by Mandy Harbin
That hope evaporated when she walked inside. Craaap. No, cramped. That was the right word she was looking for. Caitlin could stand in the middle of the hall and almost touch every door visible.
At least she had her own room. Semi-private, she added silently.
Axle gave her a quick tour…quick because it literally only took about thirty seconds. The guys in the group were bunking two to each room and they departed to their assigned bunks. Axle had his own room, but the second bed would be available for Lorenzo when he needed to stay on base. Once inside her room, Axle stood at the door.
“Take the bed on the left. The right is closer to the door. It keeps me between you and any danger.”
Danger from what? Thousands of US military in the middle of a heavily armed base? She kept those thoughts to herself.
“Shower’s across the hall. I put you in this room because it’s closest to it and if anyone comes into the barracks, they have to get past four other rooms of trained military men.”
She nodded as she looked around, taking in the sparse room.
“Caitlin?”
She glanced up at Axle, almost stunned at the soft murmur of her name coming from the hardened special ops man.
“I know this isn’t ideal. For either of us,” he added with a slight smile. “But you’re in safe hands with me.” Then he squared his shoulders and said all business-like, “Eat, shower, rest. We leave at oh-six.”
It was midday, and she really needed to get working on her story after a quick nap. It would take days to get over her jet lag, so she would be sleeping in spurts until her body adjusted.
She couldn’t think beyond the next thirty minutes right now, though. She gave him a nod, and then, for added fun, she flopped her hand to her forehead and said, “Sir, yes, sir.” But her words held none of the sharp retort of a trained person.
He shook his head almost in amusement. “We’ll work on that.”
When he turned to leave, she sat on the bed and shut her eyes on a deep inhale. Learning to salute properly was at the end of her agenda.
Chapter Three
Axle heard Caitlin rummaging around in her room as he stood outside her door the next morning. After he’d left her in her room last night, she’d unpacked, showered, ate, and crashed just as he suspected she would. The woman had been dead on her feet by the time they’d arrived at the barracks. When discussing the room assignment, he’d purposely led her to believe they could be sleeping in the same room. It hadn’t necessarily been true. Anything was possible, sure, but he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Regardless, he fully intended to come and go as he pleased to check on her, and he didn’t need her thinking she could shut him out of the room on a whim. She was under his protection, and if he determined they needed to be hunkered down in the same room at some point, it was better she understood that on the front end.
He’d also sent up a silent thank you for the cameraman choosing not to accept the military accommodations offered to him. If he had, the man would be sharing a room with Axle since he couldn’t have the guy bunking with one of the soldiers and disrupting the buddy system he’d put in place. He’d been given six men as part of this assignment, which he grouped into pairs. The men would be his backup where Caitlin was concerned, but they’d also be responsible for driving them to their locations and engaging any hostiles. As much as Burge had put the responsibility of Caitlin’s safety on his shoulders, he knew he’d be SOL if he took her—and by association, the videographer—out into the red zone on his own. No one traveled out there alone. He’d needed a team of competent men he could entrust her safety with. Burge had made some calls and secured Axle six recent BUD/S graduates. These men had survived the intensive twenty-four week course, and the infamous Hell Week. Axle couldn’t suppress a shudder at remembering when he’d gone through it. But these guys still had to go through parachute jump school, and then complete the longest course—SEAL Qualification Training—before wearing their Navy Seal Trident and being assigned to their own SEAL team.
Immediately after looking up who this reporter was, Axle had to tamp down some renewed anger at being assigned this mission. She wasn’t some big hotshot war correspondent or high-profile news anchor. She was practically a nobody.
Frustrated, he’d checked his messages. A few members of his SEAL team had razed him for being assigned this urinal duty of an assignment, and he couldn’t blame them. If one of them had gotten this op, he’d have done the same. His sister had also sent him a message. “Don’t hate me.” That could be any number of things. He knew she was dealing with a lot after being shot. He was being a shitty brother, not making more time to talk to her. Once he got a handle on this new arrangement he was in, he’d reach out to her. Right now, he had to do more digging on his new charge.
He’d only found a few pieces on YouTube of Caitlin’s reports from bases. One of them had even spelled her name wrong. Looking her up hadn’t pointed to any significant reason why she in particular—out of all the news correspondents he’d been around on deployment—required SEAL protection. Not that he wished her any harm. He wasn’t a monster. But learning there really wasn’t more to what Burge told him about her hadn’t set well with him. She was of no importance, which meant her protection truly had been secured by someone cashing in a favor.
That knowledge had burned at a low simmer.
What cranked up the heat had been realizing just how beautiful and fair she was. He’d watched her piece from Kandahar so many times that he could recite the questions she asked of the soldier. Learning all about her had been part of his preparation, but seeing that pale blonde hair, light blue eyes, and alabaster skin had him wondering how in the hell she was going to blend in. She screamed American, and a bombshell at that.
Not that her looks mattered to him. Another place, another time, he would totally hit on her, and Axle was confident enough to know when he wanted something, he usually got it. But never once had he fraternized with colleagues, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to do something as stupid as that with a woman he’d been charged with protecting.
