All for You

by Jessica Scott

  Reza gazed at her and she tried very hard not to notice how drop dead sexy he looked right then. He leaned back on his helmet and his body armor. His patrol cap was kicked back high on his head like a ball cap and he’d rolled his sleeves up in the warm afternoon sun. There was a hint of black ink beneath the edge of one sleeve. Funny, she hadn’t thought about whether he had tattoos. Now, though, she wanted to know more.

  His uniform was wet from sweat and his combat t-shirt clung to his body. And oh, what a body. The man was powerful and gorgeous, but it was not the power that attracted her at that moment.

  It was the kindness he was showing her. A kindness she had not expected from him. The rough sergeant who’d laid into her on more than one occasion was relaxed. Not snapping at her. It was like he’d put on a different attitude toward her completely: he was more mentor than sergeant right then.

  “Sometimes. We went without food back in OIF 06-08. They couldn’t get the jackasses who were running logistics to come to our base. Some of the wives sent care packages but it got to the point where we’d have fought over a ketchup packet.”

  Emily stopped where she was, trying to figure out how to open the package of crackers, figuring crackers and cheese were about all she could stomach right then. “How long did you go without food?”

  “Couple days where we had nothing left. Then the brigade commander found out about it and flew in some supplies.”

  “How did the commanders not know there were bases without food?” She was shocked.

  Reza shot her a baleful look. “You have no idea how much a commander is responsible for. Logistics are one of those things that are supposed to take care of themselves.”

  “Food should be one of those things,” Emily insisted. “There’s no way anyone should not know that.”

  Reza smiled and it was carved in bitter sadness. “There are so many things commanders don’t know. That they can’t know.”

  There was something deeper in those words, something filled with hurt and darkness and pain. She reached across the space, squeezing his forearm gently. “And there’s some things they’re supposed to know,” she said. “I deal with all kinds of commanders and I’m shocked at who they allow to lead soldiers.”

  Reza shook the tiny bottle of hot sauce into the grey pouch in his hand. “You’re talking about Marshall, aren’t you?”

  Emily thought back to the captain who’d called her a very foul name for refusing to change one of his soldier’s profiles. “Him. And others. They turn into petulant children with bad tempers when they don’t get their way.”

  Reza laughed sharply then took a long pull off his CamelBak. “I’ll have to remember that the next time Captain Marshall is crushing my nuts over something stupid.” He stuck a plastic spoon in his pouch and stirred. “Marshall’s a dickhead but sometimes, he’s not a bad guy.”

  “You could have fooled me. He’s going to drive one of his soldiers to kill himself. The man has no compassion.”

  “Maybe he has other things besides compassion driving him. Compassion almost got him killed back in OIF 2.”

  “OIF 2?”

  “Iraq 2004. The first couple of rotations into Iraq were OIF 1, OIF 2. Then the years started getting split and we started calling them things like OIF 06-08.”

  “Ah. What happened to Marshall in OIF 2?” She was curious now. Despite his being an unrelenting ass, Emily was curious how Reza would justify the captain’s actions.

  “He was a lieutenant, brand new. First deployment. He’d found a group of women and children. Two of the kids had been shot and left in a bongo truck.”

  “By us?”

  “No one knows, honestly.” Reza concentrated on whatever he was mixing in front of him. “His platoon tried to get them to the local hospital. The truck was rigged to blow. He lost two of his boys trying to save a couple of Iraqis who died in the blast, too.” Reza pinned her with a haunted look.

  Emily swallowed a bite of stale cracker and thick, viscous cheese. It caught in her throat and she washed it down quickly with a sip from her bottled water. She wanted to ask more about the things that shaped Reza. Wondered what had turned him into the hardened warrior who sat calmly eating his lunch and talking of a war she’d only seen on TV.

  * * *

  Reza pushed away the memories and focused on the little captain next to him. She was a sneaky fox; that was for sure. She’d found a way into his head and that irritated him. It irritated him more that he’d gone down memory lane and remembered that Marshall hadn’t always been such an asshole.

