Taking Fire

by Lindsay McKenna

  Mike felt the tension amp up in the room. Khat’s face was flushed, her eyes slits, her voice angry and emotional. Moving his gaze to Mac, who looked calm and unperturbed, he knew this SEAL could land hard on someone under his command. He’d seen it done before. How was he going to handle Khat?

  “Fair enough,” Mac said. “But I’m going to let you know why I’m going to let you have your head, Sergeant. You saved four of my men. Whether your intuition told you to be there at that spot on that given evening, you made the difference.”

  Some of her anger dissipated beneath his quiet, sincere tone. Khat sat back in the chair, feeling defeated. “You have to trust me, Chief. Commander Hutton does.”

  Mac nodded and thinned his lips. “This is not a question about trust, Sergeant. I think I’ve made that clear.”

  Khat nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes, you’re concerned about my welfare, that I eat properly, get rest…”

  “Exactly,” Mac said, giving her a brief, tight smile. “Now, get out of here. See me if you need input or to fix a problem.” He handed each of them a copy of the mission.

  Mike rose and opened the door. Now he knew why Hutton left Khat alone. She was a damned spitting, snarling snow leopard when anyone tried to take control over her op. He ambled out into the big room and gestured for her to meet him at the planning table. Khat was drinking the rest of the water from a bottle she gripped in her hand. Her face was flushed. Anger radiated off her. Damn. He rubbed the back of his neck ruefully, pulling out two chairs.

  Khat came over and whispered so only he could hear, “I need to get out of here and take a walk.”

  “Want company?”

  She nodded, feeling as if she were going to explode.

  Mike walked out of HQ with her. “Let’s head to the horse barn,” he suggested. He could feel the rage radiating from around Khat. She could blow it off, yell, scream or whatever over there, and no one would hear her but him. He’d never seen her like this and was getting a taste of her stubborn, passionate Afghan blood in action.

  Khat whirled around on Mike once they were near the opening to the barn. “I’m so damned angry I could scream,” she rattled, facing him.

  “Why?” he asked calmly. He purposely kept his arms at his side, holding her gaze. Mike wasn’t going to argue the mission with her. What he did want was to find out what was triggering this unexpected explosion within Khat. He thought he knew, but as circumstances had just shown him, he didn’t know a whole helluva lot about Khat’s inner world. She needed to spell it out for him. Then maybe he could be of support or guidance. Maybe not. He was feeling caught between a rock and a hard place with her right now. He loved her. That was the simplest and clearest emotion between them. But could their love survive this? He didn’t know, and he felt clawing pain in his chest.

  Throwing up her arms, Khat started pacing back and forth in front of him. “I want control over my op, dammit! What the hell is Hutton up to? He’s always ignored me. He could care less what I did out in the field so long as it meant he didn’t need to support me.” Her nostrils flared, her voice harsh. “I think Hutton’s trying to get rid of me.”

  Mike nodded, watching her. “Okay, so what?” He saw her halt and jerk around, glaring at him.

  “I liked it the way it was! I had the freedom to do what I felt was right. And dammit, I do!”

  “Chief McCutcheon said he wouldn’t interfere with your judgment. What’s so different, then, Khat?”

  Breathing unevenly, her hands curled into fists at her sides, she stared at him like he had two heads. His expression was open, and she saw the sincerity in his eyes. “You’re always the voice of reason,” she accused hotly.

  “One of us needs to be, Angel.”

  Tears pricked her eyes. Swallowing convulsively, Khat felt imprisoned by his steady, calm gaze. Her chest rose and fell sharply with anger and fear. Mike wasn’t angry. He was just standing there like an anchor while she bounced around like a wild horse trying to escape an invisible cage she felt closing around her.

  Trembling outwardly, she put her hands to her face, trying to stop the tears from coming. It didn’t work, and she muttered a curse, wiping the moisture angrily off her cheeks. “I just feel like a trap is about to snap on me, Mike. I feel it!” She struck her heart with her fist. “I operate on my gut sense of things. Maybe that’s why I left three weeks ago. I could feel something coming, and it scared the living hell out of me.”

