Beyond The Limit

by Lindsay McKenna

  Eager to see his reaction, Pete grinned. “I’ve been waiting for these to arrive for some time, my lord. Please, open the latch.”

  Hesam did so and opened the box. “Oh, I do not believe this!” Stunned, he looked up at Pete. “Can this be so? Do my eyes deceive me?”

  “Your eyes do not deceive you, my lord. Those are two Colt .45 replicas. The real deal. And I have the holsters for them, out in the truck. Please, look at the pistols. They’re created from originals found back in the late 1800s of our Wild West era.”

  Hesam murmured with undisguised pleasure as he picked up one pearl-handled pistol and looked at it. “This is indeed a great gift, Major. Thank you.”

  “You had mentioned at one time that you were interested in our cowboy era.”

  “Yes, I am. You see, we still ride horses here in my country,” Hesam said, turning the piece over and over, looking at the fine detail and workmanship. “And since I am a gun collector, one of my dreams was to own a pair of Colt .45s.” He gave Pete a look of incredulity. “This is an amazing and gracious gift. Thank you very much. I shall cherish these pistols.”

  “You can fire them, too,” Pete said. He asked Javad to go out to the truck and retrieve a wooden box containing the leather holsters. Grinning, Javad sat up and practically ran out of the room.

  “Then I will wear them daily,” Hesam declared. “I will become a cowboy of the Old West.”

  “I’ve provided a great deal of ammunition for them, my lord. That, too, is out in the truck. It’s a pretty heavy box, and you may want some of your men to carry it into where you keep such things.”

  “You have thought of everything, Major.” Hesam beamed with pleasure. “You are truly a good man with a generous heart.” He waved the Colt .45 and watched the glint of light bouncing off the silver surfaces. And then, as if struck by a brilliant thought, he turned to Cali and spoke to her in Pashto. “Are you sure you do not want this man as a husband? He’s very generous.”

  Coloring fiercely, Cali shook her head. Her heart thudded at the unexpected words from Hesam. “My lord, I like Major Trayhern very much, but not as a husband. That just wouldn’t work in our situation.”

  “Pity,” Hesam said. “For he is a man among men. My daughters are very interested in him.” He chuckled. “But I told them that he was not of our faith and therefore unavailable to them.”

  “I understand,” Cali said.

  “Besides, I’m sure the major has someone back home?”

  “Not that I know of, my lord.”

  “Pity.” He turned and switched to English. “Will you both come with me? To my office? I have some strategies to stop the Taliban from being so bold. I need your thoughts and ideas on how we can work together to keep your site safe for the future of my people.”

  IT WAS NEAR MIDNIGHT when Hesam was done laying out elaborate plans to keep the site safe. Scratching his head, Pete sat opposite the sheik at the large, highly polished mahogany table. Intricately hand-carved, the oval piece had the legs of a lion—an impressive table for an impressive leader.

  Cali sat to his left. She looked drawn and tired. So was he. His only wish was that they could steal a few moments together.

  “The Taliban is gathering force up in the Kush Mountains,” Hesam said wearily, sipping the last of his coffee. He set the delicate, white china cup painted with roses on the saucer at his elbow. “I fear they are only going to get bolder. My friend the tribal sheik of the next province is low on men and horses. He has asked me to take over more distant forays into the mountains for him. I said I would try, but could not guarantee to provide the number of soldiers he needs to keep the Taliban out of the caves and valleys of his land.”

  “With most of your men employed by us,” Pete noted, “you don’t have the usual resources to hunt them down.”

  “It’s more than that, Pete,” Cali said. She tapped the map spread before them with her fingertip. “Sheik Hesam may control this province, but the mountains are more of an obstacle than flat plains.”

  “Very true,” Hesam said sadly. “There are pockets of Taliban who get together in these high mountain valleys to plan and plot. They then lure the youngest men, sometimes mere boys, to trek over the mountains and plant the roadside bombs. Few suspect boys of such carnage.”

  Glumly, Pete agreed. And he wasn’t going to start shooting every youth he saw outside their perimeter fence as a possible Taliban suspect. “I need to try and get your security guards to stop more of these boys and find out if they are from local villages or not.”

