by Cat Johnson
Tompkins shook his head. “Not gonna happen. We’re on our own for a good thirty minutes more.”
Tuck drew in a bracing breath and made a decision. “I’m going for the gun at the guard position.” Maybe it wasn’t jammed or out of ammo. Maybe there was just no one left to man it, as sickening a thought as that was.
Conseco nodded. “Thompson and I will get closer to that bunker. If there’s anyone in there, they may need weapons or first aid.”
“Okay.” With one final glance at his teammates, Tucker turned toward the guard position, determined this would not be the last time they all saw each other alive.
Ducking behind cover when he could, and sprinting when he couldn’t, he made it to the guard position. Not a surprise, he found the machine gun jammed. The men had obviously fired at the attackers until the barrel melted.
Tuck still had the weapons he’d carried in with him, and a good spot to shoot from. He scanned the area, trying to determine the locations of the incoming. That’s when he saw it—a sight that made his blood run cold. An enemy fighter was dragging a heavily loaded tarp away from the outpost. The barrel of an automatic weapon stuck out from one of the folds. Tuck swung the sights of his 240 and fired, just as the enemy ducked behind an outcropping.
“Fuck!” He shouted to nobody, because that was exactly who was near enough to hear him—no one.
He couldn’t let those weapons remain in enemy hands. Not so they could be used to kill American troops in the foreseeable future.
Conseco and Thompson must have made it to the bunker. Tuck heard fire coming from the other side of the outpost now. His teammates would help the survivors while he went after those weapons. Getting hit by friendly fire was a real danger, but he couldn’t radio anyone to tell them where he was with the platoon’s radio frequency jammed. He’d have to risk it. The Apaches wouldn’t be here for another half hour, and with any luck, he’d have gotten the bastard and those weapons back by then . . . or have died trying.
With adrenaline pumping, he left the relative safety of the outpost and set out in pursuit of the fighter and those weapons.
Chapter Twenty-seven
The door to Logan’s office was open, but Becca couldn’t bring herself to walk through it. Instead she stood in the hallway of the military science building trying to gather the nerve to approach him.
Back in New York, with a glass of Emma’s wine in her belly fueling her emotions, she’d been ready to fly to Oklahoma, barge right in on Logan, and demand he find out for her what was happening with Tucker half a world away. Now, it seemed her nerve had abandoned her along with her wine buzz.
What right did she have to question Logan or anyone else about Tucker? She had no claim on him. Nothing more than the fact they’d had sex.
But he had promised he’d call her again and hadn’t.
“Miss Hart?”
Uh-oh. Now it was too late to change her mind and sneak away. Logan, being a soldier, must have sensed her standing there. Or maybe he’d heard her. That wouldn’t have been too hard, the way she was having trouble breathing from her nerves.
Time to throw on a brave façade. Becca tried to ignore how her heart pounded with fear that she might not like Logan’s answer to her question and pasted on a smile. “I thought we’d agreed on first names.”
Logan donned a smile to match hers. “I do believe we did. My apologies, Becca. Please, come in.”
“Thank you, Logan.” A little flirting could go a long way. She was determined to see exactly how much information it could get her without having to disclose the extent of her relationship with Tucker to Logan since she didn’t know how much he did or didn’t already know.
“It’s a pleasant surprise to see you again.” The subtext of Logan’s comment was clear to her—what the hell are you doing here?
How to play this? Lying was an option. More like stretching the truth actually. Really, really stretching it. “I’ve been meaning to stop by, and since I was nearby, I thought I’d pop in and say hi.”
“Oh, really?” One dark brow rose.
“Mmm, hmm. So how have you been?”
“Good. Very good.” His eyes were a little too intensely focused on her for her taste.
“The semester going well? The ROTC . . . stuff and all.” Becca realized she didn’t know enough about what Tucker taught to even fake asking Logan about it. That would change when he got back. She’d make sure to take an interest in his job . . . If he was interested in a relationship, that was.
