Page 54 of Xavier

A moment later, wearing his jeans, he stepped out, pulling his T-shirt over his head.

She stood by one of the open boxes, holding a photo frame.

Xavier’s heart stopped, stuttered and kicked into high gear. He marched over, took the photo from her and buried it in the open box, his hand lingering on the metal frame, his chest so tight he could barely breathe. “You shouldn’t snoop through my private things,” he snapped.

“I’m sorry.” Lissette backed away as if she’d been struck. “The box was open, and the photo was on top. I was curious.” She lifted her chin. “So, sue me. I won’t do it again.”

For a long moment, Xavier stood, unable to let go of the frame. He didn’t need to look at the photo to see the images. It was the last photo he and his team had taken together before their final mission. They’d posed for a moment, dressed in combat gear, holding their rifles or submachine guns, helmets off, smiling for the photographer, unaware that some of them would never smile for a camera again.

Berrelli and Fenton, all smiling along with everyone else. They’d gone out, confident and full of swagger, only to come home in body bags.

He didn’t hear her approach, his mind mired in grief and regret as he stared at the back of the frame he couldn’t let go of.

A hand touched his arm. “Hey,” Lissette whispered. “Are you all right?”

Xavier couldn’t speak past the lump in his throat. He started to nod and shook his head instead.

“They were your team,” she stated. Not a question. He didn’t have to answer.

A moment passed.

Her hand curled around his arm as she leaned into him. “I’m sorry.”

He swallowed hard, pushing back the lump. “So, you said.”

“I did.” She gently squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry I intruded on your privacy. I’m even sorrier for whatever happened to them.”

Xavier’s eyes burned. “It was supposed to be a quick mission. Get in, sweep the area for the enemy and get out. The village was supposed to be deserted.”

“It wasn’t,” she said softly.

“I should’ve known. I should’ve taken point, going in.” He turned the frame over and stared down into the eyes of his team, his friends. “They’d left one man behind, wearing a vest full of explosives—a goddamn martyr probably promised eternal life with Allah for his sacrifice. I sent them in, thinking the building was empty. I failed them.”

“Did you set off the explosives?” she asked.

“I might as well have,” he responded, his voice husky with guilt. “They’d be here today if I hadn’t assumed the building was empty.”

“But you didn’t set off those explosives. The enemy did.”

“I should’ve been the one to die, not Berrelli and Fenton.” He stared down into the two men’s faces. “Berrelli,” he pointed to the one standing in the back row at the far right, “was expecting his first child. His wife almost miscarried when they gave her the news.”

Lissette’s hand tightened on his arm. “That had to be hard. Did she have the baby? Did it make it to full term?”

“She was put on bed rest until she was closer to her due date. She had the baby and named him after his father, a father he’ll never know.”

Lissette nodded but didn’t comment.

Xavier pointed to the man front and center, kneeling on the ground. “Fenton was only twenty-four, barely past his probationary period. It was his first real mission...and his last. The kid had barely begun to live.”

“If you had gone into that building instead of them and died, then what?”

He stared down at the two men he’d sent to their deaths. “Berrelli would’ve lived to raise his son. Fenton might’ve found a girlfriend, gotten married and had half a dozen kids.”

“Do you hear yourself?” Lissette asked.

“I sent them to their deaths.”

“You’re missing the point.” Lissette cupped his cheek and turned his head, forcing him to look at her. “They would’ve gone on with their lives.”