A power bar appeared under my nose. I glanced up. Rachel was holding it out, waiting for me to take it. “I’m sorry. I wish I had more supplies.”
I took the bar from her hands and slid it onto the nearby table. “It’s okay. I’m not hungry anyway. I’m still kind of nauseous from whatever happened to me.” It was a lie. I was actually starving. My stomach felt like it might eat itself and something inside me felt restless… caged.
But I wasn’t about to take the food from a young woman—a civilian—who already admitted to being low on supplies.
“You haven’t eaten in days. Your stomach is probably upset because it’s empty.”
“Maybe later,” I murmured, watching her step away to sit at the table. She was thin, thinner than I liked my women.
The thought caused me to sit back. Since when did I refer to strangers—to any woman—as mine? Did I have a woman out there somewhere, wondering, waiting? No. I dismissed the thought. If I had a woman, I wouldn’t forget her.
“What are you doing here, Rachel?”
The question seemed to catch her off guard. She was used to asking the questions. But I didn’t have any answers.
“What are you doing here, in Kuwait?”
“I’m a photographer.”
“And you thought Kuwait would make a great place to take pictures?” I asked doubtfully.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m a freelance journalist, but I’m also writing a book.”
“A book?”
She nodded. “On war and the troops. On the conditions they are living in.”
So she was a reporter. I felt my back teeth come together. It annoyed me that people like her were allowed in places like this. I mean, didn’t they understand this wasn’t a place for pictures and newscasts? Most of her kind—the media—were defenseless, untrained, and had no idea what they were in for. Was her life really worth a story? A picture in a book?
“I know what you’re thinking.” She sniffed, her chin lifting as her green eyes narrowed. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard or been told before. No, I’m not a member of the military. No, I don’t fight on the front lines, but what I do here is important.”
I opened my mouth to tell her she didn’t owe me anything. It was I who owed her—after all, she saved my life. But she wouldn’t stop talking long enough for me to say anything. Like a bulldozer, she rolled right over my attempts to make her point.
“I bring hope to the American people back home. I show them irrefutable proof that we are making progress here. I also make sure they know what the military is sacrificing, how essential they—that you have been in making our country safe. The military gets paid so little for what they do. This is one way I can make sure they at least get recognition.”
“Fair enough.” She had passion. I liked passion.
A brief image assaulted me. It was of a woman, tall and blond. She was looking at me with passion in her eyes. But then the image changed… It was of the same blonde, but there was no longer passion in her eyes, but disgust. Something inside me twisted, and I closed my eyes against the memory.
“Vance?” Rachel asked. “Are you all right?”
My name on her lips caused the image to completely fall away. “Yeah,” I answered, gruff. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
“Eat this.” She pushed the power bar toward me.
I shook my head. She sighed and pulled a huge bag from beneath the table and unzipped it, showing me the inside. It was full of power bars. “We have plenty, and we’ll be long gone by the time we run out.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice.
I grabbed up the bar and tore the wrapper away with my teeth. A low growl escaped my throat when my teeth sank into the food. It was peanut butter and chocolate flavored. I loved peanut butter. Why could I remember that, but not the important stuff?
When I finished, I balled the wrapper in my fist and another bar appeared before me. I began to shake my head, but she made a noise and ripped open the wrapper, shoving the bar at me.
“You’re huge; one of those things probably is like a crumb to your stomach.”
I felt the side of my mouth kick up. That one bar kind of was like a crumb in my gut. So I took it and thanked her. We sat in silence for a few minutes, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. There was something about her presence that was calming. She made me feel less restless somehow.
“Are we on a military base?” I asked.
“No. There is one here, though. It’s about a forty-minute drive.”
“You have a Jeep?” I asked, remembering what she said about getting me into it.
She nodded. “They left it here for me when they left.”
“Who?”
“I was here with a whole crew. There were a few journalists, a news anchor, a writer… They left yesterday to catch a flight back to the States,” she said, running her hand through one of the pigtails falling over her shoulder.
Damn, pigtails were sexy.
Focus. I ordered my brain. “You were supposed to go with them?”
She wrapped her fingers around the paper cup and nodded.
“Then why didn’t you?” Why the hell would anyone—especially a woman—want to stay in a hellhole like this alone?
Her eyes rose to meet mine. Realization hit me. “You stayed here because of me?”
She nodded.
I pushed off the cot to pace the tiny room. All the calmness I felt just moments ago vanished, leaving me feeling agitated. “Why would you do that?”
“Because you were injured, passed out. I had no idea what was wrong with you.”
“But now you are in this godforsaken hole-in-the-wall country alone!”
“I’m not alone,” she said quietly. “And the base is only forty miles. There’s another flight leaving in two days. I can get on that one.”
“Why wouldn’t you just take me to the base, leave me there and go home?” I demanded.
Her emerald eyes affixed to the tabletop. Again, the air changed and I could smell her renewed fear.
“Are you afraid of me?” I asked quietly. Just the thought of her being frightened of me made my gut tighten with regret. I didn’t want Rachel to be afraid of me. I wanted… Ah, hell, I didn’t know what the hell I wanted.
