Military Men

by Shelley Munro

“Don’t tell me. You were practicing your map reading together.”

  “No, I had a problem and needed someone to talk with,” Mac said. “Oh, for God’s sake. Take that look off your face. Simon’s married. If you think I’d fool around with Simon or any of you here, you’ve got rocks in your head! I have much better taste.” She stomped off, fury pumping through her body. She ignored the two men who had exited their rooms and overheard her tirade.

  Mac burst into their room to find Louie waiting for her. One searching look from him added fuel to the fire. “What is it with you men? You’re like a pack of old women with your gossip.”

  “What happened?”

  “I talked with Simon or rather he questioned our motives. Then Tai caught me coming out of Simon’s room and implied we had something going on together.”

  “I’ll fix it,” Louie said.

  “No, you won’t fix it because I’ve already told him exactly what I thought of his stupid idea. Honestly, all I want to do is my job.” She grabbed her brush and yanked it through her hair before fastening it in a knot. With her hair restrained, some of her control returned. Donning her protective vest and picking up her weapon of choice gave her a sense of direction again. Soldier. Mercenary. That’s who she was. Woman came a long way down the list.

  Chapter Six

  The line of British army vehicles ahead of them drove at a steady pace. Mac tried to concentrate on their surroundings, the job at hand, but her mind kept returning to her father. She’d never felt such a sense of helplessness. Thank God he was safe now. Mac caught a flash of movement in her peripheral vision. Her gaze snapped to the spot. Nothing. She blinked and continued to scan the buildings, the road. Without warning a huge explosion rocked their vehicle. Mac slammed against the door. Someone cursed. A groan escaped, and her head rang from the contact with the window.

  Their driver jammed on the brakes. The vehicle screeched to a stop, the fender scraping against the rear of the Jeep in front.

  “IED,” Louie snapped. “Ambush.”

  Improvised explosive device. Mac froze, every sense hyperalert. Fear swelled in her stomach. Thick black smoke shrouded vision. A loud crash made them all jump. Curse. Something thumped to the ground beside their vehicle.

  “What the fuck was that?” Garrett spoke for all of them.

  Mac peered through the smoke. A body. Shit. The blood…the gore… She battled nausea. “A soldier,” she said, swallowing rapidly. IEDs killed a lot of soldiers and innocents. “Dead.”

  “Keep alert,” Louie ordered.

  A RPG struck not far from their vehicle. The soldiers in the Jeep in front of them returned fire.

  “Looks like we’re gonna see some action,” Garrett muttered.

  “Return fire,” Louie ordered. “Cover the soldiers while they aid the injured.”

  Mac slid from their vehicle, taking refuge behind the door. She fired on instinct, her training kicking in. Take out the snipers. Fire. Fire. Fire!

  Mac kept firing. Men cried out pain, calling for their loved ones. She blocked out the cries, concentrating on giving the soldiers cover so they could rescue their downed comrades.

  Air backup arrived and gradually the small arms fire and RPGs trailed off. Mac swiped a grimy hand across her face, recoiling when she saw another body lying a few feet from them. Someone’s sweetheart. Maybe a brother and a father. A husband. Her eyes started to sting, and she blinked rapidly to head off her tears.

  “Everyone okay?” Louie asked.

  “We need Garrett back here,” Simon said. “Tai’s hit again.”

  “Man’s a bullet magnet,” Louie muttered.

  Garrett cracked a sick joke, and Mac laughed along with the others. A survival mechanism for them all.

  The call to prayer sounded as they arrived back at base. They were later than usual, the night-vision goggles they donned turning the night a weird green color. At least they were safe and in one piece. Louie sighed as he made his way back to their room. Maybe he’d shift the teams around and put Mac with Simon. It would make Simon happier and the move wouldn’t cause comment amongst the rest of the men because he swapped personnel on a regular basis. Perhaps he’d talk to Mac first. See what she thought. Think about it a bit more.

