Operation: Tempt Me

by Christina James

  “Do you have your report ready for the Board of Directors, Miss Brasher,” Mr. Hackler asked, stepping into her office.

  “Yes, sir,” she replied with no real enthusiasm. He expected her to give a briefing on Miller when it tortured her just to think of him, not knowing when she’d see him again.

  “Then let’s head in there. I think they’ve all arrived.”

  In the large meeting room, the six Board Members had assembled, drinking coffee and talking. When they saw Hackler and Cambrie enter the room, they took their seats and the chairman spoke. “I call to order this meeting of the Highland Library’s Board of Directors. First on the agenda, a report by Miss Brasher on her progress with the Veterans Affairs grant. Miss Brasher, if you will.”

  Cambrie stood at the end of the table. She had only spoken before this group once before and had been terrified. But those feelings didn’t surface this time because she heard Miller’s voice in her ear offering her the encouragement she needed to believe in herself. He may not be beside her, but his presence would always be with her.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, I’ll be brief as I’ve only just begun work on the grant program. Support has been immense from our community for which I am grateful. Donations have come in steadily as have the volunteers to collect more. I had an opportunity to meet our pen pal, and Lt. Miller Daly is an exceptional man of strength, values, and character. We should be honored to support him while he serves our great country.”

  “Where is Lt. Daly now, Miss Brasher? We’d love to meet him,” the chairman said, the others nodding their heads in agreement.

  A sudden jolt of pain struck her heart. Clearing her throat, she spoke calmly. “Lt. Daly was called out of town earlier than expected. He had to return for a mission, sir. But he assured me we had his complete support in our quest to receive the grant.”

  “It sounds like you’ve gotten to know the young man quite well in such a short period of time, Miss Brasher,” another board member said.

  Cambrie’s cheeks warmed and she prayed they couldn’t see her blushing. Remembering just how well she’d gotten to know Miller had her squeezing her legs together as her pussy awakened with the memories. “Well, with the wonders of modern technology, I’ve been able to communicate with him via email a lot. Since the grant is vital to our survival, I’ve also made plans to dedicate part of the library’s website to this program.”

  “Will there be an additional expense to do that?” an elderly female member asked.

  “No, ma’am. It’s just a matter of me setting up a page. Will that be all?”

  She needed to stop talking about Miller and the grant. Getting involved with Miller while he was a project for work was not her smartest decision, but she couldn’t have regrets now.

  “Thank you, Miss Brasher.”

  She quickly left the room and walked as fast as she could to her office where she shut the door for privacy. “Oh, Miller. I hope you’re safe.”

  Her belly felt queasy so she sipped from the water bottle she kept on her desk. Her computer stared back. But she wouldn’t keep checking for a reply from Miller. Instead, she’d reach out to her friend for comfort and much needed advice.

  She began to type then erased the words. Picking up the phone, she dialed Emma’s number. She needed to talk not just email. Christ, when did technology replace the common phone call?

  “Hello.” Emma’s voice sounded upbeat as usual on the other end.

  “Hi, Emma. It’s Cambrie. I hope I’m not catching you at the wrong time.”

  “Oh, wow. Cambrie! What a surprise. Oh, it’s so great to hear your voice. What’s going on? Everything okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. Well, just wanted to say thank you for introducing me to Miller. He’s been a fantastic pen pal.”

  “Oh, you’re so welcome. I really hope it gets you that grant.”

  Cambrie toyed with the telephone wire. “He came to visit me the other day.”

  “What? He’s there now?”

  “No. He could only stay two days and got called back. That’s why I called you. Hoping you could give me some advice on how to handle the nature of his job. I mean, we were just getting to know each other and, wham, he’s called away.”

  “Aw, honey. I know it’s hard. I don’t think you can ever get used to sending your man into battle.” Emma’s soothing voice was genuine. But she was oh so sneaky.

  “He’s hardly my man, Emma. We’re not even dating. We, um, we just hung out during his visit.”

