Taking Fire Read online

  “Yeah?” he said, sticking his head in the door.

  “Shut the door,” Mac said, gesturing for him to come in.

  Mike saw the chief’s wrinkled brow, a somber look on his square face. Something was up. He knew Mac well, having worked with him four out of the five rotations into Afghanistan. He sat down. It was nearly noon, time for chow.

  “What’s up?”

  Mac raised a brow. “Remember our little talk about this woman, Khat?”

  “Yeah.” Mike saw a funny look in the man’s blue eyes, almost amusement. Almost. Since calling Lieutenant Sinclaire three weeks ago, he’d heard nothing. He’d had such high hopes, but as the weeks wore on, Mike realized it had been a shot in the dark. Nothing was going to happen.

  “I just received an interesting call from Commander Hutton out of J-bad.”

  Mike’s heart leaped. “Yes?” Tension swirled through him. Mac grinned a little and pushed some notes he’d taken on the phone call to one side of his hand.

  “You must have stirred up a hornet’s nest, Tarik. Either that or that cute blonde Naval intelligence officer at SEAL HQ did some digging and poked the bear with a stick.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Commander Hutton called to tell me that in a week, I was going to become the liaison for a Marine Corps Staff Sergeant Khatereh Shinwari. She’s the woman who saved your ass, by the way. Hutton confirmed it.”

  His mind exploded with surprise. And then questions. “What do you mean liaison?”

  “Hutton said that from now on, all supplies, including bales of alfalfa hay for her horses, were coming from Bagram to us here at Camp Bravo. We have the facility and space for her medical supplies and for the hay, no problem. And the handoff is happening next week. She’s been ordered to ride in here and talk to me so we can meet, get details nailed down and get to know one another. Hutton said Bravo was much closer to where she operates, and the handoff was simply an economic decision. He’ll still be her handler. But I’m to coordinate times and dates of when she can ride in and store up on supplies.”

  Stunned, Mike sat there, digesting it all. “Khat’s going to be here?” His heart started to race in anticipation. He’d get to see her. At least, from time to time. It was better than nothing. Bay must have said something to her contact that had gotten the ball rolling. Mike knew he’d never know.

  Mac nodded, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Yes. And I’m assigning you to coordinate drops of her equipment by helo from Bagram to here. You’ll have to get some of the boys from the army maintenance to load up the pallet and bring it over here and put it in that spare room we have.”

  He was going to get to see Khat! Mike kept his expression neutral, but inside, he was jumping up and down for joy. “I can do that.”

  “Also, Hutton said they want her to stay here five days with us, to get used to us, to our routines, learn the layout of Bravo, all the ins and outs. I expect you to be her mentor and show her around. She needs to know where women’s showers are located, the chow hall, the dispensary and stuff like that. Plus, she’s to stay here.” He pointed across the hall to a small bedroom that was available.

  “Oh, Sarah’s room?” On the door there was a plaque with that name on it. Mike had heard from the departing platoon that the room was painted and decorated for a Medevac pilot, Chief Warrant Officer Sarah Benson, who was engaged to Ethan Quinn, one of the SEALs in one of the platoons. She had been treated like a little sister by the men and with Master Chief Hunter’s direction, cleaned up the small room and made it habitable. It was painted a light pink by the SEALs.

  Mike had been in the room as a matter of curiosity, checking it out shortly after their platoon had arrived. No one used it. So it was a perfect place for Khat to get some seriously good sleep in a very safe place. Or, as safe as any forward operating base could be.

  “Yeah.” Mac scratched his bearded jaw. “They’re also going to be doing their yearly physical and psych evaluation on her. From what Hutton told me, the people in this Pentagon op, which he did not name, go through a yearly protocol. Just routine maintenance, I guess.” He shrugged. “And that’s going to take three days. So, you’ll be her guide and mentor. You got a broken arm, and I’m sure you’d rather be with her than doing mission planning all day with me,” he added drily, grinning.

  Mike felt as if the heavens had suddenly opened up and piled more bounty on him than he could ever have imagined. “You got that one,” he said, smiling a little.

  “Well, you’re a known quantity to Sergeant Shinwari, and Hutton agreed to allow me to pawn her off on you.”

