by Rachel Grant
She fixed her gaze on the wall and thought about last night with Pax. How he’d called her beautiful as he made love to her. She found a serene smile as she remembered the feel of his mouth on her neck as he cupped her breasts.
“First off,” her father said, “I’d like to thank Sergeants Blanchard and Callahan for saving my daughter. She’s a handful, I know, and not always prone to making the wisest choices. It couldn’t have been easy for them, and I’m grateful for their professionalism.”
The only thing missing from his description of her was the word incompetent, but at least he’d captured it with his tone.
She tried not to let it bother her. When that failed, she fixed her gaze on Pax and imagined going down on him while he still wore his combat uniform. This might not be the time for blowjob fantasies, but it was a defense mechanism to save her from tears and she wasn’t about to give it up.
For his part, Pax’s eyes were blank. Vacant. He was the solider she’d first met by the side of the road who took her passport and ordered her from the car.
Well, that was who he should be. So be it.
“I’m told Sergeant Callahan single-handedly took out the sniper who kept the convoy pinned. Excellent work.” He nodded to Cal. “Although my guess is Sergeant Callahan had the easier job, given that he didn’t have my hysterical daughter to contend with along with militants lying in wait in the wadi.” Her father laughed, and a few men at the table joined in.
Savvy fixed the general with a hard glare, winning Morgan’s friendship for life.
Cal cast her a sympathetic look.
Morgan shrugged. This was her dad in all his glory.
Her father continued, “Sergeant Blanchard is to be commended for shooting two militants in the wadi and saving the life of one when it became known the dying man had valuable intel.”
Pax cleared his throat. “Dr. Adler deserves credit for that, sir.”
She looked up sharply. Surely he wasn’t tanking his career for all time by announcing he’d given her his gun?
“Excuse me?” her father said.
“Dr. Adler stopped the man’s bleeding. All I did was apply the bandage. Dr. Adler saved the man’s life. Not me.”
She suppressed her sigh of relief. He was merely giving her the only credit he could. Which was nice, considering her father never gave her credit for anything.
“I’m glad to hear it, Sergeant. I guess I raised her right after all.” Every condescending word her father said cut deeper than the last.
His gaze shifted to her. “It’s my understanding you’ve resisted the Navy’s efforts to aid your project by bringing in their own experts, both a poor business decision and a poor tactical one.”
And at last they’d arrived at her father’s agenda. He was putting her in her place to pave the way for the Navy to swoop in and take over the project. Except…she and O’Leary had reached an accord. The Navy no longer wanted control.
By all accounts, her father was an excellent officer, devoted to the US Army. He’d earned his rank and deserved the respect that came his way. Where he fell short was as a father. But right now, his rotten father-ness was bleeding over into his professional life, making him a lousy general.
If she were removed from the equation, she’d bet her father would be running this room, but as it was, only a handful of officers seemed to be on board. She cleared her throat. “I will take your feedback under advisement, General, but at the moment, I have my project well in hand. Awaiting assistance from Navy archaeologists would only delay the fieldwork.”
She gave him a tight smile and continued, “I’m touched more than I can say that you would travel all this way to ensure my safety.” She was proud she kept the sarcasm from her voice. “With approval from my security team”—she nodded toward Ripley—“tomorrow morning, I’d like to show you the Linus site, so you can see for yourself what an astonishing find it is. Tonight, I suggest you read up on the Ethiopian Lucy skeleton, so you’ll have context for the value of Linus to the paleoanthropological record. The Djiboutian government wants to announce the find very soon. We should have the potassium-argon date from the lab any day now, and the minister of culture has been arranging security for the site, which will be necessary twenty-four seven after the announcement.
“We’ve also been waiting on analysis from one of the world’s foremost experts on paleoanthropology. He was unable to visit immediately but has been examining photographs, and his preliminary assessment matches my own—a three-point-five million-year-old australopithecine male with a complete tool assemblage. He intends to visit as soon as he’s free—late next week, at the earliest. His daughter is getting married, and he was told in no uncertain terms that he couldn’t miss her wedding, not even for a find like Linus.” She smiled at the room at large. “Don’t think he wasn’t tempted.”
Chuckles met her statement, and she felt the tension in the room ease a notch. She dipped her head toward her father. “I hope you’ll still be in Djibouti when the find is announced. It should be quite an event.”
And maybe, just once in your life, you’ll find a reason to be proud of me.
She shoved the bitter thought aside. “I’m afraid that, after tomorrow morning, I’ll be unavailable to show you around because I’ve a project to finish. To that end, I must escape this meeting. I have hours of work to do tonight, as I’m writing the report concurrent with conducting the field survey in order to meet my deadline.”
She turned to Ripley. “Sergeant Ripley, when you’re done here, I’d like to discuss security for tomorrow’s tour for General Adler and a necessary visit to Djibouti City. I’ll be in my CLU.”
Ripley nodded. She turned on her heel and left the meeting.
The righteous anger Pax had been nurturing with great care began to crumble as soon as General Adler started to speak. It shattered when Morgan stood and defended herself with grace.