“Yes, all of our stuff is coming along very nicely. Thank you.” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “And you? The English department treating you well?”
“Oh, it’s great. Everyone’s been so nice.” She ran a hand along the back of the chair she was still standing near rather than sitting in.
“Good to hear.” Logan nodded and then sat silently, hands folded.
Time to get this recon mission moving forward or he’d think she was a nutcase. “So, I . . . uh . . . haven’t heard from Tucker in a while.”
“That’s not too surprising, given he’s in Afghanistan.”
“Oh, I know. He told me he was going there.”
Logan wasn’t giving an inch or making this any easier for her. He just stared, unblinking, waiting. Dammit. She was going to have to tell the truth.
She sat in the chair and leaned forward. “Look, Logan, I’m not sure what you know about my relationship with Tuck—”
He held up one hand. “I know enough.”
Logan was obviously not a man who wanted details, so she decided not to go into that portion of the truth and skip right to the point of her visit. “Okay, well I’m worried. He called over a month ago from Afghanistan. He told me they had phones at the . . . I can’t remember exactly, but there was a base and an outpost and he could call from one and not from the other. But the point is, he promised he’d call and he hasn’t. He hasn’t written, either, even though I wrote him a few times and now I’m worried something’s happened.”
Logan drew in a deep breath, then rose. He walked around Becca, closed the office door, and then went back to his seat. She wasn’t sure why he thought they needed privacy. All she had done was ask whether he knew if Tucker was all right.
He folded his hands on the desk in front of him again. “I haven’t heard from him, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You haven’t?” Becca didn’t know what to think of that. Maybe Tucker and Logan weren’t as close as she’d assumed. They could be just coworkers and not good friends as she’d thought.
“No. But knowing the kind of... conditions at the firebase where he is, I’m honestly not at all surprised I haven’t gotten a call.”
Huh. She hadn’t realized things were that primitive there. She figured today’s modern army would have state-of-the-art communications and technology at their bases, but Logan was telling her otherwise, and she supposed he should know. “Hmm, then I guess I should be the one surprised he called me at all.”
Logan’s burst of a laugh had her looking up. “I’m not.”
“You’re not?” Becca frowned. “But you just said—”
“Becca, the man volunteered to go to the Kunar Province because of you. So no, the fact he called you from there is not a surprise to me. Not at all.”
This visit was creating more questions than it was answers. “Okay, so then you’re saying I should be worried he hasn’t called again or I shouldn’t be?”
“I’m saying I don’t know. In that region anything is possible.” Logan spread his hands.
This was not the reassurance she’d hoped for. “Can you find out if he’s all right? I mean is there someone you can call and check? If he’s busy and can’t call, or the phones are down or whatever, that’s fine. I’d just like to know he’s okay.”
Logan took his time answering again. This man should be in charge of military interrogations or something. It was really unnerving the way he kept pausing before he answered, all whi
le staring at her. Finally, he nodded. “All right. I’ll call his parents. If anything has happened, they’d be the first ones notified.”
If anything has happened. Becca’s stomach fell as she pictured the men in uniform knocking on the door of Tucker’s parents’ house to deliver the news that would change their lives forever. She’d seen it happen in movies and on television shows, but this was real life. Horrifying, sickening reality. She swallowed away the nausea. “Okay. But don’t scare them when you ask, just in case nothing’s wrong.”
“Don’t worry. I’m an old friend of the family. My parents still live next door to them. I spent half of my youth in the Jenkins kitchen eating cookies, so it’s long overdue I call and check in with them anyway. They won’t think it’s out of the ordinary.” Logan glanced at the watch on his wrist. “They’ll both be at work now, but I can call later tonight.”
“Good. That’s good. And then you’ll call me?” Knowing her worrying would soon be over once the Jenkinses told Logan everything was fine made Becca feel enormously relieved.
