“Want some company?”
She opened her eyes to see Mike standing at the end of the couch, dressed in a green T-shirt and boxer shorts. “Sure,” she murmured, gesturing for him to come and sit by her. “Did I wake you up when I left the bed?”
He wiped his face and sat down, drawing her back against him. “Yes.”
“SEAL alarm clock,” she said softly as his arms came around her, tucking her beside his hard body.
Mike kissed her mussed hair. “You awake for a reason?” He brushed his knuckles against her warm cheek, watching her gaze drift up to his. Drowning in the pure green color of her eyes, he felt himself go rigid with wanting her. The surgery prevented that, but it didn’t stop him from wanting to love Khat in every possible way.
“Mmm,” she said, moving her fingers across his chest, “just restless….going to miss you…worry about you….”
“I’ll be okay, angel. You know that.”
“Bad things happen to good people, Mike.”
He caressed her shoulder, trying to ease her concern. “I’ll have Skype. I can email you. The time will go by fast.”
She nuzzled beneath his jaw. “Never fast enough, Tarik.”
He sifted his fingers through her unbound hair. It was a gleaming red cloak around her strong, proud shoulders. “My parents’ Arabian horse farm is up in Alpine, just north of San Diego. They intend to have you out there as much as you want. My mother, Annie, is excited about you coming to my condo to live. She’s already got all kinds of plans to keep you busy on weekends. You know she’s a dressage rider?”
“No, I didn’t.” Being busy was a good thing, Khat thought. And she was looking forward to meeting Mike’s parents.
“She’s already got a horse picked out for you to ride when the doc says you’re fully recovered from the surgery.”
“It will feel good to ride again.” And she thought of Zohra, her eyes growing moist over the loss of her courageous horse.
“I guess this is as good a time as any,” Mike said, easing her out of his arms. “Stay there. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Curious, Khat smiled and closed her eyes, content to rest against the couch. Mike brought such new energy, new possibilities to her life, which even six months ago she could never have imagined. He’d changed her life. And she wasn’t sorry.
“Okay,” Mike said, placing a pouch on the lamp table, sitting down and bringing Khat back into his arms, “I want you to look at these photos first. My father, Bedir, just sent them to me and I got prints made yesterday when I was at Bagram.”
The photo showed a black Arabian leaning over a pipe rail fence. Khat looked at Mike. “This looks like Mina.”
Mike saw her confused expression. “I’ve been busy since I knew you were going to pull through,” he explained a little sheepishly. “I wanted to surprise you, maybe make you feel a little less grief about the loss of Zohra.” He pointed to the photo. “That’s your other Arab mare, Mina. My father is a little-known third cousin in the House of Saud. I talked to my father by satellite phone and told him that you had Zohra’s full sister here in Afghanistan, and that she was still alive. I didn’t want your mare to be left behind, Khat. I asked my father if he could get her to his horse farm, and he made it happen. My father called the prince and he sent a Saudi C-130 to Camp Bravo. They built her a padded stall to ship her back to the USA. Mina traveled well and is very happy right now, eating green grass in her paddock at the farm.”
Shocked, Khat stared at the photo, her pulse racing. “Really? This is Mina?” She saw Mike nod. She pressed her hand to her heart. “Then…she’s in Alpine? Now?”
“Yes,” he whispered, seeing the tears glimmer in her eyes. “She arrived yesterday and is fine. When you rotate Stateside, you’ll have a friend of yours waiting for you.” And Mike knew just how much that was going to help stabilize Khat as she made this huge transition in her life. Mina had been her loyal mount for five years in the Hindu Kush. Zohra had been the pack horse when she needed one. It was sheer luck the night they left the mountains for FOB Bravo that Mike had ridden Mina. It was Zohra who became Khat’s mount, and she had died giving her life in the service of her country.
Khat couldn’t find her voice, her heart infused with intense love for Mike, and now for his father, Bedir. “I never expected something like this,” she said in a wobbling voice, staring in disbelief at the photo. “Bedir is so very kind…”
“You’re going to like him a lot,” Mike promised, touching her hair, his fingers grazing her flushed cheek. “He wanted to do this for you, Khat. He knows what you mean to me. Your story touched my father’s heart. He’s a generous man by nature.”
