I rubbed my hands over my face as I'd thought back to that day. Unfortunately for me, it hadn't worked that way. Lennox King had stumbled into my path at every turn. She'd riled me up, amused me, almost made me lose my bearing and, on one hilarious occasion, managed to trip me during a march and sent half of her flight sprawling on the hot cemented road. It hadn't been my finest moment, nor hers. I still couldn’t figure out if it was intentional or a Three Stooges style accident.
But the best part of her stay in Air Force Basic Training was the apology I forced her to make, even when I knew damned well that demand wouldn’t work in my favor.
After her last shift of kitchen patrol, she’d dragged herself in my office, smelling like meatloaf and her ABU’s stained with something unidentifiable. She’d issued a reporting statement, done all the right things, then whipped out a piece of paper from the front pocket of her uniform and began to read. I would never in a million years forget the words she’d written.
“To whom it may concern,” she began, “I am here today to issue an official apology to Staff Sergeant Brooks for insulting the size of his penis after he incorrectly insinuated I would be a good gopher to a CEO. We all know that people like I, Lennox King, are going to go on to become President of the United States, or do something equally fabulous and realize that while Sgt Brooks had every right to insult Lennox King, a subordinate in his training flight, the manner he chose to do so was grievous and sexist, therefore, any woman worth her salt would most likely lose her mind and retaliate with words shrewish enough to salt the balls off of an old fisherman.”
At that moment, I had pressed my lips together to keep from losing my shit. I was either going to kill her or kiss her.
“However, Lennox King lost her military bearing and, in doing so, made women like herself more vulnerable to insults like the one Sgt Brooks issued to Airman King when she was in no position to do anything other than to verbally retaliate. In that instance, she was wrong because reacting to an insult obviously meant to stir ire with no credence given to any form of truth, Airman King has opened the door to allow people like Sgt Brooks to further insult females in such a way down the road, so the only thing one can do is to ensure people like Sgt Brooks are proven wrong.” She lowered the paper and bared perfect white teeth to me. “Which she fully intends to do. So,” she continued, “this is my formal apology to Sgt Brooks. I’m sure he has a perfectly adequate penis size and, if he doesn’t, I will not remark upon the size or lack of length or girth ever again.” She stopped, nodded once, said “Sir,” and about faced, leaving me sitting in my office chair, chagrined and confused about whether she’d managed to piss me off or left me horny. I should have gone after her and berated her. I should have had her out at 2 am doing push-ups in the rain. But when I really thought about it, I kind of brought it on myself by being a sexist jackass to one of the smartest females I’d ever had the misfortune to know.
She was like a hot Private Benjamin and I was falling all over myself to try and keep up with her. Half the time I was pissed off at her and the other half I wanted to throw her down and do terrible, unspeakable things to that gymnast body she was walking around with.
I took out the documents one of my buddies had gathered on her and sent them through the shredder. It was the last few days of training and we had a lot of work to do. Getting rid of King was my first priority. She'd managed to fuck up my world for the last 6 weeks and getting her graduated and on to technical school was the only thing on my mind right now. The sooner, the better. I only had another year on my special duty assignment here at Lackland, and as soon as it was done, I'd be going back into my old career field. Not that I was too excited about that because the first place I'd land was back in the sandbox, but it was better than here dealing with females and periods and crying.
"Fuck," I murmured. I walked out of the office, slammed the door and mentally prepared myself for the next few days.
Lennox
I lied back on the uncomfortable bed and let the silly grin slide over my face. I was finished. I had done it. Despite my yearning for a totally inappropriate man and my more than occasional gaffes, I'd managed to finish boot camp. My parents would have been so proud. The smile fell and I blinked back the emotion that roared at me with the force of a freight train. All of the other girls had taken their town liberty and were no doubt scattered around the city of San Antonio, but I had no one who'd come to the graduation. Knox was deployed overseas and hadn't been able to make it, but I understood. I'd told no one else, so it was just me and my lonely sense of accomplishment. Some of my flight sisters had invited me out with their families, but it felt awkward and it would have made me miss my own family even more so I'd declined. I reached out for the book I'd picked up at the Base Exchange and sighed in delight as I felt the roughness of the paper slide over my fingers. It felt like it had been forever since I'd done something for myself and even though reading wasn't terribly exciting to other people, it had always been one of my great loves, next to my brother.
