Field Stripped: 15 Steamy Military Romances

by Marissa Dobson

  They waited for Greg to signal to the chopper, and then the package of supplies dropped from the sky. The men all scrambled over, unpacked it, and distributed everything evenly.

  "Yum," Harp said glumly. "Fresh MRE's."

  Greg and Zack methodically stowed their supplies, while Dec brought rations over to Laila. "We're going to have our evening meal now."

  She opened exhaustion-glazed eyes. "I don't want to mooch off you guys."

  "They know we have a fifth person traveling with us now. They added to the supplies, so there's plenty for you."

  "Thank you." She closed her eyes again.

  "You need to eat and drink though. We still have a long trek tonight."

  She pressed her lips together, as if to stifle a retort.

  He handed over a bottle of water. "Drink this. You need it."

  She took the bottle. "Is this all there is?"

  "I'm carrying the rest of the water." He tried to say it casually, but he wasn't surprised when she caught him up on his words.

  "Mine, you mean?"

  "We have plenty of water now, Laila. Let's not argue about who belongs to what."

  "Is that your macho way of agreeing that you're carrying my water?"

  A flare of anger licked him, but he forced it down. He didn't have the time or the energy for arguing. "Yeah," he said simply. "No need to thank me though."

  She twisted the cap back on her bottle and stowed the bottle in her pack. When she looked back at him, her face was a shade more relaxed. "I'm sorry," she said. "This whole thing with the boy—the children who suffer so horribly when they are totally innocent—it cuts me up."

  "I know," he answered. "It's tough to see."

  "You don't have children, do you, Dec?"

  "No. Never." He didn't expect he ever would. Some things were better left alone.

  "Siblings?"

  His mouth dropped open, and he didn't have the composure to close it. Why the hell had she brought that up now?

  "I had a sister," he said curtly, to discourage more questions. He didn't want to talk about Sari, but he would never deny her.

  Laila kept her gaze fastened on his face. "What happened to her?"

  "Bike accident. Drunk driver."

  She clapped a hand to her mouth. "I'm so sorry."

  He wanted to shrug, to let her know it was all right. But it wasn't all right. It would never be all right. Something in him had died that day, and he'd learned to handle that. But he could never be casual about Sari, no matter that she was no longer alive.

  "I don't want to talk about it, Laila."

  She nodded. "Okay. So when are you going to admit you all aren't out here on a hiking trip?"

  Jesus. She was on a roll. But he'd rather talk about anything than his sister.

  He busied himself with the MREs, while he sifted through what she knew, what she didn't know, and what she couldn't know. He certainly couldn't tell her the truth. But she was right. Now that she'd seen them operating up close and personal, it was ridiculous to pretend they were some vacationing hikers. Still, they were under orders to remain unofficial. It wasn't his choice to tell the truth or not.

  "Dec," she said into his silence, "hikers don't get re-supplied by helicopter. They don't successfully fight off ambushes from armed men. They don't hike as if the devil or someone worse were nipping at their heels."

  With a suppressed sigh, he sat down and handed her one of the MRE packets. "Have you heard of mercenaries?"

  "Like soldiers of fortune?" She frowned.

  "More or less. It's not as glamorous as some people make it sound."

  "You get hired to do military type things, but you're not really in a military force?"

  He couldn't help hesitating. It was one thing not to tell the truth, another to lie outright. "More or less," he said.

  "There's a nice non-answer," she said.

  "Look. We have certain military capabilities. We get assignments that no military wants to undertake." Those statements were both true, as far as they went.

  "You're on an assignment now," she said. It wasn't a question.

  He nodded. "A confidential one. I trust you can keep it to yourself?"

  "Are you the white hats or the black hats?"

  "Definitely white. Did you have to ask?"

  She met his gaze. "You seem trustworthy and—and honorable, I guess. I appreciate what you did with the boy."

  He shrugged. "Didn't help, did it?"

  "You did what you could. That counts for a lot with me."

  He looked at the unopened MRE in his hands. "We like to think we can help. Once in a while, if you're lucky, you'll see some concrete evidence that you worked on the side of the angels. But, usually, we see a lot more horror than we do hope."

  "What do you hope to achieve in Sinjar," she asked, taking an MRE from him.

  "You must know I can't tell you that." He gave her a half smile.

  "In general terms."

  "We're looking for an HVI, that's High Value Individual."

  "See, there you go with the military speak." She narrowed her eyes at him.

  "Does it matter so much to you?"

  "I don't have a positive impression of the military."

  "Why not?

  She shrugged. "I work in the NGO world. We believe in helping people in positive ways—through education, health care, things that poor people and refugees all over the world need."

  "How many Yazidis have you saved?"

  She frowned at him. "Why do you ask that?"

  "The boy and his mother were most likely Yazidi. A lot of them died here in their ancestral home because they didn't have any military capability to fight off ISIS. Many more would have died if the Kurdish pershmerga hadn't used their military prowess to open an escape corridor from these very mountains. So I can see where a military presence helped them. I'm wondering where an NGO did." He peeled off the top of his MRE.

  Laila sighed. "You're being difficult. You know that many of the refugee camps are operated by NGOs."

