by Mandy Harbin
“Let it go, Caitlin,” he said in the tone he reserved for his subordinates because he didn’t want her to say those words again or worse, elaborate on them. When he glanced at her to make sure she understood how serious he was about this, his gut clenched at the sight of her red cheeks. She really did feel bad thinking she’d offended him. He hated that, but to entertain this conversation further was to invite unnecessary danger…and not the battlefield kind.
“Sir, yes, sir,” she said with flimsy salute before looking out the side window. Thank God she dropped it, but that salute? He really needed to correct her form if she kept doing it.
Later. He’d have to do it later. Right now, he needed to take advantage of the quiet to get his head straight. They were heading into enemy territory, and he wouldn’t let anything get in his way of protecting her.
Not her. And especially not him.
* * *
“The food tastes like dirt,” Lorenzo said after they landed. A couple of Owen’s men left to secure the cars they’d be taking, and Owen had instructed them to eat since the chow hall hadn’t been fully up by the time they had to leave base. Caitlin had packed some energy bars, so she hadn’t planned on eating, but Owen hadn’t wanted to hear her explanation when she tried to decline. The man didn’t like it when she questioned or resisted him.
“It tastes like dirt made a baby with dirt and gave birth to more dirt,” she added as she choked down another spoonful. “They take dirty rice a little too literally over here.”
Lorenzo chuckled. “I think you’re gonna fit it in quite nicely, Caitlin. Hard to survive this kind of assignment with your sense of humor still in tact.”
She scooped some more rice, but then dropped it and pushed her plate away, giving up the battle that her taste buds would find anything in the food beyond marginally eatable. “Thanks. How long have you been here?”
His gaze darkened. “Off and on for ten years.”
“Oh,” she said, unable to wrap her mind around that. “Do you have family back home?”
He pushed his empty plate away with a shrug. “Where’s home?” he asked, but she didn’t think he expected an answer. “I was born in Rome. Moved to London when I was eight. And went to university in America. I’ve worked on every continent.”
“So no wife and kids?”
He laughed. “Who has time for that? My American friends would say things about picket fences and the American Dream. Whatever that is.” He shook his head dismissively. “My life is work.”
She felt a little sad at the way he’d said that. “Do you ever just take off and relax?”
He half smiled. “Actually, I was due for holiday when Jack called. He sent Kanfi with Harris to Syria. After the station budget cuts, the executives frown on paying freelancers. He could have gotten someone else, but it would’ve taken time he hadn’t wanted to waste.”
“The news never sleeps.”
He laughed. “Oh heavens, does he still use that phrase?”
“Jack is nothing if not routine.”
“Time to go,” Owen said from behind her. She looked over her shoulder and watched as he approached, knowing he stood off to the side to let her eat, but not letting her out of his site. But this time he wasn’t looking at her. He’s gaze was locked on Lorenzo. She faced her colleague, but he seemed oblivious he was on the receiving end of a murderous glare as he moved to get up from the table. Caitlin grabbed her plate and stood to toss it.
Owen clutched her wrist and she gasped, not expecting him to be standing right there when she got up. His lack of personal space unsettled her…more than it should.
“You didn’t eat,” he muttered.
“It’s gross.” It was true, but saying it out loud made her feel like some diva. She was nothing of the sort. Caitlin prided herself on her modesty and had eaten local cuisine from many places, even ones squeamish people would balk at. Not once had she complained about what she’d been served. Hell, even if it was something she wouldn’t ordinarily eat—like crickets—she’d been more worried about offending the people around her than her own comfort. But it was different with Owen. She didn’t have to hide anything with him.
“Caitlin,” he said, and briefly shut his eyes. “You have to eat. If you don’t, you’ll be too weak to run away from danger.”
She reached for him, grabbed his free arm. “I tried to tell you earlier I have energy bars with me.”
He didn’t say anything, and it dawned on her that she was holding his arm as he was hers, as if they were almost in an embrace. In a country where public display of affection was forbidden, she should be worried how this looked to the people around them. But since this area was filled with coalition forces who were used to seeing people doing a lot more in their home countries, maybe it wouldn’t come off as offensive to anyone.
Because as much as she told herself to let go of him, her hand refused to follow the order.
His throat moved and in his gaze was something she’d seen for a fleeting moment once before, but this time it lingered, leaving no question what had been banked there then or now. Heat. Desire.
Owen wanted her.
That knowledge thrilled her. And scared her. She didn’t know this man. He could be married for goodness sakes.
“If you two are done making goo-goo eyes at each other,” Lorenzo said from beside them, and they both immediately dropped their hands.
“What?” Owen said low and dark. If voices alone could kill someone, his would have murdered Lorenzo right there on the spot.
Lorenzo took a step back. “Um, I was just going to say those men you sent for the car are back.”
Owen stormed off to where the soldiers where gathered.
“Damn, that was intense.”
“Yeah,” she breathed, though she was positive Lorenzo had been talking about how Owen reacted toward him, and not the moment she and Owen had just shared.
