by Lori Leger
“Boxing match,” Tex said. “Pay per view—Bo rented the fight and invited a bunch of us to come over to watch. Didn’t you know?”
Another inhalation of him had her wanting to hold her breath, to keep his scent inside her. “Um, no. Is Buck in there?”
“Naw, he fell asleep on us a while ago and we put him to bed.” He stepped aside and placed his huge hand at the small of her back. “Over here,” he said, leading her to a small bedroom down the hall.
“Mitch said he played so hard once he got that cast off this morning, he wore himself out.” He leaned over the bed, lifted Buck easily across one shoulder, and threw the boy’s dinosaur blanket over him. “I’ll bring him out for you. Kid’s getting heavy.”
“I can carry him. I’ve been lugging him around since he was born.”
“I’ve got him.”
“But, I can—”
“Stop being stubborn, Nicole. I’ve got him.”
“I’m not being stubborn.”
Tex rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever.” He turned toward the door.
“Hey.” she began, as Buck lifted his head and looked at her.
“Aunt Niki, did you and mom go to those classes tonight?”
Tex placed his hand on the back of Buck’s head, pressing him down on his shoulder. “Shhh, Buck, go back to sleep, buddy. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
Buck wasn’t having any of it. “Do too. I hewd Mitch tell you that Aunt Niki was going pwactice hew pole-dancing wou-tine.”
The child’s innocent comment transformed the room into an airless, soundless vacuum, crackling with tension. Tex stopped in the middle of the hallway, and turned slowly to face her. If she hadn’t witnessed what happened next with her own eyes, Niki never would have believed it. Tex stood frozen, all six-feet-plus of him, as his eyes filled with absolute terror. Fuming, she took a step toward him and he adjusted his position, using Buck as a shield against her wrath.
She narrowed her gaze. “Are you’re hiding behind a child?”
“N-n-y-yes.”
“Are they teaching that maneuver in the US Marine Corps now?”
He shook his head slowly. “No. But maybe they should? But only for situations like this.”
She nodded. “I’ve got the perfect name for it. They could call it the ‘She’s Gonna Scratch my Eyes Out’ maneuver.’ I’m so disappointed in you, Tex.”
One hand flew out in front of him, as though to ward off an angry advance. “It wasn’t me, it was Mitch. I never said a word to anybody.”
Niki ground her teeth so hard, her jaw popped. “Sure you didn’t.”
“Nicole, wait.”
“You are wasting your time,” she growled, turning into the living room. Bo saw her and stood.
“Hey, beautiful. Did you two have a good time? Were the seats as good as they said they were?”
Niki slipped her arms around Bo’s neck and smiled, hoping like hell Tex was enjoying this particular show. “The seats were awesome, babe. So good, I had to come in here and thank you, personally.”
Catcalls and whistles filled the room as she lifted to her toes and planted a long, lusty, tongue-filled kiss on him, ended it by nipping at his lower lip and brushing her nails across his upper thigh. She pulled away, and gave him one last kiss. “You boys have a good time, you hear?” She ran the nails of her right hand tantalizingly slow down the side of Bo’s face, seducing him with her smile. “I’ll catch you later, big boy.”
Bo swallowed audibly. “I’ll certainly be looking forward to it, beautiful.”
Niki gave him one last kiss, and then pivoted slowly on her heels, feeling smug. She completed the turn and faltered, unprepared for what greeted her—nothing. Absolutely nothing. She walked to the opened door, and saw Tex putting Buck in his car seat. Niki cursed under her breath, realizing that Tex had missed the display she’d put on entirely for his benefit. A flash-flood of guilt washed over her at the way she’d used Bo to push a man she wouldn’t dare love into a jealous rage. She’d probably given false hope to a man whose only fault was that she couldn’t love him.
Without a word, she trudged over to the car and buckled herself into the front passenger seat.
Meagan returned to the driver’s seat and shut her car door but lowered the window. In seconds, Tex leaned his forearms on her open window and peered inside.