“Right after I talk to them. I promise.”
“My number’s in the faculty directory.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded.
Everything would be fine. Logan would confirm with Tucker’s parents that he was okay, he’d call her, and then she could rest easy knowing he was very busy there and probably couldn’t call even though he wanted to.
“All right. I feel better now. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
“I’ll let you get back to work.” Becca stood and turned toward the door, about to take her leave when something he’d said hit her. “Um, you said something before. That Tucker went because of me. What did you mean by that?”
For the first time since she’d entered the office, Logan looked uncomfortable. “Nothing. I’m sorry; I misspoke.”
Becca was a terrible liar, but that meant she was good at identifying other people with the same affliction. She zeroed in on Logan’s face and decided his comment had definitely not been nothing. “Logan, what did you mean? Why in the world would Tucker go to this Kunar place because of me?”
“Becca, it’s not for me to say. You’ll have to discuss this with Tuck.”
“That’s exactly why I’m here. I can’t get in touch with him.” Her voice rose higher along with her rising panic. She leaned both palms on the edge of the desk. “And if he doesn’t ever come home and it’s because of me . . .”
“I’m sure he’s fine.” The expression on Logan’s face told her he wasn’t sure at all.
“Logan, I swear to God, if you don’t want a very loud and hysterical woman in your office, you had better tell me everything.”
That seemed to scare him. Good. Becca took great satisfaction in that since he’d sure done a good job of scaring her.
She tried desperately to remember Tucker’s exact words the last time she’d seen him, the day he’d told her he was leaving. She didn’t remember anything about his going involving her. In fact, he’d acted as if he’d had no choice in the matter. That the army was sending him, or was that just what she’d assumed?
“Logan. Please.”
He leveled his gaze and finally said, “He volunteered to go.”
“Why?” She couldn’t even begin to think of a reason.
“He left to save your job.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
The image filled Becca’s laptop screen, frozen in the spot where she’d pressed pause. The shot of a combat boot sticking out from beneath a tarp.
That scene had been what finally got to her. Though since the whole documentary had her in cold sweats and feeling ill, perhaps it was more accurate to say that shot had been what finally knocked her into motion. Pushed her out of her frozen state. Her eyes riveted to the screen as she watched the physical and emotional breakdown of a soldier in the middle of a firefight when he’s told his teammate is dead.
All of the horrifying sights and sounds of the ambush had been caught on video in the midst of the action, recorded in the same region where Tucker was right now.
Immediately after Logan had told her how Tucker had left OSU and gone to Afghanistan to save her career, she’d driven home in a shocked daze. The moment she walked in the door, she headed directly for her laptop and started to research the war in Afghanistan in earnest. Not like the other times when she’d cruised the troop support pages that focused on trivial things, like informing supporters not to mail chocolate to troops during the heat of the summer.
She didn’t go to the feel-good sites where they posted pictures of smiling men in uniform and upbeat thank-you notes from soldiers who’d received the care packages. Instead, Becca set out to do some real research about the region where Tucker had been sent . . . Actually, where he’d volunteered to go. Because of her. The knot in her stomach tightened.
Before today, she hadn’t been able to tell where exactly he’d been sent. The address he’d given her for mail didn’t say. She assumed a military APO address was kind of like a post office box. The mail got there, but the sender never knew specifically where the receiver was located.
But Logan had mentioned the name Kunar, and if nothing else Becca had absorbed some of Emma’s search engine savvy. She searched and there was plenty to find on the happenings in the Kunar Province in Eastern Afghanistan, but what she discovered did nothing to relieve her worry. It only made things seem a hundred times worse.
Where was her phone? She needed her cell phone now. Her panic about Tucker overshadowed every other part of Becca’s world. Small, everyday tasks seemed impossible. She was shaking so hard, she could barely hold the phone, forget about dial. Somehow she eventually managed to hit the right buttons and make the call.
