The Men In Uniform Collection. Barbara McMahon

      ‘Actually, I need to ask you something, too.’ Stay away from my son.

      He leaned on the doorframe, tipped his head towards her.

      She took a deep breath. ‘Why have you been talking to Leighton about being in the military?’

      He frowned. ‘I haven’t.’

      Who else would have? ‘He knows you were a soldier. Now he wants to be one.’

      He studied her carefully. ‘Then it’s not from me. And you know I can’t agree that’s a terrible thing.’

      ‘Despite everything you’ve been through?’

      He nodded. ‘Even so. But that doesn’t mean I talk to him about it. I can barely talk to my shrink about it—do you imagine I offload onto an eight-year-old boy?’

      She frowned. ‘You told me about it.’

      Caution slammed down over his eyes. ‘Inappropriate impulse.’

      Oh. Awkward silence fell between them. She rushed to cover the pang his words caused. ‘I don’t want him idolising you. What you were.’

      ‘Yes, because that would be a crime. Seeing as I’m pond scum in your eyes.’

      Her heart squeezed. ‘You know that’s not true.’

      His irises bled to the green of a storm-tossed dam. ‘I appreciate your upbringing was a very difficult one and I can understand how that might have left you with a skewed view of the military,’ he said. ‘But I happen to be enormously proud of the work I did in the Defence Force, the lives I saved and the difference I made to my country…’

      ‘Clint—’

      ‘I can’t suppress that for you, Romy. It’s a part of who I am and I’m through apologising for it. I am a member of the Australian Armed Forces, proud to have served my country, proud of my actions in conflict and proud to still belong to Strike Force Taipan in whatever capacity I can be. Deal with it.’

      And there it was. Out in the open. Only he looked as surprised to have said it as she was to hear it.

      The ball of tension in her chest tumbled and rolled and trebled in size, pushing on her heart and swelling with pride. Pride for Clint. It was far more important that he accept that part of him than she did. She nodded.

      ‘Okay.’

      ‘Okay…? That’s it?’

      It physically hurt to speak. ‘You shouldn’t apologise for doing something you believe in wholeheartedly. Your core values. I won’t ask you to.’

      ‘You ask me in a hundred little ways, Romy. I feel it every time I’m with you.’

      Shame washed through her. That’s how she used to feel with her father. She heaved in an unsteady breath and tried to move away from her desk but there was not far to go when he was taking up so much of the room. ‘What did you need to see me for?’ she finally got out, needing to move to safer territory.

      He glared at her, dark and intense. Veiled. Not surprising given their parting on Friday night. ‘Do you trust me, Romy?’

      With my life. ‘Wh…why?’

      ‘You didn’t tell me about my brother.’

      Romy frowned and glanced at her computer screen. How did he know? ‘Uh, there wasn’t much to tell before today.’ Before she got this morning’s email from her contact in Chicago.

      ‘Did you think I wouldn’t believe you?’

      ‘I…’ She shook her head to clear the confusion. She pulled her focus off his overwhelming presence in her miniature office. ‘He’s your brother…I didn’t want to—’

      ‘Tell me now. I want to hear it.’

      Lord…She’d wanted time to prepare for this…to even work out what it could mean. It wasn’t something you just announced. But he was asking. Waiting.

      She reached into a low drawer and pulled a file out, then passed the sheet on the top to Clint. ‘Justin never worked at the Joliet Grosvenor.’

      His eyes froze over on the paper and she hurried on. ‘There’s no record of him even being registered in the Hospitality Association in Chicago. He would have to have been, to work front desk in a major hotel.’

      ‘What is this?’ His voice was as brittle as the orchards in a frost.

      Confusion muddled her mind. ‘Justin never worked—’

      ‘I heard what you said.’ He raised pained eyes to hers and shook the paper. The blaze in his eyes could have combusted it in his hand. ‘You investigated my brother?’

      Her breath stopped. The room shrank around her and an enormous hole opened up inside her. ‘What were you talking about?’

      ‘Justin behaving…inappropriately at the fundraiser.’

      Octopus hands were just a blip on her radar compared to what came after with Clint. She’d all but forgotten Justin’s drunken pawing.

      A deep scowl dropped over the angles of his face. ‘Why the hell are you investigating my brother?’

      Romy could have apologised. Begged his forgiveness. But when her antennae were vibrating so wildly she knew better than to back down. There was too much at stake. Clint’s heart. She took a bolstering breath around the tightness in her chest. ‘Why would he lie to you?’

      ‘Am I part of your investigation now?’

      She took the hit. Prepared herself for more. To protect him. ‘Why would he lie, Clint?’

      ‘Who says he is lying?’

      ‘The Government of the United States. My contact’s in a Federal department in Chicago.’

      He prowled around her broom-closet office, then doubled back on her. ‘Overkill, don’t you think?’

      Actually, yes, it was. Majorly. ‘I contacted Carly as a friend, not a Federal officer.’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘Because there’s something not right about Justin—’

      His colour blanched slightly. ‘I’ve told you why that is. The near-drowning…’

      Desperation started to pick at her fringes. Had she overreacted? Could she be wrong about Justin? She forced the doubt away. ‘Clint. Forget that he’s your brother, just for a moment. Why would he lie about his background?’

      Clint finally lifted tortured eyes to her. ‘You’ve certainly wasted no time in getting your revenge.’

      ‘Revenge for what?’

      ‘For him trying it on with you.’

      Hurt slammed through her. ‘You think that’s what this is?’

      ‘You tell me. First you tell me he hit on you, then you tell me he’s a liar.’

      Her pulse started to hammer at the accusation in his voice. ‘I never told you he hit on me. You brought it up.’

      Clint glared. ‘Actually, he did. He owned up to it immediately. Expressed his regret. Like a man.’

      Her chest heaved with barely restrained anger. ‘How good of him. Have you not given any thought to why he might do that? What he had to gain?’

      Clint shook his head. It matched the tremble in his hands. ‘I feel sure you’re about to tell me.’

      Grief thickened her voice. Something beautiful was dying. Romy could feel it slipping through her helpless fingers. ‘Do I really have to tell you about pre-emptive strikes? Justin knew you’d take him to pieces when you found out he’d touched