“I don’t know you,” she stated, still not looking at me. “I wasn’t about to take you onto a US base without knowing anything about you. You could be a terrorist in disguise. You could be a solider gone AWOL…”
“I am not a soldier,” I insisted.
Rachel rolled her eyes. “I couldn’t very well pack you up and take you around with my friends, around the people here who are already in enough danger. For all I knew, you could have woken up and went crazy and tried to kill everyone.”
“Yet you still brought me here. You still looked after me.” For such a skinny thing, she had guts. I liked guts.
“Yeah, because there was a chance you were a wounded sol—I mean—troop that needed help. I couldn’t just leave you there to die.”
I wouldn’t have died. Something inside me told me that even if she had left me, I would not have died. But that didn’t mean some extremist group couldn’t have happened along to kidnap me.
“So you risked your own safety for someone who may or may not be on your side and who may or may not try to kill you?” I asked, maddened and amused at the same time.
“That about sums it up,” she said. She tugged at the end of one of her pigtails again. This time it wasn’t sexy, though. This time it was a motion I found strangely endearing.
I didn’t know what to say. What she had done was beyond what anyone else would have done. “Thank you.”
My sincere gratitude brought her eyes up and she finally looked at me. “You’re welcome.”
Rachel stood and went toward the back of the tent, toward the basin where I had washed up. She rummaged around in yet another packed bag—proof that she had indeed been ready to leave—and pulled out a shirt. It was the same army green color of the one
I had been wearing.
“Here, one of the guys that had been here left this behind. It probably will be too small, but it’s better than nothing.”
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” I drawled. “Is all this”—I gestured to myself—“making it hard to concentrate?”
She snorted. “Like I haven’t seen muscles before.” She pretended to be unimpressed, but I knew better. I was very impressive.
I smirked and accepted the shirt from her hand. I couldn’t help but notice how she went out of her way to be sure our fingers didn’t touch.
The shirt was too small, but I put it on anyway. All joking side, it was clear my bare chest was a little too much for her to handle at the moment. I stretched out the fabric the best I could and the seams around my biceps ripped, but I left them that way.
“Let’s go,” I said.
“Go?” she asked, startled.
“To the base.”
She looked at me like I had three heads.
I sighed heavily. “I’m not going to murder anyone.”
Her teeth were straight and white when she laughed, and the smile lit up her whole face. “The sun just set an hour ago. It’s dark.”
“So?” I failed to see her point.
Her smile faded. “So this is a dangerous place. We can’t go driving around at night. It’s asking to be killed or taken hostage.”
“I’ll protect you.” I didn’t know much, but that was one thing I was sure I was capable of.
“Do you remember your last name, what platoon you were with? What rank you are, what branch of service you’re in?” she asked.
I searched my memory and let out a frustrated sound. “No.”
“That’s just going to make things harder when we get to the base. They’re going to have to hold you until they figure out who you belong to…”
Something about that caused a little panic to rise within me. No one was supposed to know about us. About me.
“Why don’t we spend the night here? Maybe after a night’s rest and some more food, you will remember and then we can drive to the base.” Rachel suggested.
Her suggestion wasn’t unreasonable. In fact, it was a smart plan. I ignored the fact a little part of me was a little gleeful that I was getting to spend more time alone with her in this cramped, crappy space.
It must have been a long time since I’d been with a woman, because spending the night in a tent with one shouldn’t have been that exciting.
“Sounds like a plan.” I agreed. Besides, maybe by morning I would remember exactly who I was and why it seemed that my identity needed to remain a secret.
* * *
Sleep didn’t help.
In fact, sleep had been elusive all night. I spent too much time lying in that cot already. Time I couldn’t get back, just like the memories of my life. I tossed and turned, willing myself to break free of the amnesia, of the blankness in my mind, but still nothing.
Who was I?
How did I end up here?
When I could take the questions no longer, I got up and paced around the tiny tent. Rachel was sleeping and I couldn’t stop myself from creeping close to stare down at her. The light sound of her breathing and the rustle of her body against her cot didn’t help with my insomnia. Every time I settled enough to close my eyes, she would make a little sound. A sound that caused my body to tighten like a taut rope. As the hours wore on, I found myself wondering what kind of sounds she would make if I were on top of her, driving my needy cock into her center.
Whoa. Put a leash on it, I told myself.
Even in the dark, I could see her face clearly. It didn’t occur to me I shouldn’t be able to see this well in such darkness. But I was glad I could see this clearly; I took full advantage of it. Rachel was beautiful. Her skin was smooth and supple looking, her long, thin legs stretched across the cot, graceful and bare. Her chest rose and fell evenly as she drew in steady breaths through slightly parted full lips. A strand of dark, glossy hair curled across her cheek, and my finger itched to tuck it behind her ear, but I didn’t dare touch her.
If I touched her, I wouldn’t be able to stop.
But I could look at her. Looking at her was good enough.
For some reason, I knew beauty was something that had been lacking in my life. I grabbed onto that elusive piece of information and held on, but nothing else came with it.