  “Oh, my God. Was he good in bed?”

  “Emma!”

  “Oh, hush. There’s no way Miller didn’t seduce you. He’s a lot like Finn and, honey, we ain’t got a chance against testosterone like that.” Emma laughed.

  Cambrie smiled. “Miller was magnificent, but then I had something to do with how amazing sex was, too.”

  “I’m sure you drove him insane with lust.”

  “Yeah. He did threaten to go AWOL once or twice.” Peels of laughter came through the earpiece. “I miss him already, Em. I know it sounds stupid, but I got used to him being here with me.”

  “I don’t think that’s stupid at all. He made an impression and probably was a great match for you and not just in bed. The man has a great head on his shoulders. Finn would never steer a dumb ass your way.” Now it was Cambrie’s turn to laugh. “Listen, Cam. It’s nerve wracking to wait to hear from them, but you need to keep busy.”

  Cambrie asked the question she didn’t even want to think about. “What if something happens to him, Emma? I’d never know.”

  “Of course, you would. Finn would tell you any news he got, good or bad. Miller’s family. So are you, Cam.”

  “Thank you, Emma. I’m at work so I’ve got to run. Just wanted to ask your advice.”

  “Any time, love. I’m here. Don’t forget that. Lots of love.”

  “Same to you and give Finn a hug for me.”

  Hanging up the phone, Cambrie decided to take Emma’s advice and keep busy. She developed a page on the library’s website dedicated to the grant quest. She used the picture Miller had sent her, but wished she had thought to take a newer one while he was here. She didn’t even have one of them together. Well, they did have better things to do. She smiled, allowing the memories of their loving to warm her and keep her company while she worked on the pen pal page.

  ****

  Miller rushed into the crumbling brick building, the earpiece his only connection to the other team members. The hunt for the missing U.S. Marine over enemy lines had been the mission that had called Miller’s team back into action.

  Extracting the POW depended on if the team had received the correct coordinates for where his captors held him. The Marine had been fresh out of boot camp and deployed to Afghanistan only weeks ago. The Marine’s convoy fell under enemy fire and all were killed but the young man reported MIA.

  A local terror group released a photo confirming that they held him. Sons-of-a-bitches didn’t know who they were fucking with when they held an American hostage. Miller kept his cool, relying on his training to make his every move.

  Short phrases rang in his ear. The team said only what they needed and nothing more. The stench of piss and dust filled the hundred-degree air. Under his armored vest, Miller’s shirt was soaked with his perspiration, but this was all in a day’s work. The military had never promised a cozy work environment.

  Miller sensed movement as he approached a room that showed signs of a previous bomb attack, the walls crumbling and piles of debris covering the floors. His aspirator kept him from breathing the dust that might force him to cough and give away his position. He blinked for focus and came upon the hostage. He whispered into his mouthpiece and waited for his team to rendezvous at his location.

  Waiting for backup was one of the hardest things Miller had had to do. He was helpless to aid the young man being tortured. He had to await the team because, on his own, he’d be useless.

  The bloodied Marine sat in a chair wit
h his hands tied behind his back, while his captors fired questions at him, punching him, spitting on him, kicking him. The man’s head hung low, his voice barely audible with each answer he offered.

  “What you say? Speak, you American asshole,” one captor shouted an inch from his face.

  With guts Miller wouldn’t have expected to see under such tactics and from someone so young, the Marine raised his head and spoke clearly, his eyes fixated on his captor. “Go. Fuck. Yourself. Mothafucka.”

  Bravo kid.

  Miller’s team arrived. Taking thirty seconds to discuss their tactical measures, they rushed the room. A spray of bullets filled the room and bodies fell to the floor. Miller grabbed a knife, sliced through the Marine’s bindings, helping him to a more protected position.

  “Give me a weapon,” the Marine yelled.

  Miller handed him a spare handgun. “Let’s get you outta this shit hole, Marine.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The team left as they had arrived, quickly and organized. On the street, they boarded their vehicle and raced to the safety of the American camp four miles away.

