Six Minutes to Midnight

by Elle James

  Her heart contracted as she thought about one in particular. Cody, her best friend from high school, had been killed in Iraq when he’d stepped on a mine.

  Kinsley wanted to keep other young military men and women from the same fate.

  On her first deployment, she’d hoped to land in Afghanistan or Iraq. Instead she’d landed in Djibouti, a fairly stable environment but also a jumping-off point to other more volatile areas. She hoped that her being female wouldn’t keep them from mobilizing her to support missions outside the safety of the camp’s borders.

  Kinsley reached her quarters, filled a bowl full of water for Agar and stripped out of her uniform pants and boots. While Agar greedily slurped the entire contents of the bowl, Kinsley slipped on her army-issue PT shorts and running shoes and switched her desert-tan T-shirt for her army PT shirt. After strapping her flourescent belt around her waist and pulling her hair back into a ponytail, she planted a black army ball cap on her head and stepped out the door, leash in hand.

  She moved smartly, walking past the rows of shipping-container quarters and other buildings, working her way through the complex toward the open field designated for PT.

  She passed the motor pool and offices set aside for contractors who were providing additional support and building projects for the camp.

  A silver-haired man stood at the corner of one of the buildings, smoking a cigarette. He wore khaki slacks and a polo shirt, incongruous with the multitude of uniforms from all branches of the military.

  As she approached, he smiled. “Good afternoon,” he said.

  Not wanting to be rude, Kinsley slowed, though she’d rather speed by without engaging. “Hello.”

  He stepped in front of her. “You’re new to the camp?”

  “Yes, sir.” She frowned, her gaze running over his civilian clothing. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met.” She held out her hand. “Specialist Anderson.”

  “William Toland.” He reached out and shook her hand. “No, we haven’t met. I’d remember a woman and her dog.”

  Kinsley’s hand automatically dropped to Agar’s head. “Sergeant Agar is a Military Working Dog.”

  “I assumed he was.” The man reached out as if to pet the dog.

  Agar’s lips pulled back in a snarl and he growled low in his chest.

  Toland snatched back his hand. “Not very friendly?”

  Kinsley stepped between Agar and Toland. “He wasn’t trained to be friendly. He’s trained to sniff out explosives, not to be petted by strangers.”

  “Handy skill to have in a war.” Toland stepped back. “And message received.”

  Kinsley nodded toward the construction crane at the far end of the camp. “Are you working with the contractors to build the new water towers?”

  “I am,” Toland responded. “But please, don’t let me keep you from your exercise. I’m sure Sergeant Agar needs a good run to keep him in shape, too.” He waved his hand as if granting her passage.

  All in all, Kinsley was irritated by the man’s arrogance in stepping in front of her in the first place. And even more convinced Agar was right to growl at the man. She’d learned to trust her dog’s judgment of character.

  Toland hadn’t said or done anything too far out of the ordinary. Even so, Kinsley couldn’t put her finger on it, but she wasn’t sure she trusted the man. After all, why did a man stop a lone female soldier just to talk? Didn’t the contractors get the same briefing as the military personnel?

  Don’t fraternize. Period.

  As soon as she cleared the buildings, she shook off the prickly feeling at the back of her neck and quickened her pace into a slow, steady jog, with Agar easily keeping up at her side.

  Running had never been a joy, but she did it to stay in shape for the semiannual fitness test and to be able to keep up with the physical demands of the job. She had to be in shape to walk long miles carrying a heavy rucksack. She might also be required to run into and out of bad situations. She expected Agar to be fit; she required nothing less of herself.

  She ran along the track circling the containerized living units, staring at the stark desert beyond. She could glimpse a bit of the blue waters of the Gulf of Aden. No matter how hot, she preferred running outdoors than in the air-conditioned fitness center on the treadmills set up for residents of the camp. If Agar had to run in the heat, then she would do no less. The peace of the desert, with the wind off the water and the salty tang in the air, lulled her into a trance, nearly clearing her thoughts of the man Agar had come close to slamming into earlier.

