by Johnson, Cat
Those big hands lifted her hips off the bed as he slid into her, whispering over and over again with each thrust, “Want you so much. Need you so much. Love you so much.”
The words had Vicki shaking as much as what he was doing to her body. She came, crying and clinging to him, with two questions in her mind…how could she live without him, but how could she possibly live with the fear of losing him?
Ryan came right after her, collapsing on top of her so heavily, she asked if he was all right.
He answered her laughing. “I have never felt better in my life.” Then he let out a groan that had nothing to do with sex. “Ugh. We better both get dressed again. I can’t expect Wally and Hawk to turn a blind eye on this for long.”
She felt her cheeks heat at the thought both men more than likely knew exactly what was taking place inside that tiny mud hut.
As they both straightened their clothes, Ryan continued to grin at her until she had to comment on it. “You really are alright, after all you’ve been through.”
His smile beamed at her. “Hell, yeah. The medic stitched me up. I ate during the debriefing. And I probably got almost a full night’s sleep last night, courtesy of the baddies’ knock on my head. I feel great.”
Vicki shook her head. She didn’t understand this man. She loved him, but she didn’t understand him, not one little bit. The door opening broke into her thoughts, and Wally walked in, slowly, announcing himself as he entered.
“Helloooo. I’m heeerree.” Finally, his head popped around the door and his face showed signs of relief that she and Ryan weren’t naked or worse. “Hey, Vicki. Ryan, we’re about to leave for the overwatch mission unless you want to sit this one out?”
“Nah, I’m fine.” He rose from the bed where they’d both been sitting and began gathering his helmet and body armor.
Vicki stood, as well. “A mission? You’re going out there again? You just got back. You’re still hurt.”
“I’m not hurt. Just a little bruise. I’ll be fine. And I’ll be back in the morning so you can get a decent night’s sleep in my bed tonight, and when you wake up, I’ll be here.” He smiled brightly like everything was just fine. “Okay?”
Sadly, Vicki nodded, then, ignoring Wally completely, she grabbed Ryan’s face and kissed him hard, putting everything she felt into that one small bit of contact.
“Wow. I should go out on missions more often if I’m gonna get kisses like that before I leave.” He winked at her. “See you soon.”
Vicki nodded again, knowing her voice wouldn’t work with her heart in her throat.
When the door closed behind Ryan and the amused Wally, she was alone, again. Vicki dug into her bag and took out a pen and her notebook.
She began to write. “Dear Ryan…”
The letter was by far the hardest piece of writing she’d ever had to compose. It took many tries and many more tears, but finally, she folded the paper and laid it on Ryan’s pillow. Sobbing, she took in one more whiff of his scent on the pillow, and then glanced around at the few personal items he had there—the Jimmy Buffet poster on the wall, his towel and shower shoes, his laptop, and then she turned her back on it all, and him.
It took barely minutes to stow her laptop and grab her bag, then there was nothing left keeping her there. Hoping the patrol had already left, but her ride hadn’t, Vicki headed for the public buildings. She hit the War Room first since it was closest to Ryan’s hut. Inside, she found exactly what she was looking for.
Swallowing hard, Vicki walked up to the head man in black. “Excuse me. Commander Gordon? I need a ride out of here, as soon as possible.”
The man raised a brow. “Where ya’ headin’?”
“That depends. Where are you going?”
“So you’re not shitting me! Lieutenant Wales was really Prince Harry? The frigging Prince of England?”
Ryan laughed at the shocked look on Wally’s face, supposing his own face had displayed a similar look when that little piece of news had been revealed to him after the escape.
“Well, I’ll be damned. They might as well have painted a giant bulls eye on the roof of the base and put up a neon sign that read Bad Guys, Attack Here.”
The overwatch mission was uneventful. They were basically insuring the main force’s safety as they traveled through a narrow mountain pass, not as they snuck past a known insurgent stronghold like last time. With the return of Alpha team and the lower stress level of this particular mission, the team chatted a lot of the time and the tale of the great escape was told more than once.