  “One way around that would be to issue everyone a photo identification,” Cali suggested. She glanced toward Hesam, whose black brows rose with surprise. “Anyone, and I mean anyone, coming around or into our site, would have to wear this photo ID. Those caught without it would be immediately suspected of being Taliban.

  “That’s a cost I’d have to determine, and then run by my boss in Kabul,” Pete warned them heavily. They would need thousands of dollars in time and people to pull it off. “I personally like the idea and will back it, but I can’t guarantee that it will be approved.”

  Hesam waved his heavily ringed hand. “Major, I will absorb the cost.”

  Pete stared in surprise at the sheik. “Sir?”

  “I’ll bear the cost.” Hesam frowned and propped his hands together in front of him. “After all, I’m just as concerned about this as you are. Any incursion into my province is a threat to my power here. My people must see me as proactive. I can hire those with photographic experience, buy the necessary equipment and have women of the villages within thirty miles of the site get people lined up for identification cards. What do you think of that?”

  “That is an incredible offer, my lord,” Pete declared.

  Cali heaved a silent sigh of relief. “I’d back the plan with your ideas.”

  Rubbing his hands together, the sheik said, “Excellent.” Peering over at Pete, he added, “And I assume you must still seek approval for this identification card process from Mr. Elliot?”

  “Yes, sir. But I don’t think he’ll balk at it, since we aren’t having to put new money into our budget.”

  “Let me know when he approves it. In the meantime, I will ask my beautiful wife to contact women leaders in our villages to begin making the necessary arrangements. Hopefully, by the time Mr. Elliot approves this, we will have much of the infrastructure in place and be able to move quickly.” Plucking at his black-and-gray beard, Hesam said, “With winter coming on, there will be fewer attacks. The heavy snow in the Kush will slow or stop most Taliban maneuvers. That is their pattern—rest in winter, attack vigorously from spring through autumn. So we can use the winter to get the identification process defined and completed.”

  “It’s good to hear the Taliban will ramp down for a while. Our teams need a rest,” Pete said.

  “We do,” Cali agreed, feeling weary from the long day. “It would give us some breathing room.”

  She saw the hope in Pete’s shadowed gray eyes, too. How she ached to talk to him privately. Cali needed to talk to someone about Brad Parker. But who? With winter approaching and snow threatening to fall heavily within weeks, she was going to be very busy. Everyone would be scurrying, because winter always caused setbacks in schedules and planning due to inclement weather conditions. Still, as she glanced at Pete, silently absorbing his presence, she wished she could simply talk with him—woman to man.

  THE MID-DECEMBER WEATHER was sunny for once. Cali was bundled up in her sheepskin coat, heavy jeans and waterproof boots as she sloshed through an area checking rebar. Brad Parker would be around sooner or later, and she dreaded his arrival. She tried to avoid him as much as possible. Her breath white with each exhalation, and she eyed the hundreds of men busily working around her. They were all dressed in thick fleece robes and heavy dark trousers, their heads protected by their warm turbans. Work never ceased at a large building site. It always reminded Cali of bees humming around a hive, ever active.


  Tugging at the skull liner inside her hard hat, she brought the flaps down to keep her ears warm. Cali squinted up toward the noontime sun. To her right the beautiful Kush peaks were clothed in their winter finery. The snow was thick and deep, glistening like millions of shards of glass in the bright sunlight. The sky was lapis lazuli blue, dark and dramatic looking. The snow-covered plain stretched out to the left, an unbroken field of white. Beyond the perimeter fence, Cali watched as sentries in trucks slowly prowled the road where she’d almost lost her life last summer.

  The breeze was sharp and cutting. The red mud was thick, as always, and gathered like awkward weights under her boots. Most of the clay fell off when she stomped her feet, then continued toward a foundation where the assistant responsible for placing rebar waited for her. Most of the Afghans were highly skilled at arranging of rebar and wiring it together now. They took great pride in their work, and Cali wasn’t surprised that Parker had little to gripe about regarding the necessary reinforcing steel in the foundation. Good thing, because she wanted to avoid that guy like the plague.