Swallowing against a lump, she shook her head. “I’m in shock, but it’s a happy shock.”
“Look at the next photo.”
She gasped. “He’s beautiful!” It was a black Arabian stallion posing at halter, an older man standing next to him with a huge trophy and three-foot-long colorful ribbon in his other hand.
“That’s my father,” Mike said. “And that’s his Egyptian-bred stallion, Falcon. They just won a major Arabian show. Falcon won the aged stallions championship at Scottsdale. It’s one of the biggest Arab shows in the States, and his stud walked away with top honors.” Mike glanced over at her. “You know, Khat, we haven’t really had time to sit down and explore with each other. My father’s hobby is breeding black Arabian horses. I think you know black is the rarest gene color in that breed?”
“Yes.”
“Falcon breeds seventy-five percent black foals, which is phenomenal,” Mike told her. “And, if you want,” and he held her gaze, “my father would like to breed Mina to him. He’s very sure a black foal will result from it. And,” he touched Khat’s damp cheek, “maybe by the time the foal is born, we’ll be married. It would be a nice wedding gift from my parents to you. The foal can never replace Zohra, but it would be yours to train, to ride and to love.”
Overwhelmed, Khat sat there digesting his gruffly spoken words. “I’d like that,” she said, blinking back tears. “Zohra was so strong and brave. I cried so hard when I found her on the other side of the ridge.”
“I know you did, angel.” Mike took the photos and set them aside. He looked deeply into her grief-stricken eyes. “Nothing can bring Zohra back. But you hold her in your heart’s memories, and she’ll always be a part of who you are. They will never fade with time. You’ll always carry Zohra inside you.”
Khat slipped her arms around Mike, holding him. Loving him. She felt his arms come around her, his mouth pressed against her temple. Turning her face, she met Mike’s mouth, kissing him with all the love she had in her heart. He groaned, taking her weight, curving his hand around her neck, angling her, deepening their passionate kiss. She moaned as he moved his tongue against hers, teasing her, reminding her of what they couldn’t do yet. She dragged her mouth from his, laughing breathily. “You are such a glutton for punishment, Tarik. I want you so badly I could scream.”
“You should be where I’m sitting.” He grinned wryly. “The wait will be worth it.”
Khat saw him reach over and pick up a black velvet pouch from the lamp table.
“Close your eyes,” he told her.
“Mmm, I like surprises,” Khat said, dutifully closing her eyes.
“I know you do,” Mike said. “You’re a twenty-nine-year-old woman, but deep inside you lurks a wild ten-year-old girl.” He took her hand and gently turned her palm upward.
Khat felt something small and cool placed in her palm. “When can I look?”
Mike said, “Now.” He watched her eyes round as she saw the engagement ring in her palm. “I was going to give this to you at breakfast, but I think now is the right time.” He sought out Khat’s gaze, hoping she would like the ring. With both of them in a combat theater of war, Mike had wanted to give her the ring after he’d asked her to marry him. Sometimes, traditions got trampled or changed because of the nature of their lives right now. Mike wa
nted the ring to be physical proof to Khat of his love for her, even if she was receiving the ring late. It had four dark green tourmaline stones in a channel setting, flush with the gold of the ring itself. Those stones wouldn’t get torn off or yanked out of their facets by accident. They were protected by the rim of the gold metal.
Khat picked up the ring, staring at it, her breath catching as she turned it in the low light. “That’s the color of my eyes,” she whispered, looking at Mike. He sat there with a serious look on his face. “It’s beautiful.”
“Do you like it?”
“I love it,” she whispered, amazed by the color of the gemstones.
Mike took the ring and then picked up her left hand. “Let’s see if it fits?”
The ring slid on, a perfect fit for her finger. Khat’s flesh tingled wildly as Mike slid the engagement ring onto it. He released her hand and she moved it in the lamp light, watching the green tourmaline glow. “It’s so perfect, Mike.”
“It’s a mere reflection of you, angel.” He eased her carefully across his lap, mindful of her healing surgery scar. Tucking Khat against him, he said, “And a symbol of many happy things to come into your life.”
Khat rested her head on his broad shoulder. “All I’ll ever want or need is you, Mike.”