  “I’ll make sure she’s welcomed and comfortable with us.”

  Mac raised his brows. “Be careful. Hutton warned me she’s a loner and is not very socialized.” He shrugged. “It would take that kind of personality to do what she does. He said she’s not diplomatic and has a hair-trigger temper.”

  Mike chuckled. “She’s got red hair. What the hell else should we expect?”

  Mac grunted. “He called her ‘wild.’ I wasn’t sure how to take that. Hutton meets with her once a year. They fly her into J-bad, and she goes through this five-day protocol. He said she’s brutal on those she works with, and she flouts authority.”

  “She doesn’t suffer fools,” Tarik agreed quietly, thinking about how Hutton was describing her. That’s not the woman he met in the cave. It wasn’t the one who saved his life. So what was going on?

  “Between you, me and the fence post,” Mac said, “I don’t think Hutton likes her one bit, but he’s stuck with her. He may be the one who is moving her over to Bravo just to get her off his back. He was saying no one looked forward to her coming into J-bad for those five days. She pissed everyone off, including him. She’s angry about something, that’s for sure, so be forewarned.”

  “I never saw any of that with her,” Mike argued strongly. “She was wary of me because she is black ops. She never spoke about anything she did, but she was never disrespectful or angry toward me.” He never forgot her scarred back. Maybe she had something to be angry about.

  Shrugging, Mac said, “Maybe you’re the right guy to tame her, then.”

  Or, maybe they had a deep connection that he wanted to explore more than anything else. Mike didn’t say anything. “Does she need new cammies? Other gear replacement?”

  “I don’t know, but apparently when she’s in-house, whatever she needs, she gets, no questions asked. I’m to send the bills to Hutton. If she needs new cammies, then you’ll have to fly with her to Bagram and get over to Navy Supply. We don’t have anything like that around here.”

  “I always like going to Bagram.”

  “Yeah, who doesn’t? A little piece of the US on base,” Mac growled.

  “Do you have a personnel file on her?”

  “Hutton’s sending it by pdf email later today to me. The officers, me and you will be the only ones privy to it. Don’t need to tell you, she’s classified up to her ass and back, so say nothing to anyone.”

  Mike was anxious to read her personnel record. It would tell him so damn much and rip away the mystery surrounding Khat. “Roger that,” he agreed.

  “I don’t want to have to ‘handle’ this woman, Tarik. If she’s upset or bitching, you’re handling it instead. I’ve got my hands too full as it is.”

  “I’ll take care of her and anything she needs,” he promised.

  “So, get Sarah’s room ready for her. Make sure that air conditioner is working. Get someone over from electrical to fix it, if it isn’t. We need to make her feel welcome.”

  “She’s got two horses, Mac. I want to look at that room. We need to make some kind of small corral for them.”

  “Good idea. I’ll contact the Seabees lieutenant that’s here at Bravo and get him to build something. I’ll let you handle the details.”

  Tarik knew those two horses meant everything to Khat. She’d relax more if she knew they were going to be well cared for while she was here. �
�Mac, did Hutton give you her call sign?”

  “Yeah, it is Archangel.” He smiled. “You have a good set of ears on you.”

  “You think there’s anything in her personnel record about what she’s doing?”

  “Hutton said it would be redacted. Not for our eyes or knowledge. We’re like a supply depot for her, that’s all. The less we know, the better. Hutton was getting his knickers in a twist when I asked more questions than I should have.”

  “Okay,” Mike murmured, thinking ahead. There was a key to Khat; one that he wanted to open and understand. Maybe after reading her record, he could go back to Lt. Addison Sinclaire, the Navy intel officer at Bagram, and she might be able to find out more. Naval intelligence worked closely with all black ops. An intel officer often knew more than anyone else. He’d give it a try because his gut told him Khat’s life changed five years ago, and he wanted to know what had happened. She wasn’t going to tell him, that was for damn sure.

  “Get back to work. I need that mission PowerPoint by this evening,” Mac said.

  Getting up, Mike picked up his laptop. “I’m on it.” Planning a mission took weeks, even a month, sometimes. Especially a complex one where a team would be out for days or a week.

