* * *

A few days after Brandon arrived in San Diego, he was all set. They’d given him a week to relocate. Who needed a full week? His things along with his Jeep were delivered the day after he arrived, and his apartment was already set up before he got there. They’d offered to put him up in the NCO condo complex on base, but as he did in North Carolina, he preferred living off base. It was the only time he ever left the base, but living on base meant closer contact with some of his co-workers. Everyone who lived on base spoke of the base as a small town-like place where everyone was a close-knit military family. He wanted no part of that. All the relationships he’d ever made in the Marines were strictly professional. Having no emotional attachment to anyone, even his fellow Marine brothers, was how he liked it. He lived and breathed the Corps, and if he ever had to, he’d take a bullet for any of them any day. He respected them all, and they could trust he was absolutely dependable, but there was zero attachment.

On occasion back in North Carolina, he’d had a beer with some of them at the local watering hole, and they’d talked work and sports. Mostly he’d listen, adding little to the conversation. He was used to the jokes about him being a hard-ass. Some of the guys even tried breaking him out of the character they accused him of being in at all times, but it never happened. It never would because it wasn’t an act. He just had no desire to open up to anyone and talk about his personal life. As he told them all, he didn’t have much of a personal life, so there was nothing to talk about.

Now that he was at a new base, he already knew the invitations to have a beer with his “brothers” were going to be inevitable. But just like back at his old base, he didn’t want his lack of socializing to do just the opposite of what it was supposed to do—keep the attention off his personal life. It seemed the more of recluse he was, the more mysterious and interesting he became to those around him.

Already, he’d only been there a few days, and the questions had started. He’d been asked twice by a couple of his superiors why he lived off base if he was single. “Why fight the traffic every morning when you could just be here already?”

Another one of the single DIs had questioned if there were other motives. “Is it so the chicks here don’t see who you take home every night?” The DI had laughed when he’d also asked, “You don’t want them comparing notes?”

This morning, he was meeting with the previous Gunnery Sergeant in charge of the platoons and lower ranking DIs that Brandon would now be in charge of. He wanted to touch base with Brandon and show him around the building he’d be calling home for the better part of his weekdays.

“It’s been under construction for some time,” First Sergeant Carter said. “When it’s all over, there’ll be a new building over there with a bridge that connects to this one and an underground tunnel that will connect both buildings as well.” He pointed at the area in question as they walked around some of the construction work just outside the building they were headed into. “In the meantime, it’s been a pain in the ass. Make sure you save anything you’re working on often because even though they’re supposed to tell us when they’ll be shutting off the electricity for a few minutes, they don’t always do. Some of us have learned the hard way that we should’ve backed up our shit more often.”

Carter shook his head as he walked on before continuing. “Some of the engineers have set up camp inside the building. Letting them borrow a couple of offices and conference rooms in the building took up less room than bringing in a temp bungalow for them.” He looked back at Brandon. “Get used to seeing civilians in civilian clothing coming in and out of here.” The sergeant turned back to where they were headed but continued talking. “It’s usually during the week, but they’re all on strict orders to wear their photo ID badges at all times. So if you see anyone in here without one, feel free to question him. In fact,” he glanced back at him very seriously, “you’re supposed to. Civilians without photo ID are not allowed in this building at all. Those photo IDs make them the only exception.”

Brandon nodded, following the sergeant into an elevator as he continued to talk. They got off on the second floor, and Brandon followed him once again through the long hallway. A couple of plain clothes men walked out of one of the doors, and Brandon took note of how the sergeant scrutinized them but kept walking as they both were wearing large photo IDs around their necks. Brandon took in what the IDs were supposed to look like for future reference. The door to the ladies’ room next to the room the other men had walked out of opened, and a woman also dressed in a plain clothes skirt suit walked out. The clinking of her shoes that echoed through the stark hallway as she walked caught Brandon’s attention. Not often did you hear that on the base. He glanced down to take a look and saw the high-heeled shoes she wore.

The shoes had obviously caught the attention of the sergeant too because he actually stopped and looked her up and down then focused on her ID badge for a moment. Brandon stopped also and waited for the sergeant to proceed. That’s when he recognized her. She slowed, staring at the sergeant a bit perplexed. It was the princess from the airport in D.C. Her long hair was up in a twist today, and she wore glasses now, but there was no mistaking those eyes and those lips. What the hell?

Glancing down at her badge, he read her name: Regina Brady. Below it was the name of the engineering firm she was with, her title, the title of her project, and some numbers.

Apparently satisfied, the sergeant nodded at her and started walking again just as Brandon and Regina’s eyes met. He’d been wearing his fatigues at the airport as well, so he figured if he recognized her so easily, even as different as she looked now, she’d easily recognize him too. Her eyes confirmed he was right as they brightened and she smiled. Brandon held her gaze for a moment, his deadpan expression unfazed, before turning away and walking off without a word.

When they were a bit further, the sergeant turned back to him again. “She must be new. I haven’t seen her before.”