  "I could agree that both types of people had a role to play in aiding the Yazidi. Can you?"

  She fiddled with her MRE. "Never mind. Tell me why you're looking for this HVI."

  He shook his head. "That's all the info you're gonna get." He pointed to the MRE he'd just opened. "Look, I see chocolate."

  She leaned over to look at the round, hard-coated candies. "I might kill for them."

  He laughed. "They're all yours. I'm not keen on chocolate."

  "What's your irresistible temptation?" She slanted him a sideways look from under her lashes.

  He winked at her. "Kisses," he said. "And all the delights that flow from them."

  Laila smiled at him. "Such a guy answer."

  "Hey, I'm a guy." He leaned forward and tweaked her nose. "You going to sleep with me tonight?"

  "If you cuff me, I don't have a choice, do I?"

  "Damn." He shook his head. "You make that sound sexy as hell."

  "Well, are you?"

  He smiled. "Of course I'm going to cuff you. But I'll try to steal a kiss first."

  He polished off his MRE and stood up, pleased that he'd given her that to think about. Maybe she'd wonder what it would be like to kiss him. He sure as hell had wondered about kissing her.

  When they finally stopped for the night's rest, Laila actually bumped into the man in front of her. She couldn't have said who he was. She was nothing more than a shell of a person, a ghost. Her only thought, for the past few hours had been to keep her eyes on the person ahead of her. She'd managed to stay upright. She'd managed to keep walking. But her inner reserves were empty. She barely knew who she was, or why she was on this trek over stony ground in a silent world.

  When Dec came up behind her and grasped her elbow, she was only vaguely able to form an impression of who he was by his scent, warm and metallic.

  "Sit down, Laila," he said, in a deep, soothing voice.

  She couldn't answer him.

  H
e wrapped his arms around her, and deposited her gently on the ground.

  "Drink," he ordered, and she accepted the cool bottle he held to her lips. The water made a slight impression flowing silkily down her throat. It seemed good, in a distant kind of way.

  "I'm going to check you for dehydration." He shone a headlamp onto her face, carefully avoiding her eyes. With a gentle finger, he touched her mouth. He ran his finger lightly over her bottom lip.

  "So dry. You need to drink another bottle of water."

  She closed her eyes and collapsed to the ground.

  A strong arm slid under her shoulders and raised her to a seated position. "Pay attention, Laila." His voice was sharper now. "You can do better. I need you to do better." Water slid down her throat.

  "I'm doing the first guard shift tonight," he said, hoping to keep her awake long enough to get a full bottle of water into her.

  "Mmm..."

  Dec didn't know what that meant. He dragged out the bedroll and the sleeping bag and laid them out. Laila didn't stir. He thought about the handcuffs, but he could hardly expect her to stand guard with him. The idea of attaching her to one of the other men was unthinkable, for reasons he didn't want to explore.

  Well, he'd be on guard duty. She could hardly escape. Moving her as carefully as he could, he rolled her onto her camp bed, trying not to wonder about the red camisole, nor to think too much about that floral scent that must be in the soap she used to wash with. There was nothing to be gained in lusting after a Muslim woman. Aside from the fact that he was on duty, and couldn't mess around with any woman at all.

  He settled the sleeping bag over her, tucked it against her side and moved to the highest point near their campsite.

  He began his slow pacing, back and forth, both to keep himself awake and to keep himself warm. The desert which was so hot during the day cooled quickly at night. Usually his mind was full of plans for the mission when he was on guard duty, but tonight he didn't really know what the mission would encompass.

  The Kurdish peshmerga supposedly controlled Sinjar now. But he had no doubt there were ISIS fighters about, whether in the outskirts of town or further south where they were still entrenched in smaller towns.

  Before the Kurds had taken over the city, Navy military intel thought they had a good idea of where the brothel was located. That was why this mission had been planned. But the situation on the ground had most likely changed, and no one knew exactly how.

  Had the ISIS fighters taken the brothel inhabitants elsewhere? Where? Although it had been good news that the peshmerga regained control of Sinjar, it had definitely thrown a wrench in the plan to capture Behaid in the brothel.

  Dec had been frustrated at the news for that reason. But once they learned that Behaid was still moving toward Sinjar, they'd decided to proceed with the mission. He would be more difficult to find than he would have when they'd had a better idea of where the brothel was located, but no plan ever unfolded exactly as one would like.

  Still, until he knew the situation in Sinjar firsthand, it would be difficult for Dec and his team to make firm plans for their mission. He had to curb his impatience.

  In the meantime, what would he do about Laila? He needed to find out the truth about why she'd made this journey. He couldn't believe her story that she was planning to run a brothel of any sort.

  He didn't have a good track record with women. He'd been in the Navy since he was eighteen years old, and in the SEALs since he was twenty-two, eight years ago. His life was one of constant deployments and off-shore postings. Naturally, his relations with women had been of the one-night stand variety. Maybe a little longer than one night, but certainly not long enough to qualify as a bona-fide relationship.

  Given that, however, he'd been with plenty of women and he thought he could distinguish between one with a good heart and one who didn't care about anything more than her next grind and her next can of beer.

