by Johnson, Cat
Perimeter guards, men from Ryan’s squad put in place by Hawk, secured the area during the operation so they weren’t totally sitting ducks.
Ryan did make note that a few members of the British squad, which had come with them this trip, had ridden in the truck instead of walking like the rest of them. In fact, it was Wales and Rumsfield from the hut collapse, again. Ryan shook his head, kept silent about it and kept loading. At least Wales was loading his share of the recovered supplies into the trunk, in spite of Rumsfield hovering around him like a damn mother hen. There was definitely something strange about those two.
Next to him, Wally said, “I’m sure glad we traded TOC duty last night, Pettit, or else I would have been the one to miss all the fun instead of you.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Ryan wasn’t about to tell Wally that although he had missed the firefight, he’d traded it off for some pretty fantastic quality time alone with Vicki. Time he hoped to repeat again real soon, if Ryan could figure out what the hell was bothering her lately.
Wally grabbed a case and threw it in the back of the truck. “I can tell you one thing. Our air support is loving life lately. Each time we’re hit, they get to fly in here like the cavalry riding to the rescue. I’ve seen everything from Apaches to B1s fly in for air support this deployment.”
Ryan grunted in response as he hoisted another heavy box onto the tailgate of the truck. “This stuff weighs a frigging ton. It at least better be something good, like that soda they promised us.” Man could only live on water alone for so long. Jeez. The military could at least send them some drink mix or something to break up the monotony.
Wally grinned. “Could be worse, Pettit. We could have to carry it back to base instead of letting those pansy ass Brits drive it there.”
Glancing around to make sure the pansy ass Brits weren’t in hearing distance, Ryan agreed wholeheartedly.
Deciding it was time to take a break, he broke out his water and took a hefty slug…and almost choked when Wally asked, “So what’s up with the reporter?”
He sputtered as Wally slapped him on the back. “You okay there, buddy? Go down the wrong pipe?”
Ryan managed a nod. “Yeah. I’m good.”
After being assured that Ryan hadn’t turned blue or anything, Wally perched his butt on the edge of the bumper and took a slug of his own water. But apparently, he wasn’t ready to let the subject drop. “I mean, Hawk doesn’t let her take notes or anything. She basically stays holed up in our room or in the TOC day and night. What’s she doing here, anyway?”
Ryan breathed a sigh of relief. Wally wasn’t asking what was up with him and the reporter, just about her purpose for being there.
Guilty conscience much? Who, him?
“I think I heard she wants to interview some locals, but Hawk doesn’t want her out with us during patrols or missions. And we haven’t been out for social calls since she’s been here.”
Wally shook his head. “Little did my mamma know that when she taught me the proper way to go visiting back in Alabama, I’d be doing it in Afghanistan, drinking chai tea and eating goat in a mud hut.”
Ryan laughed. The chai was okay, but the locals often left some hair on the goat meat. Talk about unappetizing. But you learned to smile and chew, and then pick the hair out of your teeth later.
He’d have to remember to warn Vicki about that before they ventured out and she ate her first gourmet goat meal.
“I did see her out taking pictures earlier today, though.”
That got Ryan’s attention. “Who? Vicki? Was out taking pictures?”
“Yeah, over by the volleyball court, some of the guys challenged the Brits to a quick game. We kicked their asses, of course.” Wally grinned.
Ryan’s protective mode kicked in gear. “She shouldn’t be wandering around base alone.”
“Saw her coming out of the shower trailer, too.”
He frowned. She definitely shouldn’t be alone in the two-stall shower trailer that all of the men on base shared. Besides the fact they could get attacked at any moment and body armor or not, a mortar or a missile could do some kind of damage to a woman wandering around out in the open, he really didn’t like the idea of her being alone among so many sex-deprived men. Particularly the foreigners, who often had different views about how to treat a woman than American men did. Ryan didn’t think Afghani men got the “no means no” speech in school the way he had. He’d have to talk to her about that. No way his woman was going to take risks like that while he was around.