I wondered how long Rachel had been here and who she had waiting for her back in the States.
The urge to kiss her was like a sucker punch to the gut. This wasn’t some five-star hotel. I wasn’t here on pleasure. I was literally lost and blank in the middle of a warzone. Kissing women shouldn’t be on my mind. I moved away, going across the room into what served as “the kitchen.” It consisted of a mini fridge, a microwave, and a hot plate that had to be lit with a match. There was a small cardboard box with a few supplies and boxed goods in it. My stomach rumbled, but I ignored it.
I noticed a small generator in the corner, likely the thing that gave the fridge and desk fans power. I was grateful for those fans because they provided much needed circulation around the tiny room.
Rachel’s cot creaked, and I looked over my shoulder. Those long, tan legs of hers swung over the side of the cot and she planted her bare feet on the floor.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I said.
“It’s fine. I wasn’t sleeping well anyway.”
Is that why she made so many sounds while she was lying there?
“Bad dream?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No.”
I didn’t ask any more questions because I figured if she wanted to tell me, she would. Besides, I liked thinking my closeness was getting to her as much as hers was getting to me.
“Do you drink coffee?” she asked, getting up and moving in the kitchen area.
“Yeah.”
Out of nowhere, she pulled out a small coffee pot and unplugged one of the fans to plug in the cord. Coffee was definitely something I would give up a fan for. I watched as she poured some bottled water in the pot, added some grounds, and then hit the start button. The scent of fresh coffee began to permeate the air moments later.
I groaned. She glanced at me and smiled. Desire slammed into me, pumping through my veins at an alarming rate. If coffee and a smile was all it took to go from zero to thirty so fast, then I was in deep shit.
I turned away, trying to control the somewhat rabid way I was feeling. I didn’t want her to see it in my eyes. I didn’t want to scare her so I kept my back to her. The coffee didn’t take long to brew because the pot was small and soon the sound of liquid being poured reached my ears.
Her soft footfalls approached me, almost cautiously. I felt her just behind me, the warmth of her body so close. “Vance?” she murmured. The sound of my name being whispered through the dim lightning of this tent caused my chest tighten.
“Yeah?” I asked, turning to look down into her upturned face.
“I don’t have any cream, but I have some powdered creamer.” Rachel offered me the small cup of steaming coffee.
“Black is good,” I said and took a sip. Holy bitterness, it was strong. Automatically, I made a face.
Rachel laughed. It was a sound that filled my ears. “Give me that,” she said, taking my cup. My eyes were totally glued to her as she poured in the creamer and stirred. The container said it was the flavor of peppermint mocha and there was a candy cane on the side. “Now try it,” she said, handing the cup back to me.
I took a tentative sip. It was really good. I breathed in the scent of it. “I guess I don’t like my coffee black.” I smiled. “Thanks, this is good.”
She smiled and added some creamer to her own coffee. “This is my favorite flavor. When I’m at home, I get the liquid kind. But it wouldn’t make it here. My mom mailed this to me when it came out in the grocery stores for the holidays.”
“Are the holidays close?” Yet another thing I didn’t know.
She didn’t se
em surprised. “Today is Christmas.”
“It is?”
She nodded and took a sip of her coffee. I knew she enjoyed it because her eyes briefly closed as she swallowed.
“Wow. How could I not know that?”
“Same way you didn’t know that you didn’t drink your coffee black.” Her nose wrinkled when she smiled. It was cute.
I laughed. “Touché.”
“Merry Christmas,” she said, holding up her cup in salute.
“Merry Christmas.” I bumped my mug against hers. “How come you didn’t go home for the holidays?”
She was silent a moment. Then she replied, “I would have just arrived home today. The States are behind us in time so I would have made it in time for Christmas.”
“You not only stayed behind to take care of me, but you’re missing Christmas with your family?” All this for some stranger she didn’t know. For me.
“There’s always next Christmas.” She shrugged like it was no big deal.
But it was. I moved before I thought better of it, setting aside my cup and taking two large steps to arrive directly in front of her. Rachel’s eyes widened, but she didn’t step away.
I took the cup from her hand and set it away.
“Vance?” she questioned, a little hesitation in her tone.
That’s okay. I was sure enough for both of us.
I took her by the shoulders and pulled her in, bending a little at the knees to take her mouth into a demanding kiss. Her body went rigid and she gasped, giving me the perfect opportunity to slip my tongue into her mouth and explore it at my leisure.
A low purr vibrated the back of her throat and she melted against me. Removing my arms from her shoulders, I wrapped them around her waist and lifted, drawing her up to my height so I could have even greater access to her mouth.
I slanted my mouth over hers, rubbing our lips together, enjoying the feel of her silky skin against mine. God, she was soft. Maybe the softest thing I’d ever touched. I twirled my tongue around hers, asking it to come out and play, and Rachel replied. Her tongue stroked against mine boldly, causing heat to lick up my spine and desire to permeate the room.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been with a woman, and in that moment, I was fucking glad for it. It was only her. Only her lips I could feel, only her tongue that I knew, and only her body against mine.
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