  He hurried out into the big room, sat down at the desk and plugged in his Toughbook laptop. Joy cascaded through him. Mike knew he couldn’t show any of it. If anyone, even Mac, suspected that he was emotionally connected with Khat, he’d have been removed as her mentor. As he sat there waiting for his Toughbook to power up, he wondered how Khat was taking the news from Hutton.

  *

  “YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS!” Khat growled into the sat phone. She was sitting on Mina, hidden in a grove of trees just above a goat trail, coming back from a sniper op. The sun had set, and it was getting dark.

  “The paperwork is already complete, Archangel.”

  “Who did this to me?” she demanded, anger rising in her along with fear.

  “Look, I take orders just like you do. This came from the Pentagon. That’s all I can tell you.”

  Fear snapped at her. She was reassigned to Camp Bravo for her five-day evaluation? Not J-bad? “When am I expected to arrive there?”

  “Three days from now. A Petty Officer First Class Mike Tarik will be waiting for you at Bravo’s secure gate at 0200. You won’t be allowed in without security confirmation no matter who you are, and he’s your mentor while you’re there.”

  Shock made her gasp. Mike Tarik! Confused, her heart sank. Biting on her lower lip, Khat continued to look around, the place unsafe. She kept her voice very low. “But you’re still my handler?”

  “That’s affirmative. You contact me once you’re back in position in your op area. It will take you two days to travel by horseback one way from where you’re at to Camp Bravo. Just be careful.”

  “Roger that,” she muttered, signing off. Well, hell! Stuffing the sat phone in a pocket on her H-gear, Khat shifted in the saddle. She’d been out on a sniper op since 0400. Three Taliban leaders riding with Khogani were now dead. And like a disturbed nest of wasps, the other twenty riders had spread out, aggressively searching for her.

  Patting Mina’s sweaty neck, she could feel her mare’s flanks heaving in and out from the long gallop and trot for the past ten miles. She’d varied her movement, taking rat line trails used to carry fertilizer to the bomb makers in her country, to goat trails that were thousands of years old. That way, their trackers would become confused or at least be slowed down, allowing her to escape.

  Khat couldn’t afford to be distracted, but the news from Hutton was an unexpected bombshell. Almost akin to Mike’s kiss. Mouth pulling in at the corners, she squeezed her calves to her mare, asking her to move out. Mike…

  The sky was turgid above them, summer bringing violent thunderstorms. She could smell the rain in the air, a cell about five miles away from her position. Nudging Mina into a slow trot, knowing her mare was tired, Khat wanted to try and get to her pool cave before it started raining. Floods, rock avalanches and inches of water would pour off the slopes. It made for bad riding, and it was dangerous to her horse and herself.

  The rain began just as she got to her cave complex. Dismounting in the outer cave, Khat patted her mare’s wet neck and pulled the reins over her head. After making sure there were no surprise visitors, Khat made her way back to the internal safety of the cave structure.

  As she unsaddled Mina and brushed her down, her mind was free to range over the sudden turn of events. Frowning, Khat felt a new fear. Fear of Mike Tarik. His one kiss had opened up a Pandora’s box of emotions she’d hidden from for five years. And they were loose and howling inside her, with no way to stuff them back from where they had come.

  Mike scared her. She scared herself. Putting the saddle over the gate, Khat pulled out a flake of hay for her mare. Her heart seethed with ecstasy and then crashed with anxiety. Mike’s kiss had reminded her too vividly of her physical needs. And dammit, it had all remained under wraps until his mouth curved hotly against hers. And she’d become lost in him, warmed by him, protected by him. Shaking her head, Khat wrestled with herself. Five years of celibacy. Five years of not feeling alone, but on an important mission of revenge. And his kiss had exploded her carefully choreographed reality. In one moment Mike had initiated a warmth and healing into her wounds she’d been unable to repair by herself.

  She couldn’t forget his mouth on hers. Ever since then, she’d begun to have torrid, colorful dreams. They replaced her nightmares for the most part, and Khat felt she should be grateful for that. Giving her mare two buckets of water, she settled down to take care of herself. Tea first.

