by Cat Johnson
Ryan’s protective mode kicked in gear. “She shouldn’t be wandering around the base alone.”
Wally shrugged. “What’s she supposed to do? Stay in our hut waiting for one of us to escort her to the latrines? I saw her coming out of the shower trailer too.”
He frowned. She definitely shouldn’t be alone in the two-stall shower trailer all the men on base shared. There was a privacy issue in addition to the fact that they could get attacked at any moment. Body armor or not, a mortar or a missile could do some kind of damage to a woman wandering around out in the open. He’d have to talk to her about that. No way was his woman going to take risks like that while he was around.
Ryan stopped mid-motion when he realized what kind of thoughts were running through his mind. His woman. He did think of her as his, which opened up a whole can of worms. Namely, did Vicki feel the same or was this just a fling to break her year-long dry spell? And what the hell was he going to do without her when she eventually went home? After looking forward to seeing her face, hearing her voice, watching her smile and feeling her body beneath his, how could he go back to being without her?
“Well, that’s it. Time to drag our sorry asses back.” Wally sighed and readjusted his own pack.
At Wally’s words, Ryan glanced around and realized they were done. The truck was loaded down, no more supplies littered the ground and the squad was ready to head back to the base. He needed to get his head back on straight for the long walk back, even though thoughts of Vicki still filled it.
“Good.” Ryan couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than to get back to his room, find Vicki and… Hell, he didn’t know what he would do when he found her. Question her until she told him what was upsetting her? Yell at her to be more careful around the base? Kiss her until she cheered up? Confess he was falling in…like with her? Maybe he’d just feed her an MRE and hope the excitement of that would do the trick.
The truck headed for home loaded with supplies, the driver and two passengers crammed in the front seat, while the rest headed out on foot with Hawk in the lead.
Ryan should have been vigilant, watching for an attack. But for the rest of the trek home he mainly continued to consider all the alternatives, including a few X-rated ideas, to break Vicki’s strange mood.
They reached the gate and someone came running out to Hawk. Ryan couldn’t hear the animated conversation until he got closer, and then he heard Hawk ask, “Has air support been called?”
The man nodded in response to his question.
Ryan jogged closer. “Hawk. What happened?”
His leader’s face when he turned told Ryan the news was not going to be good. “The frigging truck never made it back to base. The truck, the supplies, the driver and the two other Brits riding along are all missing.”
“If they’d gotten a flat or overheated, we would have passed them on the walk back.” Ryan shook his head. Even distracted as he was, he wouldn’t have missed seeing the disabled truck, and the rest of the squad sure as hell wouldn’t have either.
“We didn’t see hide nor hair of them. How the hell can a truck go totally missing?” Wally joined the conversation.
Hawk let out a snort. “That’s what I would like to know.”
Chapter Thirteen
Vicki sat at the computer and downloaded the digital photos she’d taken that day. She needed to keep busy. After the shocks from the night before, both the attack by the bad guys and her realization she was far more attached to Ryan than she wanted to be, Vicki had set to work, keeping herself as active as possible. Anything so she could avoid thinking.
She opened and replied to all of her emails. That seemed to take less time than usual so she checked her favorite milblog. Disappointed, she found no new activity there. No posts. No new reply to her comments. Groundpounder must be busy. God, she hoped he was busy and not something else, like hurt or worse, dead.
Dammit. She really needed to stop getting involved with military men, even online. There was just too much to worry about when it came to them.
With now another new fear—what had happened to Groundpounder—to occupy her mind, Vicki grabbed her camera and body armor and headed for the door of the hut. She knew enough not to wander around too much outside alone, but she needed a few minutes in the sun and fresh air to clear her head. If she stayed inside any longer she’d lose her mind.
Once out in the open, she stopped just outside the building and took out her camera. Hawk had made her promise to get his approval for anything she shot, using security as the excuse. Vicki had a feeling it was just his way to boss her around some more while she was here. The man had serious control issues. It was as if he got off on power. But like it or not, she was here because of him, and he could probably get her sent away, so she’d have to kiss his ass. Didn’t mean she had to enjoy it though.
