Taking Fire Read online

  In fifteen minutes, Khat arrived at the gate. She pulled the material from her face and pulled the goggles down around her neck so she could be recognized. Mike walked up to her, patting Mina’s damp neck. He gave her a warm smile. “Welcome to Bravo,” he told her.

  Khat was exhausted by the long ride. “Thanks.” His smile was like warm honey being poured through her stiff, tired body. How handsome he was.

  “Any problems getting here?”

  “No,” she answered, leaning over and rubbing her mare’s neck. “The usual. Avoiding Taliban in an area.” Khat saw he was all business. The two Marine guards were alert. She saw Mike give them a nod of approval. The gate lifted. Mina trudged forward, her head hanging a bit.

  Mike walked ahead of Khat, taking her through rows of tents and then angling off to the right. Finally, he stopped.

  Khat stiffly dismounted. Forty miles a day was hard on horse and rider. Pulling the reins over Mina’s head, she kept her distance from Tarik. There was enough moonlight, and he pulled his NVGs away from his eyes. Instantly, her heart started beating harder. She was wary of him, unsure of how he was going to treat her. “Do you have a stable for my horses?”

  Mike smiled a little, seeing the weariness in her deeply shadowed eyes. “Our Seabees built you a small corral and barn. It’s right around here.” He led the way.

  Pleasantly surprised, Khat saw the twenty-by-twenty corral made of sturdy posts and rails. Mike opened the door to a small barn, stepping aside. Once Khat was inside with her horses, he closed the door and turned on a low light, giving Khat a good look at the facility.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, “the light can’t be seen from outside.”

  “Good,” she said with a grimace. “I draw enough Taliban to me without light leaking out of a building.”

  “Want some help?”

  Khat was moving slowly. Mike wanted to show her to Sarah’s room, but knew she wouldn’t leave her horses until she was satisfied they were properly taken care of first. The light clearly showed her skin was tight across her high cheekbones.

  “Could you unpack Zorah?” And then she looked at his arm. “How is it doing?”

  He smiled a little and held it up. “The docs were very impressed with how well you set the bones. I just graduated to a removable splint. Bad part is they said eight weeks before I could get out on patrols again. I’m not happy about that.” For the first time, he met and held her gaze. He was already sensing Khat was wary, tired and something else that he couldn’t define. Maybe tense. On guard. He wondered if she was remembering their kiss. He sure as hell was. How many times a day did he rerun that moment? Mike had lost count. Her eyes were cloudy, not the clear green tourmaline color he’d seen before. “You must be tired.” He quickly released the straps and pulled the tarp off the horse.

  A warmth spread through Khat. She didn’t want to respond to his slight smile, his caring gaze, but she felt it right down through the center of her, and straight into her lower body. The man literally oozed sexuality. As exhausted as she was, Mike had the ability to electrify her senses with just a slight smile. And those lion-gold eyes of his seemed able to gaze into her wildly beating heart and know she was secretly drawn to him. “It’s been pretty active in my sector,” was all she’d say.

  She stripped Mina of her saddle and placed it on a metal saddle rack. There were two box stalls filled with thick, fresh straw for the horses to bed down upon. The place was so new that even the timbers smelled good. “This is a wonderful barn,” she whispered, leading Mina into the first stall. Khat realized the water trough was already filled. There was a feed box for the oats she fed them. A flake of alfalfa hay lay on the floor. Mike had done this. She would have bet anything. Only another horseman would know what was needed.

  Mina plunged her small muzzle into the large container, drinking deeply. Khat left her halter on and closed the door. She turned to see Mike taking Zorah into the other stall. Wiping her face, she felt dirty, sweaty and gritty. The floor was concrete, and on the wooden walls there were plenty of hooks for bridles, halters and lead ropes.

  “Did you help the Seabees lay this place out?” she wondered. Mike was dressed in his cammies and wearing a Kevlar vest. He wore only a pistol on his right thigh. Beneath the light, his face was strong and angular, that tension always radiating from him. He was the snow leopard in repose, but not asleep.

  Locking the gate, he said, “Yeah, the Seabees officer wasn’t up on barns, so I drew him a few pictures, and he got it right.” He lifted his head and smiled. Wanting to stare at her but knowing it would make her nervous, he said, “Come through this side door.” He opened it for her.

