“I like your philosophy,” she said simply, picking at her food, no longer hungry. Khat felt her stomach begging for food, but lately, her emotions got in the way. And when she was upset, she did not eat.
“Listen, I’ve been meaning to ask you if you need replacement gear. I understand this is the time you get it.”
Nodding, she said, “I need to go to Bagram, to Navy Supply. I’ve worn out five sets of cammies. The trousers, that is. All the hard riding. They don’t make cammies for riders.” She gave him an amused look. Her emotions were soothed beneath the warmth Khat found in his eyes. He cared deeply about her. She could feel it.
“Yeah,” Mike said, smiling, “no double-sewn fabric and seams like you’d find in a pair of equestrian breeches. Okay, I’ll get a helo flight set up for us. You’re free on day three, four and five.” And then he had an idea.
“I could use some downtime,” Khat admitted. She pushed the fork around in the potatoes. “Sleep. Honest to God, deep sleep.”
“I have an idea,” he murmured.
“Oh?”
“My father donates to an Afghan charity run by Khalid and Emma Shaheen. They live outside Kabul. He’s an Apache pilot in the US Army and is stationed out of Bagram. His wife, Emma, is American and was in the US Army as an Apache pilot. Unfortunately, she got kidnapped by the Taliban and suffered some nerve damage to her left hand before she was rescued by Khalid. She had to leave the Army, but she flies her husband’s Chinook helicopter, and she takes educational and medical supplies to all the villages along the border.”
“Really?” Khat sat up. “Why haven’t I heard about this before now?”
Shrugging, he said, “Hey, the border area is large. They’re the only charity flying in to help because all the other NGOs have pulled out to protect their people from attack. With Khogani on the loose attacking all those Shinwari villages, they had to leave.”
“Those murdering bastards,” she breathed.
Her anger was startling. Mike saw her tense up, her face becoming hard. “Khalid and Emma have a villa outside of Kabul. They’re always asking me to come visit when I fly into Bagram. I could call them and ask if they have two suites available at their villa for us. We could have dinner with them. I think you’d really enjoy Emma.” And then he grinned. “She has red hair and green eyes like you.”
Khat became excited. “Yes, I would like to meet them. I want to know all about their charity and how they are helping my people.”
“I thought you might,” he said, looking at the hope suddenly flare in her flawless green eyes. “Let me make a call to Khalid while you’re getting checked over with Dr. Johnson, okay?”
“Yes,” she said, feeling her appetite come back. “I would love to meet them.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
KHAT DAWDLED OVER the Darjeeling tea, her fourth cup. Riding for long periods of time, she didn’t always stay hydrated. The chow hall was pretty much emptied out. Looking at her watch, she saw she had forty-five minutes before having to go for her physical. Mike had eaten a ton of food. Considering how tight and lean he was, she wondered where it had all gone and smiled a little. SEALs burned through thousands of calories on a mission. Right now, his guard was down, and she enjoyed his company.
“You’re so different from when I rescued you,” she murmured, meeting his eyes.
“I was a little uptight at the time,” he agreed, finishing off the last of his six pancakes.
“Does Camp Bravo get hit often?”
“No, not much. A mortar every now and again to keep everyone on their toes, but that’s pretty rare.”
“You look relaxed,” she noted.
He felt her curiosity. “I have my SEAL brothers. When you’ve got forty of them surrounding you, you feel pretty safe.” He grinned.
Brows dipping, she asked in a low tone, “My handler, Commander Hutton, said my personnel file was being sent over to your chief.”
Taking a breath, Mike nodded. “Yes, it was sent over.”
“Have you seen it?” She was concerned about how much he knew about her.
“I had to read it, Khat. I’m the one responsible for you while you’re at our FOB. A lot of your record is redacted, marked out in black, because you’re deep black ops.”
Tense, she didn’t know what had been revealed about her. “What did you see?”
