“Shag, what the hell are you doing going through his locker?” Jake’s anger surged. The day had been a bitch as it was. He didn’t need a nosy private causing trouble where none needed to be. “I ought to write your ass up.”
The man looked hurt but resigned. “Sorry, Sarge, but something is going on.”
The mulish determination in Shag’s expression made Jake pause. “Yeah, it’s called a freaking war.”
“No.” Shag shook his head. “It’s something more. Something un-American, and Briggs is involved up to his Southern red neck. I’m going to find out what it is whether or not you want me to.”
Jake crowded the man and poked his finger into his chest. “Listen to me, you little shit. We’re in a fucking war zone. We only have each other to depend on. You start messing with that trust by snooping and you’ll end up with a one-way ticket back to the States and your ass will be bounced from the Corps.”
Shag’s stubborn expression didn’t fade. “Something’s wrong. You need to fix it.”
Jake inwardly groaned. “Or what?”
“Or I’ll go to Colonel Reed.”
Great, just what he didn’t need. “Fine,” he snapped. “Put the damn thing back where you found it, and I’ll talk to Briggs in the morning.” He stepped back and swept his gaze over the men who all stared at him with varying degrees of interest. Fischer, he noted, didn’t look a bit perturbed. A small smile hovered at the edges of his thin lips, and he rolled a coin over his fingers.
He nodded and tossed a two finger salute at Jake then rapped the table. “You heard the sarge, gentlemen. Last hand. Ante up so I can wipe you all out.”
The door to the barracks opened, and First Lieutenant Brian Weathers stepped inside. He stood at pristine attention. “Colonel Reed. A-ten-hut!”
Everyone scrambled to their feet as the colonel entered the room. He waved his hand. “At ease. Just a friendly visit.” A fat cigar hung from the corner of his mouth. Smoke curled up and into his salt-and-pepper hair. Assessing blue eyes squinted against the wisps as he looked around the room.
Jake knew the minute the colonel spotted him. Reed marched forward with an agility and speed that belied his fifty-plus years. Reed was an active participant in their daily physical training routines no matter how grueling that PT could be. The men respected him for his willingness to slog through putrid mud or choking dust right along with them. Only his face showed signs of age and a taste for scotch. His forehead remained perpetually creased with lines that were echoed in deep grooves along his flaccid cheeks. His jowls shook as he moved, and his nose was an unbecoming shade of maroon. Drinker’s nose, his dad had called it.
“Logan,” Reed said as soon as he reached them. He barely spared a nod for the frozen Shag. “Soldier. Excuse us, won’t you?”
“Sir, yes, sir.” Shag shoved the statue back into Jake’s hands then hightailed it away.
Reed rolled the cigar from one side of his mouth to the other. He squinted down at Jake’s hands, looking like nothing more than a wrinkled Shar-Pei.
“What’s that?”
Jake shrugged and tossed it to the bed. “Something of Briggs’s from what I gather.”
The colonel seemed to lose interest. He plucked the cigar from his mouth. “Listen up, Logan. We’ve got intel coming in fast and furious about some movement a hundred klicks away from us.”
Jake stiffened as every sense went on red alert. “What kind of movement, sir? Insurgents?”
“Don’t know yet. Still getting info. I want your men to be prepared.” He looked around the room and his jaw clenched. “You know my philosophy, Logan.”
“Yes, sir. One weak link breaks the chain.”
Reed shoved the cigar back in his mouth and clapped him on the shoulder. “Damn right. I know there are no weak links in this unit. That’s why I personally selected every one of you.” His blue gaze moved to the curtain at the back of the barracks. “Even Martinez and Bransom. They’re invaluable to us. To you. Don’t forget that.”
Jake remained silent but reeled inwardly. Did the colonel know of his attraction to Olivia? No. The colonel wasn’t the kind of man to let something like that go without addressing it. His unit was run his way, no questions asked.
Jake liked the old man. He was honest, blunt, and a damned fine strategist. He couldn’t ask for a better commander. He knew the others in the Hellfire Battalion felt the same way. That was one of the reasons they all worked so hard for him.