  At the same time, it meant she was damn good at her job because he hadn’t even realized it. If he wasn’t careful, she’d have him confessing to a hell of a lot more than someone else’s memories.

  There were things he wanted to confess and it started with stripping off her clothes and doing inappropriate things. Would her entire body flush if he used his mouth on her?

  God, he was so screwed. He couldn’t concentrate if he was thinking about her standing naked and exposed in front of him.

  But the more the thoughts lingered, the more he wondered if he could do it. If he could be with a woman—with this woman—without being shitfaced drunk.

  “Okay, so after you finish your lunch, you want to give it a go?”

  Emily stopped chewing. “Give what a go?” she asked carefully.

  “The shoot house. I’ll get one of the guys to let you borrow their weapon and you can try to clear a room.”

  “I’m not really sure what that means,” she said quietly.

  Reza couldn’t help the grin that escaped. “Just like what you saw all morning. You shoot bad guys.”

  “Are you serious?” She sounded terrified and excited. Her eyes lit up and her lips parted just a little. Enough to draw his gaze and make him think about nibbling on the corner of her mouth. Every little thing drove him closer and closer to the edge of doing something stupid.

  The hitch in her voice reminded him of the first time he took any scared private through a shoot house. There was a glint in her eyes and she tipped her chin.

  “I’ll go with you,” he said quietly. “And the guys will take it easy on you. You’ve got gloves, you’ve got body armor and eye protection.”

  “But I could get shot.”

  “With a sim round.” He didn’t want her hurt but she needed to do this. She needed to experience this firsthand. It was as close to war as he ever wanted her to get.

  “I’ve heard you guys complaining about how bad those things hurt all morning. I’m not exactly into S and M, you know.”

  Reza chuckled softly. “Scared?”

  “So?” she said, lifting her chin.

  He leaned toward her, his voice low. “Then think of how much you’ll be able to relate the next time a kid comes into your office and talks about how scared he was the first time he got blown up?”

  Emily narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s a dirty trick.”

  “It’s why you wanted to come out here, wasn’t it?” She was going to do it. He’d struck her deeply with that comment and she might be prim and proper but she had too much pride to let him win.

  He watched her nostrils flare as she took a deep breath. “Okay, fine.” She stood up and started pulling on her body armor, slightly less awkwardly than she’d been earlier that day.

  He stood and pulled on his own kit. He stopped as she tightened her helmet chin strap to keep it from falling into her eyes. She was chewing on her lip as she dressed for battle and tried to look like she knew what she was doing.

  “Emily,” he said softly. “I’ve got your back. I won’t let you get hurt.”

  She stopped where she was fiddling with her gloves and looked up at him. For a brief moment, the chaos behind them at the shoot house fell away. They were engulfed in a world of silence. He almost reached up to stroke her hair off her cheek. The urge to kiss her then was overwhelming and it was sheer willpower that he didn’t move any closer to her.

  “I know,�
� she whispered. Her throat moved as she swallowed and he suddenly badly wanted to drag his teeth against that scattered pulse. “I trust you.”

  Three little words nearly dropped him to his knees. They destroyed him, knowing she was placing her faith where it wasn’t deserved. Where he couldn’t keep it safe.

  She trusted him.

  “Ready?”

  A deep, steadying breath. “Sure, why not. Let’s go get shot at.”

  She sounded so sarcastic, he couldn’t resist the laugh that escaped him. “It’ll be fine. A couple of bruises if you actually get hit on your arms or legs. Think of them as battle scars.”

  Her gaze drifted back to his body like it had earlier. He’d found her curiosity about his scars off-putting earlier, but now? Now his blood warmed as her gaze trailed over his arms and chest. He cleared his throat roughly.

  “LT!”

  LT Josh Miller had grown up a hell of a lot since Reza had been his platoon sergeant. He strode up to Reza with a confidence that had been battle-born.