I fell into the world of a lonely woman and a scarred man and spent hours flipping pages, gasping at some of the juicier parts. God, I had missed this so much.
The sound of a throat clearing had me scrambling off of my bed and into the position of attention.
Brooks stood there, awkwardly, in his dress blues. His hat was off, something I rarely ever saw. A strand of hair fell over my eye and I cursed as I couldn't flip it out. Brooks stepped forward with a hesitant hand and brushed it away and tucked it behind my ear.
Heat suffused my face, both at his audacity and his touch.
His eyes widened as he realized what he had done and he snatched his hand back as if it had been burned. "Apologies, Airman. That was...inappropriate."
I blinked. "Sir, Airman King reports as ordered. Permission to speak freely?"
He didn't answer right away, only stared at me with curiosity. Finally, he offered a curt nod. "Go ahead."
I cleared my throat. "I didn't mind."
Brooks straightened and stared at me with an intensity that had me squirming. "Well," he said brusquely, "you should. This is the kind of thing that will get you into trouble out there."
I said nothing.
He scratched behind his ear. "I just wanted to say congratulations."
"That's all?" I inquired. I had to tilt my head up to look at him. There was boyishness to his face and I suddenly realized he couldn't be too much older than me. Six or seven years at the most. But with the boyishness came the hardened look most veterans possessed when they'd seen things they'd rather not recall.
Brooks snorted. "You don't know when to give up, do you?"
I permitted myself a small smile. "My mother used to say that to me."
Something...flickered over his face then, an emotion I couldn't quite place.
"I'm sure your mother would be very proud of you," Brooks said. He shook his head as if to wake himself up. "Anyway, King, I just wanted to say good luck and farewell. Tomorrow morning, a new group of folks will be in here to transport you to tech school. "
I frowned. "I won't see you again?"
A surprised bark of laughter burst from him. "I can honestly say you're the first person in Basic Military Training to ever act like you might actually miss me."
I opened my mouth to speak, but Brooks, seeing my expression, abruptly turned and walked away.
It was the last time I saw him.
Brooks
Ten years later - Kandahar
Fucking dust and dirt everywhere. It got into my goddamn shoes, socks, my food, my underwear and worst of all, my gun. I longed for a shower, a pair of clean clothes and a willing woman.
“Fuck,” I murmured to myself as I wiped my weapon down yet again. We were waiting on a caravan to come through and drop off the latest willing victims – ahem- combat photographers who were approved to embed with our unit. The last ones were pasty skinned, out of shape reporters from somewhere in the mid-west. How they’d gotten a
pproval had been beyond me. They were way too greedy to get their hands on a story to realize how much it fucking sucked to be here. Within the first two days, one had to be airlifted out due to severe dehydration. The next day one of them suffered a nervous breakdown after the unit came under fire. It ended when one of my men suffered a broken ankle after trying to prevent the guy from running out right into the gunfire. He’d pulled the overweight dude back by the scruff of his neck but misjudged how many cakes the dude had eaten before he made it to Kandahar. Combine that with uneven, rocky ground and the pudgy reporter had been saved, but one of my guys was out of commission for at least the next six weeks.
My mood was sour and I was getting real tired of the taste of dirt. Five more months in this hell hole and I could get back to Louisiana. It was hot as hell there, too, but there were pretty girls, cold beer and air conditioning. I allowed myself a small smile as I rested my rifle against the boulder I was leaning against. I wasn’t expecting any trouble, but in Kandahar you never let your guard down.
