HOSTILE: A Military Romance Novel (Military Men Book 1)

by Haven, Leila

  Hostile

  Military Men Book #1

  By: Leila Haven

  Published by Smutpire Press

  Copyright 2015 All Rights reserved

  Other books by Leila

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  Chapter 1

  Ariana

  ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉

  I hadn’t signed up for this. When I was considering the long list of occupations and I insanely decided on journalism, I hadn’t expected to be sitting in a filthy room that was as hot as hell and surrounded by armed guards.

  My aspirations had been simple. I wanted to tell stories. I wanted to travel to all parts of the world to give a voice to those that nobody would listen to. I never expected it to be easy. I never said I expected to be home by five and given a red carpet to walk on the whole way.

  I expected danger, I expected dirt, and I expected some people to be unhappy with the work I did. I just didn’t expect those people to be my own military.

  It was time to get the hell out of there. I strode toward the door, my laptop under one arm and all my earthly possessions under the other. I outstretched my hand to open the door.

  Only to be blocked by a camouflaged chest. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I’m leaving,” I replied, defiantly looking the solider in the eyes. His hard stare didn’t scare me. I’d stared down rebels in Tunisia; I could deal with a guy from my own country.

  “I can’t let you do that, ma’am.”

  “We’re in a foreign country. You can’t hold me here.”

  He gave me that look, the one I hated. The one that said I was only a stupid little woman and it was cute that I was having all these thoughts and everything when I should have been home in the kitchen making dinner.

  “It’s for your own good,” he said. Points to him for keeping his chauvinistic thoughts to himself, I guessed. “Why don’t you take a seat? The squad will be here soon to take you through to the checkpoint.”

  “I don’t want to go to the checkpoint,” I said, repeating the same words I had said over and over again since they’d detained me. I had been innocently walking the streets of Kabul when they’d taken me, kidnapping me just as I was on the trail of a great story about a family trying to maintain some kind of normal life in the war zone. The media credentials had meant nothing to them.

  “Just take a seat. It won’t be long now.” The soldier gripped his gun just that little bit tighter so that he made his point. He would shoot me if I made any trouble for him. We were in Afghanistan, where bullets went astray all the time.

  Where people went missing all the time.

  The chances of me getting out that door were zero to none. I sat back down and my arms crossed over my chest automatically. I wasn’t happy being kept hostage by the American military. It had been my choice to travel to the troubled country, and it was my life I was risking. They had no right to take away my choice.

  It was unclear what they had in store for me. What little information they had given me indicated that some of their men were coming and escorting a group of us to the next military checkpoint. From there we would continue on and have access to transport out of the country. It was a polite way of escorting us out of Afghanistan.

  My naturally suspicious mind thought there had to be a reason why they didn’t want us there. Normally the media were tolerated everywhere; it was understood that there was a need for reporting even in the worst of conditions. Was there something the military didn’t want us to report on in Afghanistan?

  The grunt by the door didn’t seem like the kind that would ask questions. He was a guy who took orders like they were gospel, never wondering or asking why. He did what they said until they said do something else.

  While I respected our military, I didn’t like that kind of mentality. It was the people who asked questions that changed the world. They made history; they made things better. I could never be silenced.

  But, god, it was hot in that tiny room. They’d rounded up five of us. I was the only female. The rest were all contractors, mainly working for private security firms or in construction. They’d been brought over to do work and either gotten themselves lost or found themselves in over their heads.

  I was the only member of the media too, and the only one not keen to return home. The men saw the military as their savior while I was looking for ways to sneak out of the holding pen without being seen.

  “Sir, is there a restroom around here?” I asked the guy by the door.

  “There’s a bucket.” He nodded at a dirty bucket in the corner. I had yet to see anyone use it. “Otherwise you’ll have to hold it.”

  The family I had been staying with for a few days had been more civilized than this guy. He had no right rounding me up like a criminal and taking me against my will. When I returned to civilization, everyone was going to know about this. The story I would tell would be my own, and the military weren’t going to come out looking like the heroes for once.

  This was definitely not what I’d signed up for. And if it got any hotter in this freaking room I was going to have no choice except to take every piece of my clothes off. Plus hand my deodorant around for the guys to use.

  Chapter 2

  Derrick

  ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉

  This was not what I’d signed up for.

  Here we were, the elite of the US military, deployed to one of the most dangerous countries in the world, where people were killed on an hourly basis, and we were on our way to play babysitters to some idiots who thought they could play soldier in a war zone.