He was uncomfortable with the direction their conversation was going, and he did not want to lie to her. “Just general info, Khat. The usual stuff like your birthdate, family contact info, your height, weight, color of eyes and hair.” Well, that wasn’t a lie. “We need to get you over to security because you’ll be given a photo ID for when you’re coming and going from Bravo.”
Chewing on her lower lip, she felt a little of her anxiety dissolve. “Nothing else about my present status?”
“No, only that you have a top secret clearance.” God, Mike hoped she did not ask too many more questions. The worry was in her eyes, however. “They also showed the ribbons and medals you’ve earned. The schools you’ve attended. Typical jacket stuff.” He tried to sound noncommittal. Would she buy his explanation?
Sipping her tea, Khat felt her stomach unknot. She knew her record showed POW status. It was the last thing she wanted anyone to know about. “That’s good,” she murmured.
Mike wanted to detour this conversation. “I’m curious about why you have to have a psychological evaluation every year. I’ve never heard of something like that.”
Wrinkling her nose, Khat said, “It’s part of the operation I’ve volunteered for.”
He decided to try and ease into her black ops world. “Look,” he said, keeping his voice low, his gaze on her, “I know about Operation Shadow Warriors.” Thanks to Lt. Sinclaire’s snooping around; she had called him two days ago with the intel. And judging by Khat’s rounded-eyes reaction, he’d struck pay dirt. Mike knew operations hatched in the Pentagon were as dark and deep as the belly of the military whale. But his need was driving him to understand where Khat fit into the larger picture.
“How did you find out?” Khat demanded, wary. She saw no triumph or pleasure in Mike’s expression.
“Let’s just say that a good friend of mine was once a part of that operation. She’s out now, but she let it slip to her husband, who was my best friend when he was in the SEALs.” He added, “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. Even the chief doesn’t know about it. I’m not telling anyone, Khat. I just wanted to understand more about you, that’s all.” She was worried and somehow, Mike wanted her to trust him with that knowledge.
Dipping her head, Khat stared at the cup of tea between her long hands, her mind racing. Mike was the only man in five years that she trusted. And it had been instantaneous, from the moment he’d become conscious. She knew he’d seen her naked beneath the waterfall. Khat was sure Mike had seen her scars on her back; it would have been impossible not to. He’d never brought it up, respecting her privacy, respecting her. At every turn, he’d proven he was trustworthy.
Something broke inside her. It was something ugly that had been created out of her torture. He was a man. Men had hurt her and nearly killed her. The corners of her mouth drew in as she contemplated their tenuous relationship. Maybe Mike was a new chapter in her life? A positive male figure? She’d never been distrustful about him, and she should have been. Maybe some of her emotional wounds had healed sufficiently to allow him into her life. Khat didn’t know all the answers because she always felt good in his presence. Every time she saw Mike, she felt lighter, more free, and she yearned for his company.
“I trust you with this information,” she said huskily, holding his golden-brown gaze. She saw instant relief come to his face.
“You’re always safe with me, Khat.” Mike saw her expression change, soften, and the wariness in her eyes dissolved. For a split second, he thought he saw moisture in her eyes, but then it was gone. “I swear, I want to earn your trust.” That came from his heart. “I have your back. I told yo
u that the night before I was picked up by the Medevac. I meant it then, and I mean it now.”
She set the cup down and rubbed her wrinkled brow, so many rainbow emotions shattering the blackness that always dwelled within her since the torture. Just from the warmth radiating off him, she felt as if he’d held and kissed her again, but he hadn’t. That was how powerful an effect he had on her and God help her, she was so damned lonely, so at odds with where her life was going, she trusted him more than anyone. Whether Mike knew it or not, he held her heart between his large calloused hands.
“I’m scared,” she murmured.
He gave her a slight smile. “So am I.” Mike thought he understood. She was trusting him fully. And he was damned frightened of somehow blowing it with Khat, failing her in some way. The burning look in her green eyes seared his soul and squeezed his heart.
She shook her head, looking down at her hands. “In a way,” she whispered, “it’s nice to finally have someone I can talk to.”
