The mere mention of the name Rahim filled her with anger and loathing. The American-born terrorist mastermind was responsible for what had happened to Maya, for wounding Liam, and for Erin nearly dying in that dirty bomb attack. “Could be either. Or both.” Thankfully he’d died at the hands of Erin’s boyfriend, Wade—who’d been his second-in-command in a deep undercover operation for the CIA—just minutes before the bomb had exploded.

But his followers were still in the area and hungry for revenge. Bagram remained on high alert.

“Hey, Ms. Girard?”

Honor turned around at the sound of Ipman’s voice. As a warrant officer her soldiers either called her Ms. Girard or ma’am. “Yeah?”

“The crew chief’s here.”

Honor stepped out of the cockpit as the man began telling them what happened.

“We were doing a resupply and had just gone into an in-ground hover in a small valley in the tribal region when we started taking fire. At first just a couple shooters, but pretty soon there were a few dozen. Me and the other gunner sprayed their position but he got hit and the co-pilot shortly after. Pilot commander got us up and out of there but we were limping and we knew it. The 60s got there pretty quick and their gunners helped clear off the drop zone, but more tangos were coming out onto the surrounding hills like ants and we had to fly at a reduced altitude all the way back here.”

“Was there a fire on board?” Honor asked, envisioning all of that in her mind. Must have been real tense in here for a while.

“We smelled smoke so we sprayed the interior down and kept our eyes on the fuel lines.”

She nodded. “We’ll make sure we check all that.” From her initial inspection she was almost certain at least one of them had been damaged.

The man lifted a hand and patted the side of the interior, an almost fond expression on his face. “She’s a tough old lady, to get us back here in one piece.”

“She sure is. Go ahead and get your report done up. I know you must be anxious to check on your crew at the hospital after the debriefing.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She set a hand on his shoulder, smiled. “We’ll take it from here. She’s in good hands.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Tell your FE to drop by the hangar when he gets a chance, to address any other concerns he has.” Flight engineers were crucial members of a crew and would have a good handle on all the damage to the aircraft.

“Will do.”

When he left she spoke to her soldiers. “Let’s move this girl into the hangar and get started.”

Once the Chinook was safely in the repair hangar, Honor divvied up assignments and the crew got to work. Since it was a big job she put aside her manager’s hat for a few hours and helped out, cleaning the interior then removing the damaged hoses and electrical components.

It took them hours to list the exact extent of the damage and figure out what needed repair versus replacement. Someone brought sandwiches and coffee but it was mid-afternoon before she was able to get all her paperwork filed and check on her other soldiers’ jobs. By then the lack of sleep was starting to catch up with her big time.

She swung by HQ to hand in more paperwork, intending to head from there over to the showers before returning to her B-hut for a bit, but stopped when she saw a man in a flight suit with his left arm bundled up in a sling. The co-pilot from the damaged Chinook.

Giving him a polite smile when he glanced her way, she opened her mouth to ask how he was doing and see if his flight engineer was around, when she saw another man step out of the next door down the hall.

The smile froze in place, every drop of blood draining from her face as she stared at him. Her mouth snapped shut.

Major Liam Magrath.

He stopped just outside the door when he spotted her, his hand still on the knob, paused in the act of shutting the door as he stared back at her with those piercing green eyes.

Everything else funneled away. The other people in the building, their voices, all sound except the painful pounding of her heart in her ears. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

He lowered his hand from the knob and stood stiffly beside the door, giving her a nod of acknowledgement that did nothing to ease the silent tension infusing the air. His thick, dark brown hair was cut regulation short. She knew how soft it was despite the short length because she’d run her fingers through it more times than she could count.

“Hey,” he said, his deep voice stirring bittersweet memories. It had been so long since she’d heard it.

Honor swallowed hard. “Hey.” The sudden flood of emotion was almost too much. It took everything she had to keep the pain locked inside and not let it show. Liam looked away and shifted his weight as though he was about to turn and leave. A burst of panic exploded inside her. “You hear about the Chinook that came in this morning?” she heard herself blurt out.

He stopped, his gaze coming back to hers, flat and unreadable. “Yeah. Wounded crew are gonna be okay.”

It was the first time she’d seen him in over a year. She was so starved for the sight of him she couldn’t stop her gaze from running over the length of his body. Looking at him now, it was impossible to tell he’d been hurt at all.

He looked as strong as ever, six-feet-one-inch of raw male power housed in a tightly controlled exterior. His jaw was impossibly square, as stubborn and unforgiving as the rest of him. His flight suit covered everything except where he’d rolled his sleeves up to the elbows, exposing tanned, roped forearms. Hard, powerful arms she used to wake up wrapped in whenever they got to spend the night together stateside, feeling safe and secure…

And loved. God, no one had ever loved her the way Liam had.

All this time later she still had no idea how she was supposed to live without that—without him. The nightmarish no-win situation she’d been in would’ve had far-reaching consequences no matter what she’d decided, but there wasn’t a day that went by when she didn’t regret her decision.

She’d lost so much already, over the past five months alone; coming to terms with the realization that she’d lost Liam irrevocably despite her efforts at reaching out to him had pretty much shattered her.

Her stomach was a hard knot beneath her ribcage, all her muscles stiff as she struggled to think of what else to say, some part of her unable to let him go just yet. “Are you… How are you?”

Something she couldn’t decipher flickered in his eyes for a second, then his gaze chilled, his expression turning impassive. “Fine. You?” His gaze dropped to the insignia in the middle of her chest that broadcast her recent promotion to warrant officer. “Congrats.”

“Thanks.” She’d applied and been selected for WOCS and had done her training at Fort Rucker, Alabama almost three months ago now, then done a short stint back at Joint Base Lewis-McChord in Washington State before returning to finish her tour here. “But I meant how are you physically these days. I never did find out what—”

“I’m fine.” The last word rang with such finality she felt it resonate in the empty space inside her chest. He glanced at his watch, obviously impatient to leave. “I gotta go.”

Honor floundered for something else to say, something that would keep him here long enough to make him look at her, really look at her instead of acting like she was a near stranger and drop that awful, distant mask he wore. But nothing she said or did would ever make that happen.

He was a field grade officer eight ranks above her. Even with her new rank and their different chains of command making a romantic relationship between them technically within regulations if it was handled properly, that was a non-issue now. As far as he was concerned, they were done and had been for over a year and a half. He’d been hers and she’d blown it. Apologies meant nothing to him, no matter how sincere and heartfelt, and God knew she’d given several of them. He wasn’t the type to forgive and forget. Not with the way she’d hurt him.