Page 86 of Casualties of War
His heart thudding, Adán dressed once more. He zipped up the jacket, too, for he was cold. Finally, there was nothing left to do but go back to the main chamber. When he got there, Parris had already pulled out her sleeping bag and dumped it the requisite ten yards from her “office”. She sat on the mat, her big pack a barricade in frontof her, concentrating on the screen of her heavyweight laptop, a furrow marring her forehead.
Adán picked up the bag and went back to find a pocket or dead end or little recess—somewhere where she would not have to look at him with those eyes and he would not have to see them.
* * * * *
For three hours, Parris focused on paperwork and reporting in and the myriad little administrative tasksthat were a leader’s lot. Most of them fell under the “problems” category. Management was mostly problem-solving, which had shocked her when she took her first command.
Even out in the field, a leader’s role in an operation was primarily about dealing with the unexpected. Without problems, snags and the odd blind-siding, her men could be briefed and shoved out there to do their jobs. They weredisciplined enough they didn’t need someone to tap their shoulders and keep them focused.
The men gave her a mug of the cobbled-together stew they made. They also prepared and drank tea—not coffee, not right now—which they also shared with her, while not intruding more than to hold the cup out to her.
Parris was thankful she had built up this division between them. They didn’t find it odd thatshe stayed by the wall and worked and didn’t speak to anyone. It gave her the space she needed to think.
Not that she was doing any thinking. She tackled the hated reports and forms with a sense of gratitude. She could shove the uneasy thoughts to the back of her mind.
It worked only for a little while. Once her hunger was appeased and the hot tea gave her a warm sense of fullness and satisfaction,the paperwork lost all appeal.
She glanced over at the circle of comatose bodies. Snores and soft breathing told her they were properly asleep. Not one of them was stretched out, staring up at the roof to mull over an issue and wait for her to beckon so he could chat.
Adán, of course, was nowhere in sight. She had pretended not to notice him pick up the sleeping bag and take it somewhere else.
Her skin prickled with uneasiness. Had anyone else noticed? These men were all smart, keen observers. They also didn’t gossip. It was possible they had noticed everything that had passed between her and Adán and were holding it in, figuring it was none of their business.
Yet the functional status of their leaderwastheir business. They trusted her with their lives. She couldn’t afford to playwith personal stuff in the middle of an operation. It would be an insult to them.
He still wears the medallions.
The thought popped up, despite everything she had been doing to suppress any speculation about Adán.
He still wears them. Years later!
The date was seared into her memory. 2001. That was the year he had first kissed her. That damned kiss, that had changed everything. That was whenshe had given him the masks. Nearly twenty years later, he was still wearing them.
What did that mean?
Parris shut the laptop with a snap and shoved back on the mat with a soft hiss. Who was she fooling? No one here cared that she was staring at the screen, pretending to work.
She put her back to the smoothest part of the rock wall behind her, pulled her knees up against her chest and foldedher arms over them. She rested her head against her forearms, hearing her heart thud in her ears and her breath rush in and out.
They had seen each other many times since she had given him the masks, and never once had she wondered if he had kept her gift. It was a stupid piece of second hand jewelry—not even a proper set, at that.
Maybe he had just happened to put the masks on when he camedown to Vistaria…
Only, why would he have? It would be more probable he had stripped himself of everything to do with Hollywood before sailing here. It would fit with his state of mind.
Was it possible he had worn the masks ever since she had given them to him? The chain was long enough to nestle against his tanned chest, between the well-rounded pectoral muscles. It would be out of sight evenif he was wearing an open neck shirt.
Her cheeks bloomed hot. Had he been wearing them beneath his tuxedos and evening wear, all the times he had posed with some model or actress or star on red carpets?
No. It just wasn’t possible. She couldn’t let it be possible, because if that was the truth, then…then…it meant…
She gripped her temples with her fingers, digging them in. “Get a grip,” shewhispered, as her heart swung in a sickening way and her gut tightened.
She didn’t want it to be true, because if it was, that meant Adán…that he…had…liked her. All along.
Yet, he had refused her! She had gone to him, to beggar herself, to see if the hope in her heart was real.
And he said no.