Ryan stopped mid-motion when he realized what kind of thoughts were running through his mind. His woman. He did think of her as his, which opened up a whole can of worms. Namely, did Vicki feel the same or was this just a fling to break her one-year long dry spell? And, what the hell was he going to do without her when she eventually went home, after looking forward to seeing her face, hearing her voice, watching her smile, and feeling her body beneath his every day?
By the time Ryan got his head back on straight, even though thoughts of Vicki still filled it, he realized they were done. The truck was loaded and ready to take off back to the base.
“Well, that’s it. Time to drag our sorry asses back.” Wally sighed and readjusted his own pack.
“Good.” Ryan couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than to get back to his room, find Vicki and…hell, he didn’t know what he would do when he found her. Question her until she told him what was upsetting her? Yell at her to be more careful around the base? Kiss her until she cheered up? Confess he was falling in…like with her? Maybe he’d just feed her an MRE and hope the excitement of that would do the trick.
For the rest of the trek home, Ryan continued to consider all the alternatives, including a few x-rated ideas, to break Vicki’s strange mood. Until they reached the gate and someone came running out to Hawk. Ryan couldn’t hear the animated conversation until he got closer, and then he heard Hawk ask, “Has air support been called?”
Ryan jogged up closer as the man nodded in response to his question. “Hawk. What happened?”
His leader’s face when he turned told Ryan the news was not going to be good. “The frigging truck never made it back to base. The truck, the supplies, the driver and the two other Brits riding along are all missing.”
“If they’d gotten a flat or overheated, we would have passed them on the walk back,” Ryan reasoned.
Wally joined the conversation. “We didn’t see hide nor hair of them. How the hell can a truck go totally missing?”
Hawk shook his head. “That’s what I would like to know.”
Chapter Thirteen
Vicki sat at the computer and downloaded the digital photos she’d taken that day. She’d needed to keep busy. After the shocks from the night before, both the attack by the bad guys and her realization she was far more attached to Ryan than she wanted to be, Vicki had set to work keeping herself as active as possible so she could avoid thinking.
She’d replied to all of her emails, checked her favorite milblog (no new activity there, Groundpounder must be busy) and finally, grabbed her camera and body armor and began walking around the camp. Hawk had made her promise to get his approval for anything she shot, using security as the excuse. Vicki had a feeling it was just his way to boss her around some more while she was there. The man had serious control issues. It was as if he got off on power.
Vicki scrolled through the pictures of the impromptu volleyball game she’d caught while walking across base that day after getting some lunch. No way could Hawk object to these and they would make a great photo essay. The whole anachronistic nature of such an all-American sport being played in the middle of a war zone in Afghanistan by multinational players intrigued her. As did the surreal quality of life for these soldiers who could be in a battle for their lives one moment, and competing with as much enthusiasm to win a simple game the next.
Each photo spoke volumes. The readers would love it. Her editor would love it. Vicki sighed. At least her time
here so far hadn’t been a total waste.
Logging into her email account, thanking god again for the wireless internet connection in the mud hut, Vicki was about to send a message to her editor pitching the story when the door flung open.
She spun around in the chair to find Ryan and Wally flying through the open door. Vicki had to shield her eyes with one hand. Blinking against the late afternoon glare streaming in behind them, she realized it was later than she had thought when she saw the sun low on the horizon. “What’s happening?”
In movements that appeared choreographed, Ryan and Wally had each gone to their respective areas of the hut, and were pulling equipment out of their trunks, or foot lockers, or whatever the storage boxes at the foot of both beds were called.
With some sort of device in one hand, Ryan answered her. “The supply truck’s gone missing.”
Her relief at seeing Ryan had safely returned from the ridiculous hike to find the wayward supplies was short lived. Surely if the truck was missing, he’d be going out again to find it, and this time, in the night. “But it will be dark soon.”
