by Kori David
“But you have to go,” she said. It was something that she was used to.
“Just for a little while. I have to give my report to the CO as well as my superiors.” Leaning in, he gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. “I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”
He ruffled Sammy’s hair, “Take care of your mom, okay buddy?”
Sammy nodded. He was a solemn kid by nature, but he snapped a quick salute, which was repeated by Cam before he turned away and disappeared into the maze that was the base. In the space of three hours, her life had changed dramatically—again. She should be used to it.
But the shock of seeing Cam alive, then that bastard Aziz threatening her son, and finally to Mohammed looking so frail and pale on that stretcher. It was a lot for a person to take in.
“Let’s go wash up,” she said, ushering her son toward the tent.
“Ma’am?”
Turning at the voice, Pandora saw one of the Delta soldiers coming up with olive drab clothing. “You’re one of the Delta guys. I’m sorry, I don’t know your name?”
“Fletch, Ma’am. I figured you might want to get out of those clothes once you shower. These are going to swallow you whole, but they’re clean. And I found a few smaller things for your son. I have some experience with ladies in distress, and trying to stay normal for your kid. Just thought this might help.”
“Thank you, Fletch.” Tears welled up again. “She’s a lucky lady to have you.”
He smiled and nodded, “I’m the lucky one, Ma’am. I’ll stand guard so no one bothers you.”
Pandora nodded, no longer trusting her voice. God, she missed the guys in Delta. That feeling of belonging to a family that was almost stronger than her own. Sure, her parents loved her, but Cam’s team had been like the brothers and sisters she’d never had. All of them were there for each other, willing to help out with everything from life’s big moments to the little ones. She once mentioned that she hadn’t had time to shop when she’d moved onto the base with Cam. Within the hour, Cam’s team had shown up with curtains, tablecloths, dishes, and about a hundred other things to make her feel at home.
She hadn’t just grieved for Cam when she’d been told about the mission. She’d grieved for all the brothers she’d lost, because she’d lost her true family in that moment.
* * *
Cam got through the debrief in a haze. He answered all the questions and detailed his plan, taking any and all blame that might be placed later. But he did nothing but praise Delta. Then he placed a call to his handler with the CIA, giving all the details he had about the operation and Aziz Kufi, including a description.
The incredulous wonder of having a son with the woman he loved wrapped around his broken heart, slowly filling in the gaping cracks there, while the burning hatred of the terrorist group ISIS sizzled inside of him. They were responsible for the car bombing that took Pandora from him, and almost killed the son that they had.
He’d been on a mission, gone for a month before that bomb exploded. There’d been no way for her to tell him of the pregnancy, if she even knew at that point. Pandora could have only been pregnant about a month before their lives had gone to shit. The years that he missed watching his boy learn to talk, and walk—hell, he even missed his opportunity to change diapers. That’s what burned him. Those years were stolen from him.
And he was beyond pissed.
So when his handler contacted him back, and Aziz Kufi turned out to be the number three guy in the ISIS hierarchy, Cam was all in for tracking him down and taking him out. He was the only one who’d seen the bastard up close. The CIA and their resources had yet to come up with a photo, so with Cam’s coordinates of Mohammed’s home, the powers way above his pay grade had obtained satellite images of where Aziz and his friends had headed.
But he couldn’t leave just yet. Not without seeing them one more time.
“Ten minutes, Phantom,” Ghost said as he passed by.
Cam swung around, “Thanks for this.”
Ghost nodded and grinned, “We got us a surplus of bullets and explosives, might as well use them.”
“Roger that.”
“Go see your woman and then get your ass back here; we’ve picked up a squad of newbies, and I’d rather have another Delta watching our six, if you know what I mean.”
“I’ll be there.”
Cam took off again at a trot. He tore off the shemagh as he entered his trailer. As CIA, he didn’t have a squad—he was normally alone and he liked it that way. He was given one of the contractor units instead of being shoved into a tent with the rest of the guys. No way was he getting close to another group of guys just to watch them die. The CIA had offered him a way out and they applauded his dare-devil act because he got results.
Now, he was glad for the company, even the newbies fresh from the States. Ghost and his team were a bonus, and likely to make the difference in taking Aziz alive. And if they couldn’t, good riddance. He wouldn’t lose sleep over terrorist trash, especially since he’d held a gun to his son’s head. Aziz might die, just for that.
Taking off the traditional garb of the Iraqi people, he shed the bullet proof vest and his undershirt, checking out the wound on his chest. Directly over his heart, a bruise the size of his fist formed and bled a little.
The door swung open just then and Pandora stood there, red hair wet and hanging down to her waist, wearing an olive drab shirt about three sizes too big and baggy shorts. “Please tell me that you aren’t going back out there.”
Her hands were on her hips as she glared at him. Cam didn’t care, because she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He didn’t stop to think, didn’t care what anyone saw, he grabbed his woman and kissed her with everything inside of him. All the love, all the hopelessness he’d been living with for the past five years—everything was in the kiss.