He pressed a kiss to her temple, inhaling her special womanly fragrance. “You have me forever,” he promised, his voice thick with emotion. Wanting to keep the time with her upbeat, Mike said, “My mother is going to have a hemorrhage if you don’t think about setting a date for our wedding.” He chuckled. “You’re going to find her a whirlwind of motion and action.”
“I think we can figure out a date,” Khat promised, sinking into his arms, contentment flowing through her.
“Yes,” he said, “because when she found out I had this ring made for you by one of the best jewelers in all Afghanistan, she was beside herself. I warn you, probably a hundred Saudi aunts, uncles and cousins are going to fly in for our wedding. This is a big deal in my father’s family. He’s well respected and loved by everyone. They will want to celebrate with us, Khat.”
She laughed, “That’s okay. I’ll get a chance to meet a lot more of your family.”
Mike grazed her arm, feeling her strength and softness. “Will you want your mother at the wedding?” In the past few days, Khat and Glenna had had many tearful heart-to-heart talks. He could see the healing going on between them, a good thing for both women.
“Yes, very much so. I want my mother there.” Khat frowned. “Not my father, of course.”
“Good, because I don’t think I could be civil to him,” Mike growled.
“My mother says my father is trapped in the old ways. He never did adjust to living in America, Mike. It was just too much for him. Mom said when she met him, he was a very different person, but as the years went by, she saw him closing down, retreating and reverting back to stricter ways. By that time, I had left to join the Marine Corps, so I didn’t know what was going on between them. He’s trapped between two worlds and he’s not a part of either one,” she said sadly.
Mike picked up her hand and kissed the back of it. “You were caught in the same situation, angel. Thankfully your Aunt Leeda helped you sort it all out. She realized you were born in America, that you belonged there, not over here.”
Leaning forward, Khat nuzzled his bearded jaw. “You persuaded me, too, you know? Your father came from Saudi Arabia, but he was able to adjust to American life and still keep his Saudi roots. And look at you.” Khat lifted her head, drowning in his thoughtful gaze. “You were born in America, like me. Sometimes, I’d look at you and then look at myself,” she admitted. “You weren’t torn between two countries like I was. That’s when I realized something wasn’t right within me, but I couldn’t figure it out at first. The more I hung around you, the more I got that I needed to understand myself. When the time came, after talking with Aunt Leeda, I knew the choice I wanted to make, Mike.” She smiled tenderly at him. “I made the right choice and I followed my heart, my love for you. I want a life with you, in America.”
*
KHAT STOOD IN the Ops building at Bagram fixed-wing terminal. She saw the Air Force Gulfstream jet out on the tarmac; the pilot and copilot were boarding. Soon, she’d be on that jet, heading home to the States. She sat alone in a row of empty chairs, facing the tarmac. The fixed-wing terminal at Bagram was a busy place. On one runway, an F-16 was taking off with a full load of missiles beneath it. On another runway, a massive Air Force C-5 Galaxy transport was landing.
She felt sadness as she looked around. A crew member had already taken her duffle bag and other gear on board General Maya Stevenson’s jet. All she had were the Marine desert cammies that she wore and her black baseball cap resting on her lap beneath her clasped hands. Mike had left six days earlier, going back to Forward Operation Base Bravo and his SEAL platoon. Luckily, Emma and Khalid had a satellite phone and Khat could talk to Mike. Even better, they had promised to be there for their wedding in San Diego. Her mother had left two days ago, heading back to San Francisco to sign the divorce papers. Khat could see her mother was getting stronger every day, ready to take her life back, ready to be an individual, not part of a suppressive relationship.
Khat gently moved the engagement ring around on her finger, watching the sunlight flash through the deep green gemstones. All she wanted, all she prayed for, was for Mike to get home safely to her. He lived a dangerous life, and although she knew much about the SEALs, it never took away the gnawing fear that his life could be snuffed out in a second by a Taliban bullet.
Khat felt someone sit down beside her. She looked up. Her eyes widened. “General Stevenson,” she murmured, straightening up. The woman was in her early fifties, with black hair with silver among the strands. The US Army general had been an innovator to getting women into combat slots to prove they could handle it and be equals in battle situations. Maya smiled over at her.
