Forged in Fire (Delos Series Book 3)

by Lindsay McKenna

  “Okay,” she whispered, giving him a warm look. “Thanks for taking such good care of me, Matt. Without you, I wouldn’t be standing here.”

  He wanted to kiss her, but there were military rules in play. “We were a good team out there. Are you hungry?”

  “Starved,” she admitted, leaning against him, her limp a little better. The ortho doctor had wrapped it in a supportive bandage, and it felt much better.

  “What would you like?”

  She groaned. “I’ll eat anything at this point, Matt. I’m starving.”

  “I’ll see what I can rustle up,” he promised her, walking her out into the chilly night. Once they were on the sidewalk, Matt guided her toward an awaiting Humvee. Above him, the stars winked and glimmered. He was worried about Beau and Callie. The desert was a helluva lot warmer than the mountains, and that was good if they were making their way back to Bagram. Helping Dara into the rear seat, he nodded to the two Delta Force operators in the front. These men were from his team and Matt was glad to see them. But he also saw the worry in their eyes for Beau.

  CHAPTER 18

  Dara had just brushed and combed her hair when she heard the door to the Eagle’s Nest open and then close. She walked out of the bathroom and saw Matt with two large paper sacks in hand. He also had clothes hanging over his arm. Looking up as he placed the sacks on the table, he smiled.

  “Great news, Dara. I got an update at my HQ on Beau and Callie. They’ve located them, and there’s a Delta team out there flying in on a Night Stalker helo right now, with two Apaches escorting them. Beau’s sat phone got destroyed. A bullet went through it, instead of hitting him.”

  Dara stood, her hands against her mouth, relief surging through her. “Oh, thank God! They’re okay? Really okay?”

  Matt walked over to her. He ran his hands down the robe she wore. “There wasn’t much conversation over the link. We’ll know a lot more when they get here. They’re alive and they’re coming home, Dara. That’s all that really matters right now.”

  “Can we see them? Where will they take them?”

  “They’ll go straight to the hospital for evaluation, just like we did.” He looked at his watch. “Beau took the hill route to get them to safety. They’re an hour out from Bagram. It’s going to be two hours before they arrive here.” He kissed her lips lightly. “Tell you what. Why don’t you eat, while I take a hot shower.” He turned and pointed to the clothes he’d hung over a chair. “I went to your B-hut and got one of the women there to let me in. Those are some clean clothes for you, as well as a pair of shoes.”

  She gave a small cry and threw her arms around him, not caring if he smelled of sweat and grime. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice choked, kissing his bearded cheek. Matt was incredibly thoughtful. Even now, when she knew he was dead on his feet, exhaustion clearly written in his amber eyes, he was there for her.

  “Come on,” Matt urged, leading her to the table. “First things first. Sit and eat. There are hamburgers and French fries in the sacks. I figured you’d want some good ole American food.” He grinned. “I’ll be out in a little while.” He pulled a radio out of his pocket and set it on the table. “If this thing vibrates, pick it up and bring it to me in the bathroom. Chances are, it’s an update on Beau and Callie.”

  “Yes,” she said, touching it. Dara smiled, her heart ballooning with such joy that she couldn’t speak. “Go get cleaned up.”

  He grunted. “Yeah, I smell like goat.”

  Laughing softly, Dara inhaled the odor of the hamburger, her stomach growling with anticipation. Her heart bubbled with heady joy. Surely, her parents had been called and told that Callie had been located and was being rescued. She opened the wrapped hamburger and ate with gusto. Usually, she was delicate about eating, but not tonight.

  Dara felt as if her stomach had shrunk up against her spine. The salty, hot french fries melted in her mouth, and she made a humming sound of pleasure, overwhelmed with the aromas of American food. But some of her happiness was dampened by her new awareness that people out in the Afghan villages hardly ever had food like this to eat.

  The need to see Callie, to make sure she was all right, gnawed at Dara on another level. What had she gone through? How was Beau? Dara knew she was still in shock. Matt had gone to great lengths to help her, but she was a civilian caught up in a brutal war on terror. She had become a target, just as he had. And she could feel a low level of adrenaline and cortisol still flowing through her, making her hyperalert, jumpy, her senses blown open and anticipating that something threatening would happen to her again.

