Page 271 of Incisive

“Because the day does not feel right to me and I do not know why.”

Still, I have orders to patrol. If we return with the excuse that things just “felt wrong” my CO will chew me a new asshole. I know this because I’ve seen him do it before and he’ll take it out on my men by giving us the shittiest duties over my decision.

There’s also the matter of wanting to get my daily glimpse of Bahiri. Come on, it’s theonedamn thing I can look forward to in this crappy desert. Give me that, at least.

None of my guys act jumpy, though. We’ve been together long enough I can read them and tell when their pucker factors are heading sky-high.

They all look relatively chill. So maybe it’s just me.

And Pazir.

There’s still plenty of civilian activity, too. If there was planned fuckery afoot and they’d been warned they’d be hunkered down right now and not conducting their daily business.

This village is full of friendlies. They turn in insurgents because those assholes are usually outsiders from elsewhere trying to cause trouble and not the locals, who nearly all want to work with the army. Working with the US army means money flowing into their village from locals working for the military, US service members spending money here in town, public works projects courtesy of America, and other windfalls.

Still, something just…feelsoff.

Unfortunately, I can’t take afeelingback to my CO. Not without proof to back it up.

I finally decide we’ll go as far as the market before we turn around. I nearly always see Bahiri before then, and making it into the center of town will help keep the ass-chewing our CO will give me to a bare minimum. It won’t look like I pussied out at that point.

Except…

I can’t shake the tingling, creeping sensation coalescing near the base of my spine and quickly working its way north, sending gooseflesh rippling across my body with every step I take.

Something’swrong.

That’s when I spot the quickly exchanged glances of a few boys I don’t recognize, the way they turn and scamper away at our approach. I spot a scowl darken another man’s brow before he grabs the hand of a little boy playing outside his door and drags him inside.

My steps falter, my men slowing behind me.

Yeah, there’s definitely somethingwrong.

Fuck me, I still furtively glance around, hoping for a glimpse of my green-eyed god.

“Hold up,” I call over my shoulder at my men.

This will likely get my ass chewed upon our return, but the feeling rapidly grows stronger, gnawing at me, and I need to put my men’s safety first.

And yet, even now I hate myself for still hoping to catch a glimpse of Bahiri.

My head’s on a swivel as I turn. “Fall back,” I say. “Now.”

That’s when I hear it.

Incoming.

But before we can retreat, the world explodes around us, and—

* * *

“Mister President?”

I blink and suck in a sharp, deep breath at the sound of Jordan’s voice. He’s standing next to me and I never noticed him move. As my racing pulse starts to slow with the flashback slipping away I realize at some point I stood and started pacing the length of the SitRoom.

Which explains why I never noticed Jordan move—becauseIdid, without knowing it. Jordan obviously recognized what was going on and followed me, staying close in that way he has.

Fuck.How long have I been up and pacing?I have no idea how much time I’ve lost.