  He judged that Laila had a good heart. Since he had nothing to do right now but think, he paced back toward the spot where she was sleeping. What would they do with her when they reached Sinjar?

  Even if the city were in control of the Kurds, it still wouldn't be a safe spot for a woman alone. It was still a war zone, and mostly occupied by men. So how could he simply abandon her there?

  But, he was on duty, and he had a job to do. A job that demanded long hours and laser-like focus. Laila was a distraction he couldn't afford.

  She might be useful as an interpreter. But that would only work if she agreed to stay with them. How could he hold her as a prisoner once they were back in relative civilization? Out here in the mountains, he could hold her to prevent her from revealing their presence in a spot where they weren't supposed to be. And she was basically willing to stay, he thought, because she knew she was safer with them than without them. But they couldn't hold her indefinitely once she'd reached her destination.

  He really didn't know anything about Muslim women.

  Except for the fact that no sane non-Muslim man would touch them.

  Guess he wasn't as sane as he'd thought.

  Finally, he got some relief from his churning thoughts when Zack approached to relieve him. They exchanged a few words, but nothing had happened that had to be noted.

  Dec strode down the little hill with its dip at the bottom where he'd stashed Laila. He'd told himself she needed privacy from the other men when the truth was that he wanted privacy to do what he'd promised her earlier.

  He lay down soundlessly, pulling the blanket over himself. Laila moved in her sleep. The swish of the silk burka whispered in his ears. Damn, he didn't know how a mere sound could arouse him like that, unless it was the sound of a woman moaning under him or crying out in release. But with Laila, the simple sound of her burka got him hot and bothered. It was ridiculous.

  He hadn't given her that kiss he'd promised her, but he couldn't wake her. They both needed whatever rest they could get.

  * * *

  Laila awoke when night still blanketed the earth, and the stars wheeled overhead. She didn't think it was time to get up because Dec was not standing over her, telling her to hurry.

  No. He was lying on top of her, his heavy weight imprinting his body on hers. His chest blocked out the moon, and any sense of the camp around them. His legs traveled down the length of hers, holding her captive.

  Most importantly of all, his hips pressed down on hers, and he'd nestled his erection right in the vee of her legs. His beard roughened face was snuggled against hers, and his breath huffed gently in and out of her ears.

  He was sound asleep.

  Laila enjoyed the feel of his body for a few moments. He was so hard, and muscular and warm.

  But heavy. As a deadweight, he was restricting her ability to breathe. Still, she didn't try to dislodge him. Their time together was so limited, and there was no chance whatsoever of resuming a relationship at some later point. If she lived through this adventure, she'd have a traumatized sister to take care of.

  Despite what he'd said about being a mercenary, she believed he was most likely an active duty military guy. He had been careful not to state outright exactly what he was. All she knew about military men was that they were controlled by whatever branch they were in. He wouldn't be able to change his location, even assuming he'd want to do such a thing, which was an assumption she wasn't dumb enough to make.

  After a few minutes, she needed to breathe. Slowly, hoping not to wake him from the sleep he needed, she put her arms around his back, and tried to shift him to the side. He grunted, and settled more deeply against her.

  In the next second, his eyes flew open and he looked down at her. His whole body tensed.

  "What the fuck?" he whispered. He swiveled his head to look from right to left, as if assuring himself of where he was.

  "How poetic you are," she murmured.

  "What the hell am I doing on top of you?"

  "You don't think I got you up here, do you?"

  He
placed a hand on either side of her, and raised himself on his elbows. Her arms fell away from his back, but he didn't move his hips and roll off her. Instead, he smiled. "I guess I'm pretty smart in my sleep, no?"

  "Smart?"

  His head began a slow descent. "Because I promised you something earlier and now I'm perfectly positioned to deliver it."

  She knew her lips had parted. She knew her breath had stalled again. She knew she could have averted her head.

  But she welcomed his mouth as if it was all she ever wanted in life. His kiss was tender, as if he wanted it to express some emotion other than mere lust. When he pushed his tongue in slowly, it still felt like an extension of tenderness, as if he were trying to learn something about her, not merely invading her.

  She responded as deliberately, welcoming him so he'd know she was interested in exploring this dance, in pursuing their acquaintance in this new way. He grunted deep in his throat and that sound lit a hot spark within her. It reminded her that he was a man, and even tenderness between them would ultimately explode into something far fiercer. She lifted her arms again to wrap them around his neck, to hold him tightly in case he ever thought of leaving her.

  He lowered himself so his upper body weight rested on his forearms. When he touched the back of her neck, the hot spark ignited into a hot flame as desire sizzled through her body.

  He pushed his hips against her. Slowly. So slowly she could have died waiting for that hard bulge to press against her neediness. At the same time, he ran both hands down her neck just behind her ears, the rough edges of his fingers sending tingles of desire sizzling through her body. He massaged the back of her neck, his slow movements echoing the thrust of his hips.

  She tried to raise her hips, to urge him into speeding up his movements. But he made a noise in his throat, and settled his lower half more firmly against her, so she couldn't move. God, he was heavy.

  "So impatient," he said, his voice little more than a guttural growl. "We military guys learn discipline, and control."