  Mac was in their room when he arrived, tugging off her vest. Heat and sweat made her cotton shirt mold to her chest. Louie tried not to look at her outlined breasts too much, tried not to think about how her silky skin felt when he touched her.

  “I have to make a phone call,” she said, her voice abrupt.

  “Okay.” Instinctively Louie knew sex wasn’t in the cards. “I feel like playing some basketball. I’m heading to the gym as soon as I take care of a couple of admin things. You going to the gym after your phone call?”

  She hesitated before nodding. “Yeah, a game of basketball sounds great. If the others don’t want to play I’ll whip your butt playing one-on-one.”

  Louie grinned. “You can try. How about the loser gives the winner a backrub?” He knew she was a sucker for a backrub and no matter how the game played out he’d be a winner. His hands on her or her hands on him. Yep, a winner either way.

  “Deal.” She left in a hurry, making him curious about the phone call.

  At least she didn’t seem upset about Simon poking his nose into their affairs. Louie thought about questioning Simon then decided against it. He didn’t want to give Simon an inkling of what he felt for Mac. That really would worry his friend. No, best he play things carefully and work on hooking Mac with patience and stealth.

  * * * * *

  Mac dialed the home where her father resided. Despite the director’s assurances she wanted to talk to her father. Reassure herself. If her father would consent to take the call. These days he lived in the past. An active soldier. Each day was a new mission.

  The call connected, and the director picked up.

  “Ah yes. Ms. McGregor, I’ve been expecting your call.”

  “Is my father okay?”

  “He’s fine. After our last call, he’s had a sleep. I thought you might want to speak to him, so after he woke, he’s been helping the office staff with some small chores.”

  “Thank you,” Mac said, touched at the director’s thoughtfulness. Although he came across as fussy and officious, every person she’d spoken to had given the home glowing references. She wanted the best for her father, no matter what the cost. “Did you find out where my father went? How he was able to wander away?”

  “Mr. McGregor said he was on a recon mission,” the director said. “He sneaked from his room and managed to get past the security man at the front gate.”

  Mac suppressed a smile. “Oh.”

  “He’s convinced the new people at the farm up the road are doing something illegal,” the director added.

  That didn’t sound good. She knew how tenacious her father became once an idea popped into his head. He’d only consented to go to the home because he thought it was a barracks. He’d approved of the sentry on the gate.

  “I’ll try to talk to him.” Mac would speak to him, but she didn’t think he’d listen. Maybe she could give him a new mission. That might work although she’d have to get one of the men to issue his new orders. Her father came from the old school. Mac knew he was proud of her accomplishments, but his Alzheimer’s disease had propelled him backward to a time where women kissed their husbands and boyfriends goodbye before the men went off to war. Females kept the home fires burning. They didn’t fight wars on the front.

  “I’d appreciate that, Ms. McGregor.” This time the director’s voice held a trace of bite. “We can’t have your father disrupting our routine. He must learn to stay within the vicinity where we can care for him.”

  “I’ll tell him.” A sliver of fear crept through Mac. The home had to work for her father, at least for the months until her contract expired.

  “One moment. I’ll get your father to come to the phone.”

  Mac turned to lean against the wall and wonder
ed if she should purchase a cell phone despite the extra cost. But the area was relatively private, everyone keeping clear when someone used the phone. She stared across the room, her gaze connecting with Louie’s. Immediately warmth suffused her body. Awareness. She smiled at him, only looking away when someone picked up the phone.

  “Your father refuses to come to the phone,” the director said in clear exasperation.

  “Tell him I have his new orders for him,” Mac said.

  A harsh sigh echoed down the line. “Very well.”

  “You have new orders, Sir?” Her father’s crisp voice came down the line. A lump lodged in her throat. He sounded so alert. Healthy even.

  “Yes, soldier. I have new orders. I want you to listen closely.”

  “With respect, I will not take orders from a secretary,” her father said.

  Damn. She glanced across the room, saw Louie and came to a quick decision. She had to do something. “One moment. I will get the lieutenant for you.”

  She put the phone down and stepped away.