When Owen returned, he was all business, directing them to the car and assisting them as they loaded their gear. He’d grabbed her helmet off the table earlier and instead of handing it to her as he had this morning, he helped her put it on. If her breath quickened at the feel of him tucking her hair in the hijab or his finger glancing her chin, she ignored it. He opened the door and lifted her to the seat in the back. Having his hands on her waist was almost too much for her to control. She lifted her hand and placed it on his shoulder to keep distance between them, but touching him as he touched her only ignited this foreign longing she felt. To hide her body’s reaction, she quipped, “I thought ladies get to ride shotgun.”
“You are,” he said as he pointed to a hole in the roof where a machine gun was. She gasped at looked at him. His pinched lips and the gleam in his eyes told her he was fighting a smile.
“That’s not what I mean.”
He sobered. “Can’t have anyone seeing you through the windshield and taking shots. You’re sitting here because I’m riding passenger and can watch you from the corner of my eye.”
“I don’t think twenty-four-seven actually means you have to sit with your eyeballs glued to my body.”
He leaned closer and she sunk back into the seat to maintain space. It didn’t work. He reached over her, dug around for something out of her view, and softly said, “There aren’t many perks to this job—” He pulled out a breakfast sandwich and handed it to her—“Getting to look at you isn’t the hardship here.”
She opened her mouth, but he shut the door before she could say anything and climbed in. Once he was seated, he looked at her. “Eat. Save the energy bars for emergencies.”
They headed out, and she stared at the biscuit with egg enveloped in plastic wrap. Where had he gotten it? She looked beside her seat and discovered he’d been rummaging around in his own backpack. This had been his breakfast, and he was giving it to her.
Her heart stuttered as warmth filled her. This man who she hardly knew, who’d been hired to protect her, was sacrificing his own comfort to make sure she ate someth
ing she liked. The gesture might not seem big, but it was probably one of the nicest things anybody had done for her. The act was one she’d never forget…even if she couldn’t accept it. She pushed the sandwich toward him.
“Thank you, but I can’t take your food. You lectured me on having energy to run from bad guys. Can’t have you passing out from low blood sugar in the middle of shooting people.”
He raised an eyebrow. Several seconds passed before he spoke. When he did, his words came out slow, distinct. “You have no idea of the years of training my body’s been through. I can go without food, water, and sleep for periods of time that a lesser person would die from.”
Her hand dropped slightly, but she didn’t say anything. What could she? She knew the military didn’t skimp on training. She had no doubt as to what he’d just said.
“You will eat that sandwich. If we were the only two Westerners in this country, that sandwich the only food left behind, and it came down to you or me eating it, it’d still be all you.”
“Well, now you’re just being silly,” she said as she eased back from his leveled stare and opened it.
He chuckled, and she decided she liked the sound of his laugh. “Sweetheart, you’re no good to me weak.”
She knew the endearment hadn’t been literal, but her cheeks grew warm anyway. Best thing for her to do was ignore the man in front and be grateful she had something pleasant to munch on.
He confused her, twisted her in ways that she’d never been before, and never so quickly after meeting someone.
She wished she understood why this man in particular did that to her…almost as much as she wished he had no effect on her at all.
Almost.
Chapter Four
They’d been on the road for about an hour with Owen keeping constant watch of their surroundings. They’ve stopped several times to investigate possible IEDs, but so far it had been all clear. That didn’t stop Owen from scanning for any anomalies.
He’d hated to take his gaze off the landscape even for a second, but he had to in order to glance at Caitlin. She’d been quiet after the breakfast sandwich thing. It had been maddening when she’d tried refusing the food he’d offered. It was another example of her not following his orders. But if he was completely honest, it had also been sweet of her since she’d done it thinking he hadn’t eaten anything that morning. He had, of course. He’d had some chow brought to him last night while she’d been sleeping and had asked for some easily transported breakfast for him and Caitlin for this morning since they had to leave around the time the chow hall opened. It would’ve been packed, and they wouldn’t have had time to eat and get in the air on schedule. He heated the four sandwiches this morning, scarfing down two and packing the others right before she was scheduled to meet up with him. He’d had every intention of telling her first thing, but when she’d walked out with a low-cut tank top, his brain scrambled. Then she’d gone and dropped that porno bit, and all logic was MIA. They were in the air when he remembered, and by the time they landed in Jalalabad, he knew her breakfast wouldn’t be warm any more. It was the reason he’d wanted her to eat something hot before loading up in the ground transport. It hadn’t worked. He should’ve given her the cold eggs anyway. After she’d stopped protesting, she’d inhaled it as if it was the best meal she’d ever eaten.
When finished, she’d pulled out her laptop and started working. She’d asked questions every once in a while to Lorenzo who sat in the back with her. How to spell certain words after muttering what Owen thought were cuss words before groaning about not having Internet. He couldn’t be sure since it wasn’t exactly quiet in this ride.
“What’s the name of the unit we’re visiting first?” she asked.
Owen’s gaze blinked at her on autopilot, but this time she looked at him instead of her work partner, asking Owen instead. “I didn’t.” He looked back out the windshield.
“Is it classified?”
“No,” he answered with another look, keeping his focus on her.
She squinted at him. “Are you being evasive on purpose?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” she asked slowly with a tilt of her head.
