understand why you didn’t. Hell, Ramirez was pretty clear with you about it, wasn’t he?”
Grimly, I nodded. “Yeah, he wanted it done under the table when it was focused on Carson. We couldn’t risk the Manhattan DA or the Feds who were bought off by John Carson stepping in. So I was fully responsible for that one. We had nowhere else to turn.”
“Well, there you go.”
Cardozo grabbed my resignation letter off his desk and dropped it into the shredder by his feet. We both watched as the machine sliced my guilt to ribbons.
“Last thing,” Greg said. “I don’t want to lose you, but this wasn’t good, Zola. I’m probably going to have to put you on unpaid administrative leave until things die down. I’ll let you know. Can you handle that?”
I swallowed. It wasn’t great. I’d probably have to pick up some shifts at Jamie’s just to make my mortgage. Christ. I never thought I’d go back to waiting tables and bartending to get by after I finished law school, but here we were. Still, it was better than what I imagined when I first walked in here.
“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, it’ll be fine.”
“All right,” said Cardoza. “Get your things together. Figure out how to divvy up your caseload. And then we’ll see you in a few months, good as new.”
“Banks, how’s everything looking in there?”
“Looking good, Cap. A little quiet, though.”
I frowned at Percy, my second, who stood next to me with the same quizzical look on his face.
“Quiet?” he echoed. “Quiet in Fallujah?”
It was supposed to be a raid. They were supposed to go in and come right back out.
“All clear up here, Cap—oh, fuck!”
BOOM. The upper quadrant of the already-crumbling apartment building exploded.
“Fuck!” I shouted, jumping out of the shadows where I had been sitting with the only three members of the platoon I’d held back with me. “Goddammit.” I yanked my radio from my shoulder and called for backup.
The reply was immediate. “Roger, stand by.”
I scowled at the phone. “Fuck this.”
“Cap, what are you doing?” Perkins shouted as he watched me strip off the radio and toss it to him.
“There are three other Marines in there, Perkins, and I’m not leaving them to a slaughter when I’m the one who sent them!” I shouted. “Stay on the line and wait for orders. I’m coming out with my men or I’m not coming out at all!”
Without waiting for a response, I hurtled into the building, ignoring the rubble raining down above me and the rattle of gunfire that was suddenly everywhere.
I found two of them.
“Snacks! Bancroft! Grab my hands; let’s get you guys out of here.”
With more strength than I knew I possessed, I pulled the two men up from the stairs, thankful that they were both at least able to walk, even if their faces were badly burned.
“Cap,” Bancroft muttered. “It’s Napoleon, he was upstairs when it went off. We got most of them, but he’s still up there.”
I helped them out of the building where two of the men who were waiting outside ran across the street to help their platoonmates to safety.
“Cap!” shouted Perkins. “Artillery is here in six minutes!”
“I gotta find Napoleon!” I shouted over my shoulder even as I headed back into the building, gun drawn.
There was smoke everywhere—the fire that the bomb started had quickly caught on the cheap wood furniture and dry surroundings.
“Napoleon! Yo, Pletford, where are you?” I called through the smoke, stepping over civilian bodies and trying not to think too hard about whether they were dead or alive. I was halfway up the crumbling stairs when I saw the Marine’s legs limp at the top.
“Plet!” I yelled as I sprinted up toward him, praying I wasn’t responsible for a third dead Marine today. “Fuck, Plet, come on. Let’s get you out of here.”
I rounded the corner and dove for my compatriot, not even bothering to check for vital signs. I just needed to get him out.
“Come on,” I grunted as I threw one of his arms around my shoulder and tried to maneuver his dead weight over my back.
A loud moan emitted from Pletford’s body. His head lolled back, and his helmet fell off, revealing a long mane of golden hair dangling over my shoulder.
“What the…”
I pushed Pletford’s body against the wall so I could look into his face.
But it wasn’t Pletford.
A pair of pained, silver eyes gazed back at me atop a straight, elegant nose and a pair of lips that were red again, but for