  “Are you finished?” one of the men asked.

  “No, sorry. I need Louie for a sec. Can you get him for me please?”

  “Sure.”

  Mac waited, her heart pounding. She didn’t want this but her options were limited. It would take time to arrange for someone else to phone the orders through. More questions she didn’t want to answer. Louie would do this for her.

  “Is something wrong?”

  Without looking at him, she said, “My father is in a home. He has Alzheimer’s and thinks he’s still a soldier. I need a lieutenant to tell him you’re aware of the situation and that he should stay at the home to await further orders. Tell him it could be a few months before you are ready to take out the target.” She tensed, waiting for questions. They didn’t come.

  Louie took the phone from her, squeezed her shoulder gently with his free hand and started to speak. “Lieutenant Lithgow here. Is this McGregor?” He paused, his gaze on Mac as he listened. “Good. Good job, soldier. We’re aware of the situation. They’re under surveillance while we gather evidence. I need you to patrol the grounds to make sure the enemy doesn’t infiltrate your residence. Keep the others safe. The mission will take several months, soldier,” Louie said crisply. “Patrol each day until I contact you with further orders. Clear, soldier?” Louie paused again. “Yes, that’s right soldier. I’ll be in contact.” He handed the phone back to Mac. His eyes darkened, and she fancied she saw a flicker of compassion, but it disappeared before she could be sure.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Louie nodded and strode away. Mac watched until he disappeared from sight. She knew he’d have questions. Questions she didn’t want to answer, despite owing him.

  “Are you there, soldier?” Mac relaxed when she heard her father’s even breathing. “Do you accept your orders?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I won’t let the lieutenant down.”

  The buildup of tears finally overflowed and one trickled down her cheek. “Good. Take care, soldier. I’d like to talk to the director.” Mac waited while her father handed over the phone. It hurt knowing her father didn’t recognize her any longer. She swallowed, the lump in her throat so big she wondered if she’d manage to speak to the director.

  “Ms. McGregor? What did you do? He’s gone off to patrol the grounds.”

  “I had one of my friends give him orders to stay at the home to protect the residents and to patrol the grounds while awaiting new orders. Hopefully, that should do the trick and keep him on the grounds.”

  “I’ll contact you if I have any more problems.”

  “Thank you,” Mac said. After goodbyes, she hung up and waved at the man waiting his turn. All she could do was wait and hope her father obeyed his orders.

  * * * * *

  After the phone call, Louie went straight to his office. Alzheimer’s. God, that explained a few of the questions he’d had about her background.

  His phone rang and he picked it up, his mind still on Mac.

  “Carolina Eastern wants what?” he demanded, needing his boss to repeat it for him. He listened before exploding. “Mac is one person. How the hell can we protect our VIP with only Mac allowed into the woman’s residence? Hell yeah. I know men aren’t allowed to see the women unveiled. I know that. How is Eastern going to film the interview? She’s filming?” Louie dragged a hand through his hair, his gut bouncing with misgivings. Fuck, he’d hoped Eastern would change her mind.

  His boss cut through his horrified thoughts. “She’s offering more money than usual to compensate for the extra danger.”

  “Money’s no fuckin’ good if you’re dead,” Louie growled.

  “But you’ll put the proposition to Mac?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll ask her.”

  “Eastern wants a decision by tomorrow. She needs to start organizing her interviews.”

  “Do you have any idea of the areas she has in mind?”

  “Two are in the recently bombed village on the outskirts of the city and the other is in an apartment building, near the mosque that was bombed by the Americans during fighting last month.”

  “Yeah, okay. I’ll take a look at the possible routes we can take so we can hit the ground running if we get the go-ahead.” Louie replaced the phone, a heavy lead lump in his belly. What was Carolina Eastern thinking? This was a bad idea. A very bad idea.

  A glance at his watch told him it was almost dinnertime and he’d forgotten about his challenge to take Mac on at one-on-one.

