by Karen Foley
Chase blew out a hard breath and looked at Colonel Decker. “How long?”
The Colonel shrugged. “The Pentagon says at least forty-eight hours, but my guess is a week. Maybe longer.”
Chase bit back an expletive. At least with a two-man team in the region, they could still keep tabs on Al-Azir. The months spent tracking the Taliban leader wouldn’t be completely wasted, but Chase didn’t think he could relax until they had the bastard in custody.
“Sir, I’d like to rejoin my surveillance team ASAP.”
Colonel Decker picked up a folder and pinioned Chase with a hard look. “Before I let you do that, why don’t you tell me what happened after the stand-down order was issued? My report states gunfire was exchanged at the compound, and your team requested air support.”
The Colonel’s expression was grim and Chase knew it didn’t bode well for him. “Sergeant Morse was unaware of the stand-down order,” he lied, “and attempted to take the target into custody.”
“Uh-huh.” The dry tone clearly said the Colonel didn’t believe a word of Chase’s story. “And as their leader, your responsibility was to ensure your men not only heard the order, but heeded it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“In light of your inability to control your team, Major, I have a new assignment for you. Here, take a look. This should keep you busy for the next week or so. How well you perform this duty will determine whether I send you back into the field.”
Frowning, Chase took the file from his superior and opened it, quickly scanning the contents of the dossier. Along with the usual personal information, the folder contained several glossy media photos of a young woman with a guitar. She was attractive in a sexy, teenybopper way, with wild blond hair and heavy eye makeup. She wore a pair of tattered jeans and cowboy boots, paired with a red camisole top that laced up the front like a corset. Scanning the dossier, he saw her name was Tenley Miles and she was some kind of country-pop singer. And she was coming to Afghanistan.
“What is this?” he growled, but he had a sinking suspicion that he already knew.
“Your new assignment,” Colonel Decker announced cheerfully. “She’ll arrive in three days as part of the Independence Day concert tour, and you will act as her escort while she’s here.”
“Her babysitter, you mean,” Chase muttered, flipping through the photos. A quick appraisal of her personal information confirmed that she was barely eighteen years old. “Why isn’t the USO handling security? This isn’t something we do.”
While Chase and his men routinely provided protection details for VIPs and dignitaries during their visits to Afghanistan, they had never been asked to act as bodyguards to celebrities. The USO had its own contracted security personnel for that purpose.
“The USO staff is stretched thin with the other entertainers who are coming over. Besides, she’s not here on a USO ticket,” the colonel added. “She’s here on her own dime to make nice with the troops and, as I understand it, try to repair the damage she did at a recent concert when she publicly lambasted the U.S. military.”
“Christ, leave it to the celebrities,” Chase said in disgust. He pulled out a news article that provided the details of Tenley Miles’s anti-military rant. He gave a disbelieving huff of laughter as he quickly read the column. “I think I’d rather take my chances with the Taliban.”
“Are you telling me you can’t handle one girl?” The colonel arched an eyebrow.
“That depends,” Chase said absently, thumbing through the remaining documents. “Is water-boarding still allowed?” Picking up a black-and-white photo, he studied it for a moment before turning it toward the other man. “Who is this?”
“Her personal assistant.”
There was some writing on the back of the photo. “Katherine Fitzgerald,” Chase read aloud. “Publicist.” He gave a snort of disgust. “Great. Tell me I don’t have to babysit her as well.”
Turning the photo over, he studied the woman again and something fisted low in his gut. She was slender and her face boasted beautiful bone structure, although her baggy cargo pants and cardigan sweater effectively hid any curves she might have. Her hair was an indeterminate color and style, having been pulled back into a ponytail. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, and Chase let his gaze linger for a moment on her full lips and the determined set of her chin.
“Actually,” the colonel said, “her flight lands in about two hours and I’d like you to be there to meet her and get her settled.”
Chase frowned. The last thing he wanted to do was pander to some entitled celebrity and her publicist. “I thought you said she wasn’t coming for another three days.”
“Tenley Miles won’t be here for another three days,” the Colonel clarified. “Her publicist arrives today to scope things out. So…you have three days to tour three of our bases—Bagram, Camp Leatherneck and Kandahar, where you’ll rendezvous with the entertainers upon their arrival.”
Chase frowned. “Is that typical protocol for these kinds of events? To send a publicist or personal assistant—or whatever the hell she calls herself—over early to scope things out?”
“I guess that depends on the star power of the celebrity,” Colonel Decker said wryly. “And I’m not into the country-pop scene, but my understanding is that Tenley Miles is a very big deal.”
“So if the USO has run out of room, where am I supposed to put her?”
“I’ll leave that up to you. But keep in mind that how well you perform this assignment will determine how quickly I allow you to return to the field with the rest of your team.”
In other words, if he couldn’t handle these two women, there was no way he’d be allowed to oversee a covert Special Ops team.
“Just so that I’m clear,” he said carefully, “I have complete responsibility for this woman while she’s here, correct?”
“That’s right.”
“And if she’s not happy with the, uh, accommodations?”
