by Mandy Harbin
She wasn’t surprised there was more formality involved. Although she’d never reported on the front lines, this wasn’t her first assignment in the midst of a war. Tired or not, his tone rankled her. The least they could do was not schedule this introduction before she had a chance to check in at her hotel and drop off her bags.
And eat.
And sleep. Definitely that.
She knew she should fall into step behind him without question, but before she could command her feet to move, her mouth opened. “Who are you?” she almost snapped.
The brute in combat boots had only taken one step when her voice filled the air between them. He froze, and it seemed as if the men standing in a half circle around her got stiller.
The man’s hands flexed as if he was going to fist them but then thought better of it before turning to face her once again. “Commander Axle Landry. The man tasked with keeping your backside protected.” He hesitated and then added, “Ma’am.”
“Nice to meet you, Axle.” She wasn’t sure if she mastered the same tone he’d taken with her name, but she gave it her best shot. Somewhere in the back of her mind was a warning not to anger the big, scary—and if she was completely honest, hot—guy. But it wasn’t as if this man was her superior, nor did she need to butter him up to get him to talk. She had a list of names of people who’d been in the area before and after the bombing and had committed those to memory. There was no Axle Landry on her list. She was too tired for this.
One of the men coughed, sounding as if covering a laugh.
Without hesitation, Axle stomped right up to him and yelled in his face. Caitlin didn’t catch everything he said. Something about what the man found so funny with some colorful words tossed in, but it was enough to jerk the sleep from her eyes. The military dynamic fascinated her, but the yelling and posturing was something she never felt comfortable with. She understood the need to keep members in line, but sometimes it felt as if it was really overkill. Like right now. But she wasn’t here to question the inner workings of the military itself.
The younger-looking guy paled a little, but barked his responses, keeping in time with Axle’s forceful questions.
The rest of his introduction finally slammed into her. The man tasked with keeping your backside protected.
She gritted her teeth to keep from barking out Hunter’s name as frustrated realization dawned. This extra muscle had to be his doing. She got the horrible suspicion this man would also do his best to make sure she didn’t go snooping around any restricted areas while on base. All under the guise of protection.
When Axle finished ripping the guy a new one, he stomped back to her, so she had to push away thoughts of Hunter’s meddling for now. “Let’s get something straight, Caitlin. I’m not happy about this assignment. I should be with my SEAL team running exercises in preparation for our next rotation, not watching every waking move you make. I wasn’t trained to be someone’s snarling twenty-four-seven guard dog.”
“Guard dog?” she asked incredulously as she crossed her arms. “At least they enjoy their service.”
“Don’t act irritated with me.” He waved away her rebuttal.
Ha! Who was acting?
“I’m the one who’s position got sidelined for your career. I’d much rather be hiding in the dark, taking out marks with lethal precision, but the powers-that-be want me to babysit a journalist instead. If anyone has a right to be irritated, it’s me.”
“Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?” she asked with heavy sarcasm.
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Someone above my paygrade believes you have a target on your back, and they hope I can take ’em out before they take you down. Doesn’t mean my service comes with patience or a smile. Saving your life will have to be service enough.”
Target on my back? She blinked at him. His words were harsh, but the mental image he just painted was more powerful than anything he’d spewed. Jack hadn’t said anything to her about someone targeting her. Was this a standard concern for media personnel when reporting outside the wire? Surely, she’d have heard that before, if not when reporting on wars herself inside the safer areas then from her fellow journalists when talking shop.
Had Hunter somehow known this? She didn’t see how, but maybe? There was a lot she didn’t know about him. She wasn’t sure what to think of all this, and the reality that there was a lot she wasn’t aware of slowly came crashing over her. She shook a little and sucked in a deep breath. This was the first time since learning of the mission that she felt real fear. She’d been nervous, sure, anxious even, and most recently, exhausted. But not fearful. Why had it settled in now? It felt silly that it took a hulking man being assigned to her to pull away whatever wool she’d had over her eyes. Not her boss, or Hunter, or even her dad had accomplished that.
Part of her want to reply something snappy back at him, but that side of her was hiding behind the other part whose knees threatened to buckle under the weight of this new feeling coursing through her. There was so much she had to suss out that didn’t even pertain to the story itself. When she found her voice, she simply said, “I understand.”
She didn’t, though. Not really.
He stared, and for the briefest of moments, an emotion crossed his gaze that looked like regret, but it had happened so quickly she couldn’t be sure. “Follow me,” he said in the same clipped tone from earlier, but without the added ire.
She obeyed, and Lorenzo walked beside her. The other men who’d been standing in front of her waited until she passed before falling into step with them.
Not with them. Around them. As if they’d formed some protective barrier, blocking her and the cameraman from view. They were still on base, so the action felt unnecessary, which only spiked this new feeling she was processing.
They walked into a makeshift room built with exposed plywood walls. Contained inside in the center was a folding table surrounded by metal chairs. Nothing else existed in the small area. Axle motioned for her to sit before turning to grab a stack of papers from the end of the table.