People died that way.
Ten minutes later a voice came on my radio informing me the caravan of photographers was on the way. A pause, a deep chuckle and the voice continued on. “And one of them sure is a sight for sore eyes. Cute as a button with a vicious tongue to match. Gird your loins, boy. She’s going to be a handful.”
I chuckled quietly even as my thoughts drifted back to the girl I had once known and never forgotten.
Lennox King.
I avoided looking for her, but just last year I pinged a buddy of mine to see if he could see where she was stationed at. Turned out she’d only done four years and had gotten out with a whole rack of awards and a full GI Bill. For six years she’d led her own life without the Air Force telling her what to do and how to do it and here I was, boots full of sand and wishing I’d gotten out ten years ago. I had one more year before I could retire. One. More. Year.
The rumble of a caravan forced my attention from my maudlin thoughts and I watched as several all-terrain vehicles plodded slowly up the road. I kept my eyes everywhere but on the vehicles, looking for any signs of an ambush or anything else that looked suspicious. These weren’t just any old reporters. These people were on assignment from the New York Times. If they got blown to bits on our watch, our commanders would have our heads on a pike for all to see.
I blew out a steady breath and continued looking through the rifle sight. I could see nothing out of the ordinary. The vehicles blew up dust as they crawled ever closer, and as soon as they were within the camp, I stopped looking through the sight, put the safety on, and stood up to greet the caravan.
I wasn’t completely in charge here; that was what officers were for, but I was the one responsible for all the shit jobs, especially ones where I had to kiss someone’s ass. This was one of those jobs. The vehicles rumbled to a stop. One filled with reporters and the rest escorts. The doors opened and out stepped a man taller than I. Beak nosed and gray haired, he had the grizzled look of someone who knew what he was doing and, if he didn’t, he sure as hell knew how to pretend he did. I greeted him politely and he nodded once.
“This place is a hole,” he said genially, which caused me to snort.
“I concur, sir,” I said and watched as the next three people clambered out of the vehicle and wrestled with their gear. Two more men came first, one I dismissed because he looked like a beach bum, but the other’s face was hardened and his stare grim. I shuddered inwardly. This was not his first rodeo.
But the last person – woman – to get out of the vehicle rocked me to my core. She wore dark gray cargo pants and a Beatles t-shirt. Her long dark hair was gathered up in one of those messy knots girls use normally only when they’re wearing pajamas. A pair of aviators slid down her nose, revealing intelligent, shocked gray eyes.
Lennox King.
In the flesh.
Embedded in my goddamned unit.
I was officially in hell.
“Brooks,” she gasped as she finished sliding out of the vehicle. “Holy shit,” she murmured.
“Ma’am,” I said and reached out to gather her equipment.
She brushed me away impatiently. “I carry my own gear.”
I lifted my hands and stepped away. “Fine.”
I could feel her gaze lingering on the back of my neck as I addressed the men. I pushed my shock about the presence of King back. I couldn’t think about this right now. I couldn’t even wrap my head around it. “Your quarters are close. If you’d like to gather your gear I can show you.” I turned back to Lennox. “Ma’am, follow me. You’re housed in the same building but in a different area.”
I turned before she could acknowledge me and led the photographers into the dingy, gray building. The quarters were run-down and terrible, but I guessed they were willing to take whatever they could get in order to get pictures of people dying.
I cringed as I thought those words and reminded myself they were here to do a job just like I was. Conversation was minimal as we walked. I pushed the door open and allowed everyone to step inside. Lennox gave me a curious, lingering look but didn’t attempt to make conversation. Unfortunately for me, the male quarters were closer than the females’ so I was stuck with Lennox once we dropped them off. She never complained about the bags she carried but I guessed them to be at least a hundred pounds of gear. I didn’t offer to help her again and instead escorted her to the other side of the compound. It was noisy, just like always. The sounds of computers whirred through the air, along with punctuated curse words as some unlucky reporter figured out the prize shot he’d taken turned out blurry. Same old song and dance no matter who we let in here.