In her camera’s viewfinder, Vicki scrolled through the pictures she’d taken of the impromptu volleyball game. She’d been lucky enough to catch it while walking across base that day after getting some lunch. She’d have to show them to Hawk for approval before she emailed them off to her magazine, but she was excited to tell her editor about her idea. There was no reason why Hawk should object to these. It was just a game.
The shots would make a great photo essay. The whole anachronistic nature of such an all-American sport being played in the middle of a war zone in Afghanistan by multinational players intrigued her. As did the surreal quality of life for these soldiers who could be in a battle for their lives one moment and competing with as much enthusiasm to win a simple volleyball game the next.
Each photo spoke volumes. The readers would love it. Her editor would love it. Vicki sighed. At least her time here so far hadn’t been a total waste.
Back inside, she logged into her email account again. Vicki sent a message to her editor pitching the story and then went to work on it. She lost track of time, but she must have been working for an hour when the door was flung open.
She spun around in the chair just as Ryan and Wally flew through the open doorway. Vicki had to shield her eyes with one hand. Blinking against the late afternoon glare streaming in behind them, she realized it was later than she had thought when she saw the sun low on the horizon. “What’s happening?”
In movements that appeared choreographed, Ryan and Wally each went to their respective areas of the hut and pulled equipment out of their trunks, or foot lockers, or whatever the storage boxes at the foot of both beds were called.
“The supply truck’s gone missing.” While holding some sort of device in one hand, Ryan answered her.
Her relief at seeing Ryan had safely returned from the ridiculous hike to find the wayward supplies was short lived. Surely if the truck was missing, he’d be going out again to find it, and this time in the night.
“But it’ll be dark soon.” Vicki frowned.
Both Wally and Ryan had their helmets off and were attaching matching contraptions to them.
“That’s what the night-vision goggles are for.” Ryan barely took the time to glance at her as he answered.
“I hear the air support.” Wally raised his head as his hands stilled. He headed for the door, but Ryan held back.
With a glance over his shoulder at Wally, who was busy clamping his helmet on his head while looking out the door, Ryan strode toward her. He bent down and kissed her lips.
Vicki’s heart stopped. If he was taking the chance to kiss her with Wally right here, he must think there was a chance he wouldn’t be coming back. Swallowing hard, she tried to somehow force words past the lump in her throat. “Please, be careful.”
He smiled. “Always am.”
“Hawk’s hollering for us, Pettit,” Wally reported from the doorway.
“Gotta go. Love ya.” And then, after one more glance back at her, he was gone.
Love ya.
Vicki swallowed again. What the hell did that mean? Did he love her? Did he only say it in case he died that day? Was it just a
casual expression he used instead of saying goodbye?
Pushing all of the questions that she had no answers for aside, Vicki whispered to the empty room, “I love you too, Ryan.”
How could she stand to love a man who could be taken from her at any moment? She bit her lip against the tears and began praying he’d come home alive so she could get her answers. After that, she’d have to decide what the hell to do about this impossible situation and her damn feelings.
With additional motivation to keep busy, Vicki did anything and everything to take her mind off her worry, right down to dusting off the supplies on the shelves and sweeping the floors. While straightening the blankets on Ryan’s bed, she couldn’t resist—she lay down and pressed her face into his pillow, smelling his scent. It only made his absence worse.
All of the activity wasn’t helping. Every noise outside made her jump. Each time a plane flew over she wondered if it was air support called in because Ryan was in trouble.
Finally, she couldn’t take being cooped up in the hut any longer. Clamping on her own helmet and body armor—safety first—and grabbing her camera bag just in case, she headed out into the dark. She aimed for the one place where she knew she could get some answers, the operations center.