“I don’t have a PowerPoint to show you the dangers of war in some feeble attempt to express the significance of what could happen if you don’t follow orders. You’ll just have to listen to the words I have to say.”
“I’m good at paying attention,” she said without looking at him, ready to get this part over with.
“Good. That just might keep you from having to witness any horrors firsthand.” The urge to volley a retort was sudden, but she suppressed it. She knew whatever she was going to say would have been out of more fear and not at all helpful. When she didn’t remark, he continued his spiel.
Axle’s lecture was long and detailed. He started with the purpose of their overall objective there before moving into what was expected of the men and women both professionally and personally. Throughout his discussion, her fear eased, which she attributed to Axle’s matter-of-fact vibe. And then he went into the rules of conduct of an embedded journalist, making sure she was clear on her role. Irritation began to bubble again because she was well aware of what her role was, but she ignored her immediate reaction for now. He had a job of keeping her safe, and she told herself he was just making sure she did her part to make his mission easier. “Any questions so far?”
“No.”
“You will not at any time carry a weapon. Ever,” he said, leveling a stare at her.
“Why?” Not that she’d brought any with her. She didn’t own a gun, and it wasn’t as if she could carry a knife on the plane. Although she could have put one in her checked luggage. Maybe she should have.
“Because you are a non-combatant. You are not here to engage in battle. This is not my rule. It is policy.”
In theory, she understood this. She’d never considered the need of a weapon before because she’d always reported from a military base where there’d been thousands of men sporting guns and rifles, so the very idea of her needing to carry something on her pers
on had never crossed her mind. Her fear from earlier was back, rearing its ugly head. She nodded, worried her voice would betray her renewed fright. If Hunter wanted the fear of Jesus in her, he’d succeeded.
Axle continued, going over the laundry list of conditions working with an active military unit, such as not reporting any intel that could compromise any unit’s position, classified weaponry, and details of future missions she might become privy to, just to name a few. She understood the need. She was a civilian working with the military, and at any time she could learn things not meant for public consumption that could put the lives of the men and women serving at risk.
When he finished his speech, he slid contracts across the table to her and Lorenzo.
“Read these and sign.” He leveled a no-argument glare at her.
She took the documentation and began thumbing through it, her mind racing as she read over the words in ink that Axle had said aloud over the last hour. It was one thing to be told something in a briefing and a completely different thing to be obligated to agree to it in writing.
Caitlin could appreciate the need for secrecy. She did. But she also knew, at the end of the day, she had a job to do. One the military and department officials might not be pleased with if she uncovered information they preferred stayed hidden. She would have to follow their rules but be ready to defend her stance on reporting the news. She read every line very carefully to make sure there wasn’t anything hidden in there that would expressly prohibit her from doing her job. When she felt satisfied she wasn’t agreeing to anything she couldn’t live with, she reached for her bag.
“What are you doing?” Axle asked.
She looked up, but continued rummaging. “Um, getting a pen.”
He yanked one out of his pocket and slid it across the table. She caught it before it could pass her, but instead of using it immediately, she stared at the thing. It was no ordinary pen. It was black metal with ridges and planes and felt much sturdier than any she’d ever used before. She turned it around in her hand, exploring it further, even tossing it up to feel the weight of it as it landed back in her palm.
“It’s a tactical pen. Push the plunger.” If he’d given her those instructions as if talking to a child, her cheeks would’ve flamed. With her pale skin, she never was able to hide her embarrassment, and not being able to use a writing utensil would’ve qualified. Thankfully, he’d instructed her in the same tone he’d sported since they’d gotten in this room. She did as he said, signed the contract, and set the pen on top of it before pushing it toward Axle. Lorenzo had already signed his copy and was leaning back in his chair, waiting on her.
Axle picked up the paperwork and handed it to one of the men in the room without ever looking at him. He pocketed his fancy schmancy pen as his eyes stayed trained on her. “Now that that’s outta the way, I’ll show you to your barracks. Follow me.”
She stood automatically and started toward the door, but when his words actually registered, she rocked back on her heels. “What?” she asked. Barracks. She didn’t hear him right. Surely. Please, God, no.
He faced her and crossed his arms. “Twenty-four-seven, Caitlin. Where you go, I go. Where I go, they go,” he said, nodding toward the men who stood in line behind her, waiting to exit the room. “Even though the hotel the press corps uses is as safe as to be expected around here, it’s not on base. The military isn’t going to shell out the funds to put all of us up for the duration of your stay. It’s easier—and more strategic—to give you a room here.”
Then, for the first time since meeting him, he smiled, and the action almost knocked the air out of her lungs. She would’ve gasped for breath if she didn’t know she was physically fine and only mentally reacting to what she was seeing. She’d idly thought him hot earlier, but when the man smiled? Jeez, he transformed into some living god.