Not one baddie had shown up, and that was all right with Ryan. He arrived back at base in the best of moods and had to restrain himself to keep from sprinting for the hut and Vicki. It didn’t matter he hadn’t slept in a day, he was wide awake at the thought of her.
He arrived, ran around the shelving and was confronted with his bunk, neatly made, and a note on his pillow.
The part of Ryan’s brain that liked to live in a happy place was hoping it was a quick note telling him she was in the shower or grabbing chow or something. But the other part of his brain, the one that prescribed to the reality of things, had a bad feeling about the tiny piece of folded paper. With hands that weren’t quite steady, he unfolded it and read the first words…Dear Ryan.
He sank to the mattress and closed his eyes. Two Dear John letters from two different women during one deployment. Ryan was thinking that, surely must to be a wartime record when Hawk entered the hut.
“Well, Hawk. You can relax now. Vicki’s gone.”
“Yeah, so I’ve heard.” Hawk eyed him. “How do you feel about that?”
Like he’d taken a rifle butt to the chest rather than the head. Ryan kept that to himself and instead simply shrugged.
“I’m here if you want to talk.”
Ryan snorted out a laugh. “What’s there to talk about?”
Hawk pulled the only chair in the room over to Ryan’s bunk and straddled it. “Back right after the prison break at Bagram, Emily refused to answer any of my emails. I had no idea why.” Hawk laughed bitterly. “I’ve been shot, blown up and trapped beneath a humvee and none of that was as hard as not knowing what was wrong.”
This was all news to Ryan. “What did you do?”
Hawk laughed again. “I emailed every day I could, knowing she wouldn’t respond, not knowing if she was even reading them. Then, remember when I had to fly home when my sister was sick?”
Ryan nodded.
“After I knew she was alright, I took a side trip to New York before flying back here and I found Emily.”
“What had been wrong? Why did she stop emailing you?”
Hawk shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. What does matter is what I’m trying to tell you. If you want this girl in your life, don’t give up.”
“She said she can’t handle the risks I take.”
Hawk shrugged. “We’re not gonna be here forever, Pettit. Mortars and RPGs are pretty rare back at the garrison in Germany.”
“Yeah, but chances are pretty damn good we’ll deploy again.”
Hawk nodded. “Yes, but this war can’t last forever.”
Ryan’s raised a brow, his mouth screwed up. Hawk smiled at his expression. “Alright, you’re right. So we won’t count on that. But you can still request a change of MOS. Get into a training unit.”
“I guess I could do that.” But would it be enough to win back Vicki? Ryan sighed, realizing exactly how little he knew about the woman he’d fallen for. “I don’t even know where she lives.”
Hawk frowned. “Come on, Pettit. You can’t give up that easily. She’s a journalist, for god’s sake. Her name’s probably all over the internet. Computer guy like you should be able to find out how to contact her somehow.”
Ryan’s misery finally lifted enough for his brain to begin to function again and an idea struck. “I do know how I can find her.” He jumped up to grab for his laptop. Pausing, he looked back at his leader. “Thanks, Hawk.”
Chapter Eighteen
Bagram. Yet another stop in Vicki’s disappointing tour of Afghanistan’s highlights, but it had been where the men in black were flying before taking a flight back to the States and she didn’t want to go back home, not just yet anyway.
How could she leave Afghanistan without at least one interview with a local woman for her article? To do that would be to leave as a complete and utter failure. Meanwhile, she had been there, up close and personal for one heck of a hot story and couldn’t write a word about it, not that she wanted to. Harry’s was not the story she wished to tell.
But more than her story, being in Afghanistan made her feel not so far from Ryan. How ridiculous was that? She’d made the decision to leave him and still, she needed to know he was close. She was really messed up.