  “Hey, fancy meeting you here, Ms. Roland,” Parker called as he sloshed eagerly toward her.

  Cali frowned and noticed the engineer was bareheaded, his thick black hair short and emphasizing his good looks. Fear rattled through her. She said nothing as he flashed his megawatt smile, however. What the hell was he doing out here without a hard hat on? Parker knew the rules. But then, he seemed to consider himself so damn important in the command structure that he could sidestep regulations whenever he felt like it.

  “Where’s your hard hat, Mr. Parker?” she asked when he approached.

  “I don’t need one.” He flexed his arm muscles beneath the coat he wore. “See? I’m tough.”

  “I’m not impressed.”

  “Most women are.”

  “I’m not most women, Mr. Parker.” Cali looked around and spotted a small supply shed nearby. The shack was a place to keep extra gear like dry gloves, which quickly got wet and frozen in winter weather. A lot of skull liners were hanging on hooks, along with different colored hard hats and tools. She reached in and she found a dark blue hard hat and pulled it off the hook.

  “Wear this,” she ordered him, and threw it in his direction.

  Parker was caught off guard. The hard hat struck him on the chest and bounced. If not for his fast reflexes, it would have tumbled into the mud. Snatching it up, Parker shot her a disgruntled look.

  “You wear it on my site, Mr. Parker, or you leave. You come out here without it again and Major Trayhern will be notified.” Cali wasn’t going to give this guy an inch, because he’d take a mile if she allowed it. Time spent with the man had taught her to keep him on a very short rein.

  “For you, Ms. Roland, I’d do anything.” Parker grinned contritely and threw the hard hat on his head. Settling it so that the brim shaded his eyes, he smiled widely. “Now, do I look even more handsome than I did before?”

  Cali turned away. The engineer was always testing her. Pushing her to see if she was going to be as tough as a male boss would be. She didn’t have time for games, but had played them too many times on other sites with men who questioned her authority.

  They moved toward the foundation together. Every time Parker got a little too close, Cali automatically moved away from him, her gloved hands stuffed into the pockets of her coat.

  “Beautiful out, huh?” Parker gestured to the sun overhead. “We don’t get enough of these kinds of days, do we?”

  Forced to answer, Cali said, “No, there aren’t many sunny ones here in the winter, Mr. Parker.”

  Halting near where the new rebar had been placed, Cali spoke briefly in Pashto to the supervisor. He was an older man, in his fifties, with a gray beard and black, smiling eyes. At one time he’d been a high-iron man, a worker who walked steel beams and girders six to ten stories above the ground on projects in India. Cali had a lot of respect for high-iron walkers; it took guts to do that, especially without any safety net to catch them if they fell.

  Parker didn’t wait; he hopped down into the five-foot-deep foundation trench where the new rebar was located.

  The arrogant engineer should have waited since the Afghan supervisor might have had something to tell him. But he didn’t and this was a sign of disrespect as far as Cali was concerned. After thanking the supervisor, she walked over to another wall and eased down into the muddy area. Rebar was placed every eight inches and then wired to another layer going the opposite direction. There were four double rows in the base of this particular foundation. As soon as the rebar was inspected and passed, they could begin pouring concrete, provided the temperature cooperated.

  “I just got back from Kabul,” Parker said to her as he walked along, checking the wire ties. “Found a helluva party being thrown by a Canadian contractor.” He grinned at her. “I have a helluva hangover even today. Too bad you didn’t want to come along, Ms. Roland. There were a number of American women, secretaries, at the party, too.”

  “Parties aren’t my gig, Mr. Parker, and you know that.”

  He brought the dark blue hat down a little more firmly on his head as a stiff breeze whipped through the trench. “Yeah, I know, but I’m going to keep trying. You’ve been out here a long time and you never take time off.”

  “The nature of the beast, Mr. Parker.” She continued to check the wire wrapping. It looked very good. Cali made sure to keep her distance from Prince Charming. Hadn’t he gotten the message by now that she wasn’t interested? Let him go sow his wild oats at parties in Kabul. That was fine with her. He thought he was a babe magnet of the first order. To her, he was a royal pain in the ass.