Her hands slid up his chest, and when she hit his bruise he flinched, but wouldn’t let her go. She smelled like Army soap and roses and it was like his senses woke up out of a thousand-year sleep. His body responded just as fiercely. Pulling her inside, Cam slammed the door and backed Pandora up against it.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he said, coming up for air. Then he dove right back in because her lips were paradise and he’d been living in hell.
“Don’t leave me again,” she whispered. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer.
Picking her up, her legs wrapped around him and he pushed his erection against her. He didn’t have time for this, but he couldn’t stop. He needed to leave, the clock in his head telling him that he had about five minutes left.
Tearing his lips from hers, they were both breathing heavy. “I’ll come back to you, Pan. I swear it.”
Fat tears welled up in her eyes as she cupped his face, memorizing every detail. Her sea green eyes were deep and mysterious as they stared at him. “You promised me that last time and you died, Cam.”
“I know, baby.”
“No, you don’t,” she said. “You don’t know.”
Tears welled up in his own eyes, tears he’d never shed. Not because it wasn’t manly or any other horseshit about men not crying, but because he’d loved her more than anyone or anything else in this life or the next. “I do know, because when they told me you were dead, I died inside as well. I was shot to shit and shouldn’t have made it out of that last mission, but I did, because I knew you needed me. The way I need you.”
“Then don’t go,” she pleaded.
Letting her slide down his body, he knew he only had a minute left. “I have to make sure that this man pays—that his organization pays. They owe us blood for the time they took away from us. For taking away the knowledge of my son.”
The tears finally broke loose and cascaded down her cheeks. Cam leaned forward and kissed the tears. “I will come back to you.”
“We need you, damn it. You’d better come back.”
Pandora turned, opened the door, and ran out into the camp. Grabbing a diffe
rent, undamaged Kevlar vest, Cam applied a gauze bandage to his wound, threw on a clean shirt, a couple of guns, and was out the door, headed away from his family.
He pulled his cell phone out. Dialing a number he’d never called before, he waited to hear the voice. When he answered, Cam said, “I need to call in that favor.”
6
Three months with no word.
Pandora couldn’t even fathom how her life had changed since the evening Aziz had tried to kill them. Cam had ridden off into the sunset for revenge, and Mohammed had died on the operating table. She was allowed to say goodbye, and in a daze she told the CO everything that she knew. Everything that Mohammed had made sure she knew. Looking back, Pandora was convinced that Mohammed knew he would never leave his home.
Breaking the news to her son had been the hardest thing she’d ever done.
The next day, three men from the American Embassy had shown up. They made arrangements for Mohammed’s body to be taken to the village of his birth, and Pandora and Sammy had been whisked off. They spent three days at the Embassy. During that time, clothing arrived, passports arrived for them both, and her parents were contacted. No one told her a thing, so she’d stopped asking questions, but decided that with Cam’s contacts, the CIA was making it all happen. And then on day four they were unceremoniously dumped onto a military plane and given a one-way ticket to the States.
She’d stepped onto American soil for the first time in over five years to find her parents at the Fort Hood base waiting. The looks on their faces had been a mix of disbelief and incredulity that dissolved into tears pretty much instantly. The cry fest lasted for an hour, and the questions flew faster than she could handle.
Sammy had saved her, asking if they were his grandparents.
“I just can’t believe we have you back,” her mother said.
It was something she’d said about every three to four hours for the first month, and now it only came once in a while. Turning her head from the view of the flat green planes of Texas Hill country, Pandora smiled at her mom. Her red hair was streaked with silver, and she was thinner than Pandora remembered, but Margaret Jones was still a beauty. “It’s hard to believe I’m home too, Mom.”
“Sammy’s out with your father, learning how to milk goats.”
“He told me that he finally got to milk one of the cows by himself yesterday.” She’d gone into the barn looking for him and found him sitting on a wooden stool, cussing in fluent Arabic, while her father looked on with pride.
She’d scolded her son, and in typical kid fashion, he’d explained that Grandpa Henry didn’t understand anyway, and the cow wasn’t cooperating. She’d been caught between horror and humor, especially since he was using her father’s favorite cuss words. So she’d admonished her son and told him it was rude to speak in a language his Grandpa didn’t understand.
“He’s a wonder to us,” her mother said. Slipping her arms around Pandora from behind, her mother hugged her, hard. “You are a wonder to us, too. I just can’t believe you’re really here.”
She refused to say alive, and Pandora didn’t let on that she knew her Mom snuck into her room at night, just to stare at them both. Sammy was getting more comfortable with them and the house, but he preferred to sleep with her. And, honestly, she liked having him near. She completely understood her Mom now, in a way that she never did. Because she was a mother now, too.
The only thing she hadn’t told her parents about was Cam. And since Pandora didn’t even know if he was alive, there was no sense getting their hopes up.
“I have some lemonade in the kitchen; come sit with me.”
“Sounds great.”
Her childhood home was in Pflugerville, just north of Austin. The house sat on twenty acres of land and was just the picture of country living. Two stories of white paint and lemon yellow trim, wide wrap-a-round porch, and the brilliant red barn in back. If there was a magazine called The Gentleman Farmer, it would feature her Mom and Dad’s home.