I tried to stay to myself and, for the most part, it worked. When we had a mission, we’d send an escort to pick them up and do our best to ignore them. A few times I’d get lulled into conversation, but many times they were just as ate up as I was about their jobs.
Except now…Lennox was here. Don’t get me wrong. There were very strict rules about getting involved with anyone and women were restricted to certain areas, but it didn’t make me stop thinking about cornering her somewhere and picking up from ten years ago. I sighed at my ridiculousness and discreetly watched her petite rear-end as she walked in front of me. Or, what I could catch of it, as the gear swayed with her gait. We both stayed silent until I barked at her to stop. We’d arrived at her tiny room and I smiled as I thought about what her face would look like once I showed her the less than stellar accommodations. She turned around, stared dubiously at her room, shrugged and opened the door.
Same Lennox I remembered. I bit down a smile and was about to turn away when a hand reached out of her room and grabbed me by the helmet chin strap. Thrown off balance I stumbled into her room and was shoved against the wall. The door slammed shut.
With one hand Lennox held me against the wall by the throat and with the other she fumbled with the chin strap of my helmet. I stood there letting her manhandle me. No idea where this was going, but this was the first time she’d ever voluntarily touched me so I’d hang around a bit and see where this led.
I could have broken free at any time but I didn’t want to.
The fastener clicked. She slid the helmet off and eyed me critically.
“You’ve aged.”
One of my eyebrows rose of its own accord.
She took my face in both of her hands and I wanted to shut my eyes at the feel of her petite, warm fingers. It had been so long since someone had touched me in a way that was non-cursory or non-instructive.
“You never looked for me,” she said in a tone that sounded surprisingly hurt.
I continued to stare at her, pinned against the wall by the tiny woman who’d disrupted my deployment. How could I tell her that I wanted to look for her every single day since she’d left Basic Training? How could I admit that I every time I looked at a woman I compared them to her?
She loosened her arm and pulled me away from the wall. I allowed myself to be led.
>
“You’re surprisingly strong for someone so tiny.”
Lennox glared at me. “You don’t make it in this business by being a pushover.” She motioned to her tiny bed. “Sit down.”
I grinned. “Bossy too.”
She stared.
I sat down.
“There was a spark.” She didn’t pose this as a question. It was a statement. Of truth. One I could admit or deny.
“Maybe.” I went for vague. Sue me.
I drank in her face. The way the heat curled wisps of hair around her face, accentuating the heart shape of it. There was a smudge of dirt across her nose and her lips were chapped. She was as small as I remembered, a gymnast with the attitude of a mob boss. But ten years had taken her from a stubborn and feisty teenager to a world and battle hardened woman.
As much as I was surprised to see her…I really wasn’t surprised to see her here. This was Lennox. A woman who had lost everything and still fought on to make a place for herself in the world.
She grinned then, the first real smile I’d ever seen from her. I swallowed hard. It was a lot easier when she was angry at me. Then I could fight off the feelings she stirred in me.
“I have to go,” I said with regret.
“Ten minutes,” she said. No. She demanded.
I stood abruptly, pulled the dirty white sheet that passed for curtains back, and looked out the window. All appeared to be calm, but that was often the time the storm was brewing. I sighed. “I really can’t, King.”
“Lennox,” she corrected. “Five then.”
I studied her. The sparkle of a challenge in her eyes. I would lose. I nodded. “Five.”
“Good,” she said and stood.
I towered over her and as strong as I knew her to be, I wanted to gather her to me and hold her and protect her from everything in the world. And I knew she would hate it.
She started to unfasten the heavy gear I wore strapped to my chest, but I placed my hand over hers to stop her. “Don’t.”
Field Stripped: 15 Steamy Military Romances Page 105