“He’s all buckled up, Mom. You’re good to go.”
“Thanks for bringing him out here, Tex. He’s getting so heavy for either of us to carry.”
“No problem Meagan. You be careful going home, you hear?”
Tex looked past Meagan to sear Niki with his gaze. Framed in the car’s window, with the glow of the porch light behind him, he looked even more bulked up than he had for Thanksgiving. She gave him one good perusal before forcing herself to face the front.
“G’night ladies.”
“Good night, Tex. Hope we see you tomorrow.”
“I promised my mom I’d be home tonight. Got family coming in for an early Christmas tomorrow morning—first Christmas since I’m home for good and all. She’s gotta make a big deal, you know?”
“Well, sure she does. Good mamas love their baby boys no matter how old they get, or how much trouble they get into.”
His deep chuckle resonated throughout the car, tickling Niki’s eardrums. “Kinda makes me wish I had that effect on all women.”
Niki sent him an accusatory glare—had opened her mouth to give him an acidic comeback when he cut her off.
“Or at least one, anyway.” He touched his temple in a two-fingered salute. “Nicole.”
Her gaze remained on him until he returned to the house and closed the door behind him. Once she realized Meagan had spoken to her, she released the breath she’d been holding and turned to her friend. “What did you say?”
Meagan grinned as she backed slowly out of the driveway. “I said if you spent as much effort speaking to him as you did trying not to, the two of you would be an item again.”
“I don’t want to be ‘an item’ with that man. He can keep however many pole-dancers he has waiting for him back in Beaumont—or the entire state of Texas. I couldn’t care less.” She turned at the driver’s distinct snort.
Meagan put the car in drive and accelerated, grinning at Niki. “You’re gonna have to do some rehearsing if you’re planning to pass that line off as God’s honest truth.”
CHAPTER 6
Missions and the Mundane
“Some people spend their entire lifetime wondering if they made a difference. Marines don’t have that problem.”
President Ronald Reagan
Monday, December 23rd – 14:00 (Afghanistan time)
Team: “Grave 1”
Sergeant Justin Ballantine (Balls, Sarge, TL): Team Leader
Corporal Ben Bonin (Bones): Asst. TL, Point Man, shooter
Lance Corporal Daniel Badgett (Badge): shooter
Lance Corporal Dennis Wade Blighe (D-Dub): Radio Operator (RO)
Ben readjusted his grip on his rifle with one hand and checked out the landscape through his rifle’s scope. The wind blew sand against his helmet in a steady and never-ending cadence … whoosh … whoosh … whoosh … that made him want to bellow like a bull.
Buried alive, all of them, in a four-man grave dug by their own hands. They were nearing the end of the latest three-day surveillance gig and had learned enough about the hadji’s operations in this area to do some good. By nightfall, they’d be moving out to RTB.
He attempted to stifle a yawn, but couldn’t, and got a mouthful of sand for his trouble. He spit and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, only to get even more grit in his mouth. Sand and grit were a part of everyday life here in Afghanistan under the best circumstances, but for however long it took to complete their missions, concentrated doses of grit surrounded them. They survived with sand in their mouths, sand in the MRE’s, sand in every nook and cranny of their bodies. The shit was a pain in the ass, literally, but i
t could always be worse. Like Balls always said, “Better to be alive and inconvenienced, than too dead to give a flying fuck.”
A small movement to the north got his attention and he used the scope to get a better look at it.
Badge spoke from the darkness behind him. “You see something moving out there, Bones?”
After another several seconds and he relaxed. “Nah. Another one of those mangy-ass dogs. Bastard’s huge, and ugly as hell.” He cocked his head to send a glance Badge’s direction. “You know, I outweigh you by a good ten pounds now. Y’all can stop calling me that.”
“It’s too late, Bones. You’re stuck with it. Want me to take over now?”
“Nope, I’m good.” Another few seconds had him wanting to hurl—or hold his breath—or hold his breath while he hurled. “Son of a bitch. Was that you?”
