by Krista Wolf
“KYLE!”
I whirled, and suddenly I was staring at Sammara. There were practically tears in her eyes. Somehow I’d forgotten she was there. She’d been calling my name repeatedly.
“Kyle, where’s Ryan?”
I swallowed hard and looked away. The pain came again, probably because I was squeezing the muscles in my wounded leg. Some sort of lame method of self-flagellation, or—
“Kyle please… where is he?”
“I lost him,” I said simply. “We got separated in the mountains, not far from where Jason went missing.”
“Briggs isn’t missing,” Markus noted. “He’s being kept.” His eyes shifted to Sammara. “I’ve already told you by who. And I’ve already told you why.”
I was looking at Markus now, but Sammara turned my face back in her direction and locked eyes with me. Goddamit, she was strikingly beautiful. Painfully beautiful! It was something you truly didn’t realize until you hadn’t looked at her in a few weeks, or months, or—
“Is he okay?”
“I— I—”
I thought about lying to her. As usual it was a terrible idea.
“I honestly don’t know.”
Her whole expression changed as the color drained out of her face. I felt awful. Like the worst person in the whole world.
“Sammara, I— I couldn’t help it. Our column got divided. Then this happened,” I motioned to my leg, “and I was carried out by a man who barely made it himself.”
Her lip quivered. “But…”
“Last time I saw him he was okay,” I added quickly. “He was rushing off along with a small detachment, firing so much ordinance I lost sight of him in the smoke and flame. But he was alive, Sammara. Totally unharmed.”
She wiped at her eyes. As she did, Markus and I exchanged looks.
“Ryan Dunham’s tougher than hell,” the mercenary captain added, unexpectedly coming to my rescue. “If anyone can make it out there, it’s him. I certainly wouldn’t want him chasing me. Shit, I’ve had him chasing me and—”
Suddenly the entrance flapped open and Dakota stepped through. He looked enormous, even in the spacious tent.
“Markus!” he shouted, before nearly stepping right on him. “We need you back in the war room. Gather your people together and—”
His eyes flew all the way open as he saw me.
“KYLE!”
Dakota rushed over, arms extended, and immediately I shrank back. I had a brief, unwanted vision of unbearable agony… and then thankfully, Sammara threw herself in front of him.
“Wait! Wait! He’s hurt! He’s hurt!”
Like a charging bear, Dakota managed to stop his forward momentum just in time. He leaned down and hugged me awkwardly, crushing my upper body against his while somehow being careful around my leg.
“They told me you’d taken a mortar shell! Or most of one, anyway.”
He was smiling his best Iowa grin. The kind reserved only for special occasions.
“Yeah, well those assholes are exaggerating. It was half a shell at most, or maybe—”
He hugged me again, squeezing the rest of the sentence from my lungs. “Thank God you’re okay!”
My heart swelled to bursting. It felt immeasurably good, seeing him again. Seeing him here. And yet he’d brought Sammara! He’d done the one thing the four of us had promised never to do again; put her in danger.
“Why’d you bring her here?” I asked, leaning in so that only he could hear. “How could you—”
“Long story.”
I tilted my nose at Markus Ladrone. “Then why’d you bring him here?”
Dakota stood up straight again. He pointed at the ex-mercenary captain.
“He knows where Jason is,” said Dakota. “He’s also brought in nine new mercs, a rough map of the compound, and scored us a ride for tomorrow.”
I raised an eyebrow at that last one. “Ride?”
“An HH-60. Complete with pilot.”
“A kickass pilot,” Markus added. “You forgot to add that part.”
“We’re going based on inside intel,” Dakota said dismissively. “Two days, max.”
I shook my head at Markus. “Figures you’d have a mole.”
“Fuck you Murphy.”
“No, seriously. It’s so typical that you’d actually—”
“You want your friend back?”
I stopped talking. Markus stared back at me coldly until I finally nodded.