  Kinsley had to admit McGuire had appeal, unlike William Toland, who was perhaps old enough to be her father. Knowing McGuire was a SEAL made her all the more curious about the man. Anyone who had gone through BUD/S training had to be not only physically fit, but also mentally equipped to handle the most extreme environments and situations.

  Based on the man’s broad shoulders pulling tautly at his uniform, he was fit. But she wasn’t sure about his mental fitness. For a long moment, he’d stared at her before actually opening his mouth. Perhaps he’d been hit once too often in the head and had suffered a brain injury.

  At least that’s what Kinsley told herself. She preferred to come up with reasons she should stay away from the man rather than reasons to fall under his spell. She hadn’t joined the army to get married. And fraternization at Camp Lemonnier was strictly forbidden.

  Footsteps sounded behind her, disturbing her not-so-peaceful escape.

  She tightened her hold on Agar’s lead and moved to the outside of the dirt path, making room for the other runner.

  Instead of passing her, the runner slowed to match her pace.

  She frowned over at him, ready to tell him to move on, when she noticed it was him...Petty Officer McGuire, the navy SEAL who had been occupying entirely too many of her thoughts since she’d run into him minutes before.

  “Mind if I join you?” he asked with a grin.

  She shrugged and kept moving. “Can’t stop you.”

  “All you have to say is shove off, and I’ll leave you alone,” he said. “Sometimes it’s nice to have a running buddy to fill the time.”

  “I actually have one,” she said, and tipped her head toward Agar.

  As if he could understand, Agar glanced up at her, his tongue lolling to the side.

  “I see.” With a twist of his lips, McGuire gave a curt nod. “Then I’ll leave you two to your workout.” And he picked up his pace, leaving Kinsley behind.

  For a moment, Agar strained at the leash, wanting to keep up with the jogger ahead.

  Kinsley gave him a sharp command. “Heel.”

  The German shepherd immediately fell in step with her, looking up at Kinsley and back to McGuire as if to tell her he could easily catch the man.

  “I suppose I was rude,” Kinsley admitted to Agar.

  Agar looked up at her words, his mouth open, tongue hanging out the side. He appeared to be smiling, when in fact he was only trying to keep cool in the incredible heat.

  “It’s just as well. He has red hair. I make it a point not to get involved with men while I’m deployed. But even if we weren’t deployed, I couldn’t date the man. He has red hair. Our babies would all be doomed to red hair.” She shuddered. “I wouldn’t wish all of my children to that lot in life. Not if I have a choice.”

  Her gaze followed the SEAL as he ran to one corner of the huge field, turned and kept running, his powerful thighs pushing him forward with ease.

  Kinsley’s heart beat faster and her breathing became more labored as she watched the man’s tight buttocks and well-defined legs. If she were into gingers, he’d be the one to catch. Thank goodness she wasn’t.

  Nevertheless, she slowed to a fast walk, letting McGuire widen the gap between them. She didn’t want to risk running into him again at the end of her run. The man had complication
written all over him.

  When she arrived back at her quarters, she found a note stuck to the door.

  Meeting at command center ASAP.

  Kinsley had never received a message like that. Her pulse kicked up a notch, but she focused on staying calm. For all she knew, someone might have lodged a complaint about her exercising Agar too close to the living quarters. Or they were switching her to night shift.

  She refused to get excited and dare to think she might be sent on an actual mission.

  Chapter Two

  T-Mac had just stepped out of the shower facility when Big Jake found him.

  “Meeting in the command center, now,” Big Jake said.

  “Give me two minutes to get dressed.” T-Mac hurried in his flip-flops toward his quarters, threw on his uniform, hat and boots and ran out the door, buttoning his jacket as he went. He jogged all the way to the command center and stepped inside the air-conditioned containerized office unit.

  Inside, his team sat around a long, narrow table. Navy Commander Trevor Ward stood at the head of the table, his gaze on T-Mac as he entered. “Now that we’re all here, let’s get this party started.”

