by Rachel Grant
The thought of Morgan putting her body on display for tips made the possessive caveman surge to the surface. He wanted to shout a firm denial, to insist she never work at such a place again, but reined in that impulse. He had a feeling that wasn’t how this relationship would work.
She shifted in his lap. “Are you bothered by the idea of me waiting tables in a tight tank top and short shorts?”
He slid a hand up her side and cupped one of her perfect breasts. She nipped at his neck, giving silent approval of his action in the dark vehicle as they bounced down the road with Cal at the wheel. “Hell yeah, because you’re mine, and I don’t like the idea of any guy looking at you and getting ideas. But if you want to go back to your old job, I’ll deal.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I doubt waiting tables is in my future.” She pressed her lips to his and slid her tongue into his mouth for a quick kiss, the deepest they’d shared since she’d been freed, and the first one she’d initiated. “I have my eyes on a hot Green Beret who’s stationed at Fort Campbell. I’m considering moving my consulting firm to Kentucky.”
“You might want to hold off on that. I heard a rumor I’m up for a TDY to Fort Belvoir. It might be good to take a break from Special Forces, see what else the Army has to offer.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Immediately upon arriving at Camp Citron, Morgan was airlifted to the medical facilities on a Navy ship in the Gulf of Tadjoura. Pax kissed her as she settled on the gurney and promised he’d get to the ship to visit as soon as he could. He hoped he wasn’t lying.
It remained possible he’d face incarceration pending trial for going AWOL. He hoped to hell not, but he’d be a fool not to consider it. He, Cal, and Bastian received orders to go straight to their CO’s office once the prisoners, refugees, and trainees had been delivered to their various destinations.
Camp Citron didn’t have housing for twenty refugees, and the small medical clinic had only a few beds, so cots were being set up in the library. Tomorrow they’d be taken to the US embassy and the search would begin for their families. Sadly, some families wouldn’t take their daughters back because of the value placed on purity, and the stigma of rape was extending, like ISIS, from the Middle East into this part of the world.
Bastian voiced this concern as they drove from the medical clinic to SOCOM. “It’s possible some of those girls will be executed by their own parents for the sin of being kidnapped. Victimized by their community after being victimized by a warlord.”
Pax shuddered at the idea the girls had been saved from the auction block only to face dire punishment from their families. “That’s a question for Kaylea Halpert at the embassy. Maybe girls from extremist families can be placed in safer homes here or abroad.”
“This place is so fucked,” Bastian said. “Too poor to take care of their own. Fucking warlords acting with impunity. Sometimes I hate this job.”
“Dude. We won a big one tonight,” Cal said. “Take a moment to revel.”
“How can I celebrate when there are sixteen more assholes like Desta ready and waiting to take his place in this fucking tinderbox?” Bastian said. “Hell, I bet someone moves into his compound before the week is out. We should have bombed the motherfucking shit out of it so no one else can use those goddamned chains.”
Silently, Pax agreed, but for himself, he was celebrating. Morgan was safe.
He didn’t even give a damn about the upcoming showdown with his CO and XO. He would accept whatever punishment given because, holy hell, the woman he intended to spend the rest of his life with was safe. That was all that mattered. Any price he paid was worth it to the nth degree.
He’d worry about the big-picture problems of Djibouti, Somalia, Ethiopia, and Eritrea another time.
They reached the SOCOM building. Cal, who was in the driver’s seat, turned to meet their gazes. “You guys ready to face the music?”
Pax gave a sharp nod. “Whatever happens in there, know this. I’m grateful to you both more than I can say.” His throat clogged with emotion over what these two soldiers had risked for Morgan.
“Just take good care of her, Pax,” Bastian said. “And we’re square.”
Maybe he wasn’t such a bastard after all.
Inside their CO’s office, they were greeted by Major Haverfeld, Captain Oswald, and, surprisingly, Savannah James and the leader of the SEAL team, Lieutenant Fallon.
Cal, Bastian, and Pax all stood at attention.
