by Karen Foley
“How far is it to our quarters?” asked the older woman, looking across the expanse of tarmac to the hangars and tiny, plywood huts. There wasn’t a single building in sight that resembled a dormitory or other living quarters.
“Not far,” the sergeant said cheerfully. “See those buildings over there? Your quarters are just on the other side.”
Elena saw the other woman’s face blanch and felt sympathy for her. Her own head was pounding and the helicopter trip had left her feeling slightly queasy. That, combined with the oppressive heat, made even the slightest physical exertion a supreme effort. Under different conditions, she would have offered to carry the other woman’s baggage for her, but it was all she could do to manage her own.
“I can carry that duffel bag for you, ma’am,” Corrente said to the older woman, correctly interpreting her expression of dismay.
“Well, I don’t know,” the woman demurred. “If you’re sure…”
“Absolutely, ma’am,” he said with a grin. “It keeps me in shape.”
She relinquished her bag to the younger man with a grateful smile. “Thank you so much. Maybe it’s the flight, but I’m feeling a little peaked.”
“Probably the altitude,” the sergeant replied. “You’ll get used to it.”
Elena doubted it. She walked behind the two soldiers and the other civilians, hoping she didn’t embarrass herself by passing out. She hadn’t eaten anything all day, and she was starting to feel a little shaky. Sweat popped out along her brow and her shirt clung damply to her skin. The helicopter churned up clouds of dust, and her mouth felt thick and dry.
“Ma’am, can I take those bags for you?”
Elena looked around in surprise to see the second soldier speaking to her. He had reddish hair and a good-natured expression, and Elena found herself smiling back at him. He indicated her duffel bags. “Those look heavy.”
“Oh, no,” she said quickly, recalling the sergeant’s remark about not receiving preferential treatment. “I can manage.”
His quick grin and raised eyebrows clearly said, “Yeah, right.” But instead of voicing his skepticism, he reached out firmly and took one duffel bag from her.
“I insist,” he said. “I’ll catch hell from my C.O. if I let you pass out before you’ve even checked in. Besides, it’s easier to carry your gear than to have to carry you and your gear if you collapse.”
Elena knew enough military jargon to know that C.O. stood for Commanding Officer, so she gave him another smile and let him take her other bag.
“Thank you so much,” she said, falling into step beside him. “It must be the heat that makes me feel so tired. I’m Elena de la Vega, by the way.”
“I’m Corporal Cleary, but you can call me Pete. Where’re you from?”
“Virginia. I work for the Defense Procurement Agency.”
He nodded. “We have a bunch of DPA folks on the base. What kind of work will you be doing?”
“I’ll be working at the contracting center. I’ll be overseeing the construction projects you have on base, as well as working with the contractors to ensure everything gets done on time.” A breeze wafted across her face, bringing with it a putrid stench that made Elena recoil and clap a hand over her nose and mouth. “Oh, my god,” she gasped. “What is that smell?”
Pete grinned. “I’d say that’s your first project. We’ve been trying to install a waste water treatment facility on the base, but without too much success. We’re having trouble getting the parts needed for the plant. What you’re smelling is the cesspool at the back of the base. Nice, huh?”
Elena looked at him in disbelief and horror. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope,” he said cheerfully. “You get used to the smell. Well, mostly you get used to it. Sometimes it’s so bad that it wakes me up from a sound sleep. We’re almost there.”
They passed a group of four men wearing ragged clothing and traditional Middle Eastern headgear. They sported beards and shaggy hair and as they drew alongside Elena and her companions, they deliberately averted their gazes.
“Who are they?” she asked, keeping her voice low. Because really, they looked a lot like the pictures of terrorists she’d seen so many times on the six o’clock news. And while she’d known she would have contact with the local people on some level, she hadn’t been prepared for her own reaction of mistrust.
“Those are some of the locals. We have a dozen or so who come to work on the base each day. Task force Peacemaker also runs construction workshops for local men. Each man learns basic wood, concrete and masonry construction techniques, and at the end of the workshop we provide them with tools that they can bring back to their villages. The men we just passed are all graduates of the workshops.”
Elena glanced over her shoulder at the retreating men. “How do you know if they’re…you know…”
“Trustworthy? We do a background check on everyone who comes onto the base. Those are the good guys. But they’re still funny about interacting with women, so don’t take it personally if they steer clear of you.”
So he had noticed how the men had studiously avoided acknowledging either Elena or the other woman.
“Trust me,” she assured him. “No offense taken. I’d be freaked out if any of them looked twice at me. Should I cover my hair or something?”
She was half joking, but Pete didn’t laugh. He looked deadly serious. “Not here on the base, but if you go outside the fence I’d recommend you wear a head covering under your helmet. Just to keep from offending anyone.”
Elena digested this information, wondering how often she would be required to leave the base. She’d be just as happy if she never ventured beyond the fence.
They were walking between rows of the huts that she had glimpsed from the helicopter. There were dozens of them, side by side. Constructed of simple plywood, each had a door and two tiny windows, and were identical in appearance.