The thought that getting the interview now looked even slimmer than before was so depressing, Vicki couldn’t even face opening her laptop and working on the story. Besides, there were pictures of Ryan’s base on there, and she had a feeling that just seeing those might break her.
So there she sat, killing she didn’t know how much time, waiting for either a military flight back to Kandahar, or anywhere besides here, or, if all else failed, a ride to Kabul Airport in hopes of catching what was sure to be an outrageously priced standby flight back to London.
The irony of it all was that though Ryan’s little mud hut came equipped with WiFi, the base at Bagram did not. And since she was in Afghanistan instead of London, connecting to the web on her cell phone would cost a ton of money per minute, so she waited on a long line with the other people on base for a shot at one of the public computers equipped with internet.
Finally it was her turn. With a sigh, Vicki pulled up her account and started scrolling through emails, missing Ryan the whole time, pretending she didn’t.
Then she saw a new email from Pettit, Sgt. Ryan in her inbox and suddenly couldn’t breathe. She opened it as quickly as the signal would allow and found a web link with a short note.
I know this was important to you. Hope it helps. Ryan
Clicking on the link, Vicki was sent directly to a video. The picture was shaky, the sound a bit fuzzy, but she could see what was obviously an Afghani man dressed in white standing in front of a mud hut. She heard Ryan’s voice and her heart began to pound. He said to the man, “Can we talk to your wife?” The camouflage-clad interpreter who stood in front of the video camera with the local man repeated Ryan’s words in Pashto.
“He wants to know why,” the interpreter informed Ryan after the local man had spoken.
After a pause, Vicki heard Ryan, obviously the one holding the camera, say, “Tell him I want to show American women how to be a proper wife, like the Pashtun women are.”
Vicki couldn’t help but smile. Smart, Ryan. Very smart. The local seemed to like that idea and flung open the door of the hut to invite Ryan and the interpreter inside. Vicki leaned in closer to the computer’s screen to get every detail of the inside of the hut.
“Ask her what she’s cooking,” Ryan instructed. Goat was the answer. The woman’s husband got bored with his wife’s detailed instructions to the interpreter of how she was preparing the goat meat and left the hut, which is when Ryan really went to work, firing question after question at her.
As quickly as the interpreter could get an answer, Ryan was ready with another. “How old were you when you got married? How many children do you have? Can you read and write? Will your daughter be educated? For how many years will she attend school? How old do you think she will be when she marries? If your husband were to die, what would happen to you? Would you be allowed to live in this house alone? Can you own property as a woman alone without a husband?”
Vicki itched to take notes of every one of the woman’s answers, but she didn’t want to be distracted writing and miss one moment of the tape. She’d have to watch it again, anyway. Then there was that other distraction—Ryan—the memories his voice stirred, his thoughtfulness in doing this for her after she’d left him so suddenly, his thoroughness in asking the perfect questions.
All of which didn’t change anything. In spite of the fact she loved him, totally and completely, especially now after seeing what he’d done for her, she still could not live the kind of life she’d have to live to be with him. Even knowing he was out in the countryside, a camera in his hands rather than his gun, had her stomach in knots.
The video ended when the woman’s husband returned and Ryan had to accept his offer that he sit down with them for a meal of goat and tea. The camera jostled, and then went black. And then Vicki’s eyes went blurry with tears. She hit reply to his email and typed two words. Thank you. Vicki didn’t trust herself to write any more than that.
Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, Vicki realized she needed a distraction or there was a good chance she’d be curled up in a ball right there in front of the computer and sobbing at any moment.
Her hand went automatically to scroll to her favorite milblog and paused. Groundpounder reminded her so much of Ryan, she knew reading his posts was going to hurt like hell from now on. Apparently a glutton for punishment, Vicki hit the button anyway. She watched the newest post’s title appear as the page slowly loaded.
Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes.