  T-Mac remained standing near the door, his curiosity piqued, his adrenaline pumping. He preferred missions to boredom any day.

  “We’re all ready to mobilize back to the States—” the commander held up his hand “—and as far as everyone is concerned, we will still be leaving in four days. However, we just received intel on a trade deal going down tonight on the border of Somalia.”

  The team waited quietly for Commander Ward to continue.

  “You might ask what we have to do with trade in this area. But here’s the deal. Someone from around here has been funneling shipments of weapons from around Camp Lemonnier to the Al-Shabaab terrorists in Somalia. Intel intercepted a text communication from a burner cell phone nearby. Apparently, there will be handoff of a shipment conducted tonight in one of the abandoned, shelled-out villages on the other side of the border between Djibouti and Somalia.” He nodded to his assistant, who clicked the keys on a laptop.

  A map of the Horn of Africa blinked up on the whiteboard behind the commander.

  Commander Ward turned to point at the location marked with a red dot. “The mission is simple. We go in, capture the traitors involved and return them to camp.”

  “All in a night’s work,” Harm said. “What’s the catch?”

  “Previous attempts by army rangers to recon this village were met with explosives.”

  “As in mortars and rocket-propelled grenades?” Buck asked.

  The commander’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Not so easy. IEDs and land mines. That’s why we’ll have two additional members on our team.”

  As if on cue, the door behind T-Mac opened and a German shepherd entered, followed by Specialist Kinsley Anderson, still dressed in her PT uniform of shorts, a T-shirt and running shoes.

  The woman glanced around the room full of men and lifted her chin. “I’m sorry I’m late. I got here as soon as I received word of the meeting.”

  “No worries,” the commander said. He waved his hand toward her. “Team, meet Specialist Anderson and Sergeant Agar. They will be with us on this mission tonight.”

  All eyes turned to the only female in the room.

  T-Mac’s pulse quickened. He’d never been on a mission with a female. Would having a woman in the mix change the dynamics of his team? Not that he was superstitious, but would the others be worried that a woman would jinx their mission?

  He glanced around the room at the others’ gazes. For the most part, they appeared more curious than apprehensive.

  “Anyone have any issues?” the commander asked.

  Specialist Anderson’s chin rose another notch, her gaze sweeping the room full of men, challenging them with just that one look.

  Big Jake shrugged. “I’d be glad to have a dog ahead of us. I’ve seen what one can do. They’re pretty amazing.”

  “Same,” Buck said. “Rather sniff out the bombs than step on one.”

  The rest of the men voiced agreement.

  “Then get ready, you leave in—” Commander Ward glanced down at his watch “—one hour.”

  T-Mac followed Anderson out of the building. “Do you need help getting ready?” he asked.

  “I think I can figure it out,” she said, stepping out smartly and moving toward the containerized living quarters.

  Falling in step beside her, T-Mac hustled to keep up. “Is this your first mission outside the wire?” he asked.

  She tensed and frowned. “I know my job, and I know what to carry and wear into combat. You don’t have to coddle me because I’m female.”

  He held up his hands. “Oh, believe me, I wouldn’t dare do that.” Then he ruined it with a chuckle. “I’d help out the new guy, male or female. I like to come back with all the people we left with intact.”

  Her shoulders relaxed. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be so defensive.”

  “I’m sure you have a right to be.”

  She lifted her shoulders and let them drop. “I get tired of people underestimating my abilities just because I’m a woman.”

  “I’ve seen you two in action. I have complete confidence in you and Agar.”

  The dog lifted his head at the sound of his name and then looked forward again, trotting alongside his handler.

  “Well, you don’t have to worry about us. We can handle our job. We’ll keep you and your team safe from explosives.”

  “And we’ll do our best to keep you and Agar safe from loose bullets.”

  She shot him a hint of a smile. “Thanks.” By then, they were standing in front of her quarters. Specialist Anderson frowned. “I didn’t ask where we should meet.”