“The Miller place sold,” her mom said. It was big news when property sold. It was still a small community, relatively speaking.
“Wow, did old man Miller finally die?” It was a big hundred-acre spread that not one of his three daughters wanted. All he’d wanted was one son to work the land with him and he’d gotten three girls that didn’t want anything to do with farming.
“I thought that old man would outlive us all,” her mom said, and laughed. “You know that old coot used to let his horses loose on purpose, just to annoy your father.”
“He just liked it when Dad would help him round them up. I think they pretended they were on a cattle drive when that happened.”
“Well, I just found out who bought the place,” her dad said, coming into the room.
His voice wobbled, and when Pandora looked over at him, she jumped to her feet. “Are you alright?”
“Our new neighbor came to introduce himself.”
“Honey, you’re all pale. Did you overdo?” her mother asked, also getting to her feet. She went to him and put a hand on his forehead.
He nodded and put his hand on Pandora’s shoulder. “I think I’ll sit for a spell. Please take some lemonade to our guest, he’s out on the porch. And Sammy is playing on the jungle gym out back, in case you wondered.”
“Are you sure you’re alright, Dad? You face is flushed and your eyes are glassy.”
Henry Jones was a burly man, well over six feet tall with a barrel chest and sandy blond hair that he kept ruthlessly short, a leftover from his Marine days. He always seemed so strong to Pandora, but at this moment, he looked like he might fall over. Once he was seated, she poured two glasses of her mom’s lemonade. One she gave to her dad and the other she took out to the porch.
Opening the screen door, she didn’t see anyone at first, but then she looked to the right.
“Cam?”
“Howdy, neighbor.”
He stood in front of her in a faded black T-shirt with a motorcycle on the front and jeans so worn they molded to every contour of his thighs. His hair was still shaggy and he looked a little green under his tan. But the beard and the smell of Iraq were both gone. Pandora’s fingers tightened on the glass.
“I didn’t know if you were alive or dead.”
“I hear the implied ‘again,’ sugar. I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t even tell my folks about you because I wasn’t even sure you were real, or if I imagined the whole thing.” She shook her head and took a couple steps toward the rocking chair in the corner of the porch. Her knees wobbled and she was afraid she’d fall flat on her face if she didn’t sit. “I can’t do this anymore, Cam. I can’t,” she whispered.
He came to her and knelt at her feet. “I know, Pan. And I will never put you through something like that again.”
She sucked in a breath, “You can’t promise that. You’re a freaking spy with the CIA now. It was bad enough when you were in Delta, but this?”
“I quit.”
The look on his face and in his eyes was deadly serious. A kernel of hope bloomed, but she squashed it down. It didn’t matter that he’d shaved and looked so goddamn good that she wanted to—well, she wanted to do things that her mother wouldn’t approve of under her roof. And she wanted to believe him, but Cam had always been a warrior. It was one of the reasons she’d fallen in love with him, that passion, that need to protect others, even with his own life.
“Can you do that?”
Cam snorted. “It’s not the mafia. It’s a job and I retired.”
“And bought the Miller place?”
“Remember, we used to talk about having our own place like that one day?”
She glanced to the east, where the fence line between the properties stood. She loved that old house. Jamie Miller used to be her best friend, so Pandora knew that house just as well as her own. It was an older plantation style with enormous oak trees and a creek running through the property.
“We have a lot of time lost between
us, Cam.” It was sad to think, even worse to say, but she didn’t really know the man in front of her anymore. And she had more than just herself to think of.
“I know, but we have the time to rediscover who we are.”
He hadn’t touched her, simply knelt in front of her. She wanted to reach out, but she was mad, too. Pissed that he’d left her in Iraq, right when she’d needed him. “What do you want, Cam? I can’t just pick up where we left off five years ago.” Some of the anger leached into her voice.
“I know that. All I’m asking is that you give me a chance. A chance to get to know this Pandora, and for you to get to know me again. We’ve both changed, honey. But I’m asking for some time and a chance, that’s all. And I want to get to know my son.”
“I think he might have figured out who you are,” she whispered.
“How?”
The genuine curiosity was there, but pride had snuck into his voice. “He asked me about your eyes. He’d never seen eyes like his before and he heard me call you Cam.”
“Give me one chance.”
“Of course she will,” her mother said from the door.
Pandora jumped at the intrusion and frowned at her mother. But Margaret only had eyes for Cam. She’d loved him from the moment Pandora had introduced him. And clearly she wasn’t holding back any longer. With her father looking better, he held open the door for his wife and she walked toward Cam like he was a ghost that might evaporate before she could touch him.
“Welcome home, Cam.”
He stood as she hugged him tight. Pandora saw the wince and his face turn white. “Mom, let him go, he’s hurt.”
“Oh, no, I’m sorry,” she said, releasing him.
“It’s nothing,” Cam said.
Crossing her arms, Pandora frowned at him. “How bad was it?”
He shrugged, but had his arm slipped around her mother’s waist as he nodded toward her father. “Enough to keep me away from you two months longer than I wanted.” The muscle worked in his jaw as he said, “Aziz is dead.”