There was a time, not too long ago, that I thought the military would be my life. That much like old man Lou who pilots the chopper that delivers our mail, I wasn’t leaving until they kicked me out. But attitudes change, I guess. Don’t get me wrong, I love being a soldier, but I have found something I love more. Her name is Vicki and we met, amazingly, right here in Afghanistan. This godforsaken base was quite the change in latitude for my adorable and determined American journalist.
Vicki had to stop reading because she was shaking so badly as suddenly, things began to fall into place. Groundpounder was Ryan. Ryan was Groundpounder.
Vicki tried to swallow, found she had no saliva to do so, and kept reading.
If this incredible woman would consent to be my woman, I’d gladly give all of this up—my deluxe mud hut, the surprise midnight attacks, even the luxurious shower trailer and pee-tubes. Hell, when I was little I always wanted to grow up to be a fireman. There may be fiery explosions in that occupation also, but most likely no one will be shooting at me during them!
So, Vicki, here it is, my heart, laid right out here on my blog. I want you, I need you, I love you, more than my job, more than my life. The choice is now yours.
Ryan
Vicki couldn’t get the call made fast enough, tapping her foot as she listened to the ringing on the other end of the line, swelling with relief when she finally heard, “Mel Townsend.”
Her voice cracked and her breathing was shallow. “Mel. It’s Vicki Vanover. I have a question. I have to get from Bagram to a firebase about half an hour away. How do I do that?”
She gave him the name of the base and took out a notebook to jot down what he said, only she didn’t have to. Pen in her hand, she paused and then laughed.
“Lou makes weekly mail calls from here to there?” She nearly began crying with relief. Lou, the chopper pilot, would remember her from when Hawk brought her to base the first time. He’d give her a ride. Vicki couldn’t believe her luck. “Yeah, I’m familiar with him. Thanks, Mel. I owe you.”
Ryan walked through his duties in a daze during the few days after Vicki left. He waffled from simply hoping that Vicki had read his blog, to hoping what he’d written would make a difference, to fearing it wouldn’t.
She’d written in her goodbye note that it was the way he lived his life she couldn’t accept. But the dark part of Ryan’s brain feared that maybe it was just an excuse. Maybe when he’d been so into the moment and had slipped, telling her he loved her, it frightened her away. Worse, perhaps she didn’t feel the same.
She’d written in her email response to the video he’d taken for her thank you, and nothing more. Hawk had been more than understanding by
letting Ryan take two of his men and an interpreter into the country on zero notice so he could interview a woman for Vicki. Ryan didn’t know what else he could do besides that.
He sighed, which he noticed he did a lot lately, and grabbed his shower stuff before making his way to the trailer. Absently, he noted that he heard Lou’s chopper heading into base. It was with a heavy heart that Ryan remembered the last delivery Lou had made. It had been Vicki.
Someone else could unload the mail today. He just didn’t have the heart to do it. He undressed, turned on the water and buried his head in the hot stream of mountain well water.
“Ryan.”
Damn. He must be hallucinating from that blow to the head, because he could have sworn he heard Vicki’s voice while he was in the shower.
Ryan rubbed the soap over his shorn hair and face, trying to scrub away far more than dirt. Unfortunately, memories weren’t so easy to wash down the drain. Neither was heartache.
Screaming like a girl, Ryan jumped as two hands wrapped around him from behind. His eyes flew open and he spun, nearly falling at the sight that confronted him.
Vicki, wet and very naked, and standing right before him. She smiled shyly. “Hi. Sorry I scared you.”
Ryan’s laughter bubbled up from deep within him. He didn’t know what to say first. He’d run over all the many things he would tell her if he ever got the chance, but right now, not one of them came to mind. He swung Vicki up and crushed her against his chest, kissing her as the water streamed over them both.
She wrapped her legs around his naked waist, pulling away just long enough to say, “I’m sorry I left,” before her mouth was back on his.
He shook his head and spun them so he could brace her against the wall of the stall. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here now.”