“At ease,” Captain Oswald said. “I want to thank the three of you for successfully carrying out Major Haverfeld’s and my orders to launch a secret, secondary mission, Operation Icarus Capture.” The man flashed a sly smile. “As you know, Ms. James and Lt. Fallon were in the loop, aware that orders were in place for Operation Icarus Capture should the mission to rescue General Adler’s daughter either fail or be aborted.
“With both Lt. Fallon’s and Ms. James’s assistance vouching for the mission and orders, the commanders at SOCOM have accepted that there cannot and should not be any action taken against the three of you for any perceived acting without orders. Furthermore, the leaders at SOCOM wish to thank you for exemplary service in your willingness to enter enemy territory as a skeleton force to capture the warlord alive and without a single US casualty. This mission has been and shall remain classified. There will be no press release and no credit taken by the US for separating the warlord from his army and weapons.
“Unfortunately, the top secret nature of the mission means no medals or commendations can be issued for your exemplary service and valor.” Captain Oswald grinned again, then added, “But neither will there be backlash for any perception of an unsanctioned US operation, regardless of which level did…or didn’t issue orders. So I think we’re good.” He met each of their gazes in turn. “Are we agreed, Chief Ford and Sergeants Callahan and Blanchard?”
Pax couldn’t suppress his own grin. “Yes sir,” they said in unison.
“Excellent. There will be a debriefing with all SOCOM commanders at oh-eight-hundred. Until then, you are dismissed.” Oswald paused, then added, “Blanchard, a moment please, before you go.”
The room emptied and Pax faced his XO.
“For the record, both Fallon and James came to me with this plan,” the man said.
“I understand why James was on board, but why Fallon?”
Oswald dropped in his chair. “With an EMP and the element of surprise, Desta might have succeeded and taken out an entire team of SEALs along with two Blackhawks. Even if he failed at taking the birds, there almost certainly would have been SEAL casualties. Dr. Adler called off her own rescue to protect men and top secret technology, knowing her chance of surviving the night was minimal. Fallon promised to say whatever necessary to help her. She’s one in a million, Sergeant. Don’t blow it.”
“Can I take this to mean orders regarding relations with Dr. Adler have been rescinded?”
“You’re the one who’ll have to deal with her father. If you want to risk messing around with a general’s daughter, go for it.”
Pax smiled. “I think I can handle the general.”
Morgan woke disoriented. It took her a moment to remember she was in the medical facility on a US Navy ship, where a SOCOM commander had questioned her until dawn as doctors and medics treated her various injuries.
The wound on her arm had been cleaned and sewn together, but it was possible she’d need a graft if it didn’t knit along one edge. She’d fractured the lateral malleolus of her right fibula. For now, her ankle was immobilized with a brace, and the doctor had said she’d get a cast in a day or two, after the swelling subsided.
She had other aches and pains—she’d sliced open her right foot in addition to busting that ankle—but nothing life threatening. The doctor had suggested ibuprofen would be her best friend in the coming days.
Her eyes focused, and she recognized the form of her sleeping father in the chair next to her hospital bed. Okay, he wasn’t exactly wh
o she’d hoped to see upon waking, but he was her second choice.
She stared at the man whose opinion had, in one way or another, shaped most of her major decisions, good and bad. She’d wanted nothing more or less than for him to see her. When she was younger, she wanted him to be proud of her, and, if she were being honest, that had been her goal as an adult too, even when she’d aimed to piss him off.
It appeared he’d seen her all along, and in ways she’d never imagined. He just hadn’t known how to show it. It was time for her to grow up when it came to her relationship with her father. But she needed for him to meet her halfway.
She squeezed his hand. “Dad?”
He woke immediately, sitting up straight, coming to attention, giving her a glimpse of what he might have been like as a young soldier, ready to fight for his country at a moment’s notice. Her father’s eyes focused, then lit with a smile. “Mornin’, princess.”
Oh man, it had been twenty years since he called her that. But even more than the nickname, his fond tone made her heart squeeze. They could build on this. She hoped.