  “What’s up, Sarn’t Ike?” Miller carried his weapon casually and there was no salute exchanged between them on the range. He wasn’t sure when the rule of no saluting in a tactical environment had come into military history but it made sense.

  No point in being sniper bait.

  “We need to borrow a couple of weapons. Captain Lindberg wants to run through the shoot house.”

  Miller glanced at Emily, who stood stoically by his side, then back to Reza. “Sure thing, Sarn’t Ike.”

  Miller would likely bust his balls later because Reza knew how it looked. And no matter that he wanted to sleep with Emily, the simple fact was that his reputation preceded him and everyone was simply assuming based on his past. He didn’t want them thinking that Emily was just a cheap screw.

  She was important to him. It was more than just wanting her to know this so she could do her job. He wanted her to know what it felt like—even if this was a bad facsimile of real life.

  He glanced at Emily as Miller reappeared with two M4s. He handed her the first weapon and she immediately grasped the pistol grip and put her finger on the trigger.

  “Okay, stop,” Reza said, taking the weapon from her a little too abruptly. He handed his back to Miler, who was watching with interest. “Watch me. This is how you hold your weapon.”

  He demonstrated by angling the weapon across his body, the sling over one shoulder, the butt stock high against the pocket of his shoulder. “Look where my finger is,” he said. His finger rested alongside the trigger. “You never put your finger on the trigger until you’re ready to shoot something.”

  Reza let his own weapon hang in front of him as he took the second M4 from Miller. “Take the sling and put it over one shoulder. You want it tight but able to move.” She held on to the weapon lightly as he adjusted the sling.

  “It feels like the end of it is going to hit me in the face,” she said.

  “It won’t. Keep it tight into your shoulder so you maintain control of it. The last thing you need is to hold it too loosely and have it bouncing around as you’re trying to hit your target.”

  She swallowed nervously. “You mean a person, right?”

  “Target,” he corrected, uncomfortable with the direction of her thoughts. He stepped behind her and reached around her, encircling her body with his as he showed her how to lift the weapon and look down the scope.

  She was small, so small, even wearing her body armor. He caught the scent of her shampoo, something clean and light that reminded him of sunshine.

  “Remember how it feels when you have the weapon right. Tight in your shoulder. Pull back on it so you’ve got a good grip.” His lips were near her ear, despite their helmets. She nodded, trying to get her head angled so she could see down the scope. A subtle shift but she leaned back into him. It was enough to send Reza’s mind straight toward inappropriate thoughts. The kind of thoughts where she was naked and wrapped in his arms and he was…He moved away from her before he embarrassed them both. “Lower it.” She did. “Now raise it.” She did, trying to mimic his earlier motions.

  “It feels strange,” she whispered.

  “Yeah, it will. Until you get used to it. This is just so you can get a feel for the chaos in a fight. Nothing more,” he said roughly. “Ready?”

  Another deep breath then she lifted her chin. “Ready.”

  * * *

  Reza was in front of her, Teague behind her. She was the second man in the stack, so to speak, and while she had no idea what that entailed beyond literally being number two behind Reza, she was pretty sure she was going to pee her pants before this whole thing was over.

  She slipped her finger over the trigger then caught herself and rested it alongside the trigger until she was ready to shoot. Teague pushed up against her back.

  “Nothing personal,” he said against her ear. “But we get stacked close so we can communicate through touch and don’t have to talk.”

  So now not only was she pressed up against Reza’s back but she had Teague pressed against hers. She was like an Emily sandwich, squished between two big warriors. She giggled.

  Reza looked back over his shoulder. “There’s no giggling in the shoot house,” he said dryly.

  “Sorry. Nerves.” She tried to breathe but Reza was close enough that she couldn’t really catch a deep breath.

