Taken With The Enemy

by Tia Fanning

  God, I really wasn't in the mood for visitors. Though my stomach was much more settled now, the last bout of vomiting had done a number on me.

  "What are you all doing here?” I croaked.

  "Sergeant Jackson told us you were here,” Big M explained. “We'd thought we'd check up on ya and see how you were feeling. He said you were sick because of some adverse reaction to some medication you took."

  I guess you could say that...

  "It's sweet of you to visit,” I mumbled. “And I'm glad to see your leg is better."

  He looked down. “Yeah, I am too."

  It was odd to be having a conversation with these soldiers. Though I had gotten to know them very well over the months I had spent here before my abduction, I might as well have not known them at all. The situation felt surreal to me. Like I had been thrown into someone else's life where I knew all the details, and just had to act the part until the real person returned.

  "Where did you go?” Mollina asked. “You just up and disappeared one day."

  I was wide awake now.

  "What do you mean?” My breath hitched. “Was I reported missing or something?"

  He chuckled. “No, but you have been gone like a month and half."

  "So you all saw my orders for this mission?"

  "Shit no,” he exclaimed. “Personnel said your paperwork was sealed up tight in an envelope with a big red stamp on it. All they could say was that you were forward deployed."

  "I heard a rumor that when they opened the envelope, everything on the order was blacked out,” Big M added.

  "So give up the 4-1-1. Where did you go, Doc?"

  "Um ... somewhere in Al Anbar,” I offered hesitantly.

  Perhaps I shouldn't be saying...

  "Fallujah? Ramadi? Abu Ghraib?” Big M listed.

  "I—I don't know.” I tried to rub the tension out of my temples. “They never said."

  He never said.

  My heart began aching again. I missed him so much.

  "You didn't know where you were? Mollina laughed. “What unit were you with?"

  I shrugged. “I don't know."

  "Were they Army?"

  The conversation I had with my captor about why he couldn't tell me anything played in my mind. I smiled sadly at the recollection and how well he knew human nature.

  "I don't know."

  "Damn, Bee. Don't you know anything?” Mollina exasperated.

  "Watch yourself, Corporal,” Jackson rebuked as he entered and approached the bed. “You best remember who you're talking to. Last I recall, Mathews is a sergeant who outranks your ass."

  Mollina nodded. “Sorry. I meant no disrespect."

  The squad leader sat beside me. “How are you feeling?” he asked softly.

  I don't know if it was the time I spent away, or how much I had changed as a person during that time, but I saw Sergeant Jackson in a whole new light. I used to find him an annoying necessary evil, someone I had to deal with to do my job, a job that he gave me hell about because I was a woman in a combat zone. But as he stared at me now with something akin to relief in his eyes, I realized that he was sincerely worried about me, and always had been. It was his responsibility to keep me safe and he took that task very seriously. Though I would never say I agreed with all his views, or his lectures, what mattered was that he cared.

  I awarded him with a smile. “I'm good. Thanks."

  He grinned “Did you miss us?"

  "Yeah, I guess I did.” You played the voice of reason during my adventure.

  "I guess we missed you too,” he admitted, looking at the other two soldiers before turning back to me. “And we'll miss you still when you leave us again."

  "What do you mean?"

  He placed a large envelope in my hands. “I thought I'd drop these off to you personally."

  "What is it,” I asked, running my nail under the seam.

  "Orders."

  My heart leapt in excitement. “I'm going on another, um, mission?"

  Jackson shook his head. “You're going home. Once you're released from the hospital, you're on the first plane out."

  I glanced at the official documents.

  "No, I don't want to leave.” I tried to hand him back the envelope. He wouldn't take it.

  "It's not up to you, or me. Orders are orders. We go when and where they say."

  No. I couldn't leave Iraq. That was a whole ocean away. At least if I stayed here, there was the small chance I might see him again.

  I took a deep breath to calm myself. It would do no good breaking into tears. Anyway, my captor wouldn't have asked me to wait if he didn't intend to see me again. It's not like he wouldn't know where to find me if I did return home. The man knew everything about me.

  "I have no clothes,” I whispered. I had left everything back at the flat.

  "You're bags arrived,” Jackson said. “Came this morning."

  "Really?"

  He nodded.

  Ha. They must have won the battle.

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  Epilogue

  Three Months Later...

  I had worked an extra long shift at the hospital and was exhausted, but I forced myself to walk toward the small pub anyway. It had become a habit of mine, a tradition of sorts. Something I did every night before I went back to my lonely apartment and crawled into an empty bed.

  Though it was only one drink, I needed it, couldn't cope without it, couldn't sleep without it, couldn't dull the pain without it.

  The ritual had come along because I refused to take medicine for my mild depression, which was the result of a broken heart that would not heal, which was brought on by meeting and falling for him.

  Three months. Not one phone call, not one letter, not even a postcard.

  Bastard.

  I hoped he'd rot in hell.

