Page 25 of Coming In Hot
He opens his mouth to speak, but I don’t let him.
“I’m not done,” I snap.
Brewer holds up a hand to stop me. “Jax, I’m gonna have to ask you to take a deep breath. There’s a gaggle of Bitches with their ears to the door, and if you don’t keep your voice down, they’re going to hear every word, despite the white noise machine masking the sound.”
Fucking nosy ass Bitches. I have no doubt he’s right.
Brewer continues, his tone level but firm. “Pharo expressed his part in Jordan’s death. What was your part that you’re carrying?”
I freeze. “My what?”
It’s like a slap to the face—sudden, unexpected. My mind stumbles, grappling for something that will make sense of the question, but it doesn’t come.
Pharo’s smirk slides into something colder, more calculated, like he’s watching a train wreck unfold. “What? You think you get to play the martyr here? You think you’re innocent in this?” He leans forward just enough to make his point. “You knew who he was. An utter jackass. A reckless fool. You watched him spiral as the pressure got to him, and you didn’t say anything.”
My blood runs cold. I want to snap, to tell him to shut the hell up, but something in his eyes—something dark, like he knows exactly how deep my guilt runs—holds me in place.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out at first. Brewer watches us both closely, his fingers steepled in front of him as he waits for me to speak. The room feels too small, the walls closing in as Pharo’s words echo in my skull.
“Jordan milked a fucking grenade for shits and giggles, and you laughed. He swallowed diesel to see if he’d get sick, and you brushed it off as a harmless prank. He mutilated a field mouse, and you excused his behavior as stress. Hell, I’m just as guilty. The difference is that I can admit that. You can’t,” he accuses, poking his finger at me.
I want to punch him. I want to scream at him that he doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about. But the truth is—he does. Jordan’s behavior didn’t sit right with me, not for one second. But the alternative was to report him, and that would mean I’d be stuck in Iraq without him. He was my rock. But… I wasn’t his. He needed me to step in and save him, and I didn’t.
I clench my fists, the anger bubbling up again, but it’s not just aimed at Pharo anymore. It’s at me, at the way I failed him. The guilt claws at me, sharp and relentless.
“You think I didn’t know what was happening with him?” I growl, my voice low and raw. “I saw it. I saw the cracks in him. But he was the guy who kept me sane over there. The guy who had my back when shit hit the fan. He wasn’t just a soldier to me. He was my damn brother. And I couldn’t afford to lose him.”
Pharo’s eyes narrow, and there’s no smugness left in his face, just the same old frustration that we both share. “But youdidlose him, Jax. You lost him because you couldn’t see the real problem. He wasn’t just some soldier, and he wasn’t just your rock. He was a human being. And you failed him when he needed you the most.”
The truth blindsides me like a frigid wave, and for a second, I think I’m going to lose it. As time ticks on, the pressure of everything mounts, and I avert my gaze. The guilt, the regret, the anger—it’s all there, twisting inside me.
“We both did,” he adds quietly.
“I know,” I mutter, barely above a whisper. “I know.”
“Nobody else followed Jordan into that minefield. Why didn’t you follow him, Jax?”
“Because I didn’t want to die,” I mutter, the truth tasting bitter as it leaves my mouth.
“Well, Jordan did.” The silence that follows feels suffocating, thick with accusation. “He fuckingdancedaround like he was performing on a stage. You heard me shout at him, giving him an unmistakable order to stand down.”
I’d heard. His command rings through my darkest nightmares.
“Remember when he broke his foot and was benched from our first mission?”
I shake my head, recalling how someone accidentally pushed him and he stumbled into the path of a jeep rolling by loaded with munitions.
“It wasn’t an accident, Jax. Jordan purposely stuck his foot out. He deliberately put himself in harm’s way to get sidelined.”
“That’s bullshit!”
“I saw it with my own eyes.”
It hits me like a freight train, slamming into my chest, leaving me breathless. I stare at Pharo, disbelief spreading across my face. “You’re telling me hewantedto get hurt?”
Pharo’s topaz gaze is steady, unwavering. “Yeah. He did. He wasn’t trying to get out of the mission, Jax. He was trying to getawayfrom it. He wanted to be benched. He wanted to be sidelined so he didn’t have to go.”
I feel my chest tighten, a knot forming in my stomach. I’ve always known Jordan as the guy who didn’t hesitate to dive headfirst into danger. He was reckless, sure, but he never seemed afraid of anything—at least, that’s what I thought.