  “Okay, so we’re going to go in and try to control the hallway. Captain Lindberg, when I kick in the door, you’ll come in and crouch down, and shoot continuously until we’re all in the hallway. I’ll tap you on the shoulder when it’s time for us to get up and start moving down the corridor. Don’t stop shooting unless you run out of ammo. You remember how to change your magazine?”

  She nodded, knowing she had absolutely no clue as to whether she was going to be able to do that on the run.

  “We’re not going full speed, okay? We’re just going to walk through it.”

  “Then how will it be confusing?”

  Behind her, Teague laughed. “You’ll see.”

  “Okay, get set.” Reza flipped the switch on his weapon and assumed an odd half-crouch.

  Teague pushed her against Reza’s back. After what seemed like a long moment, Emily felt Reza tap her arm. She reached back and tapped Teague and felt the movement in his body as he shifted into her ever so slightly.

  And then all hell broke loose.

  Reza literally kicked in the door and moved so fast Emily stumbled from where she’d been leaning on him. Somehow she made it into the hallway where rounds pinged off the wall and splattered near her head. She flinched and closed her eyes, curling up on her knees.

  “Start shooting, sweetheart!”

  She had no idea who shouted at her but she managed to open her eyes and lift her weapon. Soldiers at the end of the hall kept popping their heads into the hallway but they were gone before she managed to get a shot off. She squealed as a round exploded next to her head on the wall.

  “Keep shooting!”

  She squeezed the trigger, the gun recoiling against her shoulder so many times she was sure she’d have a bruise later. Someone grabbed her by her body armor and lifted her up. “We’re moving.”

  Sounds exploded around her and the smell of sulfur and chalk burned her nose. She couldn’t think in the chaos. She was barely aware of Teague shooting over her shoulder and Reza to her right as they walked down the hallway.

  She squeezed the trigger again and nothing happened. She squeezed again and again. Only clicks.

  “Change magazines!” Reza’s voice, calm, barking orders.

  She fumbled to drop the magazine from her gun and her fingers got stuck trying to get the magazine out of her ammo pouch.

  The weapon was snatched from her hand and back before she could count to three, reloaded and ready to go. “Let’s go.”

  Everything from there happened too fast. They started walking down the corridor. Then a soldier jumped out, followed by two more. One lay on his belly in the mi
ddle of the hallway and started shooting. There was no place to go. Her fingers froze on the trigger as the rounds started thudding into her body armor.

  Terror clutched her throat. And then a brilliant starburst of pain as her hip and thigh were pounded with what felt like a thousand rounds.

  “Endex! Endex! Miller, what the fuck was that?”

  Reza’s voice came from far off. His face came into focus as the smoke cleared. He’d long ago passed pissed. He was livid.

  “Fuck, are you okay? Emily,” he said, his voice rough. “Look at me. You’re okay.”

  Her eyes burned with tears she refused to shed. Her hip was on fire and she wasn’t sure she could walk. “Holy shit that hurts,” she whispered when she was sure she wouldn’t embarrass herself by crying.

  Reza smiled gently. “Come on, walk it off. I’ll check it out when we get out of here.”

  She nodded shortly and limped out of the shoot house. She managed to hand Miller back the borrowed weapon.

  “Sorry about that, ma’am.” Miller said with a worried grin.

  Reza smacked him upside the back of the head and Miller flipped him off. Reza shadowed her on the long, painful walk to the truck.

  “You okay?”

  She nodded. “It hurts,” she whispered, her voice humiliating her as it cracked.

  “Let me see how bad.”

  She looked at him like he’d grown two heads. “You want me to pull my pants down right here?”

  “Other side of the truck. I need to see if you’re bleeding or not. Nothing kinky, I promise.”

  She made a wry grin but the prospect of possibly bleeding caught her attention. “These can break skin?”

  Reza shot her a look that said “obviously” then followed her around the truck. She reached beneath her body armor and unbuttoned her pants. Reza knelt in front of her and gently eased the flap open, pushing the fabric aside so he could see her hip.