  “So you ran from it?”

  She gritted her teeth, staring at him. “I don’t run from anything!”

  “Could you define what you felt three weeks ago, Khat?”

  “No, dammit, I can’t!”

  “Did you feel danger? Threat?”

  Some of her anger faded beneath his quietly spoken questions. Rubbing her hands down the sides of her trousers, she muttered, “No.”

  “Sometimes,” Mike said as he walked toward her, “we all get feelings that are uncomfortable, Khat. But that doesn’t mean it’s bad for us.” He halted and tipped her chin up so he could look into her tear-filled eyes. “Sometimes what we feel is change. But it doesn’t necessarily mean that change is bad.”

  His low, emotion-filled voice overwhelmed the anger raging within her. His eyes were half-closed, intense upon her. His mouth was compressed. She could feel his love for her. Tears slid down her cheeks, and she couldn’t stop a sob from jerking out of her. Pulling away from his finger beneath her chin, she choked out, “I’m just scared, Mike. All right?”

  He slid his arms around her, drawing her against him. It always tore him up to see a woman cry. Hell, he could handle anything but that. “I love you, Khat. We’ll get through this together. All right?” Mike held her, kissing her hair as she leaned wearily against him. To his utter relief, she slid her arms around his waist.

  “I’m scared,” she whispered brokenly, closing her eyes, absorbing his quiet strength.

  “I know you are, Angel. But it’s going to be all right. Things will work out,” he rasped against her ear, moving his hand gently up and down her strong back.

  “I felt as if my whole world had been jerked out from beneath me when the chief told me about the mission,” she choked, taking her fingers and wiping the tears from her cheek.

  “I can see that now.”

  Lifting her head, Khat stared into his somber face, his eyes hooded, burning with love for her. “I—I just want to belong somewhere,” she admitted, her voice cracking.

  “I know you do,” Mike soothed, moving damp tendrils of hair sticking to her cheek and tucking them behind her ear. “You belong to me. That’s a fact you can always hold on to, Khat.” He shared a tender smile with her, seeing the storm of anguish in her tearful eyes. His heart winced in pain for her. She’d endured enough of it. “Look, Mac isn’t a bean counter. I head up patrols all the time for him, and he leaves the execution of it to me. I’m in charge. If I need something, I call in by sat phone, and he’s there to assist me, Khat. Not tell me what to do. He’ll treat you the same way. He respects your experience and decision-making ability.”

  “God,” she mumbled, wiping her eyes, “I really flew loose on him in his office, didn’t I?”

  Mike grinned a little. “Yeah, you’re a force of nature, Khat, but he’s been around the block, too. I think he understood where you were coming from.” He caught her hand and kissed it, holding it against his chest. “Don’t worry, he’s not going to take your job away from you. He doesn’t work that way. If he thought you’d overstepped your bounds in there, he’d have been in your face in a heartbeat.”

  Mouth pulling, Khat rested her head against Mike’s shoulder. Closing her eyes, she felt comforted by him. “I love you so much, it hurts,” she whispered, choking on another sob.

  The words tore out of her, and Mike stood very still, not expecting Khat to say anything about what they shared. “That’s what will get us through this,” he assured her. “You’re passionate, Khat. You’re a fierce woman warrior. I love all
those things about you, too. And I want to be here for you when you feel like the world’s closing in on you, baby. I don’t want to be anywhere else.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her wrinkled brow.

  She pulled away and slid her hand from beneath his on his chest. Drowning in his lion-gold eyes, Khat leaned up and kissed him. Her lips were bathed with her warm, salty tears as she skimmed the tight line of his mouth.

  Instantly, Mike groaned and pulled her hard against him, his mouth curving hotly against her own. His lips deepened their kiss, parting her lips, drinking from her, giving and sharing with her. Breath uneven, the rasp of his beard against her cheek, she strained to get as close as she could to him, their hearts pounding frantically against one another. Dampness instantly collected between her thighs, and Khat felt her entire lower body radiate with keening hunger that only he could liberate and satisfy.