“We’re just waiting on a co-pilot for the Hawk then,” said Dakota. “Once—”
“Co-Pilot’s already here,” said Markus.
Dakota folded his arms. He looked surprised. “Oh yeah? And when did this little development take place?”
“Just now,” Markus grinned, after a short pause. “You’re looking at him.”
Thirty-Eight
SAMMARA
My hand stroked him slowly, top to bottom, from the engorged, perfectly-shaped head all the way to the thick, heated base. Kyle groaned, but I could barely hear him.
And thats because I was kneeling above him, grinding my soaking wet pussy down against his eager, hungry mouth.
“Ohhhhh… God that’s good!”
What started off as a hot, saliva-coated handjob had evolved into Kyle begging me to sit in his face. But I didn’t want to hurt him! He was still in such pain from his leg, all I wanted to do was give him some sweet, sexy relief.
That, plus I just wanted to touch him of course. I missed him just as much as I missed his cock, rolling around in my mouth, pumping up and down through my saliva-coated fist.
He’d begged me to climb onto him. “I have to taste you,” he’d said. “Sammara I need you…”
Of course I’d carefully obliged. And now here I was, my lover’s tongue fluttering its way through my warm folds. My eyes rolling back as it penetrated me deeply… all while trying to concentrate on bringing him off in my hand, or even my mouth…
“I— I don’t want to hurt you!”
I was being extra careful of the bandages, wrapped around his upper thigh. But now my own orgasm was coming. I could feel it starting in that magical place, somewhere deep in my belly. Surging outward. The euphoria of my impending climax, rolling unstoppably through me in every direction…
“Kyle…”
He responded by gripping my thighs. By pulling me downward, even harder onto his face. I was grinding my pelvis downward, hard against his chin. It felt like a thousand Christmas mornings...
“KYLE, I— I can’t…”
His tongue jutted upward, inward, and it all came crashing down. Relief came quickly — a glorious, quivering release of every muscle in my body. I cried out as my brain was flooded with millions of beautiful endorphins, taking me to the very edge of oblivion… and slowly, gradually, back home again.
“Oh my GOD, Kyle…”
My sexy soldier was still lapping away, still devouring me eagerly as I came back down. He knew exactly which spots to avoid. Which areas were too sensitive to the touch, and which still felt absolutely amazing in the hazy dream-like aftermath.
I loved that we’d been together long enough that he knew those things. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to lay against his chest and feel the reassuring strength of his heartbeat and—
“Baby, put it in you.”
I looked down, and he was still in my hand. Still throbbing and pulsing, and harder than ever. Shit, I’d almost forgotten!
“Let me do you with my mouth,” I smiled down at him. “I’ll make it good.”
“No,” Kyle smiled, shaking his head. His face and chin were glazed. “I need to feel you.”
“But your leg! It’s… it’s too much on—”
“Just go slow,” he said. “It’ll be alright.”
His hands went to my hips, and I felt him guiding me forward. I hovered over him, placing my hands on either side of his waist. Gripping the cot securely, I began lowering myself onto him with deliberate, agonizing slowness.
�
��That’s it…”
Kyle took one hand from my hips and guided himself home. I was so drenched… so warm and wet and deliciously swollen.
As thick and hard as he was, he slipped right in.
“Oh fuck, Sammara!”
He hissed through clenched teeth as I smiled back at him over my shoulder.
“Yeah,” I chuckled. “That’s kinda the idea.”
I felt almost guilty that Dakota wasn’t here. Almost but not quite. Here we were, screwing hotly in some tent at the ass-end of the Iraqi desert, while Dakota worked with his team on plans to rescue Jason and Ryan.
But Dakota had had me for weeks now, and he’d taken full advantage. Kyle and I on the other hand, had a lot of catching up to do…
“You okay?”
My lover moaned in the shadows behind me. It was a good moan. “More than okay.”
“Good baby, good. Just tell me if it hurts.”