He was just messing with her. He didn’t know why he liked giving her a hard time. Normally, he was helpful and forthcoming with information. Well, information that wasn’t classified, and if anything surrounding these units was, he wouldn’t be taking her to see them. “Because you’re a journalist. It’s your job to uncover the truth, not have it spoon fed to you.” He winked to lighten the punch of his words, but he immediately regretted that almost involuntary action. Her cheeks grew pink, and he had to resist the urge to stroke them. What the fuck? He did not need to comfort this woman, and he sure as hell couldn’t touch her like that. The few times he’d had his hands on her had electrified him to the point he’d had to wade through the lusty fog of his brain to find his professional ethics. With each touch, it was getting harder and harder to keep his distance. And that wasn’t the only thing getting hard.
“I’m doing my job by asking you.”
“I’m not authorized to answer your questions.” It was the truth, and she needed to know it, although he did have a responsibility to keep her safe, which meant overseeing her agenda. The rule didn’t really apply to this, but he couldn’t help stalling just a little longer.
“But I need—”
“The 39th Infantry Brigade, A Company, 28th Signal,” the man driving said at the same time, stopping her from finishing her statement.
“Acker,” Owen barked. “Did I give you permission to speak on my fucking behalf?”
The man stiffened. “No, sir!”
Owen rubbed a hand over his face to get his wits about him and looked at Caitlin. She was typing away on her keyboard, probably noting the name of the unit. “We’re visiting the servicemen of the 39th Infantry Brigade out of Arkansas first. Then we’ll meet up with the 1st Calvary Division Sustainment Brigade.” He hesitated before adding, “They’re both army units.”
“Thank you,” she said as she kept typing. When she finished, she looked up, “What did you mean you’re not authorized to answer my questions?”
“I’m here to protect you. That’s is. That’s all I’m allowed to do.”
Her mouth fell open, and he could tell her brain was processing that little bit of information. “But you could tell me general information without giving up any intel.”
“I’m your guard, not Google.”
She glared at him. “That’s not what I mean.”
“I know.” He shrugged. “But aside from your personal wellbeing and your agenda, you need to direct your questions to the people authorized to discuss this with you.”
“ETA ten minutes, sir,” Acker said.
Owen turned and checked his rifle and sidearm as he said, “Be ready to drive right in when we get there, Caitlin. We have an hour with each team, no more.”
He heard her rustling around, and he looked at her. She’d packed her laptop and pulled out a notebook.
“Crap,” she muttered as she kept digging in her bag. “I can’t find my pen.”
Owen pulled his favorite tactical pen out and handed it to her. “I’m going to start charging you to use this thing.”
She glowered at him, but took it. “Put it on my—”
An all too familiar crack sounded, and he immediately cut her off as he yelled, “Get down!”
He had his assault rifle on the ready and yanked it up.
“Came in from the east,” Acker barked and swerved from side to side, making it more difficult for someone to get a shot at them if they were in the crosshairs.
Owen pushed the button on his comm. “Haverty? You got eyes on the shooter?”
Several more shots rang out, sounding too close. Owen cussed, and at the same time Haverty replied, “Negative, sir. Team is scoping.”
That meant the guys in the other vehicle had their binoculars out, looking. Owen would have done the same, but
he kept his eyes on Caitlin. She visibly shook, and he reached out to pat her knee. He looked out the side, saw a flash of a rifle before a shot whizzed right by and ricocheted off a boulder they’d just passed. Shit, that was way too close! He aimed and fired in that direction several times. They stopped moving, and he heard Acker call the others with the location of where the hit had come. Within seconds, Owen wasn’t the only one pelting the area with rounds of ammo. He ceased and swung his focus around the front and other side since his guys had the other direction handled. When he was certain no fire came from anywhere else, he dropped his rifle. The others had stopped shooting, and they sat silently, listening. Caitlin breathed heavily, but Owen couldn’t look at her. Not yet. When he felt confident they weren’t under attack any longer, he pressed his comm and said, “Let’s move. We’ll do a battle damage assessment when we get there.”
He dropped his rifle and checked it as he surged forward.
“That’s never happened to me before,” Lorenzo said.
“We were lucky,” Owen said flatly. “Couldn’t have been more than a couple of guys out there. Could’ve been a lot more. Usually are.”
He twisted to the side. Caitlin still had her head between her legs, so he reached over and rubbed the one closest to him. “You can sit up now.”
She trembled under his hand, and he hated she was scared, but damn, they were in a war zone. It was a rare day around here when he wasn’t getting shot at.
Slowly, she rose, her eyes wide. He had this insane urge to pull her into his lap and coddle her. Of course, he couldn’t, but more importantly, he hated the fact his instinct was to do just that.
It’s because you have to protect her, that’s all.
He didn’t believe the lie one bit.
“Caitlin, you’re okay,” he said slowly. Her head jerked around as if she was a cornered animal. The hand on her leg had stilled, so he stroked her gently. “Hey, there. Look at me.”
She did. Her mouth opened. “S-sorry.” She shook her head as if clearing it and took a deep breath. A surge of pride filled him at her willingness to be brave in a circumstance he was quite sure she’d never experienced before.