“Hell no. That’s D-Dub over there. Stinky son of a bitch has been farting in his sleep for a half hour. Why do think I keep asking to take over obs?”
“Gawd. He must’ve shit his pants, man.”
Badge shuffled up next to him. “You could be right. Shove over so I can get some air, bro. It reeks back here.” He stuck his face up closer to the opening of their hide site and gasped in the somewhat cleaner air. “That mofo needs an enema or something.”
Ben chuckled while keeping his eye on the landscape. “MRE’s man—does it to him every time. We need to find him a bottle of that colon-blow stuff before the next mission.”
“No shit, man.”
D-Dub spoke from the back of the hole. “You two ass-wipes need to shut your mouths over there. We’re trying to get some shut-eye.”
Sarge, or Justin Ballantine, as the civilian world knew him, spoke up next. “I was sleeping fine until that noxious flatulence of yours burned the hair right out of my nose, D-Dub. I’ve been in the Corp for six years, man. You are by far, the rottenest fucker I have ever had the misfortune to dig-in with. Besides, it’s time to take over for these two anyway.”
“Sorry Sarge, but I can’t keep those MRE’s from turning my gut bad. I can manage to hold ‘em at bay for the first two days—by the third day, something’s gotta give.” He shuffled to his knees. “But, you can all rest assured that my noxious farts in no way affect my ability to be the best Marine I can be.”
Ben laughed at the comment made from the man he’d met during boot camp at Parris Island over three years ago. He already knew Marines didn’t come any better. If they got in a dogfight, he damn sure wanted D-Dub to have his back. “You sure you don’t wanta get some more sleep, Sarge? I’m good for another couple hours.”
“And miss out on my chance to breathe something besides contaminated air space? Don’t do me any favors, Bones.”
Ben groaned, knowing he and Badge would have to suffer in silence for the next four hours. Four more hours and they could start breaking down to head back to the base. He did the quick calculations in his head. Around 2 a.m. his time, he’d be able to grab a quick call to his folks to let ‘em know he’d made it back all right. Hopefully, the second call to Haley would last a little longer. He would make those calls, though. No room for negative thinking in this place—he hadn’t travelled halfway around the world to get sent home in a flag-draped casket for his family and girl to cry over. That shit wasn’t happening.
Monday, December 23rd - 3:00 pm (Beaumont time)
Haley popped another handful of sunflower seeds in her mouth and checked her phone for the twentieth time in a two-hour period. She’d long ago given up any attempt to read the book resting on her belly. She couldn’t concentrate on a thing, knowing Ben was due to return from a mission today. God, the list of things that could go wrong during those few days was endless, as well as unthinkable.
Still, she’d never regret making him sit down to describe his daily life in Afghanistan to her. What he and his team did to prepare for missions, how they got there, the act of ‘digging in’ with the other three team members. He’d described his ‘billets’ to her and she suspected he was sharp and resourceful enough to get his team where they needed to go. She had absolutely no doubts about his shooting abilities.
She smiled, remembering the morning he’d taken her duck hunting while he was still on leave. He’d made easy work of it, shooting both his and her limits within an hour. Haley had grown up in a family of duck, goose, and deer hunters, so she was well acquainted with the concept of hunters coming home with nothing bagged because of the occasional miss. They called that a scratch. When his golden retriever had come back with the third Teal that morning, she’d asked Ben if he ever missed. He’d given her that sexy grin of his; the one that made her want to climb the length of him, and shook his head slowly.
“Not with the price of these shells.”
“Are you as good with your sniper rifle as you are with a shot gun?”
“Better.” His eyes turned hard and steely. “But it’s not nearly as much fun.”
“I know,” she’d said. “I’m sorry for asking.”
“Don’t be.” Ben had leaned forward in the cold, damp, metal enclosure of the duck blind, and got nose to nose with her. “I’ve got a job to do over there. You can bet your beautiful butt I’ll do whatever I damn well have to do to come home to you, Haley.” He had kissed her then, not for the first time during the two-week period they’d been nearly inseparable. For some reason it had been the most memorable for her. That kiss had completely erased any doubt she’d had as to whether his feelings for her were sincere.