  Fucking idiots.

  To make it worse, my bloody fucking brain could not think about anything else but sex. It had been four months.

  Four. Months.

  Four.

  Fucking.

  Months.

  According to all the so-called experts, the average human has sex at least once a month. I used to laugh at those people. Give me a bar, give me a beer, and give me a few hours. I’d score on any night of the week. Women were predictable. Treat them a certain way, say the right things, and their panties would drop faster than I could get them back to their place.

  Note: their place. Never mine. I didn’t do overnight stays. Fuck ‘em and leave. That was my motto. There was no point sticking around to cuddle when we both knew what we were doing. I never led them on and I never got involved.

  But all that was four months ago. My dick was throbbing, desperate for some action that wasn’t from my own hand. We were living in close quarters, showering communally, sleeping communally, and doing everything in groups. It wasn’t like we got much privacy so I could jerk off all that often.

  That’s right, my cock wasn’t even getting much hand action. I needed a fuck more than I needed anything else. Being surrounded by men, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. I had no problem with homosexuality, but I didn’t swing that way.

  It was chicks all the way for me. I needed a hole, not a pole.

  Every bump on the fucking road made my starchy fatigues scratch against my dick. I started moving my leg up and down just so it would rub a little more. I swear, a few more bumps and I would have a hard-on in no time.

  I was shameless.

  If I actually came in my camouflage and had to wear the fucking stain in my crotch until I could wash my pants I was going to be angry with myself. The guys would never let me live it down. I’d be known as the Cum Kid for the rest of the tour.

  “Wat
son, you got gum in your ears or something?” My name tugged me sharply from my thoughts. The guys sitting around me in the truck replaced all the naked female bodies on rotation in my head.

  I have to be honest, the boobs in my visions were a lot nicer to look at than the group of dirty soldiers bouncing around in the truck.

  “Say something worth hearing and I’ll listen,” I replied lightheartedly. The only way to get through war was with jokes. The moment you lost your sense of humor, you lost your mind too.

  Marshall pretended to be hurt but it was all an act. We’d all been deployed together four months ago but had been in the same unit for five years. We may not have been brothers by blood but we were bound together in ways only soldiers could truly understand.

  “You hurt me, brother,” Marshall replied. “I said we’re almost there. You gonna take lead on this highly important mission, or what?”

  “Sure. Everyone check their guns to make sure they have enough ammo. You never know how dangerous these tourists can be,” I joked. Everyone knew we were glorified taxi drivers on this mission. All we had to do was show up, collect the people, and then hand them over to the next lotto winners.

  Even through all the laughing and joking, we were still in full armor gear. Bulletproof vests, helmets, guns – everything we would take on a normal operation, we had on us now. We would cover each other like the enemy were around every corner because they still could be.

  We could never let down our defenses, even when the mission was ridiculous. Everyone in the truck was well aware that it only took one fuck-up for us all to end up dead. One tiny misstep could end up with someone losing a limb.

  The truck pulled up outside the address we had – a nondescript building currently under US military control. There were six US citizens inside that we were to escort to the checkpoint on the border. They would then be taken to Germany by the next available military air transport. It could be days or weeks – it wasn’t like we were a commercial airline. They needed to take what we gave them and shut up about it.

  The four of us moved in formation, each of us playing our part as Rafter and myself went inside the building while Marshall and Simon remained outside and guarded us. Their eager eyes would be always watching for any signs of danger.

  Bailey was waiting for us inside. He formally handed us over the paperwork for the six and then rounded them up for us. They offered no resistance as they lined up at the doors.

  Well, five of them, anyway. The last one trailed behind. He was smaller than the others and more reluctant. Bailey had to push him a bit just to get him to move along.

  He was going to get a swift education about life in a war zone while under military escort if he kept up that kind of attitude when I had him in my custody. He wouldn’t be acting like that for long.

  He lifted his head and I almost fell over.

  It wasn’t a guy after all, but a woman. She had hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, plastering it to her head with sweat in the humidity. Her clothes were the traditional Afghan garb, hiding the curves I suspected were under there.

  My dick almost flew out of my pants. Her face was gorgeous when she looked up and locked eyes with me. They were deep brown and fiery, burning with something behind them.