Both Wally and Ryan had their helmets off and they were attaching matching contraptions to them. “That’s what the night vision goggles are for.”
Wally raised his head from his task. “I hear the air support.” He headed for the door, but Ryan held back.
With a glance over his shoulder at Wally, who was busy clamping his helmet on his head while looking out the door, Ryan bent down and kissed Vicki’s lips.
Vicki’s heart stopped. If he took the chance to kiss her with Wally right there, he must think there was a chance he wouldn’t be coming back. Swallowing hard, she somehow forced words past the lump in her throat. “Please, be careful.”
He smiled reassuringly. “Always am.”
“Hawk’s hollering for us, Pettit,” Wally reported from the doorway.
“Gotta go. Love ya.” And then, after one more glance back at her, he was gone.
Love ya.
Vicki swallowed again. What the hell did that mean? Did he love her? Did he only say it in case he died that day? Was it just a casual expression he used instead of saying goodbye?
Pushing all of the questions that she had no answers for aside, Vicki whispered to the empty room, “I love you, too, Ryan.”
How could she stand to love a man who could be taken from her at any moment? She bit her lip against the tears and began praying he’d come home, alive, so she could get her answers.
With additional motivation to keep busy, Vicki did anything and everything to take her mind off her worry, right down to dusting off the supplies on the shelves and sweeping the floors. While straightening the blankets on Ryan’s bed, she couldn’t resist, she lay down and pressed her face into his pillow, smelling his scent. It only made his absence worst.
All of the activity wasn’t helping. Every noise outside made her jump. Each time a plane flew over she wondered if it was air support called in because Ryan was in trouble.
Finally, she couldn’t take being cooped up in the hut any longer. Clamping on her own helmet and body armor—safety first—and grabbing her camera bag just in case, she headed out into the dark for the one place where she knew she could get some answers, the Operations Center.
Inside the door of the plywood-lined canvas tent, Vicki encountered a brick wall in her search for information—namely, Hawk. Getting an update out of him would be like pulling teeth.
Currently, he leaned over the soldier manning the communications console and shouted into the microphone on the desk. “What do you mean, you didn’t see the truck anywhere?”
A garbled voice came back over the airwaves, saying something indecipherable that increased the scowl on Hawk’s face.
He ran his hands over the dark stubble covering both cheeks, looking frustrated and unhappy. If the situation was bad enough to rattle Hawk, it had to be bad, very bad. And Ryan was out there in it somewhere. He wasn’t going to come back. She could feel it. Deep down, she felt a hole forming in her heart where her feelings for Ryan resided.
Vicki felt her entire body shaking from the inside out. Her heart pounded, almost deafening in her own ears, like the turned-up bass line of a dance song in a club. She was sure if she attempted to drink the bottle full of water she saw sitting on the desk, she’d shake so badly she’d slosh it all over herself and probably anyone standing nearby, as well.
She felt her eyes begin to well up, right at the moment Hawk noticed her presence in the tent.
He raised a brow. “Yes? Can I do something for you?”
Would this man ever stop scaring her? Her heart was breaking and he was still being an ass. She barely managed a whisper. “I was just wondering what was happening.”
“We’re in the middle of a cluster fuck, that’s what’s happening. And you are not to write a word about it. Understand?”
She couldn’t take one more thing thrown on her shoulders. Worry over Ryan overwhelmed her. She was not about to take shit from Hawk now, too.
Through clenched teeth, Vicki answered, “Perhaps I’m worried about the welfare of the group of men I’ve come to be friends with, who are currently out there in harm’s way. Can’t I just be concerned? Isn’t that possible?”
Vicki noticed the man at the console glance expectantly between her and Hawk. She supposed he’d never heard anyone speak to the mighty Hawk like that before. She also supposed she didn’t care what he or anyone thought at the moment.
Crossing her arms, she returned his glare while sparing the briefest second to wonder what reporter had messed with Hawk to make him hate the entire breed.