  Dara recognized all these as signs of PTSD. Now she was getting a firsthand taste of it. It was one thing to read a paper on it and quite another to feel it flowing through her constantly, unable to shut it off. Had Callie gone through the same things? She knew her sister was better trained because of her Girl Scout years, plus she had a different personality and temperament than Dara. Callie was tough and resilient in ways she was not.

  Dara thought her sister might have fared better during the Taliban attack than she. But she didn’t know for sure, so again, she became a worrywart. If only Matt had more information …

  Matt emerged from the bathroom thirty minutes later, rubbing a towel in his wet hair, a second towel hanging loosely around his waist. He came over, and Dara handed him the other hamburger.

  “Thanks,” he said, allowing the towel to drape around his gleaming, wet shoulders.

  In this light, Dara could really see all the scars Matt had on his body. They filled her with concern, and she tried not to stare. There were so many of them! Some were white, indicating that he’d gotten them long ago. Others were pink and more recent.

  Matt sat, wolfing down the almost cold hamburger and then all the french fries. Dara pushed her half-eaten fries toward him. “Go ahead,” she urged, “you need all the food you can get.”

  He grinned and pushed them back toward her. Reaching into his sack, he pulled out another hamburger. “No, you eat, Dara. You need to refuel. I bought myself three hamburgers.” He proceeded to open up the second one, wolfing it down just as quickly as the first.

  She nodded and took back her fries. “The radio hasn’t vibrated.”

  “It probably won’t. Once they pick them up, they’ll call into HQ, maybe in another thirty minutes.”

  “I’m so worried for them, Matt.”

  He brushed his fingers free of the grease from the fries on the towel and reached out to grip her hand for a moment. “We’ll know shortly. Until then, eat.”

  But Dara was losing her appetite.

  He could tell she was chafing and took the end of the towel from around his shoulders, rubbing his damp beard. “Callie’s pretty savvy about Afghanistan. She’s been here for years.” His voice lowered and he gave her a gentle look. “You, on the other hand, got thrown into combat without any warning, without any training. Mentally, you weren’t prepared for it at all, but Callie? She knows what it’s like here, and I think that will have helped her out during the escape with Beau.”

  “I was sitting here,” Dara admitted, her voice low with emotion, “thinking about those Afghan villagers. Worrying about what might have happened to Callie.”

  Matt gave her a sympathetic look. “Callie’s alive. That’s what counts. In a few days, maybe weeks, once you get back to the States and feel safe once again, Dara, it will all go away.”

  “Do you ever feel in danger, Matt?”

  “No.” He dug into the sack, grabbing the last burger. “I’m trained for this, Dara. I know what’s out there. I know what to expect. And this isn’t my first rodeo. It isn’t for Beau, either.”

  “You’re used to getting shot at?”

  “Somewhat,” Matt replied between bites, slowing down. “I’m not saying I don’t have PTSD symptoms. I’m always hyperalert and my senses are always in overdrive.”

  “The survival reflex,” she muttered, nodding. “That’s cortisol.”

  “Well, what
ever it is, I need it out there on an op. Now”—he grimaced, wiping his mouth with a paper napkin—“when I go home or I’m on leave, I’m still in that state and I have to forcefully remind myself that I’m home, not here.”

  “Does it go away, though?”

  “When my group goes stateside for three to six months, it lessens a lot. But as soon as we deploy back here, I’ve got that hypersensing, strong intuition again. And to tell you the truth, I’m glad to have it.” He thought he might someday share what happened to him out on an op, that sensation of a guardian lion spirit protecting him. Dara was someone he’d want to share it with because she was open and understanding.

  “War is horrible.”

  “No one agrees more than I do,” Matt said quietly. He finished off the hamburger and the last of the fries, grabbed a bottle of water, and gulped down the contents. He wiped his mouth and studied her. “How’s the knee?”

  “The hot water felt wonderful around it,” she said, touching it gently with her hand beneath the table. “I’m glad the doctor placed a waterproof bandage on it. I’ll rewrap the bandage around it later.”