  “Hell of a job back there, men,” Chance yelled over the hum of the engine as the army truck sped across the desert. Hoots and hollers echoed from the men.

  “You’re a tough fucking Marine,” Miller said. “Never seen steel balls like you displayed back there.”

  Miller shook his hand while the kid’s fat lip attempted a smile. Entering the relative safety of their camp, Miller jumped from the truck and prepared to debrief.

  He wished he could email Cambrie or even give her a call. Maybe once he got done with his work and with a great deal of luck, the Internet connection would be stable enough for him to send a quick note. Cambrie had to be fast asleep half way around the world far from the dangers that surrounded him. That’s what made his job worthwhile, keeping people like Cambrie safe in their beds at night.

  The camp didn’t offer any comforts of home, just the basics for survival. Miller sacked out on a wooden carton and cleaned his gun. Thanks to the fucking sand flying around, if he didn’t clean it then the damn thing would jam.

  He found himself thinking of Cambrie during the tedious chore. Looking forward to her emails and seeing her again, Miller knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away for long. He’d figure out some way for them to be together. For now, he’d just enjoy getting to know the wonderfully refreshing woman.

  Maybe, if he ever had privacy again, he could entice her to play with him a bit at some cyber sex and use that web cam on her laptop. Shit, seeing her naked body flash across his computer screen would just about give him reason to beg for Section 8.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cambrie couldn’t decide what made her more proud, the military board filled with local citizens highlighting their military service or the wad of money she held in her hand that had been raised by the Teen Readers Group for care packages to the homeless veteran’s shelter. Never had a project given her such a sense of pride for her country.

  When Cambrie put out a call to local vets to submit their photos for a Military Board of Honor for Maddyville to be displayed at Highland Library, she never expected the response to be so great. But it had been and now even more citizens took advantage of the library’s services.

  A group of vets gathered to make new friends, see old friends, and share stories. Cambrie couldn’t listen because it brought Miller’s job too close to home. She was better when she thought of him being bored in a desert somewhere rather than him facing enemy combatants and running out of ammunition like some of the vets had talked about. It was also hard to see their war wounds up close. Limbs maimed or lost. Eyesight or hearing lost. Scars etched into skin now wrinkled with age. Cambrie admired each and every veteran she had met.

  It had been almost a week since Miller left and still no word from him. But Cambrie reminded herself that he’d get in touch when he could.

  Meanwhile, she had responsibilities to see the pen pal project through and emailed Miller each day, keeping him updated on the happenings around Maddyville, the heartwarming letter she’d received from the shelter’s manager so grateful for the first donations sent, and Aunt Annabelle’s constant efforts to get out of the nursing home.

  Aunt Annabelle even had gone as far as writing Miller a letter under the false pretense of supporting the pen pal program. Cambrie at least had the good sense to intercept that letter, read it, and confiscate it.

  “How could you write Miller that you’re being held prisoner and needed to be rescued?” Cambrie had admonished her stubborn aunt. “Honestly, don’t you think the man has more important things to worry about than a stubborn old woman who is too set in her ways for her own good?”

  “Well, someone needs to help me. I’m wasting my days in here.”

  Cambrie had made some phone calls to see about bringing Aunt Annabelle home, but her physicians thought it was too soon. Until her medications could be regulated, then Aunt Annabelle would receive the best care in the nursing home.

  Supervising the Teen Readers Group was always the highlight of Cambrie’s week. But today, a bruise on Greg’s cheek distracted her. The boy had been his usual quiet self and didn’t make eye contact. Just kept his head hung low while the other kids discussed the book of the week. The story had been about a boy who ran from each foster home he was placed in because he was being abused.

  “Greg, what do you think the boy’s friends or family could’ve done to protect him from the abuse?” Cambrie asked, hoping to give the kid a forum to discuss his troubles with his peers.