The door opened and she walked out wearing cargo pants, boots, a tank, and an open shirt over it. He almost groaned at the sight of her. Not that it would’ve been a completely sexual response.
“You need to cover up,” he said without letting his gaze leave hers. He didn’t have to look at her body to see her curves were on display. Most straight, red-blooded American men his age knew how to check out a woman’s rack without getting caught. It was a skill he’d picked up long before entering the Navy.
“And here I thought the first words outta your mouth would be an apology for us getting off on the wrong foot yesterday. You know, encourage a new day, fresh start, sorta thing.”
Apologize? For doing his job? He briefly squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”
“Now was that so hard?” She giggled, but stopped quickly. “Oh, I brought a scarf,” she said, digging into her bag and pulling the edge of a hijab out for him to see.
“No, Caitlin, though I’m glad you thought of that.” He ran a hand through his hair. He needed a cut, but being special ops, he didn’t have to live with the same military regulations. It was more important that he blend in with his surroundings than sport a high and tight. If Caitlin was military, she’d have her locks pulled back and not flowing freely, so she had the right idea here, but was focusing on addressing the wrong thing. “I mean your shirt.”
She gasped and looked down. “What’s wrong with my shirt?” she asked, obviously confused, but he detected a hint of anger in her response as well.
“Besides the fact that your skin is so pale that you should cover as much of it as possible to protect it from the desert?” he asked sarcastically, though it hadn’t really been a question. “You’re in a country where women are usually covered. I want you to blend in, not stand the fuck out.” He hadn’t meant to cuss, but he was warring with himself as much as he was her. He didn’t want her to cover her beaut
iful body. The fact he felt that way and that he had to ask her to block herself from his view pissed him off on competing levels. She had nothing to do with what was going on in his head. But then there was the fact she should know better than to venture out like this. Granted, this would be her first assignment outside the wire, but she’d been in this country before. Even if she hadn’t or worked in the media, she would’ve seen images of the women here.
Her cheeks turned pink, and he immediately regretted causing her any embarrassment. “It’s just so hot. I thought maybe the scarf would help cover me when I had to wear it.”
He took a deep breath and stepped toward her. Only one, though. He kept his arms crossed as he looked down at her and did his best to temper his words. “It’s okay. This is new, and it’s hot as hell. But I’d rather you be sweating and miserable than cool and killed.”
She nodded, dropped the bag she’d brought out with her, and darted back into her room. He checked his watch, but he didn’t have to wait long. She emerged less than a minute later wearing a long-sleeve, fitted t-shirt. He wanted to howl because, somehow, without the blanket of the loose button-up shirt she’d worn over the tank top, she was on display even more. That damn cotton clung to her like a second skin. Jesus.
She spread her arms. “How do I look?”
Like a sinful siren. “Better. Follow me,” he barked, and turned on his heels without another glance. He heard her heft the bag before she shuffled behind him out of the barracks.
“We didn’t get a chance to talk yesterday about the agenda.”
“You were dead on your feet,” he said without looking at her. “I’d just have to go through it all again this morning.”
She harrumphed, and he was glad she couldn’t see the flash of his grin. “I’m all ears, soldier.”
“Technically, I’m in the Navy. Makes me a sailor.”
“If I call you sailor, that’ll make me feel like I’m reciting some cheesy line in a porno.” She snorted. “Well, hello there, sailor. Let me raise that big, hard anchor of yours,” she said in a sultry tone that had his cock stirring. He stopped suddenly, and she ran into his back. “Oaf.”
He turned and clasped her shoulders to steady her. Caitlin’s eyes were huge as she stared up at him, startled. She’d been joking with him, but no way did she know just how much he wanted to take her up on that teasing offer. He opened his mouth to tell her—what? What was he going to say? Any reprimand died on his tongue as he gazed down at her. He immediately let go and turned before he did something stupid, not giving his brain a chance to send any dangerous commands to his hands or mouth, and then marched out of the building.
He climbed into the driver’s side of the Hummer and waited for her to get seated. Before she had a chance to brace herself, he peeled out, heading for the airstrip. Determined to keep his mind on his job of protecting her body, and not exploiting it, he said, “It’d take us half a day to drive to the Achin District, not to mention the road is one of the most dangerous in the world. A helo will take us to Jalalabad, and we’re driving from there. It’ll cut travel time in half.”
“Why not take the helicopter all the way?”
It was a good question, not that he liked having his decisions second-guessed. “We will after today. You’ve been cleared to interview some of the units on the ground, and we need to get that out of the way first. It’ll be easier to drive among them. Tomorrow, we’ll take the helo over the actual bombsight and surrounding areas to give you a lay of the land and aerial footage. The next several days after that, we’ll fly to a specific quadrant and land, so you can walk in the designated area, meet locals—friendly locals—before heading back to base for the night. Each day, we’ll fly to a different quadrant so you can investigate and film whatever it is you’re interested in seeing until you’ve put eyes on everything.”
She was silent, and he gripped the wheel tighter when the urge to keep talking bubbled up.
“I’m sorry for earlier.”
“Nothing to apologize for,” he said automatically. If either of them owed the other an apology, it was him for reacting to her words at all.