  I had to stay angry. I had to force myself to think these things—to hate him. If I didn't, I would succumb to the constant threat of tears that resided just behind my eyes. They had been there every day since I boarded the plane home. And if I let those tears out, I would be forced to acknowledge the weak person I had truly become. One month with one person, and I was left in utter emotional ruin.

  He had ruined me.

  I tried to volunteer for another tour in Iraq, but for some unknown reason, I had been flagged as non-deployable. And it was a status that went across the board. I couldn't even get orders to Afghanistan.

  I was sure he had something to do with that.

  Asshole.

  Strangely enough, no one could tell me why my records showed this status. Some special identifier, its meaning unknown, but locked in. It was just there, and no one seemed to have the authority to change it. Not from lack of trying. Personnel even tried to delete my records and put the information back in. But once they hit the ‘save’ button, the code popped back up.

  Computer glitch, they tried to say. We'll call you when it's resolved, they assured me.

  I didn't know why my captor felt the need to do that. If he didn't want to risk the possibility of running into me again, he should just make sure I didn't end up wherever he was. Why fuck me over so thoroughly? Why would he care if I went to another part of Iraq? Or deployed to Afghanistan—a whole different fucking country!

  The little sliver of traitorous hope deep inside always answered that, though he couldn't contact me, he was still looking out for me, that he loved me and didn't want me risking my life in a combat zone.

  Fuck that.

  Fuck him.

  Sometimes, I thought about putting my wealth to some use, quitting my job and moving my ass permanently to Iraq, just to spite him.

  But even if I did set my willful plan in motion, I had a feeling I'd never make it past the US airport customs to board the plane.

  He knew me well. And I knew him well enough to know he had covered all the bases. I probably wouldn't even be able to obtain a visa.

  Pissed at the interference, albeit indirect and wel
l intentioned, I swung open the door to the small pub and ran smack into a hard chest.

  Strong hands caught me before I fell back on my ass.

  "Sorry,” I mumbled. “My bad."

  The bear of the man nodded and released my arms.

  He was handsome in an all-American football hero sort of way with his cropped hair, clean-shaven face and gentle eyes.

  Familiarity tugged at me.

  "Have we met before?” I asked.

  He shook his head.

  "Are you sure? Maybe you've been to the emergency room at Northside Hospital. I work there."

  He smiled and shook his head again, then walked out onto the sidewalk, holding the entrance door open so that I could go in.

  How thoughtful. “Thanks,” I offered over my shoulder as I passed over the threshold.

  He winked.

  Damn, I swear I knew him from somewhere.

  "Doctor!” Abe called out.

  I looked over at the old bar keeper. “Hey."

  "You want the usual?"

  "Sure,” I said. “I'll be there in a moment."

  I turned back, but found nothing but a closing door. The man was gone.

  Oh well, I wasn't interested in making new friends anyway.

  I took my regular seat at the bar just as Abe placed the glass of Jack and Coke in front of me.

  "Kind of empty tonight,” I remarked, noting only a few people scattered here and there.

  "Yeah, Monday, the end of the month,” Abe muttered. “And a bad economy to boot. Everyone saves their money for the weekends."

  I raised my glass and took a sip. “No matter how bad the economy gets, I'll still come here.” I had no choice. He was the closest bar in walking distance to my apartment.

  "I know, doc. You're a real loyal patron, and the prettiest I have."

  I was just about to thank him for the compliment when Barry Manilow's Mandy came on the Jukebox.

  I froze as the lyrics assaulted me.

  No, no, no.

  "What's wrong?"

  I looked at the bartender “This song..."

  "What about it?"

  At the launch of the chorus, I downed my drink in one swallow, slammed the glass down and dug in my purse to pull out my wallet.

  "No need,” Abe waved off.

  I had to leave. I had no time to argue with him. “I want to and I can more than afford it,” I assured him.

  Someone called out to him at the end of the bar.

  "Please just take it,” I urged.

  "Don't worry, hon, it's already been paid for,” he explained as he walked toward the waiting customers.

  I frowned in confusion. “By who?"

  "Me."

  Sandalwood danced in the air.

  I didn't turn toward the deep, familiar voice. There was no need. It was all a figment of my imagination. I drank my liquor too fast and it went straight to my head.

  "Brenna, look at me."

  Tears formed in my eyes. Tomorrow, when I got to work, I would get one of the other doctors to prescribe me the drugs I had been avoiding. Obviously, my depression was worse than I thought. I was hearing things. Hearing people who weren't’ there. I'd just have to get over my denial and take the damn medication.

  The imaginary person gently tugged my purse from my grasp and laid it on top of the bar. Strong fingers wrapped around my empty hand.

  Not only was I hearing things, now I was seeing them.

  I closed my eyes.

  I refused to leave my self-imposed darkness even as I was pulled off the bar stool and onto my feet. I still didn't open my eyes even when my chin was gently tilted up and the imaginary person rubbed his thumb over my lower lip.

  "Look at me."