“Get some rest,” Reed said gruffly.
Colonel Reed marched back up the aisle and out the door held open by his ever-present assistant. Weathers was a little prick with a big attitude. He lorded his position over all of them. The man seemed to forget he’d once been a grunt, too.
Oorah was nothing more to him than an outdated motto.
Jake found it odd the colonel kept him on, but he must be valuable in some area besides ass-kissing.
Weathers smirked at them after Reed departed. “Sleep tight, gentlemen. Bed. Now.”
Taggart flipped him off, and Fischer and Briggs followed suit.
The assistant’s face grew red and hot, but he didn’t challenge any of them. He didn’t need to. Jake had a feeling they’d find themselves on latrine duty in the next couple of days.
Weathers spun and huffed away.
“God, what an ass,” Taggart muttered.
“Yeah,” Briggs agreed. “That boy is so dumb he didn’t just get beat with the stupid stick, he done got slammed by the whole durn tree.”
Everyone laughed.
“Well put,” Fischer said. “Who’s bet?”
“Lights out in five,” Jake reminded them. “Finish that hand or I get everything.”
Fischer’s eyes widened, and then he nodded quickly. “Let’s go, let’s go.”
The door opened again, and Olivia and Connie walked into the room. They both had wet hair and scrubbed faces, but only Olivia’s drew him with its combination of innocence and sensuality. Her body thrummed with a palpable energy that beckoned his fingers like steel to a magnet. He bent and picked up the statue to distract himself.
“Sarge, you gonna give it back?” Shag asked as he sidled up to him.
Jake shoved it toward the other man. “No, you are,” he ordered. “Remember what I said. Stateside and out in less than twenty-four if you do it again.”
Shag narrowed his eyes. “Yes, sir.” He spun on his heel and walked away.
Jake exhaled deeply as he dropped to his bunk. He lowered his head and massaged the back of his neck and scalp. Slowly the stress eased. He stared at the brown-and-black dirt on the floor of the barracks. June in this part of Afghanistan was brutal. The days blazed with heat and the occasional rainfall while the nights were filled with unidentified sounds.
No one ever slept well here. He was no exception.
Jake unlaced his boots and set them at the foot of his bunk before stretching out. This place was nothing like Texas. Though the heat could be equally bad, Jake never minded it. He’d grown up baking in the Texas sunshine and riding through wet winters that did little more than gloss the roads.
A pang of homesickness shot through him so hard his headache returned full force. Jake put a hand over his eyes. He missed home. He missed his horses and civilization, his grandparents and his best friend.
He wondered what Hudson was doing at that moment. Probably giving some sweet thing a good time. Taking her out to dinner then dancing and finally back to his place for an all-night sex session.
Jake grinned into the darkness. Yeah, that’s just what Hudson Walker was doing. Damn, he couldn’t wait to join his old friend in some carousing the next time he was on leave.
As sleep crept through the barracks, Jake found himself unable to join in. His mind raced through the events of the day from the damn statue Shag had shown him to Reed’s appearance to Olivia’s husky demand to talk.
Reed’s visit was easy enough to dismiss, but the commander’s words weighed heavily on him. Combat
didn’t scare him, but sending his men into battle did.
A creak swept through the barracks, and he looked toward the door from under his arm just in time to see Fischer slip into the night. Jake pushed up on his elbows and contemplated going after the man. This wasn’t the first time he’d slipped out, though he usually wasn’t gone longer than an hour.
Jake had no idea where he went. He’d tried to follow him a couple of times, but by the time he would make it to door Fischer would be out of sight. Brian Fischer reminded Jake of a highly intelligent rodent. He followed orders to the hilt and never made a mistake. Exactly what a commander wanted in a soldier. But Fischer’s beady brown eyes and long nose gave him a ratlike appearance. His persona perfectly matched the image. He was sly and sneaky and often watched his fellow marines with an almost predatory stare.
Try as he might, Jake couldn’t warm up to the little man. Jake lay back down. He rubbed his shoulders on the thin cot, searching in vain for a comfortable position.