It had been so incredible, seeing him safe and sound again. Every last ounce of love and devotion and adoration — it had all come rolling over me the moment I laid eyes on him. If the whole experience had taught me anything, it was that I couldn’t wait to marry them! I wanted them all back home. All four of them safe, wrapped in my loving arms.
You’re greedy, Sammara.
I almost laughed at the imaginary devil on my shoulder. I didn’t care. If it was greedy to be in love with four people, so be it. Four gorgeous, magnificent, loving people who’d shown me four times the affection and attention I could’ve ever imagined I deserved.
And me, them.
Kyle’s hands had moved down to my ass as I rode up and down the length of his beautiful cock. He was cupping it. Grabbing it. Smoothing his hands over it…
“Missed me?” I chuckled.
He nodded behind me. Or at least I think he did.
“Let me show you how much.”
Suddenly his hands turned into claws, gripping me tightly and holding me in position. His cock thumped once, achingly hard inside me, and then I felt nothing but warmth and pleasure and satisfaction. Kyle held me steady throughout his orgasm, filling me with his cream.
I kept most of my weight off him, rolling my hips just enough to ride out the last of his throbs and pulsations. When I was sure he was finished I pushed myself upward and off, only to lay down in an identical cot that had been brought in for me to sleep right next to him.
By the time I’d gotten under the blankets and snuggled up next to him, Kyle was still smiling like the cat who’d swallowed the canary.
“Holy fuck I needed that…”
“You sure did,” I laughed. “I… uh…”
“Need a towel?”
“Or a bathroom. Or a shower,” I laughed. “But I was also going to say something else, too.”
I turned to face him in the semi-darkness. Our little tent was warm and snug from the kerosene heater. Silent and secluded beneath a cold ocean of stars.
“I love you, Kyle.”
He shifted and pulled me closer, inching a single large blanket over both of our bodies. I could make out the shape of his face. The curve of his jaw, his nose, his mouth…
“I love you too, princess.”
I swallowed, but couldn’t get past the lump in my throat. He was perfect. Better than perfect.
“Can I get you something?” I asked. “Water, or another pillow, or—”
“Right now, I don’t need anything else in the world,” Kyle said sweetly. I could hear his voice getting sleepy as he leaned in to kiss me softly. “Only you.”
Thirty-Nine
SAMMARA
I woke alone in the darkness. Still caught in that confused half-slumber, where I wasn’t even sure where I was.
“And I’m saying just shoot me with two morphine ampules and let’s go. We’re wasting time.”
Kyle’s voice floated in from somewhere outside. And there were other voices too.
“You’re insane. And you’re not coming.”
“But—”
“Listen to him!” a third voice blurted. “He’s right. There’s no fucking way, you’d be nothing more than a huge liability.”
The details of the room came into soft focus. I was in a tent. A tent in Iraq…
Holy shit.
“I’m not asking for a babysitter,” Kyle’s voice countered angrily, “only a ride. No one needs to help me do jack shit. I’ll do everything on my—”
“And I said no!”
Dakota’s voice! And he sounded angry. I shook the sleep from my head as I rubbed my eyes. I’d heard Dakota upset before, but never actually shouting mad like this.
“—no broken bones,” Kyle was saying. “The shrapnel’s all gone. Everything’s fine, my leg is good—”
“And what happens when the wound opens up?” growled the third voice. I recognized it now as belonging to Markus Ladrone. “What happens when you rupture the artery again, and all hell’s raining down all around us? Do we let you just bleed out? Are we supposed to just leave you there to—”
“YES!”
It was still dark. Pitch black. But the noise around camp was growing louder now. I could hear the sounds of activity; shouting, movement, the barking of orders. Many people scrambling at once.
“Look, bro, it’s not gonna happen.”
Dakota’s voice dropped. I could visualize it all, even through the thick canvas tent. His hand on his friend’s shoulder. The look of helplessness in Kyle’s eyes as he realized the futility.
