“My men and I were leading the Republican Guard on a merry chase all over Southern Iraq,” Kellan acknowledged.
“You remember what they told you had happened to the captured female soldier?” Burnett asked. “They told you all how badly she’d been treated, how the Iraqi people had risked their own lives to tell Marines where she was so she could be rescued. The video footage of her rescue was released for broadcast and the Marines were declared heroes.”
“It was a great boost for our morale, I remember,” Kellan replied, the memories of that time in the desert, with Jonah at his side, played out across his mind. “It wasn’t long before we realized those Marines weren’t wearing the insignia of the team who had effected her rescue. When the soldier finally gave an interview, she said all of her injuries were sustained during the ambush and that she’d been treated well by her captors.”
Burnett nodded. “And she wasn’t rescued. She was voluntarily turned over by her captors.” The Secretary snorted a derisive laugh. “As soon as you guys got to Baghdad, the President showed up in the war zone, declaring victory and that the conflict was over. Now, here were are, eight years later, and the new President is extracting our troops before the region is truly secure.”
Kellan and everyone else on the ground in Iraq had known that speech was bullshit. They’d been months, if not years away from ending the conflict, even if it had been handled appropriately from the start. “I’m not sure how all of this applies to the awarding, or the refusal to award medals to the troops fighting the battles.”
“The internet cannot be controlled, Kellan,” Burnett answered. “There is an unspoken fear that the Medal of Honor will be awarded today, and tomorrow, the recipient will post a video on Facebook, showing himself and his buddies pissing on a stack of Qurans.”
For Kellan, the pieces began to slot into place.
“It’s not enough, anymore, to dress you guys up in your uniforms, trot you out and have you sell war bonds,” Burnett continued with a note of regret. “The public expects the daily character of its war heroes to meet the same standard as their character in combat. You and I both know that isn’t always the case. And that kind of information can no longer be controlled by the military spin doctors. So, the way to avoid the embarrassment is to not award the medals in the first place.”
Kellan wondered if the Secretary regretted that times had changed, or that the old guard still held sway. “I’m not sure how I feel about that, Cal.”
“I don’t think you should be very happy about it,” Burnett replied heatedly. “And I’ll tell you this, if you can find a way around that concern so that I can award more Medals of Honor, I’ll do it.”
That heartened Kellan significantly. “What does this all have to do with Sergeant Restrepo?”
“You’re aware he was a Colombian national?” the Secretary asked after a sip of coffee.
“Yes. He enlisted in the Marines the same day he was granted his green card.” Hirata had been careful to verify Restrepo’s legal resident alien status in the early days of their investigation.
“That’s correct. All reports indicate that his family fled death squads because his father refused to pay protection. He was a small-time activist and spoke out publicly against corruption.” Burnett sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “What do you suppose the reaction would be if someone suddenly appeared on the internet accusing Restrepo’s father of fleeing because he’d double crossed his fellow death squad members?”
The full picture finally came into focus for Kellan. “I think I understand, Cal. Thank you for your time and your candor.”
Burnett stood and came around the end of his desk. “You’re welcome, Kellan. It’s been an honor to meet you.”
Kellan stopped at the office door and turned to meet Burnett’s eyes. “I have your word that you’re open to awarding more Medals of Honor if I can ensure the DOD won’t be embarrassed down the road?”
“Yes, you have my word.” Burnett sealed their deal with a handshake.
As Jonah drove them back to their offices, Kellan recounted the entire conversation.
“So, what’s your next step?” asked Jonah.
“I think we have to prove that Restrepo is worthy to receive the MOH,” Kellan replied. “Then we parlay that into making the larger cases we want to make. I need to strategize with everyone, though.” Ideas were racing through Kellan’s mind, questions he needed to ask his staff.
Jonah was silent for several minutes before he sighed heavily. “I have the sinking feeling I’m not getting laid tonight.”
Kellan laughed, not surprised that the tightness that had built up in his chest bled away.
CHAPTER SEVEN
They were so wrapped up in the information spread out on the table before them, they hadn’t bothered to change clothes when they’d arrived home. They’d gotten as far as removing their suit coats. Kellan stood now, rolling up his shirtsleeves but Jonah was still perfectly unwrinkled in his olive uniform trousers and khaki tie and shirt.