“It was inappropriate. You’re here to protect me. I insulted you. And I went through that whole thing about expecting an apology from you. I can’t expect you to do that if I can’t even—”
“You didn’t insult me.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Let it go, Caitlin,” he said in the tone he reserved for his subordinates because he didn’t want her to say those words again, or worse, elaborate on them. When he glanced at her to make sure she understood how serious he was about this, his gut clenched at the sight of her red cheeks. She really did feel bad thinking she’d offended him. He hated that, but to entertain this conversation further was to invite unnecessary danger…and not the battlefield kind.
“Sir, yes, sir,” she said with flimsy salute before looking out the side window. Thank God she dropped it, but that salute? He really needed to correct her form if she kept doing it.
Later. He’d have to do it later. Right now, he needed to take advantage of the quiet to get his head straight. They were heading into enemy territory, and he wouldn’t let anything get in his way of protecting her.
Not her. And especially not him.
“The food tastes like dirt,” Lorenzo said after they landed. A couple of Axle’s men left to secure the cars they’d be taking, and Axle had instructed them to eat since the chow hall hadn’t been fully up by the time they had to leave base. Caitlin had packed some energy bars, so she hadn’t planned on eating, but Axle hadn’t wanted to hear her explanation when she tried to decline. The man didn’t like it when she questioned or resisted him.
“It tastes like dirt made a baby with dirt and gave birth to more dirt,” she added as she choked down another spoonful. “They take dirty rice a little too literally over here.”
Lorenzo chuckled. “I think you’re gonna fit it in quite nicely, Caitlin. Hard to survive this kind of assignment with your sense of humor still intact.”
She scooped some more rice, but then dropped it and pushed her plate away, giving up the battle that her taste buds would find anything in the food beyond marginally edible. “Thanks. How long have you been here?”
His gaze darkened. “Off and on for ten years.”
“Oh,” she said, unable to wrap her mind around that. “Do you have family back home?”
He pushed his empty plate away with a shrug. “Where’s home?” he asked, but she didn’t think he expected an answer. “I was born in Rome. Moved to London when I was eight. And went to university in America. I’ve worked on every continent.”
“So no wife and kids?”
He laughed. “Who has time for that? My American friends would say things about picket fences and the American Dream. Whatever that is.” He shook his head dismissively. “My life is work.”
She felt a little sad at the way he’d said that. “Do you ever just take off and relax?”
He half smiled. “Actually, I was due for holiday when Jack called. He sent Kanfi with Harris to Syria. After the station budget cuts, the executives frown on paying freelancers. He could have gotten someone else, but it would’ve taken time he hadn’t wanted to waste.”
“The news never sleeps.”
He laughed. “Oh heavens, does he still use that phrase?”
“Jack is nothing if not routine.”
“Time to go,” Axle said from behind her. She looked over her shoulder and watched as he approached, knowing he stood off to the side to let her eat, but not letting her out of his site. But, this time, he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was locked on Lorenzo. She faced her colleague, but he seemed oblivious he was on the receiving end of a murderous glare as he moved to get up from the table. Caitlin grabbed her plate and stood to toss it.
Axle clutched her wrist and she gasped, not expecting him to be standing right there when she got up. His lack of personal space unsettled her…more than it should.
<
br /> “You didn’t eat,” he muttered.
“It’s gross.” It was true, but saying it out loud made her feel like a snob. She was nothing of the sort. Caitlin prided herself on her modesty and had eaten local cuisine from many places, even ones squeamish people would balk at. Not once had she complained about what she’d been served. Hell, even if it was something she wouldn’t ordinarily eat—like crickets—she’d been more worried about offending the people around her than her own comfort. But it was different with Axle. She didn’t have to hide anything with him.
“Caitlin,” he said, and briefly shut his eyes. “You have to eat. If you don’t, you’ll be too weak to run away from danger.”
She reached for him, grabbed his free arm. “I tried to tell you earlier I have energy bars with me.”
He didn’t say anything, and it dawned on her that she was holding his arm as he was hers, as if they were almost in an embrace. In a country where public display of affection was forbidden, she should be worried how this looked to the people around them. But since this area was filled with coalition forces who were used to seeing people doing a lot more in their home countries, maybe it wouldn’t come off as offensive to anyone.
Because as much as she told herself to let go of him, her hand refused to follow the order.
His throat moved, and in his gaze was something she’d seen for a fleeting moment once before, but this time it lingered, leaving no question what had been banked there then or now. Heat. Desire.
Axle wanted her.
Her heart quickened with the knowledge. From thrill? Fear? As she stared back, she knew the answer. Both. She was both excited and scared by this, by what he stirred within her. He had an enigmatic sense about him. Strong, confident, mysterious. This kind of reaction was not like her. At. All. She was sensible…when her college friends had been partying, she had her nose in a book. When colleagues were online shopping at work, she was researching the next story. The only part of her body she let dictate anything in her life was her brain. Right now, it was screaming at her that she didn’t know this man. Hunter never told her anything about the person who’d be protecting her. Axle could be married, for goodness sakes.