“We’ll get them back,” I heard Markus say somberly. “I promise. But the window of opportunity is closing fast, and we’re sitting here fucking around. Murphy, you’re only holding us back now. Diminishing our chances.”
I heard the whine of a helicopter starting up. The slow SWOOP SWOOP SWOOP of chopper blades, throttling gradually up to idle speed.
“Kyle, we have to go NOW.”
I crossed the room barefoot, my feet cold against the bumpy canvas floor. Very quickly I wriggled into my clothes.
“You do everything you can,” I heard Kyle say sternly.
“I will.”
“I’m serious!” he shouted. “This might be our last chance to—”
“I WILL!”
I emerged from the tent just as Dakota was turning away. He and Markus were fully geared up, their bodies bristling with armor and weapons. He paused as he saw me, and our gazes met. Everything passed wordlessly. There was nothing left to say.
“Go.”
He nodded back at me crisply, and somehow he managed a smile. One quick kiss on the cheek later, he was scrambling across the camp. Jumping alongside Markus through the side door of a drab green helicopter, one with sleek, blue-tinged windows and a terrifying-looking, side-mounted gun.
I moved closer to Kyle, and in the chaos I found his hand. I took it, but there was no life in it yet. Even when I squeezed him, he just held it limply at his side.
“They’re going to be okay,” I assured him. “They’re going to be—”
My sentence was cut off by the roar of the helicopter’s engine. Another half-dozen men slipped into the aircraft and the engine whirred, spinning to life. The rotors disappeared in a blur of motion.
Be safe, I thought. Bring them back…
I raised my arm up over my eyes as dust and sand swirled around us. But Kyle still wasn’t moving. He stood there leaning on his one long crutch, staring ahead as the big machine lifted into the sky. We watched it together, side by side. Staring at it until it disappeared into the darkness, while just behind us, the first light of dawn was cracking the sky.
“So this is how it feels for you,” he murmured softly.
“Hmm?”
“When we go away. When we leave you alone.”
I nodded in sudden understanding. “Yes. Sometimes.”
His body shivered against the cold. “I feel so helpless. Almost… useless.”
“You?” I let out a short, nervous laugh. “You’re far from useless, Kyle. Just look at your l
eg. You’ve done everything you can.”
I squeezed his arm reassuringly. When I pulled him back toward the tent again, he didn’t resist.
“It’s time to let them have a shot,” I told him. “Dakota. Ryan, if he’s still out there. Even Markus.”
Kyle’s lip curled slightly at the mere mention of the last name.
“I don’t trust him,” he said sullenly.
“Neither do I,” I told him as we ducked inside. “But right now we don’t have a choice.”
Forty
SAMMARA
It was pure agony. Much worse than waiting weeks, or months or even a year.
In those cases, you prepped yourself ahead of time. You knew your partner was coming home, that they were only on assignment. That even though the assignment might be dangerous, the separation was temporary.
But this…
This wasn’t just an assignment, it was a full-scale assault. An all or nothing gambit that would result in a win or a loss… but nothing in between.
Kyle and I sat in one of the command tents, listening to the radio. Trying to make sense of what was going on, even through the crackle of nothing but static.
“The target installation was abandoned in the 90’s,” said the man seated on our right. Two gut-churning cups of coffee ago I’d learned he was Patrick Harewood, Di Spatia’s second in command.
“How many are we dealing with again?” asked Kyle.
“Not too many,” replied Harewood. “But definitely more than a handful. Problem is they’re dug in. There’s a nexus of tunnels running beneath the structure, although some of those caved in during—”
“What time should we expect them back,” Kyle interrupted. He was obviously on edge, and not the least bit interested in a history lesson. Luckily, Harewood let him cut through the bullshit.
“Ninety minutes to two hours,” he said. “Either way, we’re committed.”
Two. Hours.
I was pacing back and forth, glancing now and then at the long table spread out with numerous maps. They weren’t at all like the construction blueprints I’d grown familiar with. Other than the way they were sized and folded.