  Mike’s hand framed her face, his mouth taking hers with masculine power. Khat felt as if he were infusing her with his strength, his love and tenderness all at once. She was needy and absorbed his mouth sliding against hers, giving and taking. Her whole world melted as he licked her lower lip. A moan caught in her throat as he moved against her tongue, every nerve in her body awakening beneath his onslaught.

  She wanted him. In every possible way. She wanted to feel his hands caressing her tight breasts, his mouth claiming one of her hardened nipples, his knowing hand sliding down beneath the waist of her uniform, going lower.

  Her knees felt like they were going to buckle, and she felt such a powerful spasm within her lower body, she wanted to cry out. Khat had missed him terribly in those three lonely weeks. In that one moment, she felt her love for Mike deepen so much that it warred on equal ground with her commitment to her people. That realization caught her off guard. Khat surrendered completely to his sweet assault upon her, his kisses healing her, loving her.

  Finally, Mike eased away from her well-kissed mouth. He opened his eyes, breathing irregularly, his erection so damned hard that he could barely stand up straight, the ache for Khat intense. Watching her lashes that were beaded with tears lift, his heart expanded powerfully with love for her alone. Her green eyes were moist, and he saw dappled gold in their depths. She wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. He could feel her trembling against him, her knees pressed against his, barely able to stand. He tightened his grip around her waist, keeping her solidly against him.

  Something had changed, and Mike felt the subtle shift between them. He couldn’t say what it was; only that something had happened as they’d ravenously kissed one another like starving male and female alpha wolves reclaiming each other after an enforced absence. Marking one another. Reminding one another of the power and beauty of what they shared when they met one another as equals on the playing field of life.

  “Wish we were somewhere else other than here,” he teased, his voice low and aroused.

  Rolling her eyes, Khat whispered, “Anywhere but here…”

  “One good thing about this mission…” he said, giving her a wicked look. “We’ll be together.”

  Nodding, Khat rested her head on his shoulder once more, moving her fingers across his chest. “I thought of that.”

  “So it’s not all bad,” he murmured, no longer hearing anger in her voice, just weariness, as if she’d fought a major battle within herself. Moving his fingers across her mussed hair, he added, “We’ll take advantage of what we have, when we can.”

  Nodding, Khat muttered defiantly, “It’s the only good thing about it, Mike.”

  “Let’s look on the positive side, Angel. I was picked for this mission. It could have been worse. You could get someone you didn’t know at all.”

  Khat sighed. “Yes…” She shook her head. “Why the hell did I fly off the handle in the chief’s office?” Pulling out of his arms, Khat stepped back, touching her brow. “All the chief wanted is GPS on all the goat trails and rat lines. Why did I overreact?”

  Mike stood and watched her closely. He was seeing her waffle emotionally again, sure that PTSD had something to do with her anger and feeling unsafe. “You felt threatened,” he said.

  Khat dragged in a deep breath and gave him an abject look. Being around Mike was stabilizing to her in every way. “Sometimes I fly off the handle. Not often, but it happens.”

  “Your passionate Afghan blood?” he teased, his mouth creased at the corners. Mike saw her rally, trying to understand the extremes within herself. He knew how hard it was to see one’s self. Maybe, if Khat had been given therapy and she’d stayed Stateside after her release from captivity, she would have reacted differently, more positively, to this mission.

  “I guess,” Khat muttered. She leaned against the corral fence, the two mares coming and standing nearby.

  “Well,” he murmured, kissing her brow, “I, for one, am looking forward to this mission. It means I get quality time with you. And no one to see us make love.” Mike gave her a warm look. She smiled a little. Her cheeks were flushed and still damp from crying. He wanted so damn badly to ease her inner pain, but Mike knew he couldn’t. He caressed her cheek. “We’ll find times and ways to love one another. Guaranteed.”

  *

  “YOU TWO TAKE CARE,” Travis told them at the security gate. It was 0100, the sky threatening another storm and rain. Lightning danced off to the west of Camp Bravo.