  “I don’t see you as the nonpartying type,” Parker said, a bit thoughtfully. He straightened up and filled out the form on his ever-present clipboard.

  “I don’t care how you see me.”

  “Can’t help it, Ms. Roland. To me, you’re a standout.” He chuckled over his own joke.

  She didn’t smile. Opening her own clipboard, Cali filled out the number of the foundation and scribbled her own notes. “I like nature, Mr. Parker. It’s a far more pleasant diversion than what big cities offer.”

  Shrugging, Brad tucked his pencil into his coat pocket. “My younger sister is a real party animal. She lives in San Francisco. I like to go visit her because she knows all the in spots, and we have a good time from dusk to dawn. How about your family? I know you have several older brothers, all in construction. Are they like you? Allergic to big-city fun?”

  Glancing up from her notes, Cali sent him a warning look. Parker was always snooping, always trying to find out something personal about her. “Mr. Parker, my life and my family are off-limits to you. Got that?”

  Giving her a grin, he said, “You can’t blame a man for trying. You’re like the Sphinx, Ms. Roland. Any man worth his salt is going to be interested in you because you don’t give up much of yourself to anyone. You’re a beautiful, enigmatic mystery.”

  With Russ as her teacher, Cali had learned that lesson the hard way. “Being the boss means exactly that, Mr. Parker. Business is business. That’s as good as it gets. Are you done with your inspection?” Her voice was calm and authoritative.

  “Yes, ma’am, I am.” Brad signed the form and looked around. “I’ll be going to the next building to check out the rebar there. Coming along? Maybe I could buy you a cup of good, thick Afghan coffee at the local eatery?”

  Since autumn, Hesam had allowed several village women to set up a small shed where they offered coffee, tea and food for the men. It helped the women’s families monetarily, gave them status, and Cali had applauded the strategy to have them hold important jobs at the site. She liked the idea of hot coffee now, but not with this guy. “No, thanks. I have other things to attend to.” She climbed out of the foundation with the help of the attentive supervisor standing nearby.

  “Pity,” Parker called to her, flashing her a smile. “Why, I’d even let you buy your own cup, Ms. Roland.�
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  Taking a deep breath to keep her patience, Cali glared down at Parker, who stood confidently in his knee-high rubber boots, red down vest and sheepskin jacket. “I’m not interested.” She’d bit out the words to let him know he was overstepping his bounds—again.

  Glad to be leaving Parker’s galling company, Cali started walking toward the white Roland truck parked in the distance. Her pulse picked up in beat when she spotted Pete striding across the site. Her crazy heart practically lurched out of her chest when he saw her, too, and changed course, heading toward her. The ache in Cali’s throat continued as she slopped through the ankle-deep red mud to a firm gravel path.

  The wind was cold and sharp, but somehow, with Pete’s gaze locked to hers, Cali didn’t feel it. His cheeks were ruddy from the slicing breeze, and beneath his dark blue hard hat, he wore the wool inner liner over his ears. As always, he had on his winter desert-camouflage uniform. Under his left arm was a clipboard, his right hand swinging freely. Pete had such broad shoulders. Her attraction to him was like a driving force screaming within her. If only things were different. If only…

  “Hey, is this a beautiful day or what?” Pete called in greeting. Cali looked earthy and gorgeous in the bright sunlight. The dark pink goose down vest she wore beneath her opened coat emphasized her face and flushed cheeks. The joy glimmering in her green eyes made him feel as giddy as a teenager.

  “It is,” Cali said, coming up to him. They kept a good distance between them as they halted to talk. “I feel like an old turtle climbing out of the cold mud to sit on a log and let the sun warm me,” she chuckled. Pulling out her clipboard, she got ready to discuss the rebar with him.

  “Hey, you sound like a down-home girl, not a city slicker.” Pete had seen a thawing in Cali’s attitude toward him. Was it because of Parker? She’d started changing after the engineer arrived at the site. Pete had seen her avoid the guy time and again. Was there a problem? Pete could do little but watch the structural engineer, keeping an eye out for trouble.