“I’ve seen where you’re operating, Khat. I understand the pressures and demands on you.” And she was in danger all the time. He wondered if Khat ever got leave or a chance to feel safe or unthreatened.
“In some ways, you do.” And then she lifted her eyes to his. “I don’t know why you care, though.”
His mouth flattened. “Because in my eyes and heart, Khat, you’re an extraordinary woman. I don’t know of too many men who could do what you’ve accomplished out there for five years. And you’re still alive. That’s a remarkable achievement under any circumstance.”
Khat felt her heart open, spilling out yearning and need for Mike. His voice was low, cultured and filled with veiled emotion. He was opening up to her, and it felt good. Healing. “Thanks,” she murmured. “From the moment you opened your eyes, I felt a connection with you. I guess—” she shrugged her shoulders “—I didn’t want to admit it…”
“I understand,” Mike said. He saw the tension dissolve in her face, and she looked more at peace. Knowing he had an influence over her, he had to be damned careful how he used it. “Listen, I asked Dr. Johnson how long your physical would take, and she said about an hour.” He looked at his watch. “I’ll come back and pick you up at the dispensary and introduce you to our canteen for lunch. I’ll buy.” He grinned a little. “I don’t know about you, but an American hamburger and French fries sounds damn good.”
Khat felt a sheet of heat flow through her. “Yes, I’d like that. Do they have cold beer? I love beer, and I so rarely get it.”
“Oh, yeah, cold beer,” Mike said, nodding. “Nothing like coming off a hot, long patrol and hitting the canteen and knocking back a few.”
She stood and picked up her tray. “I’m really glad Hutton sent me here,” she said. In more ways than one.
*
MIKE MET HER at the dispensary at noon. Because Khat had yet to get security identification, he had to sign off on her physical for Dr. Johnson. Khat appeared with what he called her game face on when he’d come to the nursing desk to deal with the paperwork. There was something deep in her eyes, but damned if he knew what it was about.
Outside, the sun high and hot for mid-July, he asked, “How’d it go?”
“Dr. Johnson said I needed to eat more.” Actually, she’d made a fuss over her scars and that unsettled Khat. It was the last thing on earth she wanted to talk about. So what if her skin was leathery and wasn’t as flexible as it could be? Did it bother her when wearing a heavy ruck? When she was riding for miles with sixty pounds on her shoulders? Did it affect her ability to use or swing her arm if she was holding a weapon? A sniper rifle? Khat could recite the questions every physician who examined her extensive scarring asked her.
Mike swung down another lane used by Humvees and trucks. “Well, we’ll fix that. The canteen has half-pound hamburgers.” He noticed men stopping and staring at her. Some gawked. She wore her sunglasses and ignored their attention.
“Half pound?”
“Yeah, sometimes when my team comes off a mission, we’ll come over here and order three a piece.” He chuckled.
“I think I’ll start with one.” She gave him an impish look.
The canteen was centrally located to the rest of the busy base. The place was bustling; mostly men, although she saw two Apache women pilots sitting together and eating at a table. There was a huge U-shaped wooden bar, and she saw a lot of army black ops types at it, swigging down beer. The noise was high, and there was a lot of laughter. It seemed like a happy place.
Mike briefly touched her arm. “This way,” he told her. There was a round table in a corner. The patrons were just getting up to leave. He got there before a couple of other guys could claim it. He told Khat to sit down and teasingly asked her to defend their position. Picking up the dirty plates and emptied beer bottles, Mike brought them to the bar where another man took them off his hands. Mike ordered their meals and got two icy beers.
As he walked back through the crowded tables, he saw most of the men giving Khat long, studied looks. She was relaxed, her hands clasped on the table, her baseball cap pushed up on her head. She looked like an operator, and that probably stopped these guys in their tracks. In the larger military world, there were no women operators.
He handed her the cold beer and sat down at her right elbow. Holding his beer up, he said, “Welcome home, Sergeant Shinwari.” He clinked her bottle. She flushed and then took a drink.