“Then she goes home. Same thing for the singer. I won’t compromise their safety or the safety of the troops, so if either of them is unable to follow your rules, Major, then they’re on the next flight out. But you won’t let that happen. They will follow your rules, do we understand each other?”
Chase read the unspoken message loud and clear. If the women ended up leaving early, it would only be because he had failed in his assignment. And if that happened, he could expect to spend the remainder of his deployment chained to a desk somewhere. He considered the factors involved in the first phase of his assignment: one woman, three bases, three days. No problem. He hadn’t failed a mission yet, and he wasn’t about to start now.
* * *
KATE DECIDED THAT planning a trip to Afghanistan was a little like planning a trip to the moon. She had no idea what to expect and, therefore, little idea what to bring. In the end, she’d packed lightweight, practical clothing. She still believed that allowing Tenley to visit the troops in Afghanistan was the right thing to do, although seeing all the uniformed soldiers on the last leg of her trip had admittedly given her pause. They’d both be lucky if they didn’t get themselves killed, and after Tenley’s public meltdown, Kate thought they were probably in as much danger from the troops as they were from terrorists.
She had known it would take a long time to reach her destination, but she’d been unprepared for just how exhausted she’d be when she finally reached Bagram Airfield, more than forty-eight hours after leaving Nashville. Additionally, since she had been forced to make her own travel arrangements, there hadn’t been anyone to meet her at each location and direct her where to go next. At least when she traveled with Tenley, they had Russell to lean on. But after assuring Kate that she’d do splendidly on her own, he’d left her at the airport. Even Tenley hadn’t been overly interested in any of the travel plans, although she’d perked up a bit when Kate had told her they would be going to Afghanistan. But after breaking the news that there would be absolutely no likelihood of seeing her young
soldier, Tenley had retreated to her bedroom in tears, preferring to be alone until she received word from Kate that she’d okayed the security setup and Tenley could fly over. For the first time Kate could recall, she was traveling completely alone.
She’d arrived in Kuwait the previous afternoon and had waited nearly fourteen hours for a military flight to Bagram Airfield. Now she watched as the base came into view on the ground below. From a distance, the place looked enormous, but for as far as she could see there were only unrelenting shades of brown, from the desert to the distant mountains, and even the base itself. Opening her shoulder bag, Kate looked again at the information that the Army Morale, Welfare and Recreation department had sent to her.
Over the course of a week, Tenley would perform concerts at three different American bases in Afghanistan, as well as conduct meet-and-greet sessions with the troops. The USO had assured Kate that someone would meet her upon her arrival, and escort her to each location. Kate had spent most of the flight writing Tenley’s speech, in which her sister apologized for her thoughtless rant and pledged her support for the men and women in uniform. Kate only hoped it would be enough.
The big jet touched down on the airstrip at Bagram Airfield, and Kate was surprised to see they would disembark directly onto the tarmac. Peering out the window of the plane, she couldn’t see any building that looked remotely like an airport terminal. The airfield seemed to be nothing more than an enormous airstrip alongside a cluster of tents and makeshift hangars, and a hodgepodge of other small buildings. Maybe this wasn’t the airfield at all. Maybe the plane was making an unscheduled stop at some remote base and then they would head on to Bagram.
The aisle of the plane was quickly filling with uniformed soldiers waiting to disembark. Leaning forward, Kate tugged on the sleeve of the nearest man. He turned and looked at her expectantly.
“Excuse me, but is this Bagram Field?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Are you sure? I mean, have you been here before?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he assured her. “This is my third deployment.”
“Oh. Well, where exactly is the terminal? I mean, where do I pick up my luggage?”
Ducking his head to avoid the overhead storage bins, the soldier leaned across the seat and pointed through the window. “See that hangar, there? That’s the terminal. This is an airfield, ma’am, as in airfield. They’re not really set up like you’re used to at home. Look, they’re bringing the luggage out now.”
Kate watched as a group of soldiers began systematically dragging baggage from the cargo hold of the plane, only instead of stacking the items on a small trolley to be transported into the terminal, they literally threw the bags into one enormous pile right there on the flight line. When the mountain of duffel bags threatened to fall over, they started a new pile right next to it.
“Oh, my God,” she breathed. “How am I supposed to find my bag?”
The soldier gave her a grin and straightened. “Well, ma’am, that’s half the fun. Welcome to Afghanistan, and good luck.”
Kate watched helplessly as he departed, then scooped her shoulder bag up and fell into line behind the soldiers. As soon as she stepped out the door of the aircraft, the heat slapped her in the face like a hot brick. To compound the discomfort, the air itself was filled with a fine, powdery dust that immediately infiltrated her mouth and nose and sent her into a fit of uncontrollable sneezing.
“Oh, my God,” she gasped, when she could finally catch her breath.
The soldier in front of her turned around and gave her a quick grin. “You’ll get used it.”
Kate doubted it. She’d never experienced heat like this. It seemed to suck the very moisture out of her skin and left her gasping for breath. Even Las Vegas in the summer hadn’t been this oppressive. At the bottom of the airplane steps, she automatically turned toward the piles of luggage, but found her way blocked by a military police officer.
