a chance to ask, because the guys were already walking to Kade’s truck. He jumped into the driver’s seat and leaned out through the open window, craning his neck to watch as Max directed him to back up close to the front of my car. Once the truck was in place, they both got to work, stretching cables and hooks to attach them to both vehicles.

  “Hey, can you jump in there and put her in neutral?” Kade shouted to me. “And then we’ll head over to Evans’ house.”

  “Sure.” I climbed back into the car and slid the gear shift out of park. When I stood up again, Max was standing a few feet away, his hands on his hips again.

  “I’ll follow you over there. Samantha can ride with me.” The way he said my name sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine.

  “Nah, I got this, Remington. You can head off now.” Kade’s eyes were steady on his friend. “You just left work, didn’t you? Haven’t been home yet? Go get that beer and ballgame.”

  Max frowned. “But—”

  “No buts. Sam can ride in the truck with me, and after we get her vehicle set with Evans, I’ll be happy to drive her home.” Kade came up next to me and slung a friendly arm around my shoulder. “You’re okay with that, right, honey?”

  “Um . . .” I hesitated, looking from one man to the other. “Sure. I mean, you’ve done enough, Max.” When his brows drew together, his forehead wrinkling, I hurried to add, “I mean, you’ve been so nice already. Just stopping to see if I was okay was really, um . . .” My voice trailed off. “I appreciate it. Thanks. And thanks for calling Kade and setting up with Specialist Evans.”

  “Uh huh. Sure.” He gave me one brief nod. “I texted him that you were going to be on your way. He should do a good job for you, but if you have any questions, give me a call.” He fished his wallet from the back pocket of his uniform pants, opened it and withdrew a business card. “My number’s on there.”

  I took the card without looking at it. “Thanks. I think I should be okay.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Well . . . see you around then.” Max gave Kade a light punch on the arm as he stalked past him. “Thanks, brother. See you tomorrow?”

  “Bright and early, my man, bright and early.” Kade smiled at me, gesturing to the passenger side of his truck. “Your chariot awaits, my lady.”

  If it had been just the two of us, I might have laughed or rolled my eyes or simply ignored him. But mindful of the fact that Max Remington was still within the sound of my voice and that he’d glanced over his shoulder at us, I played it up a little more, executing a quick curtsy and a faux simper.

  “Thank you, kind sir.”

  Kade chuckled, but I was pretty sure Max growled.

  The inside of the truck was spotlessly clean, and I thought of my own car’s interior, which was . . . not. I always tended to be in a hurry, running
late, so there were travel mugs that needed to be taken out and cleaned as well as wrappers from various foods.

  “You know Max well?” Kade’s abrupt question took me by surprise. He was pulling forward slowly, keeping his eyes on my car as it trailed behind us.

  “No. I just met him when he stopped to help me.” I shifted in the seat, bending my knee and tucking my foot beneath me.

  “Seriously? Huh.” He slid me a side-eyed look. “Seemed like he knew you better.”

  “Nope.” I paused. “And he’s probably happy that he doesn’t. When he found out that I was here because I’d been part of the protest, he was less than thrilled.”

  “Ah.” Kade nodded. “Yeah. Well . . . you know, there are guys—and women—in the Army who are good at what they do and they like their job. But for them, that’s what it is. It’s a job, and at the end of the day, they go home and leave it behind. It’s not easy, because being in the military isn’t meant to be a nine-to-five gig. But then there are people who live and breathe it, every minute of the day. That’s Max. He’s Army to the core, and that’s never going to change. And when people like you—” He threw me a saucy glance. “—question what’s going on or even attack our mission, he takes it very personally.”

  “I didn’t attack any mission.” I wasn’t even sure what that meant. “We were just protesting the fact that the Army bailed out a man who brutally attacked someone. We want to make sure justice is served.”

  “Right. That’s the story from your point of view, but you don’t have all the details. That probably eats at Max, too. He’s such a straight arrow that he can’t imagine anyone thinking he’d do anything underhanded or wrong.”

  “Huh.” We rolled down the back streets at a snail’s pace. I snuck a glance behind me to make sure my car was still there. “How do you know him?”

  “Me?” He raised his eyebrows. “We’re both company commanders in the same battalion.”

  “You’re in the Army, too?” His hair was short, like Max’s, but he just seemed to be so much looser and more laid back that I’d assumed he was just a friend from the area.