  Then there were those lips. Full and luscious, red and delicious. I wanted to bite those lips, suck on them until she was whimpering with pleasure. Then I wanted those lips around my dick, sucking on it until I exploded in her mouth and my cum dribbled down her little chin.

  My erection was just about full and all I’d done was look at the woman. Spending the next few hours with her in the truck was going to be difficult. All I would be able to think about would be her bouncing on my lap, her boobs jiggling with every bump on the road.

  Fucking hell, it was going to be a long drive.

  Chapter 3

  Ariana

  ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉

  If I thought the holding cell they’d kept us in was bad, the vehicle they were using to transport us was even worse. The ten of us now, all crammed into the back of a military truck with more guns than seats.

  The men had kindly given me the seat in the middle. They probably thought they were surrounding me with their protective barriers. All I could think of was the BO being wafted my way.

  The soldier next to me hadn’t looked at me since we got in the truck. He was gripping his gun so tightly his knuckles were white. I doubted that was a good thing. For the first time since I had been captured, I was actually worried about my safety.

  Because he wasn’t looking at me I could openly stare at him. He was way better looking than the boring desert planes outside. His jaw was chiseled into a hard, masculine line that he was clenching tightly. He had beard stubble, making him look ruggedly sexy.

  And those eyes. Killer blue and intently focused on whatever it was that wasn’t my face. He’d set me in his glare when he first picked us up, and it was all I could do not to look away. He could captivate with those baby blues.

  Under all that armor and uniform I bet there were plenty of peaks and planes of nothing but hard muscle. He could probably bench-press the weight of the truck if he wanted to. He was a killing machine, trained for war and as deadly as the weapon in his hands.

  In other words, the complete opposite of the guys I was normally attracted to. I was a journalist. If I wasn’t out in the field, I was in the office, spending time with spindly writers who spoke about adventures they went on in their heads, not in the real world.

  This guy, I bet he went on plenty of adventures. He was probably the caveman type, throwing a woman over his shoulder when he wanted one. Grunting was probably the best kind of conversation he offered.

  But, man, was he hot. H-O-T, hot.

  Sleeping around in these parts of the world got a woman killed. I’d been in the Middle East for a few months, so my legs had been well and firmly closed for business. But I wasn’t interested in the caveman type, not even if he was hotter than the bloody truck.

  Not that he was looking at me anyway. Maybe he went for the male type and he found the members of the other gender in our transport more interesting than me. It wouldn’t have surprised me. The hottest ones always were always taken or gay.

  We drove forever and ever. At least, it seemed that way, anyway. It was probably only a couple of hours before we pulled into a building just before dusk and stopped. I assumed it was the checkpoint the original grunt kept telling us about.

  “Stay here,” the solider next to me said before getting out. It was literally the only thing he had said to me for the entire journey.

  Jerk.

  We all had to stay like good little puppies while the soldiers did their thing. The truck pulled into a small yard surrounded by high fences – made higher again by razor wire. Even the security measures didn’t make me feel any safer.

  “Follow me and stay together,” one of the guys said as he ducked his head back into the truck. We all shuffled after him.

  When I reached the edge, the silent jerk extended his hand out for me to take. I ignored him, jumping down onto the ground without his help. My landing made a puff of red dust billow out underneath my feet.

  We walked as a group through a tunnel made out of bricks and sandbags. Two of the soldiers were at the front and two flanked us at the rear. They were clearly paranoid, which was making me uneasy. It wasn’t like I’d felt safe since I’d arrived in Afghanistan, but this was worse. Every little noise made me jump, every nerve in my body on high alert.

  The tunnel opened up into an Army barracks where we stopped. The silent jerk turned to address us all; he seemed to be the leader of the group. “We will be staying here until we have clearance to move on. The men will be going with Private Marshall. The little lady is with me.”

  Everyone split off like it was a done deal and there was a memo that had circulated earlier with instructions. Meanwhile, I just stood there, dumbfounded.

  “My name is Ariana. You don’t have to r
efer to me as little lady,” I said. “How long will we be here?”

  “For as long as it takes.”

  “Which will be?”

  He shrugged, as if that was enough of an explanation. Not only was this guy a jerk, but he was also an infuriating asshole. If this was considered our nation’s finest, our country was doomed.

  He started walked off without saying anything else. He got all the way to the next door before he turned back. “Are you coming or what?”

  “Are you going to answer any of my questions?” I called back.

  “No.”

  “Then what’s the point?”