Hawk simply stared at her for what seemed like a very long time, his face set like it was made of stone. Finally, she sensed the tiniest crack in the façade. “Yes.”
Vicki huffed. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, you can be concerned.”
That didn’t help make her feel any better at all. Was he telling her his men were in trouble? That she had better be concerned?
She drew in the shakiest of breaths and wrapped her arms around herself. “Is this what you feel all the time?”
He raised a brow in question, so she clarified. “This constant rush of adrenaline? It’s horrible.”
“Horrible? No. It’s necessary. It’s what keeps you going when you haven’t slept in twenty-four hours or more. It’s what keeps you sharp.” He laughed bitterly. “In fact, it’s addictive.”
Vicki kept quiet and didn’t point out that most things that were addictive were bad for you. In her opinion, adrenaline included, especially if it was what kept Ryan running back into danger.
“I want both A-team and B-team on the line. Get them back in here. I’m not risking my guys on a frigging wild goose chase when half of the British Army and Air Force is already out there looking. Especially since we can’t even find signs of that damn truck.”
The soldier manning the console got on the radio and began to do immediately as Hawk had ordered.
Hawk turned his attention back to her. “See? You don’t have to worry. They’re coming back in now.”
Vicki experienced an immediate surge of joy. Ryan must be part of either the A-team or the B-team. Hawk was calling his men back to base. Ryan would be with them.
She nodded, relieved. Not exactly feeling warm and fuzzy about Hawk, but she did feel like some sort of truce had been declared…until he raised a brow expectantly and stared at her. When she didn’t say anything, not knowing what to say, or what he wanted, he told her, “You can leave now.”
Eyes narrowed, mouth twisted, she used every facial muscle she had to let Hawk know exactly how unhappy she was at his ordering her around. She punctuated her exit with a slam of the flimsy door, realizing it was extremely difficult to make a dramatic exit from a tent.
Both her pleasure that Ryan was coming back and her anger at Hawk’s attitude was short-lived, however, because she’d taken barely two steps when she heard Hawk explode. “What the fuck do
you mean A-team is missing?”
Vicki spun on her heel and flew in through the door, practically hyperventilating as she watched him grab the microphone away from the man seated in front of it. “Pettit. Report.”
Silence answered Hawk’s call. He repeated it. “Base to Alpha team. Base to Alpha team. Pettit. Report.”
Dark spots appeared at the edges of Vicki’s vision and she grabbed for something to hold onto as she felt herself sway. She managed to stay mostly upright as Hawk called again. “Base to Bravo team. Wally. Report.”
Wally’s garbled voice came across the airwaves. All Vicki could think was she wished it was Ryan’s instead. “I hear you, Hawk. We’re on our way back.”
“Belay that order. Search and rescue procedure. Alpha team’s gone missing.”
“Repeat that, base. Over.”
“Alpha team is missing.”
“Holy fuck. How the hell did that happen?”
Hawk shook his head but didn’t answer Wally’s question. “Search in the last known location of Alpha team. I’m contacting air support.”
“Roger that, Hawk.”
“Wally? Don’t you frigging get lost, too.”
“I’ll do my best not to, Hawk. Out.”
Hawk handed the mic back over to the soldier. “Call air support. Tell them we’re looking for five groundpounders now, as well as the missing wheeled vehicle.”
Surreally, Vicki’s mind turned to the milblog. She’d always wondered what groundpounder meant. She’d have to ask Ryan for the exact definition when he got back. If he got back. Tears filled her eyes.
As distracted as he was, the tent was still very small and Hawk spotted Vicki as she clung to the wall. “I thought I told you to go.”
“Ryan’s missing.” As if Hawk could know how that simple sentence devastated her completely.
Hawk drew in a long deep breath and let it out. “Him, and four others. It’s the entire Alpha team. Fuck. I should have called them back earlier.”