  Just the familiarity of her nightly routine helped calm some of her nerves. She was going to see Mike. For five days. Would he try and kiss her again? God, she couldn’t let it happen. Khat had seen his kiss turn her world upside down. And his promise to find her again had come true. The look in his eyes that night as they waited for the Medevac to land, told her he meant what he said. It had been no idle threat.

  As she poured hot water into the mug, the sweet smell of the Darjeeling tea wafted to her sensitive nostrils. Inhaling it, Khat closed her eyes, head hanging down, feeling her way through the lightning-bolt changes of her life and how it might affect her mission. She hungrily absorbed Mike’s roughened hand on her cheek, his strength monitored, his protectiveness embracing her. His voice did something sensual to her, unstringing her, opening her up to her own vibrant, pulsing appetite. His kiss…well, the man knew how to kiss a woman, no doubt. Khat was sure he had a lot of practice. From what she’d seen, SEALs drew females like bees to honey, and they never wanted for women.

  There was a powerful charisma to Mike Tarik, and Khat couldn’t explain it any more today than the first time she had met him. Maybe it was because he was of Middle Eastern blood like her. Blood was thicker than water. And he had the magnetism that reminded her of a powerful sheik she’d met years ago. A natural leader. A man whose confidence oozed from his pores. “Damn,” she muttered, sipping the tea and burning her tongue.

  Counting the days ahead, Khat knew she had to get squared away within herself. His kiss had dissolved her hardened barriers against all men. He’d melted them away with one soft brush of his mouth against hers. Mike wasn’t anything like the men who had kissed her before when she was much younger. He wasn’t sloppy or in a hurry. Instead, he had tasted her lightly, as if barely sipping a fine wine to discover all its layers and complexities. He’d asked her to participate and didn’t assume she wanted to kiss him at all.

  Rubbing her eyes with her hand, she muttered, “Dammit!” What it really came down to was that she was afraid of herself. Afraid of her newly released feelings, hormones or whatever the hell it was, that appeared when she’d decided to return Mike’s warm, coaxing kiss. Khat had no one to blame but herself. She could have pushed away. Told him no. But she hadn’t. Because in that single moment, she wanted to kiss this man. His mouth fascinated her, called to her
, and she felt nearly helpless when he had been so damned close, so incredibly masculine and confident. Those all turned her on, not off.

  Worse, she thought as she finished her tea and stood up to go bathe in the waterfall, he was not presently in a relationship. Just like she wasn’t. What were the odds? Trudging wearily down the tunnel after grabbing her towel and toiletries, Khat was scared. How to tell Mike no? Every time she was in the general vicinity of him, Khat could feel her lower body clenching, wanting…

  Later, as she turned out the kerosene lamp and settled down on her sleeping bag, Khat was too tired to think anymore. Her world of five years had just been deconstructed. Feeling lost, lonely and scared, she knew it meant big changes. Khat wasn’t sure she was strong enough internally to deal with all of these new and overwhelming challenges. If she hadn’t been nearly beaten to death, if she hadn’t lost part of herself, if her soul hadn’t been fractured by the torture, she could have dealt with Mike, with her growing feelings for him. Where she was at right now, Khat simply didn’t feel she had the strength to remain immune to the man, and that scared her more than the flaying she’d endured.

  CHAPTER SIX

  MIKE WAITED IMPATIENTLY near the guard gate entrance to Camp Bravo. It was a last quarter moon, the darkness diluted. The two Marine sentries knew Khat was to arrive at 0200. The wind was sharp and cold, even in the middle of summer. He’d worn his heavy cammie jacket. Pushing his baseball cap up off his brow, he tried to tame his anxiety. Was Khat angry over the changes? Accepting? How would she react to him? Mike was sure she knew he was going to be her mentor while she was here. Hutton would have told her.

  Pulling his NVGs up, he could see moving shadows. Two horses. He saw Khat, and she was wearing male Afghan clothes, her head swathed in a black turban, the material across her face, only her eyes covered with a pair of NVGs visible. His heart picked up in beat. Damn, he’d missed her so much. He’d enjoyed their sparring, their verbal dances around one another. They were two operators playing a mental chess game with one another. What he felt in his heart for Khat wasn’t a game, however.