Page 40 of Metal & Mud

"Well then," she said, cupping the substantial bulge in his jeans, "let's see what we can do... for round one. Trust me, I want much more than just this."

Logan nodded as Sabby carefully unfastened his belt. She'd need to be discreet and flexible.

There was no way she was getting on her knees in this movie theater.

* * *

19

LOGAN

"Have a seat, Goodman," Major Kirk said after returning Logan's salute.

The weight of his entire company chain of command pressed down on him as he slid into the chair. From Sergeant Adams directly to his right, all the way up to Major Kirk at the head of the table, Logan knew this much brass in one room couldn't mean anything good.

"So Goodman," Lieutenant Parker began, his voice sharp as he glanced at the paper before him, "we're here to see how you're settling in. As you're finding out, Charlie Company isn't your average unit."

"I definitely get that, sir," Logan said, eager to show his confidence despite the knot in his stomach. "I've learned more in six weeks than my entire time in basic."

Parker raised an eyebrow. "Your range scores look solid with the M4, but your M14 qualification barely made the cut. What happened?"

Logan shifted in his seat. "I need more practice with the longer ranges, sir. I know the theory, but putting it into practice at eight hundred meters is different."

"You agree, Sergeant Adams?" First Sergeant Austin asked, turning toward the small but fierce NCO at Logan's side.

"He'll get it, Top," Adams replied, a hint of steel in her voice. "Nichols and I already have a plan to whip him into shape. Goodman's not afraid of extra trigger time, are you?"

"No, Sergeant," Logan responded firmly, feeling the challenge in her words.

Major Kirk nodded. "Good. We do quite a few missions in terrain where precision is everything. Lives depend on it." He gestured to Parker. "Continue, Lieutenant."

"Your file is clean, Goodman. Barracks inspection, standard PT." Parker's eyes lit up slightly. "And that ambush response a few weeks back—impressive work."

"The team did the shooting, sir," Logan said, trying to downplay it. "I just remembered a few things at the right time."

"Don't be too humble, Goodman," Parker said. "You can take some credit on that one. Sergeant Nichols, anything to add?"

"Nope, Hollywood's good in my eyes," Nichols replied.

Adams cleared her throat. "With respect, sir, Goodman hasn't met my standard yet." She sat straighter. "His scores are adequate, but not exceptional. You need to push harder on the deadlift, and your sprint-drag-carry time needs work. When you're dragging my ass out of the fire, I want to be moving faster than molasses."

Major Kirk glanced at the report. "Ninety-five average, Goodman? That's not bad."

"Not good enough, sir," Adams cut in.

"Your standard, Sergeant Adams?" Top asked wryly, and there were a few chuckles around the room. "Max out everything?"

"Look," Adams said, folding her arms, "if my five-foot-nothing ass can pull those numbers while dealing with monthly cycles, so can everyone else who doesn't bleed regularly. But," she added, softening slightly, "it's only been six weeks."

"Agreed, six weeks is a bit quick to expect perfection," Lieutenant Parker said. He studied Logan's face. "Goodman, do you feel Sergeant Adams is expecting too much from you?"

Logan met Adams' eyes for a fraction of a second before answering. There was something there, not just the challenge of a leader, but something more personal.

"No, sir," Logan replied firmly. "Sergeant Adams has been an excellent leader. And if she's tough, she's tough on everyone in the team. Nobody more than herself."

"You know, Goodman, keep talking like that and I might recommend you for Officer Candidate School," Major Kirk said with a smile.

First Sergeant Austin groaned. "You know I don't like to waste fine enlisted men, sir."

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