  “Good. Why don’t you get dressed? I’ve got a Humvee on the curb waiting for us. My team guys are going to shuttle us around the base wherever we need to go.”

  “To the hospital? To wait for Callie and Beau?”

  “Yes, as soon as we get the call they’ve been picked up,” he said, motioning to the radio on the table. The silk robe hung on her tall, lithe body, and all he wanted to do was slowly take it off her, kiss every inch of her body, and make her forget all of this for a little while. But Matt knew her heart and mind were centered on Callie. He didn’t know what condition she was in. Or Beau, for that matter. They hadn’t called in a medevac, so that was a hopeful sign.

  Matt didn’t share his own worries about Callie. He had worked with women in combat, but they’d been trained for it and were mentally prepared. Callie, like Dara, had suddenly been thrown into a violent, deadly situation. Shock was the big monster here for both of them, and it would take weeks, months, maybe a year or more, for it to begin to wear off. Until then, the two sisters were going to be changed, and how much or how little remained to be seen.

  All Matt wanted to do was get Dara home where she could honestly relax. Did he want to let her go? Hell no. Selfishly, he wanted her here with him. But that was idealistic at best, and he knew it. If all went well, Dara might be here one or two nights more before she left for the States. In that time, Matt hoped to set up plans to see her when he arrived for his thirty days of leave at Christmas.

  Never had Matt wanted to spend the holidays with his family more, and if Dara still wanted a relationship with him, the season could become a wonderful dream come true. He knew Dara had a forty-hour or more workweek at her hospital. It wouldn’t be free time with her, but at least he could invite her to stay at his condo, or he could stay at hers, every evening. And they would have their weekends. He hungered to know more about her; he felt absolutely selfish about it but wouldn’t have apologized to anyone for his feelings. Matt loved her. And he couldn’t admit it. Not yet. But he damn sure would when he got home for Christmas.

  Matt had just gotten into a clean set of cammies when the radio in his pocket vibrated. Dara was in the bathroom, brushing her teeth. He quickly pulled it out of his pocket and answered it.

  Dara felt clean inside and out. Her stomach was full. A knock on the bathroom door sent her heart skittering with fear. She opened it. Matt stood there.

  “Did you hear something?” she asked.

  “Yes.” He leaned against the doorjamb, studying her intently. “They just picked them up off a mountain slope. No enemy around, so that’s good news.” He hesitated fractionally and said, “Callie suffered a broken arm but she’s doing okay. Beau took care of it, like I took care of you.”

  “A bad break?”

  “We won’t know anything more until they bring them here to the hospital,” he said, seeing the concern in her eyes. “If Beau didn’t call in a medevac, I can’t imagine it would be an open fracture, because he would have if that was the case.”

  “What else? How is Beau?”

  “Callie’s tired, as you can expect. So is Beau. He’s got injuries but said he was ambulatory; that was all.”

  Her hand crept up to her throat as she stared at Matt, who looked utterly serious. The darkness in his eyes scared her. “What does that mean to you, Matt? What does ‘ambulatory’ mean in a military sense? I know what it means medically. Is it the same?”

  Easing away from the door, he slid the radio into his pocket. “Bruises? Cuts? The usual array of things we get out on an op.” And it could have meant a helluva lot more, but Matt kept his mouth shut. It twisted his heart to see the fear ramped up in Dara’s eyes. He loved this woman with his life—even the chinks in her armor, that worrying gene. It made him more protective of her because of it.

  “You saw for yourself how scratched up, cut, and bruised you were from your mountain experience,” he said. “You can use that to project what Callie and Beau have probably experienced.”

  He knew from the orphanage that she wasn’t flighty and nervous with her patients. Matt had seen her put on her doctor face when in that mode. He realized Dara’s expression of nervousness meant she trusted him enough to open up and be herself around him. If that wasn’t love, he didn’t know what was.

  “You’re right,” Dara admitted, dragging in a breath, giving him a weak smile and an apologetic look. “I’m so hyper.”