  He checked their room first and when he didn’t find her there, he changed into shorts and a tank top and strode to the gym. Mac was there, shooting hoops. He stopped in the doorway and watched. She bounced the ball several times then shot. The ball sailed through the hoop with a swish of net.

  “Good shot,” he said.

  “I thought I was going to win by default.” Mac’s gaze was wary as she turned to look at him.

  “I had to take a phone call from the boss about an upcoming assignment.”

  Mac’s brows rose. “Something exciting?”

  “I thought we were playing basketball?”

  Relief flitted across her face, and Louie knew she didn’t want to talk about the phone call to her father. Too bad. They would talk later.

  “You go first.” He’d watched her play basketball, knew she was good. But he was no slouch and confident in his own abilities.

  Mac grinned, bounced the ball twice and started toward him. At the last moment, she feinted left and went right, leaving him scrambling to keep up with her. Too confident obviously. With a jump, Mac shot and the ball sailed cleanly through the net.

  “See if you can beat that.” Her smirk fueled his determination.

  He shoved his way down the court with speed and brute force, doing a lay-up and whooping when he scored.

  “First to twelve,” she said, catching the ball when he bounced it to her.

  “Deal.”

  The two were evenly matched, despite their difference in height. She made up for the lack of inches with speed and a wicked shot. Mac nailed goals from all over the court.

  “Six-eight to me,” she taunted, her backside rolling with the swagger in her step as she strolled back from shooting another hoop.

  Blood pooled in his groin, and Louie’s eyes narrowed. She’d done that on purpose. Two could play at that game.

  Mac set off again, bouncing the ball, spinning out of his way. Louie kept pace with her, purposely jostling Mac, sliding against her sweaty body and knocking her off her feet. They fell in a tangle of limbs, chests mashing together with seductive friction.

  “Sorry.” Louie savored the warmth of her choppy breaths against the side of his neck, the scent of soap and clean sweat on her body. Their sticky limbs slid together, his muscular thigh rubbing between her legs as he attempted to lever off her.

  Her soft gasp let him know he’d managed to rattle her. Suppressing his grin of victory, he stood, stretching out
his hand to help her climb to her feet. He ran for the ball and lobbed it at the hoop before she could make a move.

  “That’s cheating.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes,” she said firmly, her eyes narrowing at his smirk.

  “Is it me or is it hot in here?” Without waiting for her answer, he whipped his tank top over his head and scooped up the ball to pass to her. He caught her eyeing his arse and wanted to cheer. Now all he had to do was sink the goals to win.

  Mac tipped back her head, her tongue flickering out to moisten her lips. Louie almost groaned aloud, recalling only too well how her mouth felt cruising across his body, how it looked stretched around his cock with her tongue driving him crazy. Sweat stuck her T-shirt to her chest and back, highlighting her breasts and her slim, muscular strength. In the past, soft, curved women had captured his attention. Thinking back he didn’t know why. There was something very sexy about toned, strong muscles coupled with femininity, a soldier who knew how to protect herself. Louie knew Mac would threaten some men. Not him.

  A feminine laugh pierced his thoughts seconds after she flitted past him and shot for goal. The ball hit the backboard and dropped through the net.

  “Score! One more and you owe me a backrub.”

  “Bragging isn’t an attractive quality.”

  “Do tell,” she purred, closing one eye in a saucy wink as she passed the ball to him.

  Louie dribbled the ball, feinting left. She read him easily, crowding him. Her scent and close proximity diverted his focus, and she stole the ball, darting from him and sinking the goal before he could blink.

  “And she scores again,” she gloated, holding her hands above her head and rocking her hips in a sassy dance of victory. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly, each breath still pounding through her with the exertion.

  He loved seeing her carefree and happy like this, her lithe body restless and full of energy. It made him think of Fiji. It made him think of sex. Louie cursed under his breath. Doomed. He was fuckin’ doomed and it was about time he admitted this truth.

  “You owe me a backrub.” Her eyes sparkled with pleasure at the win, a big improvement on when he’d seen her earlier.