At some point, it had made sense for the rest of Kellan’s staff to pursue the case of systemic discrimination in the awards process. They would compile what Kellan would need to report to the Senate. That left Jonah and Kellan to figure out why Sergeant Miguel Restrepo was being denied the Medal of Honor, and exactly by whom.
Kellan had been hungry for awhile, but each time he was about to call for a break to fix dinner, Jonah would connect another piece of the puzzle. Kellan ended up typing information into his notes, tagging document files and moving items into different folders on his hard drive.
Jonah stood at the long end of the table looking over the paperwork he had stacked and organized as he’d worked his way through the complicated mess. He balanced all of his weight on one leg, bent the knee of his second leg, and fisted his hands on his narrow hips. Jonah’s handsome brow was marred by a frown of concentration as his intelligent blue eyes darted from photos to written reports. Jonah was tall and lean, built like he was made to wear the uniforms of the Marine Corps, and Kellan found him sexy as hell.
He may not have left the Corps so that he could explore a physical relationship with Jonah, but it had certainly gone in the ‘pros’ column when he’d been weighing his options.
“You’re staring at me,” Jonah said suddenly, startling Kellan out of his reverie, but not looking away from the organized chaos of their dining room table.
“Uh huh,” Kellan replied, not at all ashamed at being called out.
“Staring at me isn’t going to help us figure out why Restrepo is being blocked from receiving the MOH.” Jonah finally looked Kellan in the eye.
“No, but it’s a damn fun thing to do.” Kellan smiled. He decided he was done with work for the night. Dinner first, then crawling into bed with Jonah were the only two things left on his agenda for the night.
Jonah snorted a laugh, one corner of his mouth lifting in the smile that always made Kellan’s stomach twist in ways it embarrassed him to describe. “If you keep looking at me like that, we won’t get back to this tonight.”
“Yeah, well, there’s always tomorrow.” Kellan grinned, openly flirting. He saved and closed all of his secure files, then he got up from his chair and moved into the warm circle of Jonah’s arms.
“You haven’t gotten tired of having me under foot twenty-four-seven, yet?” Jonah asked, running his palms over Kellan’s back. The question seemed casual, even humorous, but Kellan suspected it was a diversionary tactic.
“Not at all,” Kellan replied with conviction. “You don’t regret taking an office job, do you? Not wishing you’d promoted to Master Sergeant and stayed with a combat unit?”
“No,” Jonah replied so quickly, Kellan nearly doubted him. “I hate having to wear the service uniform—fucking ties—but I like using my brain this much. This is important work, too. This matters.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Kellan said quietly against the warm skin of Jonah’s throat, relief washing through him. He inhaled and caught the scent of the cologne Jonah had begun to wear. He hadn’t asked but Kellan assumed Jonah had never worn cologne regularly because he spent so much time getting sweaty, dirty, or just plain wet. Marines were amphibious, after all.
“Are you coming to the same conclusion I am, about all of this?” Jonah’s question confused Kellan momentarily.
It took several moments to realize Jonah was referring to the issue with Restrepo. “Probably, but what conclusion are you reaching?”
“Someone has been lying about what happened inside that house in Fallujah,” Jonah replied. “We might need to conduct our own interviews.”
Kellan had been coming to that conclusion over the last several days, yes. He was still hoping to find a way around it. “If we want to continue pursuing this; if we want the truth, regardless of what that truth is, I believe that is what we’re going to have to do.”
Jonah made a frustrated sound. “Send someone else, this time.” It sounded almost like a plea.
“I’m not sending anyone to do something I’m not willing to do myself.” Did Jonah expect anything else from him?
“Yeah, I know,” Jonah replied with resignation. “I’m going with you, you know.”
“You
are
my military aide.” Kellan pulled back to meet Jonah’s eyes. They were standing in the dining room of a small house in Virginia, casually discussing the fact they were going to have to head directly into a war zone.
Kellan sighed inwardly. Always a Marine.
“Don’t get kidnapped this time,” Jonah said in mock annoyance.
“Why not? It was such a fun experience the first time.”
Jonah rolled his eyes. Kellan laughed.
“I’m getting out of this monkey suit,” Jonah said, heading for the bedroom and stripping off his uniform tie.