  “It’s the shock working on you,” he said soothingly, holding out his hand toward her. She took it. Her fingers were cool, telling him just how upset she was. “Hey, we’ve got another hour before they arrive. How about sitting with me on the couch, and I’ll hold you close.”

  He saw her blue eyes lose that frantic look, replaced by a sense of calm. He was learning that Dara was easily seduced by a touch or a low, calm voice, and he delighted in these discoveries because they meant he could support her in the future.

  There would be times of stress, he knew. Not combat, of course, but life had its own way of pinning a person to the wall and letting them hang there for a while.

  Dara looked at him with gratitude. “That sounds wonderful, Matt.”

  Matt took her to the corner of the couch and sat down. He guided her next to him and then positioned her across his lap so her head lay on his right shoulder, her long, slender body against him. He liked that her hip pressed into his. For the next few hours, Dara’s whole world would be oriented toward Callie. Once she found out her sister was all right, then Matt could bring her here, get her to lie down. He knew they were both too exhausted to do anything but sleep at this point. But when they woke up the next morning, all bets were off.

  Matt didn’t care if they stayed in the Nest for the entire day. Dara needed his attention and care. He could help her get over this trauma because he loved her.

  “Mmm” Dara whispered, sliding her hand up across his T-shirt, “this feels so good. You feel yummy.” She nuzzled him against his bearded jaw.

  Groaning, Matt embraced her, his one arm across her back, his other hand curved around her flared hip, smoothing the soft cotton material of her black trousers across it. “You look good in a red sweater and black pants,” he rasped, kissing her hair.

  She inhaled his clean scent, noticing he had trimmed his beard, making him look equally handsome but also dangerous—in the best of ways. “Are you trying to distract me from being a worrywart?” she teased, kissing his strong neck, tasting him, feeling her whole lower body pulsating with need.

  He laughed, like a distant rumble, and it calmed her. “Possibly,” Matt admitted. “But maybe I just like having you in my arms, where you belong. Did that ever occur to you?” Gently, he nibbled on the shell of her ear hidden by her blond hair. Matt felt her respond, pressing her breasts against him, her hand slipping to his nape, a little sound caught in her throat. He absorbed all those small, pleasurable
noises she made because it told him she liked what he was doing.

  “I love being here,” Dara whispered, resting her head against his shoulder. Her fingers caressed his nape and then slid down across his other shoulder. “I wondered if I’d get out of this alive, and if I’d ever touch you again, like this. Or kiss you.” Dara moved her head back just enough to catch his dark, turbulent gold gaze. Her nipples hardened, begging for his mouth, his touch. “And,” she continued, “what you would look like without a beard and long hair.”

  Matt raised a brow. “What? You don’t like my fashionable Neanderthal look?”

  “Well, it does inspire my wicked imagination,” she suggested huskily, sliding her fingers through his trimmed beard.

  He threaded his fingers through her hair, watching her eyes, seeing how they darkened at his touch. “Tell me what lies in that imagination of yours.”

  “Oh, no,” she chuckled, giving him a quick hug around the neck. “If I did that, Matthew Culver, we would never leave this apartment. And you know that.”

  His mouth twisted into a bemused smile. “You’re right. I’ll take a rain check on that, though.”

  “At my condo?” she suggested.

  “I like your boldness. Yes, at your condo.”

  His fingers moved in a slow, massaging circle across her scalp as he watched her eyelids droop almost closed. Matt knew she was tired and that he was literally putting her to sleep. That wasn’t a bad thing. He didn’t mind holding her as she caught a quick nap before they had to leave. Dara filled his arms just right. They were like two lost souls who had run into one another by accident and were a match in many ways. Matt desperately wanted that time at Christmas with her.

  He felt Dara begin to sag in his arms as sleep overtook her, and he continued to gently massage her scalp. Matt took deep pleasure in watching her lips slowly part, her hand relaxing and falling into her lap between them. He watched the slow rise and fall of her breasts beneath that fuzzy red angora sweater she wore. Finally, Dara was safe in his arms, where she needed to be. Nothing had ever felt so right, so rich with promise, as having his woman here, lying across his lap, trusting him fully.