  Greg shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe they couldn’t do anything because they weren’t strong enough.”

  The answer stunned Cambrie for its insight and honesty. “Very true.”

  “Or maybe the boy tried, maybe he tried to tell someone he thought would be a match for the abuser, but that person did nothing.” Greg raised his head and stared at the small circle of teens. “Sometimes not all problems can be solved.”

  Cambrie cleared her throat and stood. “Okay. Well, since our time is up for today, I wanted to take a moment and thank all of you for the fantastic fundraising efforts you’ve made for the pen pal program. Keep up the good work and I’ll see you next week.” She walked to Greg as he put his coat on. “Greg, how did you get that bruise on your cheek?”

  His eyes had shadows in them. “Just solved a problem.”

  “I see. Have you written Lt. Daly? I’ve seen you on the computer.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah. Haven’t heard from him. No big deal.”

  She sighed. “I know, he hasn’t replied to me either. But I keep writing because I know he gets them. He’ll write when he can. But keep sending the emails. He’s a really good listener I’ve learned. And strong as an ox.” Enough to kick your dad’s sorry ass.

  “Will do. Bye, Miss Brasher.”

  “Mrs. Ginnity,” Cambrie called, passing the front desk. “Do you know who I’d call to report suspected child abuse? The sheriff or child protective services?”

  “If you’re talking about Greg’s bruised cheek, I heard the school nurse already called the authorities, but without Greg’s cooperation they couldn’t prove his father hit him. The kid said he fell off his bike or something.”

  Cambrie shook her head, anger consuming her. “Maybe I’ll talk with his mother then.”

  The other woman let out a sarcastic laugh. “Are you kidding? What’s she going to do against that bear of a man? He throws her around too, but no one can ever convince her to press charges. The sheriff’s talked to Greg senior and told him to lay off his wife and, for the most part, he has, but the woman’s still scared stiff and no help to her son. And don’t you go getting any ideas about confronting that man yourself. Aunt Annabelle needs you.”

  Cambrie had a better idea. She happened to have an ox of her own in her corner. When Miller came to visit next, she’d ask him for advice. In the mean time, she’d keep the elder Greg distracted.

&nb
sp; “Mrs. Ginnity, would you mind getting a group of ladies together to visit Greg’s mom? I’m thinking the more outside contact she has, the more she’ll open up.”

  “Oh, I like how you think. I’ll even have the women include her in our bridge games.”

  “Thank you. If she’s that abused, she may be afraid to join you at first but let’s keep trying. It’ll let her husband know people are watching. Now, I was also hoping to enlist your help in organizing a Harvest Fair to raise money to mail the care packages to the shelter. Would you be interested?”

  Mrs. Ginnity jumped out of her seat. “Would I? Oh, that sounds magnificent. Give me all the details you have so far.”

  ****

  Miller’s head throbbed and his ribs hurt like hell. But he had won the fistfight and captured the suspected terrorist with his bare hands after his gun jammed—thanks to the goddamn sand.

  “Sit down and shut the fuck up,” Miller said between clenched teeth, pushing the filthy man into a chair in the middle of an empty room. “If you don’t understand English, then I’ll have it translated for you, asshole.”

  “You dirty Americans. My brothers come for me. You see.”

  Miller leaned back against the wall while Cade stood on the other side of the small interrogation room. “Great. The more the fucking merrier. Keeps me from having to chase their asses through this friggin’ sand,” Miller said. “Now, let’s save us both some time. Tell me where the American weapons are that you and your slime ball friends stole.”

  “Kiss ass mine,” the man said and spit on the ground.

  Miller laughed. “When you learn to speak English correctly then we’ll talk. Until then, you can rot in here for all I care. Cuff him.”

  Cade locked the man’s hands and ankles to the chair and left the room with Miller.

  “Leave him in there. Isolation works wonders on loosening the tongue. I’ll check back in a few hours,” Miller said, wiping sweat from his brow.

  “Yes, sir,” Cade replied.