He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Or rather, afternoon.” He grimaced. “I didn’t really sleep last night. Or last week. Guess I was catching up.”
“I’m sorry your only sleep has been in that chair. It can’t be comfortable.” The memory of her night bound to a chair deep in Somaliland caused her to shudder.
His eyes clouded at her reaction, but he pasted on a smile. “I’m fine,” he said, then shifted and was unable to hide a small groan. He exaggerated the sound, and she guessed he was attempting to lighten her mood.
She smiled, remembering how he had played with her when she was in kindergarten, pretending to be a grumpy bear. She’d forgotten he was once playful. “Liar.”
He laughed. “Maybe. But I don’t want to look weak with all these young sailors around. A general needs to look fierce.”
She chuckled because he looked anything but. In fact, rumpled as he was, he looked much more like a dad than a general. The laugh caused her ribs to ache. She must have bruised them.
He cleared his throat. “It breaks my heart to realize I’ve never said this before, but I’m proud of you, princess. I always have been. From your first steps to getting your PhD, there isn’t a day I haven’t been proud to be your father. You don’t need to save a team of SEALs or take down a warlord to earn my awe.”
Her eyes teared. She’d never in her life imagined her father saying that, let alone it being true, but the emotion in his voice said he didn’t lie. “I love you, Dad.” She squeezed his fingers again. “I know I’ve been a shit since…forever. But even when I was so damn angry I couldn’t breathe, it was because I love you.”
“Me too, princess. Me too.” He cleared his throat again. “I know you don’t want, or need, my approval, but I’ll do whatever I can to help Sergeant Blanchard if he is brought up on charges.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” She pressed the button to raise the bed to a sitting position. “Expect to see him around a lot, because I’m sort of crazy about him.”
“Only sort of?” Pax said from the doorway.
Her body flooded with…whatever it was that inundated a woman when the Green Beret of her dreams arrived unexpectedly and looked incredibly hot in a crisp combat uniform and sporting a fresh shave. Her grin started in her heart and shot north and south, lighting a fire in the southern regions and making her brain swim with giddy light-headedness.
Pax entered the room and stood at attention before her father.
“At ease, Sergeant.” Her father stood and held out a hand to Pax, and when he took it, her father pulled Pax to him in a one-armed hug. “Thank you for bringing my daughter back to me, son.” Her father stepped back and wiped his eye. He cleared his throat. “From now on, no standing at attention when it’s just us family. That’s an order.”
Pax nodded and crossed the room to the side of her bed opposite her father. He bent down and pressed a brief kiss to her lips. “Good afternoon, beautiful.”
She smiled up at him, feeling dopey happy now that he was here.
Her dad leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I’ll leave you two alone.” He turned for the door.
“Thank you, sir. Also there’s no need for you to intervene on my behalf. My XO forgot to inform SOCOM of the orders he gave Sergeant Callahan, Chief Ford, and myself to provide backup for the mission.”
“Sloppy, he failed to mention it to me too.” Her father winked at Pax. “But I’m glad he straightened it out.” He smiled in Morgan’s direction. “When I come back, Morgan, we’ll call your mother. She’s eager to hear your voice.”
“I can’t wait to talk to her too.”
He left the room, closing the door behind him.
Morgan grinned up at Pax, her heart rate steadily increasing as she stared into his beautiful brown eyes framed by those thick lashes. How had she ever found his gaze cold? The man was a walking sirocco. But in a good way.
“You’re not in trouble?” she asked.
“Nope. My XO even rescinded the order about not getting involved with you, and authorized me to take the tender here so I can check up on you.” He flashed his teeth. “I heard a rumor Lt. Fallon will also be coming to see you. I just wanted to say that I know SEALs are a big deal and all to civilians, but Green Berets…we’re the real Special Forces. I mean, it’s our actual name.”
She laughed, a full belly laugh that caused her to grab her sore ribs at the pain. She crooked her finger toward him, and he leaned over her. She clutched his combat uniform and pulled him down, until his mouth hovered above hers. “Kiss me, Sergeant. That’s an order.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His mouth met hers and his tongue slid inside.