When her sister answered, Becca’s fears came tumbling out in a cascade. “Emma, I’m watching this war documentary and so many of them get killed. I still haven’t heard from Tucker, and Logan hasn’t called me back yet. What if he’s dead?”
“Wait, Becca, slow down. I can barely understand you. What happened? Why are you crying?” Emma sounded wide awake even though Becca had called her when she knew her sister was usually sleeping. Even fully awake, Emma’s voice coming through the phone did nothing to calm Becca’s sobs. “Calm down and tell me exactly what happened.”
She wheezed in a shaky breath and began, “I went to see Tucker’s army friend before I left work. He told me Tucker didn’t get assigned to go to Afghanistan. He volunteered to go.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because the university has a non-fraternization rule I didn’t know about and he was afraid if he stayed, I’d get fired.”
“How would anyone know if you were fraternizing?” Emma’s emphasis of the word made it all sound as ridiculous now as it had to Becca in Logan’s office.
“Apparently we got caught on the security video in the library.” Thinking back, was that the last time she’d felt truly happy? Tucker, wanting her so badly they were like two teenagers making out against the stacks.
“Rebecca! You and Tucker had sex in the library?”
“No. We just kissed a little.” Or a lot. She glanced back at the picture on her computer and got a cold hard reminder of exactly where Tucker was because of his attempt to do the right thing. “None of that is important now. What is, is that I spent all of tonight researching where he is. And . . . Emma, it’s horrible.”
“War is horrible, Becca. But remember, for centuries men have been going and coming back again. I’m sure he’s fine. He’ll call again when he can.”
Becca glanced at the screen on her computer, and the tears began anew. She couldn’t shake the images running through her head. What she’d read. The hatred the insurgents had toward Americans. The jihads against coalition soldiers. That one combat boot . . .
Emma’s usual solution to everything—to look it up online—had backfired this time. Every piece of information Becca unearthed was worse than the last.
“No, Emma. S
omething’s wrong. I know it.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do. I can feel it. I dozed off on the couch tonight and I had a nightmare. Tucker was lying there in the dark, all alone.” Becca hadn’t wanted to speak it aloud, as if that would make it true. “It’s freaking me out. I know it sounds crazy and I don’t even believe in stuff like that—premonitions or whatever, but—”
“Becca, stop. It was just a bad dream.”
“But the number of casualties—”
“You can’t think like that. It’s war. Of course there are casualties. But there is always going to be a risk. When isn’t there? I could get killed crossing the street.”
“You don’t understand. He’s not just at war. He’s in the worst place there is in the war. The place where like eighty percent of all the casualties of all the forces occur.”
“Where are you getting these statistics?” The doubt was clear in Emma’s tone.
“Online, the same place where you get your facts and statistics.” She threw that indisputable detail at Emma as a defense against her doubt. “Look it up yourself and see. Search for U.S. military forces in the Kunar Province in Afghanistan. It’s absolutely horrifying. Worse than I ever imagined. There was a reporter embedded there, and he wrote a book and took video and made a documentary.”
“Tell me you didn’t watch that documentary.” Emma had used her mommy voice. Becca ignored that.
“I had to, Emma.” And after watching it, she might never sleep again without nightmares. “The camera was there filming live during an actual ambush. Men were shooting and shouting and bleeding . . . Em, they showed . . .” She couldn’t even finish the sentence.
“Okay. Rebecca Hart, you listen to me. You turn off your computer right now. You stop reading and watching anything about Afghanistan.”
“But—”
“Don’t you but me. Just do as I say. What you found isn’t up to date. Books and movies take time to produce and release. I’m sure things change month by month over there, so the situation could be totally different now. Remember the troop reductions we talked about when you first told me he was going?” Emma didn’t wait for Becca to respond but instead surged on. “I searched it after you told me, and it’s definitely happening. We’re pulling troops out and turning things over to the Afghan government and their army.”