  Khat stepped into the other room. There was a pallet of supplies in the center of it, plus fifty bales of alfalfa hay stacked in one corner. She inhaled the sweet scent, loving it. “Wonderful. I won’t be outside.”

  Mike rested his hands on his hips, a few feet separating them. “Right, no Taliban sniper to take shots at you. What would you like to do first? Food? Shower? Or bed?”

  All her tension and anxiety fled beneath his dark, inquiring gaze. He was making no move to crowd her or try to kiss her. Instead, he kept his distance, and Khat was grateful. “I would die for a hot shower.”

  “Not necessary to die,” Mike teased with a slight grin. “The showers are located in the center of Bravo. I think we have enough light to see okay without our goggles. Let me show you your room first. I’ve got towels, washcloths and soap on the dresser waiting for you.”

  Khat was glad for the warm wool Afghan clothes. It was cold as they walked out the other end of the supply room. She could hear Apache helicopters spooling up at Operations and the airfield area of the FOB. Everywhere she looked as she followed Mike, it was dark.

  Mike opened the door leading into SEAL HQ. She waited just inside the hall, not sure where to go.

  “In here,” he murmured, opening another door. “This is Sarah’s room, and now it’s yours.”

  Khat was amazed at the amenities. A twin bed, not a cot. A real dresser, a desk, a small lamp, a television set and a large rectangular mirror above the dresser. Best of all, it was air-conditioned for the summer heat. That was a true luxury. She spotted the toiletries on it and walked over, picking up a thick white towel, a pair of flip-flops, a washcloth and the soap. There was a thick blue terry-cloth robe hanging on a hook, and she took it. “This is wonderful,” she said, looking around. And then she lifted the pink soap, inhaling it deeply. “I love the smell of roses…”

  “Like it?”

  “Very much.” And then she added with a weary smile, “SEALs rock.”

  It made Mike feel good. He and his team had worked hard for a week to get the barn and corral built, helping the Seabees. He’d scoured the FOB to find the specially scented soap for Khat. Mike had noticed on the tin of her Darjeeling tea that there were red roses painted on it. He thought she might like roses. On a hunch, he’d walked over to the Black Jaguar Squadron and gotten one of the women Apache pilots to donate a bar of her rose-scented soap for Khat. He led her to the concrete block set of showers. Taking her to the women’s side of the facility, he said, “I’ll wait out here for you.”

  It was cold. She frowned. “I won’t be long, Mike.”

  “Don’t hurry on my account, all right? Enjoy that hot water.”

  Mike leaned against the building, arms across his chest. The thick jacket kept him plenty warm. He heard a shower turn on, and he smiled a little. Maybe all these amenities would convince Khat to spend more time at Bravo. He could wish. Concerned, he realized Khat seemed to have lost weight since he last saw her. His mind went over her personnel file that he’d pretty much committed to memory. Deciding to let Khat tell him about herself, it gave him a leg up on some of her mysterious responses to him.

  In the file it stated she had been a POW for thirty days. All the rest of the information had been redacted. It had happened five years ago.

  Khat emerged later wrapped in the blue r
obe, the white towel twisted up on her head, her Afghan clothes in a bundle. He smiled and eased the clothes and her boots out of her arms. “You look like a blue teddy bear.”

  She grinned tiredly. “A blue teddy bear?” She looked down at the huge robe that must have belonged to a guy weighing three hundred pounds. She could have wrapped it around her twice. “That hot water was divine. That’s something I miss so much. A hot bath.”

  “No bathtubs here at Bravo,” Mike said, “but they do have them at Bagram.” Mike checked his stride to walk with her, leading her back to the HQ. He opened the door for Khat, and she flip-flopped into the hall. When she opened the door to her room, he halted at the opening. “You can sleep in tomorrow,” he said. “And down the hall on the right is the head. The guys know you’re coming in, so no worries. It becomes a unisex head for a week.”

  “Hope I don’t scare the bejesus out of some guy by walking in on him tomorrow morning.” She smiled and turned around and released the towel around her damp, thick red hair.