“What are these used for?” she asked. “Storage?”
Pete glanced at her with a quizzical smile. “Kinda. They’re called chews.”
Elena laughed. “Okay, I give up. Why are they called chews?”
“It’s an acronym for containerized housing unit. You know…CHU…chew. One of these will be your home while you’re at Sharlana. We bunk eight to a CHU. Under ideal conditions, civilians get to bunk with other civilians, but we just had a special ops team and two light-infantry units arrive this morning, so we’re tight on housing. You’ll have one other civilian and six military females in your CHU.”
Elena stared at him in disbelief. “I thought I’d have my own housing unit.”
Pete laughed. “Sorry, but that’s a luxury we can’t afford around here. Maybe that’s the case in Baghdad, but out here only the big guns get their own units. We’re building more, but it’s doubtful that civilians will ever have their own private quarters, and the showers will always be open bay. But it’s a hell of a sight better than the tents we used to live in.”
They were walking past an area that was cordoned off from the rest of the base. A wire fence had been draped with camouflage netting, effectively preventing anyone from seeing what lay on the other side. As they walked past, Elena thought she could glimpse buildings and movement through the netting. She eyed the signs that hung from the fence that read No Admittance.
“What’s this area used for?” she asked. “Detainees?”
Pete followed her gaze. “This is where the special ops guys hang out. Due to the sensitive nature of their jobs, they mostly work here or over at the Tactical Operations Center. Sometimes you’ll see them at the dining facility.” He shrugged. “Not that you’d be able to tell them apart from the rest of us, unless they grow their beards out.”
“Oh.” Elena peered through the netting as they passed, curious in spite of herself. She’d heard about the special ops guys, of course. Who hadn’t? They were the unseen heroes of the war on terror, going where angels feared to tread, and getting out again without anyone rea
lizing they had even been there. She pictured them as bearded and hard-eyed, dressed in clothing that would permit them to blend in with the local population.
From behind the fence, she could hear masculine whoops and shouts, and then a surprising cheer went up.
“Doesn’t sound like secret work to me,” she commented.
Pete shrugged. “A new team of guys just arrived this morning, and the team that’s been here for the past year is getting ready to head home. They’ll spend a couple of days transitioning. But right now they have ten guys behind that fence, which is enough for a serious game of touch football.” He glanced at Elena. “It’s important to let off steam, especially with these guys.”
Up ahead, a gate in the fence swung open, and a figure emerged. Even from a distance, Elena could see he was dressed casually in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, with a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. With his tanned legs and sandals, he could have been a tourist. Only the assault rifle slung across his back indicated he wasn’t what he appeared. He glanced at the group before turning away, and then stopped and slowly swung back in their direction.
Elena heard Pete mutter a curse under his breath.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” he replied. “But when a special ops guy decides you’re worth a second look, it can’t be good.”
Elena followed Pete’s gaze and saw the man striding purposefully toward them. This guy was special ops? He was silhouetted against the setting sun, and Elena had to shield her eyes to see him. Despite his casual clothing, everything about him said he meant business. But what could he possibly want with a group of civilians?
“I told you I could carry my own gear,” she said to Pete, apprehension tickling her spine. “Are you in trouble?”
“Nah. Like I said, it was that or carry you and your gear.” He shrugged, clearly puzzled. “I have no idea what this guy wants. But it’s obvious that he thinks he out-ranks us, which means he probably does. Which means we’ll respectfully listen to whatever it is he has to say.”
“Soldiers, front and center!”
Elena craned for a better view of the man who spoke in such authoritative tones, but the group in front of her blocked her. Still, there was something very familiar about that voice.
Pete dropped her duffel bags and made his way toward the front. Elena edged forward, too. She watched as both soldiers came rigidly to attention before the man in the shorts, who stood, arms akimbo, surveying them through grim eyes.
Elena barely suppressed a gasp and her heart exploded into action. There was no way…it couldn’t be! But as she swiped the sweat and grit from her eyes and peered again, there was no doubt in her mind. The man was none other than the one she thought she’d never see again…Chase McCormick.
Adrenaline, hot and dizzying, buzzed through her veins. Her blood pounded in her ears, and her first instinct was to turn tail and run. To hide. Because there was no way she could face him, not after last night. Not when he hadn’t even said goodbye, but had slipped out of her room while she’d slept.
What was he doing here? She’d been so certain she would never run into him again, and although she’d liked him—really, really liked him—she would have preferred it that way. She wasn’t sophisticated enough to act as if nothing had happened. Already every cell in her body was reacting to seeing him. But last night he’d been a different man, warm and solid and safe whereas right now he seemed every inch a warrior. Beneath the ball cap, his eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, but Elena could feel the weight of his scrutiny and knew with certainty that she was the reason he’d turned around and intercepted them.
She blushed and stepped casually behind one of the other civilians, out of his range of vision, hoping that she was wrong, and that he didn’t recognize her beneath the DPA cap she wore. Just seeing him again caused her body to thrum with recalled pleasure. What were the chances that he would be here, at the same forward operating base as her? It was almost enough to make her believe in fate.