“At ease, Sergeant Shinwari. Are you ready to go home?”
“Yes, ma’am, I am.” She grinned at the general, who was on friendly terms with all the women who had volunteered for Operation Shadow Warriors. “Thanks for letting me take your jet back to the States. Better than trying to sleep on some nylon seats on a C-5.”
Maya removed her cap and slid her fingers through her shoulder-length black hair. “Sure is. How is the surgery healing?”
“Better. Still can’t lift much.”
“Well, we’ll be landing at NAS Coronado and I’ve already been in touch with the captain of Seal Team Three. He’s going to have one of his men meet you and you’ll be driven to Mike Tarik’s condo. You won’t have to lift a finger.”
“You’re going out of your way, and I appreciate it, ma’am.”
Maya’s green eyes narrowed upon her. “On the way back, you and I are going to have a little talk about why you didn’t stay six months stateside every year. Commander Hutton, whom I trusted as your handler, didn’t do you any favors. I’ve removed him from working with us.”
Mouth pulling into a quirk, Khat admitted, “There’s not much to discuss, ma’am. I wanted to be here in Afghanistan. Commander Hutton never liked me, so he didn’t care what I did. I also provided the SEALs reliable ground intel that helped them clear the area of Taliban around my father’s village.”
“Why didn’t Hutton like you?”
Shrugging, Khat said drily, “I can be a real pain-in-the-ass, ma’am. When I needed something and he didn’t respond, I would raise all kinds of hell. And when I’d go Stateside to upgrade my paramedic skills, I’d rag on him until he ordered me back to Afghanistan instead of staying stateside for months on end.”
“I see.” Maya cut her a cool glance. “I talked to Petty Officer Tarik by satellite phone a couple of days ago, getting his take on your situation. I wanted to know why my handler didn’t protect you and keep you on the schedule I’d created.”
“I’m sure he was forthcoming,” Khat said.
“
Very. I don’t like my women volunteers slipping beneath my radar. You’re the first one to do it, and I’m not happy about it. I need to understand how it happened so it will never be duplicated.”
Seeing the set of the general’s lips, Khat decided she was in the dog house along with Commander Hutton. Rightfully so.
“You’re to report to Seal Team Three HQ two weeks from now,” she told Khat. The general handed her a set of orders. “I talked to Dr. Mason and he felt, after your final examination, that you’ll be ready to go to work with their intel unit.”
Khat read the orders and then tucked them into her cammie pocket. “Yes, ma’am. I’m looking forward to that duty. I think I can be of help, given my background the past five years over there.”
“Hell,” Maya grouched, “you could write one of the most definitive playbooks for them about it.”
Giving the general a nod, Khat knew silence was golden. The general had a right to be angry at her, too. She’d always left the door open straight to her office in case any woman volunteer needed to jump chain-of-command and go to her for help or a resolution out in the field. Khat hadn’t done that because she wanted to stay in country with her father’s family. She’d been afraid Maya wouldn’t let her stay at Dur Babba with her Aunt Leeda during the winter months. Khat shouldered the responsibility that she was at fault in this too, manipulating the military system for her own personal use. Maybe Mike had been able to explain on a broader canvas why she’d done it, because the general didn’t seem too upset about her choices.
“Did you know that SEAL Chief McCutcheon wrote you up for a bronze medal with a v for valor?” Maya demanded.
“Uh…no ma’am, I didn’t.”
“It’s going through. I just signed off on it before I flew out here.” Her voice softened. “SEALs appreciate people who are professional. It’s not unusual that they’ll write up a member of another military branch that they’ve worked with. I can tell you that McCutcheon doesn’t write up many people for medals. He’s picky, and the person has to have earned the commendation. Your medal will be presented at a special ceremony the first day of your arrival for your new job at Team Three. The report involves the evening you spotted those four SEALs climbing up a rocky slope and you saw the Taliban hiding in ambush to kill them. If it hadn’t been for you, Khat, I think all those SEALs, sooner or later, would have been killed, or at the very outside, all wounded. You made a difference.” Maya’s voice grew warm. “You’ve made all of us proud.”
On Fire Page 7