Inside the door of the plywood-lined canvas tent, Vicki encountered a brick wall in her search for information—namely, Hawk. She suspected getting an update out of him would be like pulling teeth.
Currently, he leaned over the soldier manning the communications console and shouted into the microphone on the desk. “What do you mean you didn’t see the truck anywhere?”
A garbled voice came back over the airwaves saying something indecipherable that increased the scowl on Hawk’s face.
He ran his hands over the dark stubble covering both cheeks and looked frustrated and unhappy. If the situation was bad enough to rattle Hawk, it had to be bad. Very bad. And Ryan was out there in it somewhere.
He wasn’t going to come back. She could feel it. Deep down, she felt a hole forming in her heart where her feelings for Ryan resided.
Vicki felt her entire body shaking from the inside out. Her heart pounded, almost deafening in her own ears, like the turned-up bass line of a dance song in a club. Her throat was so dry she couldn’t swallow. She was sure if she attempted to drink the bottle full of water she saw sitting on the desk, she’d shake so badly she’d slosh it all over herself and probably anyone standing nearby as well.
She felt her eyes begin to well up right at the moment Hawk noticed her presence in the tent.
He raised a brow. “Yes? Can I do something for you?”
Would this man ever stop scaring her? Her heart was breaking, and he was still being an ass. She barely managed a whisper. “I was just wondering what was happening.”
“We’re in the middle of a clusterfuck, that’s what’s happening. And you are not to write a word about it. Understand?”
She couldn’t take one more thing thrown on her shoulders. Worry over Ryan overwhelmed her. She was not about to take shit from Hawk now too.
Through clenched teeth, Vicki answered, “Perhaps I’m worried about the welfare of the group of men I’ve come to be friends with, who are currently out there in harm’s way. Can’t I just be concerned? Isn’t that possible?”
Vicki noticed the man at the console glance expectantly between her and Hawk. She supposed he’d never heard anyone speak to the mighty Hawk like that before. She also couldn’t care less what he or anyone else thought at the moment.
Crossing her arms, she returned his glare while sparing the briefest second to wonder what reporter had messed with Hawk to make him hate the entire breed.
Hawk simply stared at her for what seemed like a very long time, his face set as if it was made of stone. Finally, she sensed the tiniest crack in the façade.
“Yes.”
Vicki huffed. “Yes what?”
Hawk let out a breath. “Yes, you can be concerned.”
That didn’t help make her feel any better at all. Was he telling her his men were in trouble? That she had better be concerned?
She drew in the shakiest of breaths and wrapped her arms around herself. “Is this what you feel all the time?”
He raised a brow in question, so she clarified. “This constant rush of adrenaline? It’s horrible.”
“Horrible? No. It’s necessary. It’s what keeps you going when you haven’t slept in twenty-four hours or more. It’s what keeps you sharp.” He laughed bitterly. “In fact, it’s addictive.”
Vicki kept quiet and didn’t point out that most things that were addictive were bad for you. In her opinion, adrenaline included, especially if it was what kept Ryan running back into danger.
“I want both A-team and B-team on the line. Get them back in here. I’m not risking my guys on a frigging wild-goose chase when half the British Army and Air Force is already out there looking. Especially since we can’t even find signs of that damn truck.”
The soldier manning the console got on the radio and began to do as Hawk had ordered.
Hawk turned his attention back to her. “See? You don’t have to worry. I’m going to call them back in now.”
Vicki experienced an immediate surge of joy. Ryan must be part of either the A-team or the B-team, and they were going to be on the line in a moment. Hawk was calling his men back to base. Ryan would be with them.
She nodded, relieved. Not exactly feeling warm and fuzzy about Hawk, but she did feel like some sort of truce had been declared…until he raised a brow expectantly and stared at her. When she didn’t say anything, not knowing what to say, or what he wanted, he motioned toward the door. “You can leave now.”
Eyes narrowed, mouth twisted, she used every facial muscle she had to let Hawk know exactly how unhappy she was at his ordering her around. She punctuated her exit with a slam of the flimsy door, realizing it was extremely difficult to make a dramatic exit from a tent.