The kiss was fully sanctioned by and permitted by the powers that be in the US Army, but more importantly by the two participants. It was sweet, hot, and intense. Morgan couldn’t say for sure it was the best kiss of her life—the others with Pax had been pretty damn spectacular—but it was different. A beginning. And a precious gift.
She stroked his smooth cheeks. “I love you, Pax,” she said against his mouth. She couldn’t say the words enough. Uttered billions of times the world over, the three words felt inadequate. She would just have to show him.
She shifted on the bed, and the movement caused her ankle to bump the rail. Pain shot up her leg. She gasped sharply. Okay, maybe she’d wait to show him physically how she felt until after she had that hard cast.
“You okay, babe?” he asked.
“Ankle,” she breathed into the pain, meeting it head-on. “I’ll be fine in a sec.”
He circled the bed and took her father’s vacated chair. “I don’t have much time before I have to go back to SOCOM. I know you were up all night answering questions between X-rays and exams and need more sleep, but I wanted to tell you a few things I learned—which I have permission to share.”
She nodded.
He threaded his fingers through hers. “I worked with Savannah James last week, chasing down leads for who Desta’s inside man was. We hoped once we identified him, with pressure he’d reveal Desta’s location.”
Dread settled in her gut. She knew so few people in Djibouti, just the idea that one of them might have fed Desta information about her hurt with the power of a thousand busted ankles. “Who was it?”
“Mouktar Clouet.”
Her breath left her in a rush. It hurt even worse than she’d thought.
“But there’s more to it. Esme Clouet is Mouktar’s sister. Mouktar knew she was one of Desta’s slaves—she was abducted three years ago. Ali Imbert told Mouktar that Desta would kill her if he didn’t cooperate. He never wanted to betray you, but he had to protect his sister.”
Just when she’d thought she’d used up all her emotions, a new one hit her. She wasn’t sure, exactly, what this one was, but it was a strange mix of relief and regret. Sadness and sympathy.
“Mouktar told Imbert—and through him, Desta—the
bare minimum,” Pax continued, “and even got things wrong when he could—like not correcting Imbert when he assumed you were a man. It appears Charles Lemaire didn’t mention your gender to Imbert, because he knew how sexist Imbert was. Knowing Imbert wanted to quash the archaeological project altogether, Lemaire feared the natural resources minister would use the excuse of your gender to boot you from the project, and the railroad would go through without a survey, destroying every site in its path. Linus never would have been found.”
“So Imbert didn’t learn I was a woman until the day the militants showed up at the site. And at that point, it was too late to send me home. Lemaire is innocent?”
“Yes.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. After learning of Imbert’s schemes, she’d feared the cultural resources minister was also involved. Another hope flared. “Does Mouktar know Esme has been freed?”
“Yes. He turned himself in to the US embassy yesterday, around the time you triggered the tracker. He couldn’t take the guilt and wanted to do what he could to save you. He had no idea where Desta’s stronghold was. Even if he’d been rounded up on day one, it’s unlikely he could have helped.”
“Will he be released? It’s not right for him to be punished for trying to protect his sister.” She glanced down at her ankle and grimaced. “And I can’t do the legwork anymore. I need Mouktar in the field.”
“I’m glad you still want him, because there’s still Imbert to think about. The minister is in bed with China, and Mouktar is a conduit into his organization. He’s agreed to keep informing, but this time to us, on Imbert.”
“Will that be safe for Mouktar?”
“That’s for him to decide. No one is forcing him. The truth is, there’s nothing we can do about Imbert—not yet. He’s Djibouti’s problem. But if it’s true the Chinese found the aquifer, and Imbert is at least partial owner of a fake desalinization plant currently under construction, it will come out. The US won’t allow Eritrea and China to steal Djibouti’s water. After Djibouti learns the truth, China won’t be seen as quite so welcome or benevolent. Eventually, we might get our base back at Obock. It’s a long game with high stakes.”