Time drifted in and out as he dozed and thought about the object Shag showed him. It had to be a souvenir Briggs picked up. What else could it be?
The door moved once more, and he roused enough to see Boone Shepherd head out. Jake gritted his teeth but again stayed in his bunk. This one he knew. Shepherd habitually sought out the deepest part of night to sit on some damned rock and commune with nature.
Load of bullshit.
He knew all about Shepherd’s past. Born and bred in the East, he spent half his life with his purebred white family and the other half learning all about his Native American ancestry. He’d been educated at Harvard then joined the marines the day after graduation. If half of what Jake heard about Boone’s wild times during college was true, the man sowed enough wild oats to keep a thousand farms in business for decades. Jake wondered if some of those oats were what kept Boone from applying for Officer’s School. He’d taken his E-2 rank just like any other recruit. Jake sure hoped if karma decided to bite Boone’s ass, it did so on someone else’s watch.
Reed’s warning echoed through his mind again. He swallowed hard and looked through the dim light at the sleeping men. They’d been inordinately lucky this tour. Four skirmishes and they hadn’t lost a single person. How much longer could that good fortune last?
Taggart Cain lay on the bunk next to him. Tag was a big man with blond hair, green eyes, and a chip the size of Texas on his shoulder. He had anger issues that forever had Jake intervening in some way or another.
Tag had been busted twice in rank for insubordination. No matter how much Jake talked, Tag never listened. He never heard what he said.
Briggs was in the bunk directly across from Tag. The Alabama boy had the strange habit of talking in his sleep. Thanks to his loose lips and mostly understandable drawl they all knew how he really felt about his cousin Jessup Rae and just how far the two had taken their apparently mutual attraction.
Jake groaned and slammed his eyes shut.
Go to sleep.
He tried not to think of Olivia, but her sweet face and lush figure drifted onto the screen of his mind anyway. Instead of her utility uniform she wore only a pair of lacy pink panties and matching bra that shoved her beautiful tits to attention. She had long, lean legs honed to perfection by continual hikes and physical training.
Jake’s hand cupped his growing erection. Maybe a few quick strokes and he’d be able to finally get some sleep. He checked his watch and found it nearly eleven o’clock.
Yeah, that’s what I need. He wouldn’t even give himself hell for fantasizing about Olivia.
Through the rough cut of his pants, Jake gripped his dick and tugged upward. A hiss escaped his lips at the contact. Olivia’s face floated in front of his eyes. She gave him a teasing smile, bit the fullness of her bottom lip then started tugging at her bra straps.
His hand tightened on his cock, and his breath grew ragged.
“Jake,” her soft voice vibrated with desire. “I want you inside me.”
“Fuck yeah,” he muttered then swallowed as his lust deepened.
The door squeaked, and he froze. His gaze flew to the opening, and he saw Olivia silhouetted in the moonlight. She looked right at him. Her lips curved in a sensual smile. She crooked her finger then turned and walked into the darkness.
Jake remained still.
Go after her.
Stay here.
Go.
Jake suppressed a growl and reached for his boots.
* * * *
Olivia skirted the glow cast by the security lamps and made her way to the motor depot. She settled her butt against the bumper of a troop carrier and waited. She hoped Jake showed up. This dance they’d carried out for the last few months was wearing thin. It needed to be resolved one way or the other. She hoped it ended with him deep inside her.
Sweat covered her palms, and she slicked them down the rough fabric of her camo pants. Her heart thudded loudly against her rib cage, and she couldn’t seem to stop fiddling with the small gold owl on her necklace. Her parents had given it to her the day she graduated boot camp. Her mom reminded her to be wise and watchful, but her father took her aside and told her that legend had it the owl was a protector of the earth and all things on it.
The necklace helped her feel closer to them even when she was half a world away. In the four years she’d been in the marines, she’d never removed it. It’d become her totem when she was worried or puzzled or nervous.
Where is he?
The faintest shadow passed between two trucks, and she straightened. Seconds later, Jake’s broad frame appeared. They stared at each other.