“What the fuck do you mean A-team is missing?”
Both Vicki’s pleasure that Ryan was coming back and her anger at Hawk’s attitude was short lived. It all washed away as, barely two steps away from the tent, she heard Hawk explode.
Vicki spun on her heel and crashed back in through the door, practically hyperventilating as she watched him grab the microphone away from the man seated in front of it. “Pettit. Report.”
Silence answered Hawk’s call. He repeated it. “Base to Alpha team. Base to Alpha team. Pettit. Report.”
Dark spots appeared at the edges of Vicki’s vision. She grabbed for something to hold onto as she felt herself sway. She managed to stay mostly upright as Hawk called again. “Base to Bravo team. Wally. Report.”
“I hear you, Hawk. We’re on our way back.” Wally’s garbled voice came across the airwaves. All Vicki could think was she wished it was Ryan’s instead.
“Disregard that order. Search-and-rescue procedure. Alpha team’s gone missing.”
Wally hesitated for a moment. “Repeat that, base. Over.”
Hawk sighed. “Alpha team is missing.”
“Holy fuck. How the hell did that happen?”
Hawk shook his head but didn’t answer Wally’s question. “Search in the last known location of Alpha team. I’m contacting air support.”
“Roger that, Hawk.”
“Wally? Don’t you frigging get lost too.”
“I’ll do my best not to, Hawk. Out.”
Hawk handed the mic back over to the soldier. “Call air support. Tell them we’re looking for five groundpounders now, as well as the missing wheeled vehicle.”
Surreally, Vicki’s mind turned to the milblog. She’d always wondered what groundpounder meant. She’d have to ask Ryan for the exact definition when he got back. If he got back. Tears filled her eyes.
As distracted as he was, Hawk still spotted Vicki as she clung to the wall. The tent was too small for him not to. He frowned in her direction. “I thought I told you to go.”
“Ryan’
s missing.” As if Hawk could know how that simple sentence devastated her completely.
Hawk drew in a long, deep breath and let it out. “Him and four others. It’s the entire Alpha team. Fuck. I should have called them back earlier.”
“He’s missing. Over a truck full of MREs.” Vicki wasn’t speaking to anyone in particular, more to herself, baffled that men could die over something so meaningless.
Hawk answered her anyway. “Not true. It’s not the supplies we give a shit about. There were three men in that truck. And to disappear so completely off the face of the earth the way they did, they had to have some help. If it were just a flat tire, or a broken axle or whatever, air support would have found them. That truck is somewhere, hidden in a cave, under camo netting, in a barn… Somewhere we don’t want it to be, I’m afraid, and those men are with it and in danger.”
“And now Ryan may be with them too.”
Vicki noticed Hawk watching her strangely, as if he could read I’m in love with Ryan and now he may be dead written across her forehead. The interested look lasted barely a second, and then his attention was back to the communications console. But he didn’t ask her to leave again, so she stayed.
A garbled British voice came across. “This is Foxtrot to base. Any word on the missing hounds?”
Vicki strained to understand the voice over the radio, but she was hindered by both the transmission’s poor connection and the speaker’s heavy British accent.
Hawk grabbed the microphone. “Negative. And now we have five more hounds who’ve gone missing.”
“What? Five more in addition to Wales, Rumsfield and Jordan? Bloody hell. This thing may be bigger than we think. Are the five more mine or yours?”
Hawk jerked back as if he’d been slapped by that question delivered in a very proper and cultured British accent. Vicki didn’t blame him. It seemed a hell of a thing to ask.
“Why the fuck should that matter?” Hawk said to the room in general. Into the mic, he said with a scowl, “They’re mine.”
Apparently, Hawk had enough of the conversation after that. He thrust the mic back at the soldier manning the console. “What the fuck? More men go missing while they’re out there looking for his men and all he cares about is if they’re his?”