“Just follow the line for processing, ma’am,” he said briskly, indicating she should continue toward the nearest hangar. “You’ll be notified when all the baggage is out of the aircraft.”
In dismay, Kate saw that the line snaked across the tarmac and disappeared inside one of the makeshift hangars. It was moving at a snail’s pace, and Kate knew she would die of heat stroke before she ever made it into the building. She could almost feel the sweat evaporating from her skin as she stood under the baking sun.
Hefting her shoulder bag higher, she looked around her, astonished at the sheer number of men. There were men everywhere—soldiers who seemed to be waiting for transportation, soldiers sleeping or sitting upright against their gear, soldiers reading books, standing around in small groups, playing handheld video games or listening to music on their ear buds. There was a handful of female soldiers, but they were hugely outnumbered by the men. Kate couldn’t help but notice that all of them—male and female—carried some sort of weapon.
She was acutely conscious of her own vulnerability. She carried no weapon, unless you counted the Montegrappa pen that Tenley had brought back from Italy as a gift for her. She didn’t even possess a helmet or bulletproof vest. Who would protect her in the event of an attack?
“Miss Fitzgerald?”
Kate turned to see a soldier striding toward her—a tall, muscular soldier who looked like he kicked ass for a living. He had the easy, loose-limbed gait of an athlete, and as he drew closer, Kate swallowed hard. The growth of beard he sported couldn’t hide his square jaw or detract from the chiseled cheekbones and proud nose. With his broad shoulders and powerful arms, he looked more than a little dangerous. The thought flashed through her head that given a few spare hours, this guy could singlehandedly end the war.
“Yes?” Her hand went self-consciously to her hair, and she tried to ignore the way her pulse kicked up a notch.
As he came forward, he yanked his sunglasses off and she saw his eyes were a translucent green, startling in his tanned face. Her breath caught and she found herself helpless to look away. He was the stuff of heroic action movies, a combination of masculine strength and confidence all wrapped up in a mouthwatering package. She’d never had this kind of immediate reaction to a man before. Her heart raced, and her knees were actually wobbly. Feeling a little panicked, Kate tried to recall the last time she’d eaten. Her blood sugar must be low. Either that or she was dehydrated.
The soldier extended his hand and his eyes swept over her in sharp assessment. “Ma’am. I’m Major Rawlins. I’ll be your military escort for the duration of your visit.”
His hand gripped hers, and she barely had time to register how warm and callused his palm was against her own before he released her.
“If you’ll follow me, please.”
Without giving her an opportunity to respond and without waiting to see if she would do as he said, he turned and walked toward the hangar. Kate watched his retreating back, feeling as if she’d had the wind knocked out of her. Then, realizing her mouth was hanging open, she snapped it shut and stepped out of the line to hurry after him, her oversize shoulder bag bouncing uncomfortably against her hip.
“Major Rawlins,” she called as she caught up with him.
He glanced over at her but did not slow down. “Yes?”
“My understanding was that the USO would provide a civilian representative who would be my point of contact.” As he strode briskly along, Kate tried to simultaneously walk and fish through her bag for the paperwork she had received from the USO, but the task was nearly impossible given the pace he set. Maybe she’d misunderstood him. Maybe he was only her driver. Oh, God, please let him be the driver. She’d never felt so self-conscious or tongue-tied as she did with this guy, evidence that she’d gone too long without male contact. Or at least, gorgeous male contact.
“You understood wrong, ma’am,” he said smoothly, never breaking stride.
Abandoning the search for her papers, Kate concentrated instead on keeping up with him. Arriving at the front of the lo
ng line, she saw several military police scanning everyone’s identification cards. Flashing his own ID, Major Rawlins stepped into the front of the line and looked expectantly at Kate.
“You should have been assigned a temporary identification card when you arrived at the processing center in Kuwait,” he explained carefully. “Do you have it with you?”
“What? Oh, yes!” Setting her bag down on the table, Kate began rummaging through it. She’d purchased a bright orange lanyard for the card, specifically so she could locate it in a hurry, but with everything else she’d managed to stuff into the large tote, she couldn’t locate the identification.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, uncomfortably aware of Major Rawlins’s growing irritation. “I know it’s in here somewhere.”
Pulling out two paperback novels, an MP3 player and a bag of trail mix, she set them on the table and continued digging through the contents of the bag. Behind her, she heard several soldiers mutter something under their breath and knew she was holding up the line. She glanced at the military police officer who watched her impassively with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Sorry,” she muttered again.
“Here, let me help you,” Major Rawlins offered.
Kate thought she saw the hint of a dimple in one lean cheek, and before she could protest, he took her bag and upended it, spilling the contents onto the table. Ignoring Kate’s gasp, he swept one finger through the assorted flotsam and came up with the ID card attached to the orange lanyard. Yanking the card from the holder, he handed it to the military police officer.
“You see? That wasn’t so difficult,” he said, amusement lacing his voice. Accepting the ID card back from the officer, he returned it to Kate. “Wear this where it’s visible. Follow me, please.”
Dropping the lanyard over her head, Kate watched with rising annoyance as he made his way back toward the flight line. With one hand, she swept her personal items back into her shoulder bag and determinedly followed Major Rawlins.