All these years wasted. IF she was telling the truth.

I took a long drink of wine, hoping that she hadn’t noticed my hands were shaking.

“You thought I didn’t care.”

Her voice was soft and filled with sadness. I didn’t dare believe it.

“I didn’t know what to think at first. Later … yeah, I guess I thought you’d … moved on.”

She sighed, dropping her gaze. “I did move on, Sebastian: I had to. When those letters came back … and even before I sent them, I thought you’d be better off without me. I suppose I hoped that your life would be … different. More like Ches’s. I guess that explains why you were so unpleasant these last few days.”

She was right—I’d been a prick.

“Shit, I’m really sorry about that. It was just such a fucking shock. I didn’t know what to think. It sent me into a real tailspin.”

“It was a shock for me, too, Sebastian,” she said firmly, “but I didn’t behave like a dick.”

She was feisty these days. I couldn’t help smiling.

“Not your style, Caro.”

God she was beautiful. She wasn’t wearing a ring, but there was no way she could be single after all this time, even if she wasn’t dating the French asshole.

She stared at me then leaned back in her chair.

“Just ask me, Sebastian.”

She’d always been able to read me.

“You’re so fearless, Caro, I love that about you. I was wondering … if you were seeing anyone.”

I held my breath until she answered.

“No, I’m not.”

Thank fuck. “But you were? I mean … since…”

She shook her head, but I wasn’t sure what that meant.

“I dated a couple of times,” she explained slowly, “but no, there was nothing serious. Besides, I travel too much to sustain a relationship. And I definitely don’t want to get tied down again.”

Was that her way of telling me she wasn’t interested in me?

“What about you?” she asked. “Any significant other?”

I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Fuck, no!”

She gave me a challenging look and raised her eyebrows. “That’s not what I heard.”

“What? What did you hear?” I demanded.

She blinked a couple of times.

“About your CO’s wife—in Paris? Maybe it was just gossip.”

I couldn’t help grinning. “Oh, that. Guy was a first class bastard—he deserved it.”

Caro shook her head disapprovingly. “And did she ‘deserve’ it? His wife?”

My smile vanished. Celia, my CO’s wife, was a vain cunt who had screwed her way through half the staff before me.

“Yes, she did.” Stupid bitch.

“And the possibility of getting court-martialed and thrown out of the Corps … that didn’t matter to you either?”

I shrugged. “I don’t give a shit.” It was the truth.

Suddenly, Caro pushed her glass away.

“Well, I think I’ll call it a night now, Sebastian.”

Wait, what?

“Don’t go, Caro! We’ve only just started talking again. You haven’t finished your wine, you…”

“No, I’m tired,” she insisted.

She started to stand but I reached out, resting my hand on her leg.

“Caro, I really want you.”

Her face darkened, and I realized my words had come out really fucking wrong.

“For God’s sake, Sebastian!” she hissed, her voice quietly furious. “We have one civilized drink together and you think I’m just going to fall into bed with you?”

“You used to.”

“How dare you!”

Oh shit. “I didn’t mean it like that,” I said.

But she stood up to leave so I grabbed hold of her hand, desperate to stop her.

“Caro, wait! Shit! I’m sorry.”

She shook me off.

“Sebastian, we can’t just roll back the last ten years and pretend it never happened. Too much has happened—too much time has passed.”

“Come on, Caro, don’t say that.”

“Good night, Sebastian.”

And she walked away. Again. I couldn’t believe it. How had I managed to fuck things up so sensationally for the umpteenth time?

I sat there, hoping she’d come back, even though I knew she wouldn’t. I toyed with the idea of knocking on her door again, but I didn’t think that would help. She was tired and pissed.

I’d had the target in my sights, but I’d missed.

I needed a new strategy.

Hours later, I sat in my apartment with the window open, staring out across the lake. The pool of darkness surrounded by the lights of the city mirrored how I felt.

I’d been here for months, but this wasn’t home. I wasn’t sure where that was anymore. I missed my Unit. I’d had friends then—guys I’d give my life for and who’d give their life for me. Finding out I had skills with languages had been a double-edged sword, because it left me isolated within the Corps. But I hadn’t felt this lonely since Caro first left.

I hated her—what she’d done to me, the person I’d become without her in my life. But I hated more the thought of losing her again.

I’d have to mount a charm offensive, hoping for more charm and less offense this time.

I eyed the half-full bottle of whiskey waiting by my bed and seriously thought about diving into it. But I also knew that turning up hung-over and stinking of bourbon was not going to win me any votes with Caro. Instead, I changed into my sweats and took off for a run, pushing my body to the limit, trying to drive out the demons.

Sometimes it worked.

The next morning I woke early. It was something of a novelty to wake up sober; I might even start to like it again. But my nerves were kicking in, demanding a whiskey Band-aid before I headed out. This wasn’t just some woman: this was Caro. And so far I’d fucked up every encounter we’d had.

I picked up the bottle and unscrewed the lid, but Caro’s words came back to me: quit your drinking before you really do something stupid.

I screwed the lid back on and left the apartment before the urge to self-medicate became too strong. And I needed to get to Caro’s hotel fast.

My bike was a Honda ST1100; a serious machine that had the comfort of a tourer and the fun of a sportsbike. I’d bought it in Paris while I was stationed there, and ridden it to Geneva. Riding a motorcycle gave the illusion of freedom—a loose term when you’ve signed your life away to the military.

The roads were still fairly empty of traffic at this time in the morning. Unlike Paris, where you could find a party or a card game day or night, Geneva was sober and studious, but with drink and drugs and high-class hookers in hotel rooms if you knew where to look. And I did. But the Swiss liked to hide any sign that showed they were as corrupt as everyone else, like the Nazi gold that still lay hidden inside Zurich’s bank vaults.

I broke a few speed limits getting to Caro’s hotel, just because it felt good—reminded me I was alive. As if I needed reminding this morning. My nerve endings were firing like the business end of a M16.

I by-passed reception and took the stairs to Caro’s room two at a time. I knocked quickly and took a deep breath waiting for her voice, waiting for the door to open.

But there was nothing.

I knocked again, leaning my head against the door as if trying to get closer to her.

“Caro, it’s me. Look, about last night—I’m … can you open the door for a minute?”

But she refused to answer.

Goddamn it! The silent treatment was driving me crazy. Couldn’t we talk like adults? I know I hadn’t done a great job of that so far, but…

I pounded on the door again.

“For fuck’s sake, Caro! Can we please just talk?” Still no answer. I ran my fingers over my hair, frustration snapping at my nerves. “This is fucking crazy,” I muttered to myself.

“That’s one of the words,” said a quiet voice behind me.

Caro.

I flinched, wondering how much she’d heard. But then my eyes started wandering up her bare legs to the hotel robe wrapped tightly around her, covering her breasts. Her hair was wet and I could smell chlorine.