“Oh, hey, wait for me!” Kellan chased after Jonah. “I want to help!”
§ § §
Kellan was a little more superstitious than he liked to admit. When the universe kept aligning in such a way to either thwart or facilitate something he wanted to accomplish, it was difficult not to be.
When Senator Gilchrist had told Kellan to get to Camp Pendleton to start re-interviewing the Marines involved in the battle that had taken Sergeant Restrepo’s life, Jonah had coordinated the logistics of the trip. Neither of them had been aware that they were arriving just in time for the 2
nd
Annual Recon Challenge. They couldn’t have manufactured a better cover.
“Jonah?”
They both turned at the sound of Jonah’s name.
Jonah’s features split into a grin. “Yarwood,” he greeted, extending his hand.
Corporal Corey Yarwood approached, dressed in full utilities including the eight cornered, billed cover. He’d changed since Kellan had last seen him. Corey was the same height, but he held himself a little taller. He seemed broader in the chest and shoulders. Two years had matured Corey, that much was obvious. He’d still been boyish, when Kellan had met him. Now, he was unquestionably all man.
Corey grasped Jonah’s hand and shook it briskly. They pulled each other in for the ultra-masculine, back-slapping hug of the alpha male. Corey was smiling wide when he stepped back, his eyes shone as he looked up into Jonah’s face. He released Jonah’s hand but now stood gripping his bicep.
“I had no idea you were coming in for this!” Corey exclaimed. “Why didn’t you email me?”
“It was last minute and I didn’t think about it,” Jonah replied. “You remember Kellan, of course,” he said, reaching back and gesturing Kellan forward.
Kellan’s brain was processing what he was observing. Corey’s open, flushed expression of joy, his brightly shining eyes as he stared up at Jonah. The implication was just sinking in when Kellan stepped forward to shake Corey’s hand. He watched Corey’s smile falter, his eyes shutter as he took Kellan’s hand.
“Of course I do,” he said politely. His grip on Kellan’s hand was firm, his gaze direct, but his greeting lacked the enthusiasm of the one he’d given Jonah. “It’s good to see you again, sir.”
Oh, but it wasn’t. How had Kellan missed that before? “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Corey,” Kellan said genuinely. “I often inquire after you, it’s good to see for myself that Jonah’s reports are accurate.”
Kellan didn’t blame Corey for his crush on Jonah. He understood it better than anyone. It just saddened him that it would probably always make things awkward between them. Kellan wondered if Jonah knew.
Corey appeared taken aback at Kellan’s words. “Th-thank you, sir. I appreciate your interest in my well being.”
“Please, call me Kellan.” He gripped Corey’s bicep in a friendly gesture. “It’s the weekend and we’re here informally. Besides, I’m out of the Corps.”
Corey blinked. “That’s…not exactly why people call you sir, sir.”
Jonah chuckled. “I keep telling him that and he doesn’t seem to get it.” He gripped Corey’s neck affectionately. “So, why aren’t you competing today, Corporal Yarwood?”
“We got word that First Recon is deploying again in nine months.” Corey grew serious. “I didn’t need the additional stress in my life.”
“Christ. You deployed two years ago,” Jonah growled.
“And by the time I deploy again it will be three,” Corey said with a shrug. “I think I’ve been stateside this long because I kept getting accepted into training classes.”
“What are you up to now?” Kellan asked. “You did Mountain Warfare, Survival, and Jump School, right?”
“Affirmative, sir, uh, Kellan.” Corey flushed slightly and folded his arms over his chest. “If I make Sergeant before we deploy, I might get to go as a Team Leader.”
Jonah held up a hand and he and Corey bumped fists. Kellan chuckled, but he couldn’t help being impressed. Corey was moving up in rank quickly, much the way Jonah had. If he survived his upcoming deployment, he’d most likely return with a chest full of medals, also like Jonah.
“Are you guys here just for the Challenge?” Corey inquired.
Jonah glanced at Kellan. Kellan held his gaze for a heartbeat before looking away. Jonah knew Corey better than he did and he had good judgment. If he thought it was wise to read Corey in, Kellan had no objection.
“We’re here on a special mission,” Jonah replied. “And what I tell you goes no further.”