“I don’t like to see any soldier go to war without a very good reason.”
He ran a hand over the boards. “Neither do I. Hell, I could end up deployed there... So this dossier—can you do your story without it?”
A chill tiptoed up her spine. “My bosses would never run it without hard evidence—it’s too damning, too dangerous.”
“So you need to get it back.”
“I don’t imagine that’s an option.”
She picked up her MRE. Maybe force-feeding her stomach would stop it churning. This guy might be radiating mixed messages but at least he brought hope.
“How long have you been in the legion?” she said. If he was hiding something, she’d catch him out. If in doubt, ask the same question ten different ways until they got flustered. The Human Lie Detector, Quan called her.
Half a minute passed. He poked and prodded and shifted the floorboards. “Nine years,” he said.
She waited. Nothing. Sheesh, the guy didn’t offer much.
“How old were you when you signed up?”
Another pause. “Twenty.”
She pretended to focus on opening a packet of gray mush that claimed to be oatmeal. That made him three years younger than her. With his cynicism and frown lines she’d have picked older. “I thought you’d transferred from the regular army?” She forced an offhand tone. She sensed him stilling, imagined him looking down at her and frowning as he assessed the question.
“Yeah, that’s where I signed up, L’armée de Terre. That’s what I meant. I transferred to the legion after graduating the academy.”
“And where did you do your officer training?”
“Sunshine, we could be here for weeks. You wanna wear me out the first day?”
“I’m just interested—and I’m trying to figure out where I’ve seen you before.”
“I told you—one of those faces.”
No, that wasn’t it. Maybe a less direct approach... “I’ve never been to Corsica. Is it much different from mainland France?”
Pause. “It’s peaceful. People don’t ask questions.”
She smiled, the movement unfamiliar on her lips. He was probably right, at least within the legion, where “Don’t ask, don’t tell” took on a far wider meaning. The legionnaires she’d met all had Flynn’s cagey look, the sideways glances, the spare details, as if the ghosts of their pasts were about to jump them and haul them back.
Something shot across the floor. She gasped, clutching her chest. “Damn mouse.”
“There’s a nest in the corner. You want me to get rid of them?”
She screwed up her face. “I don’t know. We’ve been together awhile now. I was present at the birth.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve named them.”
“Minnie and Mickey and...Huey, Dewey and Louie.”
“Pretty sure those last ones are ducks. How about I send them to a happier place and I’ll be your friend instead?”
“Let them be. They’re trapped here, too.”
What just came out of her mouth? She was fighting for the rights of mice now? There it was—proof she’d gone crazy.
“Just what I need to be stuck with—a vegan, lefto, greenie conspiracy-theory crusader. Trust me, not all life deserves to be preserved.”
“I’d rather not have a pile of bodies rotting in the corner—the smell is bad enough already. Unless you’re sizing them up for lunch?”
“Couldn’t eat another thing. Don’t worry, princess. I won’t kill them if you don’t want me to. I’ll repatriate them.” He raised his chin to indicate the newly widened slats above his head.
“They won’t fit through there.”
“The fuckers can get in anywhere. They go flat as paper. You wanna help? Tip the mattress on its side to block their escape that direction.”
As she hoisted it up, he ripped open a packet of peanut cookies, crumbled one and threw the remains into a corner.
“You’re assuming they’ll recognize that as food.” She found herself whispering, like the mice could understand English.
He crouched, motionless, the shape of his butt outlined by his faded trousers. How good had that felt under her hand last night? Round, but firm and muscular. She nibbled her lip. Small pleasures were about all she could hope for.
She spent far too many of the next ten minutes admiring his rear view. Finally, the mother mouse scampered to the crumbs. The babies weren’t old enough to venture from the nest or Tess might not have come over all Cinderella.
“Okay, very slowly, bring that mattress closer.” Flynn inched in until he was between the mother and the nest, as Tess slid the rectangle of foam along the floor, flush against the wall, closing in. Each time the mother looked up, twitching, they froze. Time ticked by. His thighs had to be killing him, quads of granite or not.
Tess stumbled. The mouse took off. In a blur of desert camos, Flynn flung forward and shot out an arm. “Got it.”
Dang, he had the reflexes of a cobra.
“Grab the babies, one by one, and ease them through that gap up there.”
“I can’t reach that high.” Thank God. She wasn’t squeamish, but wild mice weren’t on her preferred list of things to handle. Flynn’s butt, on the other hand, was currently sitting in the top ten. Top five. Top—
Stop it.
He swore, his fingers clamped around the mouse’s tail as it clawed air and gyrated. “Then you’ll have to hold her while I move them.”
She widened her eyes. “Hey, I’m tolerating them—just—but I don’t want cuddles.”
“If I release her first, she’ll come back down to the nest.” He met her gaze. “I didn’t take you for a wimp.”
Damn, exactly the kind of crap her brothers dished up. “Hand her over.” Oh man, really?
He edged behind Tess, his breath teasing the top of her hair as he encircled her with his arms. “Her instincts are going mental, so you’ll have to hold tight. Clamp down on the tail, either side of my fingers.”
Yuck, yuck, yuck. But she followed his instructions. He hovered a palm underneath their hands as he let go. “Got her?”
“Got her.”
“Spin her gently so she can’t arch back and bite you.” He backed away. “Can’t believe I’m busting my arse to liberate mice.”
“Think of it as earning karma. But hurry up.”
He knelt by the nest. “It’s okay,” he crooned in a falsetto, “you dirty little fuckers. Just call me Uncle Scroo—”
He froze and plucked something from the nest. Not a mouse. String? He passed it under a shaft of gray light, and it glinted.
“What is it?”
“A wire. You said there was no electricity in this building.”
“Not as far as I can tell.”
“Seen any electrical cords? Wiring?”
“Nothing.”
He scraped at the dirt where the stone wall met the floor, just shy of the nest.
“What are you looking for?”
“Tell