Home. Did Mike realize she felt homeless? The beer’s bubbles delighted her mouth and tongue. It had been a year since she’d had her last beer, and it tasted damn good.
Mike sat back, tipping his chair on the two rear legs, balancing it, his hand around the beer sitting on the table. Khat had closed her eyes, savoring the beer she’d sipped. He understood her reaction. Noticing a number of guys shooting him a jealous look, he didn’t respond to the mano a mano challenge. SEALs ruled this place, and everyone knew it whether they liked it or not.
Khat gasped at the size of the platter of food the waiter brought to their table later on. On Mike’s were two hamburgers. She had one. There were enough French fries to feed an army! The food smelled good, and she was starving. Soon, her fingers were gooey from the mustard and ketchup leaking out of the oversize burger. She shifted hands and licked her fingers and continued to hungrily consume the burger.
Mike saw a couple of guys watching her lick the ketchup and mustard off her fingers. He could tell by their faces they were thinking below the belt with her innocent actions. Khat seemed unaware of it all, focused on that thick, juicy burger. When they were finished, both platters were clean.
“No prisoners taken,” he murmured, running his hand over his belly.
She grinned, drinking her second beer. “No kidding. It was delicious.” She patted her belly. “I feel like I’ve eaten a ton of food.”
“You needed it,” Mike said, serious, holding her gaze. The red tendrils at her temples emphasized her incredible green eyes. She seemed a bit giddy, a little looser, and maybe it was from drinking two beers. Whatever it was, Khat was the most relaxed he’d seen her. He watched her move her thick braid with her slender fingers, pulling it across her left shoulder. It was a purely feminine gesture, and it tightened his lower body. She wasn’t mannish even though the clothes hid her body. She was always graceful and a feast for his eyes.
“I’d like to go check on my horses.”
He roused himself. “Sure. Let’s go.” He knew the noise and crowds were probably playing hell on her nerves. Pulling back her chair, he watched her gracefully stand. She took her wraparound sunglasses from the top of her baseball cap and slid them on.
Way too many men were now watching her, and Mike could feel the fine tension in her. He stepped out in front of her, making it clear body-language-wise that no one was to hit on her. That she was his. They left a trail of broken hearts behind when they left the canteen.
Walking through the avenues of tents, Khat said, “This is a nice base. Not too big, not to
o small.”
“Didn’t you like J-bad?”
“It was different. And Hutton, who’s been my handler, is a pain in the ass.”
“Why?”
Khat lifted her hat off her head and pushed a number of loosening strands away from her cheek, tucking them behind her ear. “He’s too conservative. He thinks I’m a bitch who is disrespectful of him.” Her mouth stretched into a wry smile. “After all, I’m just an enlisted person, and he’s an officer.”
Mike turned down the last street that would lead them to the SEAL compound. “Why did you join the Marine Corps?”
Lifting her face to the sun, appreciating the breeze, Khat said, “Long story.”
“Hey, I’ve got an idea. Let’s give Mina and Zorah a good rubdown, and you can tell me your long story. How about it?”
What would it hurt? Khat nodded. “Okay, but it’s really boring, Tarik.”
He shook his head. “You don’t get it, Khat. There’s nothing boring about you.”
“Then you’re a sucker for punishment,” she chuckled. They swung around the building to the rear. Khat saw her two mares out in the paddock, standing and resting. They had rolled earlier, dust coating them. Mina nickered softly when Khat opened the gate as she and Mike strolled through it.
The Arabian mare’s ears pricked forward, and she turned around, coming up to her mistress. Khat had saved the lettuce from her hamburger and gave her mare half of it. Zorah nickered and came over, curious.
Mike leaned against the corral fence, watching the interaction between Khat and her mares. They loved her like children. She had taken off her sunglasses, and he could see the softness in her eyes. With them, there was utter trust and love. How he longed to see that look in Khat’s eyes for him. The more he was around her, the more he was sure about her becoming a part of his life.
Taking Fire Page 11