  Mike grinned. “They’re animals, but they’ll get over it.” Mike felt his body go hard as she stood there. Khat’s long hair was like a red cloak about her shoulders. The robe was voluminous. She looked lost in it. Or maybe, she was lost. The haunted look deep in her green eyes had returned.

  “Where can I find you after I wake up? I don’t know where I am.”

  “Just come down the passageway,” he told her, “I’m doing mission planning, and you’ll find me in the big room at the desk in the corner.”

  “Okay,” she murmured, drying her hair with the towel. “I need clothes. I forgot to get a set of clean cammies out of that one pannier container.”

  “I’ll get them for you.”

  Khat gave him a bewildered look. “I’m just not thinking,” she said apologetically. “I need my small red bag, too. It has my comb and brush.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Just sleep,” she muttered, eyeing the bed.

  “Be back in a minute.”

  The door quietly shut. Khat felt so many emotions, she couldn’t process all of them. Mike looked healthy. And happy. And fit. And so damned masculine and sexy that it was blatant. It wasn’t anything he was doing. It was just him. She’d missed that playful glint that was in his eyes. And his mouth. Oh, she was in such trouble, it wasn’t even funny because she felt sexual hunger gnawing at her, and she wanted to kiss him again. The way Mike looked at her, the care burning in his eyes, melted all her defenses. Khat knew she was tired. Her mind just wouldn’t work.

  There was a light knock at the door.

  “Come in,” she called.

  Mike brought in her clean cammies and her red toiletry bag. She was sitting on the bed, the low lamplight gleaming off her crimson hair. Did Khat know how classic her features were? How clean the bones of her face? How damned tempting her soft mouth was? He kept a tight leash on himself. Khat wasn’t a woman who rushed into anything. He was going to have to build trust with her first. “Okay?”

  “Yes, thank you.” She tilted her head a little and gave him a grateful look. “I’ll see you whenever I wake up.”

  He lifted his hand and said, “Good night. Sleep the sleep of angels, Khat.”

  The silence took his place. He was like strong, warm sunlight to her dark soul. Khat got up and pulled the blankets and sheet back on the bed. A real bed. She turned off the lamp, placed the towel on the pillow and lay down, even though her hair was still damp and uncombed. Exhaustion tunneled through her, and she told herself tomorrow she would comb and brush her hair.

  The last thought Khat had was of Mike, smiling. Her body was still restless and needy, that smile of his touching her, awakening her in ways she never knew possible.

  *

  AT 0800 THE NEXT MORNING, Mike was at his desk in the big room, working on a mission plan. He noticed that a number of the SEALs were hanging around a lot more than normal. At this time of day, the big room was usually empty and silent. He smiled to himself. They all wanted to see Khat, their curiosity getting the better of them. All week, they’d talked about her arrival. The noise level was constant, some of the men sitting on the bleachers talking about patrols, others getting coffee from the machine in the other corner.

  And then the room felt silent. Mike could have literally heard a pin drop. He lifted his head and saw every man in the room staring at Khat. She stood resolutely at the end of the passageway where it opened up into the big room. Dressed in her cammies, her red hair in a thick braid between her shoulder blades, Mike saw Khat’s eyes were clear and beautiful. And damn, she looked like a tall, proud Afghan warrior. She radiated strength and confidence. Mike got up and met her narrowed eyes. She surveyed the SEALs coolly, her black baseball cap gripped in her left hand.

  “Good morning,” he murmured, coming over to her. Her cheeks turned a dull red, and he felt the tension in her body as she stared back at the ten SEALs in the room. Mike deliberately placed himself slightly in front of her and to one side, a protective reaction.

  “Okay, you animals, stand down,” he called with a grin. “Meet Marine Corps Staff Sergeant Shinwari. She’s going to be with us for five days, so make her feel welcome.”

  Most of the men gave sheepish grins, nods and smiles. Each of them came over and introduced themselves to Khat, politely shaking her hand. Mike stood aside, watching the men’s faces. Half were married, and the other half were not. They were all smitten by her, and he wondered if Khat realized her effect on men. It wasn’t often they’d gotten to meet a nearly six-foot-tall woman warrior. And to give Khat credit, she was the model of decorum, shaking each man’s hand and meeting his eyes. Hutton’s assessment of her not being socialized was a lie as far as Mike was concerned. She was attentive, respectful and sincere with each SEAL.