In the next instant, she wondered how he would react when he realized she would be working in proximity with him for the next six months. Would he be horrified to see his one-night stand turn up on his doorstep? Or would he think their prior encounter gave him rights for future hookups? The sex had been off the charts, but no way did she want to become his go-to girl every time he had an itch that needed scratching. She wouldn’t be used. Not by him. Not by anyone.
He was speaking to the two soldiers in low tones while they stood rigidly at attention. When he was through, they both gave a loud “Yessir!” and turned back to the group.
“If you’ll follow me,” Pete said to the group, “I’ll show each of you to your designated quarters. You’ll have several hours to unpack and rest, and then I’ll return to escort you to the chow hall.”
Elena didn’t miss how he gave her a cheeky wink, but as she bent to retrieve her two duffel bags, a shadow fell over her.
“Not you, Miss de la Vega,” said a cool voice.
Elena glanced up to see Chase standing beside her. This was definitely not the same, user-friendly version she’d known in Kuwait. He didn’t fool her with his casual, tourist clothing and day’s growth of beard. With his set jaw and a seriously badass weapon slung across his back, he still looked like a tough, hardened soldier. He’d removed his sunglasses and Elena felt her insides quiver at the expression in his eyes.
“I’ll see you in private,” he said quietly. “Now.”
Without waiting to see if she would follow him, he turned on his heel and began striding away, while the other civilians gaped at her. Under any other circumstances, Elena would have looked forward to the prospect of getting some private time with Chase. But the rigid set of his shoulders as he walked away told her that this encounter wouldn’t be of a romantic nature.
“Who is that man? And how does he know who you are?” the other woman asked Elena. “Is he your new boss?”
Elena struggled beneath the burden of her two duffel bags. “We met last night in Kuwait,” she explained hurriedly. “But I don’t really know him. And he is definitely not my boss.”
She averted her gaze from the knowing looks and followed Chase, feeling like a schoolgirl who’d just been called to the principal’s office. She reminded herself that she’d done nothing wrong. She had no reason to feel so apprehensive about what he might say.
Even then, she couldn’t help but admire Chase’s legs as he strode away. They were muscled and tanned, and she recalled all too well how powerful they were.
He climbed the steps of a small hut that sported a small, curtained window on either side of the door. A sign over the doorway read Tactical Operations Center. Dropping her gear on the dusty ground outside the building, Elena followed him inside. She found herself in a crudely furnished office, with a desk built out of plywood and two-by-fours, and shelving crafted from stacked wooden crates. Two soldiers sat working at computer stations in the small space, and they looked up as Chase and Elena entered, their faces expressing surprise and interest.
“Can you give us a moment?” Chase asked quietly, his voice brooking no argument.
The men got up, nodding politely to Elena as they passed. The space was crammed with state-of-the-art computer and radio equipment, and an enormous map of Afghanistan covered one wall. On the opposite wall was a row of photos of men dressed in traditional Middle Eastern garb, with their names in bold print below them. Elena realized these were pictures of terrorists that the military hoped to capture or kill. In that instant, the full impact of where she was hit her.
Chase slid the weapon from his shoulder and placed it on a nearby surface. As he looked at her, Elena could see that he wasn’t just upset, he was furious. “What the hell are you doing here, Elena?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
Chase arched an eyebrow. “This is my fourth deployment to Afghanistan and my second time at this particular base. I’m active-duty mi
litary. This is what I do. But you’re a civilian, so I’ll ask you again. What are you doing here?”
“I work for the DPA. This is where they’ve sent me.”
He cursed and raked one hand through his hair. Elena watched, mesmerized, recalling the silky texture of those strands.
“You told me you were going to Shangri-la. I thought it was a joke. At the time, I figured you were heading back to the States.”
Elena arched an eyebrow at him. “Sorry to disappoint you. I couldn’t recall the name of the base, only that it sounded like Shangri-la.”
Chase made a gesture of frustration. “I checked the manifest this morning, and it said you were going to Baghdad, to the Green Zone.”
He’d checked the manifest! That information wasn’t available to just anyone, and Elena was warmed to think he’d cared enough to find out where she was going.
“Obviously you didn’t go to Iraq,” he continued. “So how the hell did you end up on my base?”
Elena frowned, not liking his tone. Was he implying that she’d purposely come to Sharlana because she knew he was here? “I don’t know what manifesto you were looking at, but I can assure you that I am assigned to this base. Originally, yes, I was supposed to go to Iraq, but my orders got changed at the last minute.” She hesitated. “Do you have a particular problem with my being here?”
“Damn straight I have a problem with it.” He took a step toward her, his gaze raking over her. “This is no place for a woman, and certainly not a woman like you.”
Elena bristled. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”
Chase made a growling sound of frustration. “Jesus, Elena, do I need to spell it out? Look at you! You have no military background, no experience with life on a forward operating base. This place is hard enough for men to deal with, without having the added burden of a civilian female to worry about.”
