That Moment When You First Fall In Love...
It was March 17th, 2082, and he was standing outside his new commanding officer’s tent in the makeshift supply camp at Reims. He smoothed down his jacket, straightened his shoulders, and then entered.
“Sergeant Raine reporting for duty, sir,” he announced.
A somewhat shabby-looking man in his late thirties looked up from where he was sitting on an old crate in front of a battered picnic table and placed a finger over his mouth.
“Um… who is, sir?” Josiah asked. People had warned him that Captain Peter Hunt was an eccentric.
“This little lady.” Captain Hunt pointed at his jacket, which contained a suspicious bulge. “Want to take a look, Sergeant?”
“Come here, then, but be quiet,” Hunt said softly.
Josiah did as he was told, and Hunt drew aside his jacket to reveal… a small black puppy. The creature was tiny – probably no more than a week or two old – and she was making little whimpering sounds in her sleep.
“Poor baby – her mother and the rest of the litter were killed by one of the trucks in the convoy yesterday. I couldn’t leave her there, could I, Sergeant?”
“Uh, I don’t know, sir. Are we allowed to keep pets?”
“Probably not.” Hunt grinned. “But she’s a baby – she wouldn’t survive if we left her, and as it’s our fault she’s all alone in the world, we have a responsibility to her, don’t we?”
“I suppose so, sir,” Josiah replied doubtfully.
“She can travel with us once we get going again. Nobody needs to know.” Hunt winked. His big, dirty hands were infinitely gentle as he stroked the puppy’s head. “One of the supply trucks broke down this morning, so I fixed it,” Hunt explained, noticing Josiah looking at his grimy hands.
“Whatever gets the task done is my job.” Hunt shrugged. “It’s a bit different in the Peacekeepers than in the regular army, Sergeant. We’re away from base most of the time, out on the road by ourselves, and we have to make it up as we go along. Do you understand what we’re doing out here?”
“We’re on a humanitarian mission, escorting the food and medicine trucks, sir.”
“That’s right. Sounds easier than it is. There’s no government in most of these places, and no law and order – only rival gangs trying to steal our food and medical supplies – scavengers, who hunt in packs. There are people who will die without our help, so we have to protect our convoy at all costs. Understand?”
“The scavs usually don’t have guns, but they can still do a lot of damage. Ambushes are the worst problem; my last sergeant was killed in an ambush, so I hope you know this is dangerous work.”
Hunt grunted. “Some people think the Peacekeeping Corps is an easy berth, so if that’s why you applied, you should know – it isn’t.”
“That’s not why I applied,” Josiah said stiffly.
“Good. Don’t lose your sense of proportion, though,” Hunt warned. “Don’t start seeing ghosts and firing at nothing. Remember, the scavs just want to survive, too, even if they are on the side of the warlords. We use force as a last resort.”
“You’re a little young to be a sergeant, aren’t you?” Hunt gave him a searching look.
“The average age of a sergeant used to be thirty-four.” Hunt shook his head. “They’re sending me children these days. How did you get promoted so quickly? Either you’re exceptionally good, or…”
“Dead men’s shoes, sir,” Josiah said quietly. “Although I like to think I’m pretty good, too.” He gave a cheeky grin and then could have kicked himself. Was he flirting with his commanding officer? Christ.
Captain Hunt’s eyes sparkled. He was an ordinary-looking man with wavy dark hair, brown eyes, and a rumpled, lived-in face, but he had an easy-going charisma that rendered him instantly attractive.
“I understand you’ve spent the past six months recovering from some pretty severe injuries. Are you okay now?”
“And you requested this posting?”
“Yes, sir. I wanted a fresh start.”
“Are you an indentured servant?” Hunt asked, gazing at him keenly. “I don’t see a tag.”
“No, sir, I’m not an IS,” he replied stiffly.
“Do you have a problem working with indies, sir?”
“Yes, I do.” Hunt grimaced. “It’s bloody dangerous out here, Sergeant, and nobody should be asked to risk their life because the army owns them. Indies make for lazy, unhappy soldiers, and I don’t bloody well blame them. I prefer people who’ve chosen this life because they want to be in the army. Is there a problem?” he asked, noticing Josiah’s confused expression.
“No, just… I’ve never heard anyone talk like that, sir.”
Hunt laughed. “You’ll get used to me. All I want is a sergeant I can trust – and I believe you’re that.”
Josiah gave a beaming smile. He suspected that everyone who met Captain Hunt wanted him to like them, and he was no exception.
There was a noise outside the tent, and Hunt looked up. “Shit, the top brass is coming. Here – hide the pup.”
Pulling the dozing puppy out of his jacket, Hunt deposited her in Josiah’s hands. She made a squeaking sound, and he held her at arm’s length, wondering where the hell he was supposed to hide her in the empty tent.
Hunt grabbed his nanopad and strode to the front of the tent to greet his visitor. Josiah looked around frantically – he didn’t want to screw up the first task his new captain had given him. He had a sudden stroke of genius, and put the puppy on his head and covered her with his cap just as Colonel Brownlee walked in.
“Sir – I’ve got my report on the scavenger activity we encountered on our way here,” Hunt said, moving forward to greet his commanding officer. The two men spent an agonising couple of minutes chatting, while Josiah stood there, praying the puppy didn’t move, or squeak, or fall off his head. Luckily, the colonel didn’t pay him any attention, and Hunt was doing a good job of blocking him from view. Finally, the colonel left, and Hunt turned back to him.
“Bloody hell – that was close!” he exclaimed, looking energised by their little deception. “Where is she?”
“Right here.” Josiah removed his cap to reveal the puppy, who seemed to have fallen asleep. Hunt looked at her, and then at him, and then burst out laughing.
“I like a man who can think on his feet – you and I are going to get along very well, Sergeant Raine.” He reached out a long, gangly arm and plucked the puppy off Josiah’s head. “Now, as a reward, you can name her.”
“How about Hattie, sir?” he suggested. “She seemed to like sitting on my head just now.”
Hunt laughed. “I love it. Hattie it is, then. We won’t be stationed here for long – once we get out on the road again, I’ll be in sole charge of the convoy, and Hattie here won’t have to be hidden.”
“She can be our mission mascot, sir.”
“I like that idea. Good thinking.” Hunt shot him a smile that made Josiah’s stomach flip, then he reached out and touched his arm, sending a spark of electricity straight to his belly. “Sergeant Raine – please be careful in your new job. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t get yourself killed – I rather like you."
Crocodile Tears by Xanthe Walter. Book One of the Dark Water Series. MM Romantic Suspense! Out June 3rd.