  “Okay,” he said turning to her, “now that we got their curiosity out of the way, are you ready to eat?”

  Khat settled the baseball cap on her head. “I need to feed my horses first.”

  “I got up at 0500 and went out and rubbed them down and fed them. I gave them each a quart of oats, too. That all right? They’ve done some serious traveling.”

  Her heart tumbled because Mike was kind enough to take care of her horses. He was a horseman himself, and he understood animals came first before a person ate a meal. “Yes, a quart each is fine.” Her voice grew husky with feelings. “Thank you…” Every time Khat tried to distance herself from him, to stop from feeling so drawn to him, Mike did something utterly kind or thoughtful, and it blew all her defenses apart. Again.

  Tarik threw his black baseball cap with the SEAL emblem embroidered in gold on the front of it on his head. “You’d do the same for me.” He gave her a boyish smile. “Let’s go, I’m starving. You have to be hungry, too.”

  Khat got her first good look at Camp Bravo. Mike told her it was strictly a black ops forward operating base with a thousand people. They had an Apache squadron flown only by women, a Medevac squadron, drones, the CIA and all the other major black ops groups from the various military branches. As they walked, she saw row upon row of tents. Mike pointed out the SEAL section.

  “And I have a room with a real bed in it?” she asked.

  “Yep. We treat our women right.” He smiled over at her. Mike saw the look of awe she gave him at his comment. “Did you sleep well last night?”

  “I did,” she muttered. “Real sleep. Not having to sleep light, waiting for the enemy to sneak up on me.”

  Mike watched the men turn and stare at Khat. Maybe because she was too tall to miss, or maybe because she commanded their attention simply because she was a beautiful woman. She frowned, and he watched her mouth draw in at the corners. Groups of men made her tense up and become guarded.

  “Not used to a lot of men staring at you?” he asked, catching her downcast eyes.

  “I hate it.”

  “You can’t hide yourself, Khat,” he teased, trying to get her to relax. “A beautiful woman always turns the heads of me
n. You can’t blame the poor bastards.”

  She shrugged, putting on her wraparound sunglasses. It was a defense, but it helped her. “I’m hardly beautiful.”

  Mike wasn’t going to argue with her. They reached the chow hall, and he led her into it. Most of the lines were short, breakfast for many long past. He found them a table in a corner with no one else nearby and sat down. She wanted to sit with her back to the wall so she could see who was coming in the doors. Mike acquiesced, understanding her survival reactions. More than anything, he wanted her to relax.

  As they ate, he noticed she was tucking it away. That was good. Looking down at his tray, which was piled with protein and carbs, he was going to eat heavy, too. In their business, one never knew when they’d be able to eat the next time.

  “What’s my schedule, do you know?” she asked him, sipping her mug of black tea.

  “Dr. Johnson, a navy woman doctor, is going to give you your physical at 1000. You’ve got plenty of time to eat and relax before that.”

  “I’m glad it’s a woman,” she said, enjoying the eggs, grits and toast. “I hate being examined by a male doctor.”

  She said it with passion. And with distaste. He held her gaze, which had grown upset. “Tell me if I’m being too nosy,” he said quietly, “but men seem to threaten you. Am I wrong about my observation?”

  Khat compressed her lips. His voice was caring. She could feel that protectiveness emanating off him toward her. Setting her hands on either side of her tray she looked at him. “I wasn’t always like this,” she managed in a strangled voice.

  His heart tore a little, her voice suddenly emotional. Mike knew she had to be referring to the POW period in her life. He felt frustrated. The chow hall wasn’t a good place to have a raw conversation like this. He saw shame in her eyes. Plus, he had to back off from stirring upsetting things like this in her life. She had a physical today and psych eval tomorrow.

  “Life has its way with us,” he agreed gently, holding her shaken gaze. “The good news is that life usually puts a person or people to help support you at times like that, too.” He wondered if she had support after being released as a POW. “Like you,” he said, giving her a slight smile. “You were our guardian angel that afternoon we were on that scree slope, and the Taliban ambushed us.”