She closed her eyes and released a low groan, thinking that God had created her Marine’s lips for the sole purpose of kissing—correction—for the sole purpose of kissing her. If the good Lord was willing, she’d have the chance to give him as many kisses as she wanted.
She picked up her phone to check the time. Two minutes later than the last time she’d checked. She held up the phone with both hands and shook it. “Call, dammit! Call!”
Haley rolled over on her belly, rested her head on her forearm. Worry, fear, frustration—she didn’t know which feeling wore her down the most. “God, please let him be okay. Please let him make it back to the patrol base alive and in one piece. And please, please, please let him call.”
The phone vibrated in her hand an instant before Keith Urban started crooning their song. The timing startled her so badly she lost her grip and the phone slid to the floor. She scrambled to pick it up. Swiping the screen, she yelled into the phone. “I’m here, Ben.”
“Can you hear me, Haley?”
“Yes, yes—I can hear you. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, babe. I made it back to the PB without incident. How are you?”
She bit her lip, trying to hold back the tears of relief. “Fine, now that I know you’re safe. Can you talk long?”
“No, and the reception may not hold up. There’s a storm brewing out there—a cold front is moving in. Glad we came in when we did.”
“Me too. Is it very cold over there?”
“Cold and wet, and it’s about to get worse, but I don’t want to talk about the weather here. What are you wearing, beautiful?”
She smiled at the teasing lilt in his tone. “Oh, I dressed sexy for the occasion—jeans and a sweater. How about you?”
His deep chuckle filtered through her phone. “The same damn thing I’ve been wearing for three days, with the addition of a couple of pounds of sand and grit.”
“Were you able to get in a few good MRE’s this time around? I don’t want you losing so much weight they start calling you Bones again.”
He snorted. “Babe, there’s no such thing as a good MRE. They all taste the same. And I’m afraid I’m stuck with Bones. Once these grunts get stuck on something, it’s nearly impossible to change their minds.”
“I guess so, but I hate what you had to go through to have them start calling you that.” She knew he’d dropped over thirty pounds in only two months during his previous deployment. Hauling well over a hundred pounds of gear and supplies in the b
rutal heat of Afghanistan’s summer months had been a sure fire way to drop a lot of weight in a little bit of time. The thought sickened her.
His silent pause held the weight of a thousand words. “Damn, I miss you, Haley.”
She swallowed the sob building in her throat at his words, determined to be strong for him. “I miss you so much, Ben.” She cleared her throat and tried to think of something to lighten the mood. Her crying over the phone would only make it more difficult for him.
He lightened the mood for her. “Did you get your rose this morning?”
“Yes, and it’s every bit as beautiful as all the others. I’m getting quite a collection.”
“Cool, what color?”
“Deep red, almost purple. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome, and you’re worth it. So, I know it’s still the 23rd there, but it’s already Christmas Eve over here. Are you anxious for Santa to pass?”
Haley grabbed the snapshot she’d printed out of him, a close-up, and passed her hand lovingly over the face. If only he was here with her instead of 8,000 miles away. “The only thing I’d like for Christmas is you under my tree, and Santa can’t bring me that. Is the E-reader still working, or did the sand get to it?”
“No, it’s fine. Works great over here. It was very thoughtful of you—”
She heard some muffled words and her heart began the familiar routine of panicked pounding. She knew what that meant. “Ben?”
“Yeah babe, I gotta go now.”
Her heart’s pounding doubled in intensity and speed. She readied herself to lose the sound of his voice. “Can you call me on Christmas Day?”
“I’ll try like hell to, beautiful. You have a good day, okay?”
“I will, and you too. Thanks for calling me, and for the rose, and … well, for calling.” Damn, she hated ending these calls. “I miss you so much, Benjamin.” She hated the hitch in her voice, hated making it any worse on him than it was. “I wish you were here so I could show you.”