A million different thoughts ran through her head, all of them dirty. She pushed away from the truck and headed his direction. Jake moved forward at the same time.
He grabbed her around the waist and hauled her to his firm chest. Olivia held on to his shoulders.
“Jake,” she whispered.
“No,” he said and covered her mouth with his. The kiss was fast and hard and deliriously exciting.
His lips were firm and unyielding as if he sought to stop the passion from rising.
Olivia knew that was not possible.
She clutched the back of his neck and forced him closer. His groan slid into her mouth. It was all she could do not to crow with triumph.
She wrenched away from his kiss and spread her hands over his muscular chest. His pecs rippled beneath her palms, separated only by the thin layer of his T-shirt. Greedily she reached for the hem and shoved upward to expose his toned abdomen.
“Beautiful,” she whispered. Olivia trailed her fingers over the sharp cuts of his six pack until she reached his belt. Impatient need lent her speed as she unbuckled it. She parted his zipper and shoved his pants to the ground. Jake toed off his boots as he repaid the favor with her clothes. In less time than it took her to break down her M40, she stood naked in front of him.
Jake raked her body with a midnight-blue gaze.
Olivia tingled at his silent appreciation. She wanted to hear her name on his lips, though.
He reached for her hand and brought it to his hot and hard cock.
Olivia gasped and instinctively tightened her fingers around him. He shuddered then cupped her left breast and squeezed. As she stroked his length, he nudged her backward until she came up against the lowered tailgate of the half-ton. He lifted her up. When her butt hit the cold metal, she squeaked. A grin flashed briefly in the darkness before he took her mouth again. He parted her legs and found her already-wet pussy with his fingers.
Olivia moaned as he danced over her clit and dipped into her moistness. His hot touch ratcheted her desire even higher. Blindly she felt for his dick again even as she kissed him back with fierce demand.
He pulled away, and a deep chuckle rasped from him.
“No,” she whispered and clung to his arms.
Jake grinned again then fitted the swollen head of his cock to her dripping pussy. In one long stroke he was balls-deep inside of her.
They both groaned and bucked at the contact. Jake held still for a moment. Olivia tried to gain some kind of composure, but he overwhelmed her. His muscular body cradled hers as his thickness invaded her. The oak-sweetened musk of his sweat made her pussy throb and clench around him, eliciting another half sigh from him.
Jake tipped her chin up and kissed her softly then started a slow rhythm with his hips that soon drove her mad. Tiny pulses exploded inside her every time his skin slid against hers. His body trembled against hers, and he slammed deep inside then stilled. His breath escaped in huge gasps, and something that looked like pain creased his face. He opened his eyes and gave her a small smile then dropped his gaze to her neck. Jake picked up her owl necklace and studied it intently.
“For wisdom and protection,” she whispered when he didn’t ask.
His thumb brushed over the owl, and then he dropped his hands to her hips and gripped hard as he drove into her again.
Olivia grabbed his shoulders then his neck and thrust back for all she was worth. The night pressed in closer and darker. They were the only things that existed in the universe.
“Jake. Jake. Jake.” His name tumbled from her lips in a litany of half pleas, half demands.
She could feel her orgasm rising. He surged hard and strong within her. His hands at her hips felt like hot iron holding her down for his satisfaction while he pleasured her beyond all her imaginings.
“Jake.” This time her voice caught on a sob of need.
“Yes,” he muttered. His jaw clenched, and the tempo of his hips increased.
The need spiraled out of control, and Olivia shook and swayed as she came. Jake swallowed her scream with his kiss.
Her pussy clamped down hard, and he stilled then shuddered.
“God,” he murmured. He shook again and met her eyes. “Olivia.”
Then he came deep and hard. Olivia’s eyes widened at the hot and slick feel of his cum coating her. The unbelievably erotic sensation made her come again. Jake held her through the tremors that wracked her body until finally she wilted backward.
Slowly he pulled free of her still-clinging channel. The heated gush nearly sent her over the edge again, but the look on Jake’s face stopped her cold.
Two Cowboys in Her Crosshairs [Hellfire Ranch] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 2