Without comment, Brandon walked into the room where his desk awaited. There were two other desks there, also occupied by two other sergeants who quickly stood as Brandon and the sergeant walked in and saluted them. The sergeant introduced them as Staff Sergeant Rodriguez and Sergeant Evans. Evans was obviously younger than Brandon, but Rodriguez appeared to be the same age as he was. Brandon, like any other soldier, immediately took note that he outranked them both.

The sergeant went on, filling him in on the minor stuff he would’ve figured out on his own such as where the break room was and the list of added duties he’d be required to do on top of the usual ones, now that he’d been promoted to Gunnery Sergeant. He also told Brandon his box with all his office belongings would be delivered to him later. Brandon listened intently and respectfully, annoyed that his thoughts had gone back to the princess from the airport. He’d been certain that she was Hispanic. Brady? Then he remembered that she’d referred to her grandmother as abuelita. The last name could mean only one thing—she was married.

Chapter Five

Regina

Now

Week two of this boring ass assignment hadn’t gotten any better. Regina missed the lavish projects she’d gotten in New York already. This would never live up to the excitement of working on sky scrapers and one-of-a-kind buildings like the Ronnet Museum she’d worked on early last year. She’d taken this transfer only because of its location. Now she wondered if she’d made a mistake.

She thought working on the west coast and living on the beach would be an exciting change, the change she needed. But the job was turning out to be so boring. Of course, she’d been notorious her entire life for having the worst luck ever. Her family and friends had labeled her the female Charlie Brown. They thought it was funny. It never failed. If something could go wrong at the most inopportune time to any of them, no one had to guess which one of them it would be. It was never anything real bad, or maybe her family wouldn’t think it so funny, just frustrating, mistimed, or inconvenient things like always being the last to be served at a restaurant when in a group or the restaurant no longer serving the specific dessert she’d craved all the way there. On the airplane, she’d been stuck next to the chattiest person on the planet when all she’d wanted to do was sleep.

Taking a deep breath, Regina folded her arms in front of her as she went and stood by the window of her makeshift office. Her sister had been right. There were a ton of soldiers here, which meant major potential for meeting someone. But as usual, as her rotten luck would have it, she was stuck working on the side of the base where it was mostly basic training with brand new, way-too-young troops who seemed terrified of doing anything inappropriate that might get them in trouble like flirt or even talk to a civilian—that and a bunch of hardnosed drill instructors and their even harder superiors. So far, the only one who had caught her eye seemed to be the hardest of them all, the same one she caught staring at her at the airport in Washington D.C. He’d blown her smile off then and then again when she’d run into him a few days ago.

Because they were on the same flight to San Diego and he’d been wearing fatigues, she figured since she’d be working on the base there was a small chance she might run into him again. But she never imagined it would be this soon and certainly not that they’d be working in the same building. At the airport, she’d thought she’d imagined the look of distaste she’d picked up from him—distaste for her. She’d chalked it up to him having a bad day or something. Their flight had been delayed over two hours. Even she’d been irritated by that. And certainly there could be no reason for him to dislike her. He didn’t even know her. But the other day, the way he’d looked at her was even worse. For whatever reason, the man found her repugnant. Of course, that made him all the more intriguing than when she’d first laid eyes on him at the airport.

Sighing, she walked away from the window and sat down in front of her desk. For all she knew, the guy was married. He was certainly good-looking enough. None of that mattered anyway. Her excitement about working on a base full of soldiers had all been an act, just as this entire last year had been. She pretended she was excited about meeting men and getting on with her life. Of course, her family would never know the truth. She’d never forgive herself if she were ever the cause of anything that might send either of her parents back into the hospital. Between her dad’s bad heart, and her mom’s high blood pressure, she didn’t dare tell them.

The day dragged on as the previous days had, and she finally made her way out of her office, down the elevator, and out to her car. Hitting the ignition button with one hand, she checked her texts with the other then pulled off her name badge. The radio turned on along with the car. She was so engrossed in reading a text from her sister it took a few seconds for the song playing to register, but when it did, she froze.

Would you know my name, if I saw you in heaven?

Immediately choked up, she hit the off switch, but it was too late. She felt herself drowning fast in that overwhelming grief and despair she thought she’d made progress dealing with. Choking back the tears because she was not about to fall apart right there or go into hysterics as she knew she could very easily do, she took a deep breath, fighting the anguish that bathed her so quickly and mercilessly.

She tried to think of something, anything she could channel her thoughts into instead. Her therapist had instructed her to do just that at times like this when she thought she might lose it. So she breathed in deeply and began channeling. She thought of her work, the designs she’d presented to her subordinates today, but it wasn’t working, so she thought of her plans for that evening. She’d be going to the gym later, and then it hit her. Her Fitbit, the pedometer she used around her wrist to count her steps, the battery had died today, and she left it hooked up to her computer, charging in her office.

Glad it seemed to be working because she was already grabbing her keychain and pushing the car start button off, she opened her door. Taking more deep breaths even as the tears continued to spill from her eyes, she could feel herself calming. It’d been months since the last time she’d broken down as she almost had today. She’d consider this progress. This was the first time she’d been able to fight it.