double-timed it after her.
EVEN AT ELEVEN AT NIGHT, the heat still hung around, refusing to give up its hold. This far north though, it was bearable. Lights shone from behind various cabin windows and the faint sounds of music drifted on the air. We made our way to the parking lot and toward a standard black SUV parked right next to my
Jeep. The SUV’s locks popped and Delacourt dumped her bag on the back seat.
Closing the door with a muted thump, she turned and leaned against the SUV, crossed her arms, and studied me.
Not fidgeting was difficult, but I managed. Between the night and the dim light, it was hard to read her expression, so I waited for her to speak first.
“Flash wanted me to approach you about joining PSY-IV before that last
mission,” she said. “I refused.”
Nerves tightened at her unexpected statement, the impending conversation
not the one I envisioned. Uncertain where she was going with this, and unsure I
wanted to follow along, I kept my emotions under lock and key. “I’m sure you
had your reasons.”
“Maybe,” she agreed quietly. The night settled between us, and she finally asked, “Do you think rank overrides humanity?”
It was a strange, unexpected question considering who was asking. What the hell did she want from me? “Excuse me?”
“If you’re going to work for me, we need to clear the air. The last thing this
operation needs is for the past to come back and bite us in the ass.” She leveled
her gaze on me. “You blame me.”
Folding my arms, I kept my mouth shut, because there was no way to answer
that without lying.
“You blame me,” she repeated, softer now. “And you have a right to, but, Cyn, I blame you, too.”
Even though it wasn’t a surprise, hearing her confirm it, hurt.
She kept talking, leaving me with no choice but to stand there and listen. “I
came up through the ranks with Flash, with Eric. He was…” she paused, turned
her head to the side for a moment, then raised it back up defiantly. “He was a good man, a great friend, and when he was killed, I was very angry and very hurt.”
The amount of throttled emotion behind her simple statement created a huge
understatement. Uncomfortable knowledge blossomed, altering my perception of
Delacourt. Tonight, I wasn’t talking to the intimidating Colonel, I was facing someone who loved Flash, loved him on a level I didn’t even want to think about. Under the old resentments rose a new layer of sympathy, and I let her talk.
If I interrupted her, I wasn’t sure she’d be able to continue, and something told
me she needed this.
“Pressure and questions were coming from different directions, and my
ability to handle it effectively was compromised.” That inner core of strength I
admired so much, came to her rescue. Her spine straightened and the slight hunch to her shoulders disappeared. “When you joined, I watched you. Initially
for Carl, then because Flash took you under his wing, but then I recognized certain characteristics, ones I knew firsthand. You are a remarkable soldier, Arden. You’re quick, you think outside the box, and you’re an asset to any team.”
Stunned by her unexpected compliments, I dropped my gaze and waited for
the other shoe to fall.
“But…”
And here it was.
“Your loyalty can become problematic.”
Yep, not taking that one silently. “Explain that to me, because I’m not sure how loyalty can be problematic.”
“Let me ask you a question.”
I gave her a short nod.