  T-Mac’s lips twisted. “We’ll be loading up in helicopters. If you like, I can swing by and we can walk over together.”

  Her frown cleared. “Thanks. I’d appreciate that.”

  “My pleasure,” he said, and left her at her door to hurry toward his own quarters, where he’d gear up for the mission ahead.

  In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but worry about the addition to their team. The SEALs trained together. They hadn’t trained with a dog handler working out in front of them. Specialist Anderson and Agar might know what they were doing when it came to sniffing out bombs, but they had no experience in hostile environments.

  When T-Mac entered the containerized quarters he shared with Harm, his roommate glanced up from assembling his M4A1 rifle with the SOPMOD upgrade. “Hey, T-Mac.”

  “Harm.” T-Mac pulled a hard plastic case out from under his bunk, extracted his rifle and pulled it apart piece by piece. He’d cleaned it after his last mission and had assembled and disassembled it a number of times since. Handling his weapon was second nature.

  “Saw you walked the dog handler back to her quarters,” Harm said.

  “Yeah.” T-Mac stiffened. “So?”

  Without looking up from what he was doing, Harm continued. “You know we were just kidding about fixing you up with a female, right?”

  T-Mac snorted. “No. I fully expect you guys to bombard me with women.”

  Harm gave a twisted grin. “You’re right. But we’d wait until we got back to the States. What with how touchy folks are about not fraternizing while deployed.”

  With a frown, T-Mac shook his head. “If this is about Specialist Anderson, forget it. I only offered to help her get ready for the mission. She hasn’t actually been on one before.”

  Harm’s head shot up. “Never?”

  His chest tightening, T-Mac pressed his lips together. “Everyone has to have a first time.”

  His roommate frowned. “I’d rather it wasn’t with us.”

  “Would you rather she went out with some teenaged infantry soldiers who are barely out of boo
t camp?”

  Harm sighed. “I suppose not. But I don’t like the idea of babysitting when we have a mission to accomplish.”

  T-Mac pulled the bolt from his weapon, inspected it and shot it back home, reassembling the weapon in record time. “I’d almost rather take my chances with the mines and IEDs than risk losing her and the dog.”

  “Not me,” Harm said. “Remember what happened to Roadrunner when he got too far ahead of the rest of us on that extraction mission in Afghanistan?”

  T-Mac’s stomach clenched at the memory.

  Roadrunner had been point man when he’d stepped on a land mine. Thankfully for Roadrunner, he’d died instantly. The team had been left to pick up the pieces, physically and mentally.

  “Hopefully Anderson and Agar know their stuff,” T-Mac muttered.

  “Yeah. But they’re all about sniffing out explosives. We have to worry about the snipers. A lot of money goes into training dogs and handlers.”

  “And SEALs,” T-Mac reminded him.

  Harm nodded. “That’s a given. I’d like to make it back to the States in four days. Talia will be waiting at my apartment. I let her use it for a place to stay while she’s house hunting.”

  T-Mac shot a glance toward his teammate. “I thought you two were a thing?”

  “We are. But I want her to be sure. Moving from Africa back to the States is a big deal. And dating a SEAL won’t make it much easier.” Harm lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “I don’t want to pressure her. She needs time to make up her own mind and be comfortable with herself.”

  “Before she commits to you?”

  “Yeah.” Harm grinned. “You know our lives aren’t easy even for us. I want her to know how it is and what she can expect before we tie the knot.”

  “What happened to being confirmed bachelors? I thought we were a team. And now you all have women.” T-Mac shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

  Harm chuckled, pulled his steel-plated vest out of his go bag and laid it out on his bunk. “You’ll get it when you find the woman who makes you reconsider everything you ever thought to be true.”

  “Now you’re starting to sound sappy. I’m not sure I want to find a woman who makes me go soft.” T-Mac strapped a scabbard around his calf and stuck his Ka-Bar knife into it. “Next thing you know, you’ll be second-guessing yourself on the battlefield.”