Too bad he had a cocky attitude to go along with his looks. Like it was a cosmic joke. Or maybe that was a good thing he had an attitude problem. Being hot didn’t mean he was attractive. Only the whole package—looks and charm—could be that. Besides, she didn’t need to let some sexy soldier distract her from her work, and if he was pleasant on top of gorgeous, she’d have a tough time keeping her eyes on her job and off him. “I understand.”
Although, she didn’t. She really didn’t. This whole thing was completely complicated.
A ghost of a smile lingered on his face, and a wary feeling came over her.
“Don’t worry, Caitlin. Just because there’ll be two beds in your room doesn’t mean I’m sleeping in there with you. Every night.”
“Huh?” But she knew. There was a chance he’d be sleeping in there some nights.
The smile now made sense.
This prick would be really invading her personal space. He not only knew she wasn’t going to be happy about it, but also delighted in her discomfort. At least his lips had slipped back to their normal flat position of stern indifference with her outburst, and that stupid sexy smile was gone. It was slowly becoming obvious to Caitlin she might never get a moment alone here. Besides hindering the very reason she was in this country in the first place, which would require her to do some things without him around, she needed a shower and some sleep. Things she definitely needed to do alone and had been looking forward to since stepping off the plane. She was going to have a fight on her hands for every moment of privacy. “This is bull—”
“I’ll have a room right next to yours, so you will get some time to yourself,” he said, cutting her off as if reading her thoughts. “Your room will have its own toilet, too, but we’ll have to coordinate your shower time.” He half-smiled, and if she wasn’t irritated, she’d find it just as stunning. “Last thing I need is for one of these yahoos to stumble in accidentally.” His gaze shot above her, and she knew he was staring down the troops. “Don’t forget what I told you this morning about pulling any accidentally-on-purpose shit, too.”
She jumped at the chorus of, “Sir, yes, sir,” coming from behind.
“Jesus, warn a girl,” she muttered over her shoulder.
“They don’t take orders from you,” Axle said.
“Whatever. Can we get this show on the road? I’m calling first dibs on the shower. And I need food and sleep.” She hated verbalizing these things because she didn’t want to come off as weak. No doubt the men in this room had gone days without showers, beds, or fresh food several times in their lives, and here she was, demanding them like a diva. By the time she left Afghanistan, she’d have a whole new appreciation for what the troops had to endure on deployments, and by no means would she be experiencing anything close to that. “Sorry if that came out wrong,” she said after chastising herself.
She needed to accept this course of events quickly and learn to work with it, not against it…and by it, she meant Axle.
He watched her for several seconds, then looked up again. “Acker, get Ms. Cooper some chow.”
She looked back as she heard a man’s agreement to follow the order and watched as he left the room.
“It’ll take him about forty minutes to get to the chow hall, secure your meal, and get to the barracks. That’ll give you time to drop off your bags and shower first.”
“Thank you,” she breathed as her shoulders fell, relieving the tension she hadn’t known she’d been showing. He turned to walk out, and she followed silently this time.
When they got outside, Lorenzo asked, “What time do I need to back here in the morning?”
Caitlin gaped at him.
“Oh-six,” she heard Axle reply.
She lifted her hands. “Wait, wait, wait. He doesn’t have to stay on base?”
Axle stared down at her, but his mouth stayed shut as if it was his right to answer her question and he’d chosen not to.
“The station has already paid for my room,” Lorenzo said from beside her, and she tore her gaze away from Axle to look at the cameraman. “The military offered yesterday to provide the same accommodations to me, but n
o way am I giving up my own room and shower.” He chuckled.
She couldn’t blame him, and the fact that Lorenzo had been given a choice, and she hadn’t was more proof Axle being here was Hunter’s doing.
She wasn’t sure if Hunter and Axle knew each other personally or not. If so, their connection happened after Hunter had grown up and moved off because Caitlin definitely would’ve remembered Axle if he was from their small hometown. Chances were Axle was a byproduct of Hunter’s connections elsewhere. When she got back to the States, she’d be getting the scoop on just exactly what her childhood crush had been up to in recent years, but she wouldn’t be waiting until she got back to find out exactly what his connection to Axle was.
She could question Axle, but even weary from travel and hunger, she knew better than to ask him just yet. She needed more information from Hunter before she said anything to the brooding man she just met. He’d made his displeasure of this assignment abundantly clear.
Instead of harping on their accommodations further, she shook Lorenzo’s hand, told him she looked forward to working with him, and watched him walk off with one of the military guys that had circled them.
Axle motioned her toward the ATV and she quietly got in.
The area of barracks wasn’t far from where they’d signed the paperwork. Just barely far enough for her to renew her focus for this assignment. She’d get the information her station needed for a great story, prove she had the chops to handle the biggies, and push for an even juicer story to work on. The little pep talk was starting to work, too, until they pulled to a stop in front of the tiniest building she’d seen since landing, and more dread eased in. She hid her displeasure, hoping it was larger on the inside than it looked on the outside. Some sort of secret go-go-gadget military housing. She clung to hope, no matter how ridiculous that sounded even to her.