  Tears leaked past my lashes and scalded my face. I would not—could not look. If I did, he would disappear and the fantasy would end.

  "Please,” he offered, wiping the moisture off my cheeks.

  "No, you're not real,” I whispered.

  He placed my hand on his chest. His heartbeat thumped beneath my palm. “I am."

  "No, you're not. Not to me. We don't know each other."

  "I know who you are. I have since the day we met."

  The familiar comment produced memories that flashed across the darkened screen of my eyelids.

  No. It was just déjà vu.

  I shook my head. “I don't know you. You remind me of someone I met once, but that was a long time ago, in another life, in another place far away from here."

  "Then let me introduce myself,” he said softly. “My name is Nickolas."

  My eyes flew open.

  He smiled.

  "Is that really your name?” I whispered.

  He chuckled. “No, it's Francis. But don't tell anyone."

  I just stared blankly.

  "I'm kidding, Brenna. It's Nick."

  I caressed his check. He looked almost how I remembered him. Perhaps not as wild or dangerous. He'd traded his insurgent wear for stylish clothing. His hair was now neater, maybe a little longer. His face was clean shaven...

  Shaven...

  It suddenly hit me. The guy I ran into when I came in was ... My escort.

  Oh, my God. This was really happening.

  I gazed up into the dark eyes of my captor, Nick, and lost it. He caught me when my legs gave out. As he held me up, I covered my mouth with my hand to keep my sobbing muted.

  "Brenna, breathe."

  I couldn't.

  He pulled me into his arms and hugged me tight, rocking me back and forth. “Breathe, sweetheart."

  "I ... I-I never thought I'd see you again.” I choked into his chest.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't intend to make you wait so long. As you know, with our location ... we had to move. I stayed to help set up the new residence."

  "I would have waited ... forever."

  "I know,” he sighed. “One of the many reasons why I love you so much."

  "You're really here."

  "Yes, I am.” He nudged me back. “Did you think I'd let you go so easily? After all the work it took to convince you to stick around?"

  I giggled and swiped at my eyes. “How long until you have to go back?"

  "I'm not."

  I gasped. “Really?"

  He nodded. “In Iraq, a very beautiful doctor once told me I should explore my other talents. That's what I plan to do."

  "Which talents are you planning to explore?"

  "I don't want to worry about that now. There's only one talent I want to focus on tonight. I was hoping you would help me brush up on it."

  Did he mean...

  Just incase he meant something else, I played it cool. “Really? What did you have in mind?"

  "Well, I'll answer your question only after you have answered mine."

  I rolled my eyes in exasperation. “Okay, hurry up and ask."

  "That same beautiful doctor also told me that I needed to rest more. I had assured her that I would take a long vacation when I returned. I was thinking Greece. Will you come with me?"

  "Yes. Yes,” I rushed. “Now answer my question."

  "Wait, about that vacation. I need to let you know that it's an exclusive Santorini honeymoon package. I can only go with my wife."

  In my excitement to have my questioned answered, I opened my mouth to say, ‘Yeah, sure, no problem.’ But his hint registered just as the words were about to roll off my tongue. I clamped my mouth shut, telling myself not to get my hopes up until he actually asked.

  "Are you asking me what I think you're asking?” I whispered.

  He held out a ring. “Have me forever?"

  I bit my bottom lip as tears of joy filled my eyes. Finally, after taking a couple of breaths, I was able to loosen the knot in my throat. “Yes. I love you ... Yes!"

  "I love you, Brenna,” he said, slipping the ring on my finger. He then gave me a searing kiss that had my body tingling in the most of naughty places.

  I pulled back. “Hey, my question. You still have to ans
wer my question. What talent do you want to brush up on?"

  "Well, it's a talent that I used to be—and I quote—'amazing’ and ‘awesome’ at, but it's been a while..."

  As usual, I blushed. “I'd be more than happy to help you brush up on your skills. After all, they say that practice makes perfect."

  His heated gaze slowly roamed up and down my body. “I intend to do a lot of practicing."

  Grabbing my purse off the bar, I dragged him toward the exit. “We should start immediately. My apartment is just around the corner."

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  Dear Reader,I hope you enjoyed the first installment of my new series, Desert Phantoms. You will be learning more about these heroes in future books to come.

  To enjoy some more sizzling reads, be sure to check out

  www.resplendencepublishing.com for other fabulous books written by my fellow RP authors.Happy Reading!

  ~Tia Fanning

  "Fanning the Flames of Romance"

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  About the Author

  When Tia Fanning is not lost somewhere in the exciting world of fantasy and romance, you might find her residing in Illinois with her husband, Warren, and two dogs, Drew and Jack.

  However, according to her husband, she is usually lost ... even the dogs can't find her.

  To learn more about Tia and her adventures, visit her at www.tiafanning.com or befriend her on www.myspace.com/tiafanning.

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  Visit www.resplendencepublishing.com for information on additional titles by this and other authors.