  Mike shook his hand. “We will. Thanks for all your help, bro.”

  Grinning, Travis said, “Anytime.”

  The marine guards at the gate opened it and stepped aside as they walked their horses through into the Taliban territory that surrounded the forward operating base. Once outside the wire, they mounted their horses, trotting down the slope toward the hilly region below.

  Mike rode beside Khat. Both were in male Afghan clothing. To someone looking through a spotter scope or binos, binoculars, they appeared to be two men with a packhorse in tow. Khat had pushed her red braid down inside her cloak so that it did not remain visible to prying eyes. They each carried an AK-47 on their backs, the weapon of choice for the Taliban. Their M-4 rifles were in nylon sheaths beneath the left leg, beneath the stirrup. If they needed them, they’d be easy to reach and fire.

  The rumble of thunder caromed over the area, the night air vibrating with the rolling sound. The cold wind was sharp, and he pulled the thick brown wool cloak tighter around his body. Beneath his hajii outfit, he, like Khat, wore SEAL cammies. They had to take it slow because NVGs wouldn’t work in a lightning storm, their view easily destroyed by the sudden bolts flashing across the moody sky. They were taking the straightest route to the mountains that were six miles ahead of them. In the mountains, they could once more fade into the environment, less easily spotted than out in the open where they were presently.

  Mike adjusted the mic close to his lips. “Test?” he asked her.

  “Roger that. Loud and clear.”

  “Good,” he murmured. Communication was essential. If they got attacked or split up, the radio was good for a one-mile radius. Mike carried a sat com phone, and so did Khat. Without them, they’d never be able to call for help from Camp Bravo.

  Lightning flashed overhead. Mike ducked, it was so damned close. The horses paid no attention to it. In seconds, a torrential downpour started. Mike knew it was going to be a miserable ride. By the time they reached the halfway point, they’d be soaked, freezing, shivering and their teeth chattering nonstop. He reminded himself that Khat was active no matter what the weather, constantly patrolling her area, watching for an opportunity to kill Khogani’s men. Hunkering down, he mentally prepared himself for a long, miserable night. The only time they would stop was at dawn, when they could potentially be spotted by Taliban.

  His mind moved between remaining alert for a nearby enemy and Khat having lived out here for five years alone. A fierce love for her swept through him. She damn well deserved a better life than this; one that could be equally fulfilling to her. His heart ached for Khat. She’d been through so damn
much, and the one thing a person always counted on in bad times was their family. And when she needed her father the most, he’d turned on her, frozen in old Afghan customs instead of allowing his daughter to spread her wings and fly. Mike counted himself lucky in comparison, silently promising Khat if she’d stick with him, he’d open up her life to happiness. Not this marginal life-and-death dance she performed fearlessly twenty-four hours a day.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE CAVE KHAT led them to at dawn was intriguing to Mike. Thousands of caves littered the Hindu Kush. This one was twenty-five miles from Camp Bravo. It was hidden by a lot of trees and brush near a stream. Unless someone knew about it, it wouldn’t be spotted. There were no goat trails nearby, either, which would have made it easy to find.

  The rain had been off and on all night. Mike’s outer Afghan cloak and clothes were soaked. His cammies had protected him up to a point and kept him warm.

  Khat rode into the narrow opening of the cave. The entrance was seven feet tall and about seven feet wide; just enough for a horse and rider to enter. Mike halted his bay gelding, looking around, noting exit points of escape if they had to run. Turning, the horse quickened its pace to catch up with the other horses. The cave twisted and turned, a series of maze-like tunnels. At some points, Zorah’s pannier scraped loudly against the wall. The only light was the one Khat had focused in front of Mina to show her the way. Mike felt completely lost by the time they entered what appeared to be a large dry cavern. He heard water. So did the thirsty horses, their ears pricking up.

  To his surprise, he saw dawn light weakly filtering down from above. Walking across the fine silt sand on the floor, he saw it was a natural, jagged opening in the ceiling. There was just enough light to see.