The man had an amazing woman for a daughter, and he couldn’t see her accomplishments, brains, or fortitude. Where the hell did Morgan’s belief in herself come from? Because she sure as hell hadn’t gotten unconditional love, support, and a girl-power message at home. He imagined her mother must be the meek sort to have put up with General Adler all these years, assuming her parents were still married.
That thought caught him short. He’d made love to the woman but didn’t know a thing about her except she lived in or near DC and her dad was a hard-ass two-star general. Her childhood had been shaped by trying to please him, while rebelling against him had shaped her adulthood.
What else did Pax know? She was a black belt third dan. She could shoot a jellybean off a thimble at fifty feet. She loved her work. And she was utterly beautiful as she took him deep inside her body.
The meeting fell apart without her, considering the general’s purpose had been to force her to accept Navy oversight of her project, control the Navy no longer wanted. Captain O’Leary adjourned the meeting and escorted the general out of the conference room suggesting they have dinner at Barely North. Times like this, Pax wished the base had an O-club for the old guard. But at least it would be safe for Pax to grab a meal from the cafeteria.
He could only hope Morgan was in her CLU, because one thing had become uncomfortably clear as he watched her throughout the unpleasant meeting. He was falling stupidly in love with the stubborn, proud, and persistent archaeologist, and with her father on base, she was more off-limits than ever.
Chapter Twenty
The tour of the site was conducted with great fanfare. Camp Citron’s commander of SOCOM and another commanding general joined her father and Captain O’Leary for the tour. O’Leary brought with him a foam-lined case, which he’d had constructed to protect Linus’s skull.
The Navy had issued cell phones to Ibrahim and Mouktar, making it possible for Ripley to inform them they needed to be at the Linus site for the tour. If nothing else, the tour was good practice for her team to prepare for the unveiling for the international press.
Pax’s Green Beret team and accompanying busload of trainees arrived in time to watch as Morgan placed Linus’s broken skull back in situ. Both the damage to the skull and Pax’s arrival triggered anguish. It made sense that the locals would get to tour this site as well, given that some of them might be assigned security in the days to come, but she wished she’d been warned she’d see Pax again. As it was, she felt the same irritating flutter in her belly she always had when she saw him, but now it mixed with heartache.
As Ibrahim and Mouktar answered questions, she couldn’t help but look his direction. A frisson ran through her as she met his unabashed stare. The anger had left his eyes, as had the stone-cold glare. He was Pax again, his eyes serious but conveying a hint of lust he couldn’t quite hide.
The crack in his shield didn’t give her hope. Far from it. With her dad here to underscore the risks for him, there wasn’t a chance he’d yield. The chasm between them only grew wider.
When all the questions had been asked and answered, Linus’s skull was again packed up and secured in a Humvee. Ibrahim and Mouktar repeated the tour for the belated trainees, and Morgan thanked her father and the other officers for their visit. She turned to rejoin her crew, longing for this to be over, so she could escape the scrutiny of the two men who had the power to hurt her the most.
“Wait,” her father said. He gave the Navy captain an apologetic smile. “I’d like to speak to my daughter alone for a few minutes.”
Sure, it was fine for him to waste the captain’s time, but when all she’d wanted was a three-minute shower after a day in the hot sun, she was being selfish. She shrugged the bitter thought away. There was no salvaging her relationship with her father, and her hostility served no purpose other than to burn a hole in her stomach lining.
She followed the general to a patch of shade next to an acacia tree. He was silent, and she knew better than to speak before being spoken to. He’d trained her well.
He cleared his throat. “As you suggested, I read up on the Lucy fossil last night.”
She startled. That was just about the last thing she expected him to say.
“It was…interesting.” He shook his head. “Okay, it was boring as crap and I didn’t understand much of it, but I can see why it was—and your Linus will be—a big deal. I still think you made a mistake pursuing archaeology instead of putting your sharp mind to use for the military. You could’ve gone far in the Pentagon in military intelligence or another branch.”
Sharp? Her father thought she was smart? The heat must’ve gotten to him.
“You never mentioned anything about a career in the military that didn’t involve me being the first woman on a special forces team. Not because you think women are up to the job and needed a trailblazer, but because then you’d finally have the son of your dreams.”
He reared back, as if struck. “What makes you think I wanted a son?”
It occurred to Morgan this might be an opportunity for a real conversation with him. Not a one-sided lecture that left her in angry tears and hating her weakness. “I don’t know, maybe the way you would say—no matter what my achievement—that I could have done better, and I needed to work harder, usually accompanied by the words, ‘if you only had balls.’”
“That’s just a phrase!”
“It’s a phrase with a specific meaning. I don’t have balls, General. And I’m not sorry about that. And I don’t agree that I’m a failure if I’m not the best either.”
“I never said that.”
“You did, sir. Every damn day.”
“I was being encouraging. Pushing you.”
“No, sir. You were being a drill sergeant, when what I really needed was a father.” Her eyes teared, and she knew, much as they needed this conversation, she couldn’t have it here. Not now. Not when Pax stood twenty meters away and she had a crew to manage with hours of work ahead of her.
“I’m sorry, General. I’ve got work to do. There’s an A-Team and a platoon of guerrillas-in-training waiting.” For the second time in as many days, she left her father’s company without waiting to be dismissed. She made a beeline for her team’s Humvee, avoiding Pax’s gaze.
She hoped her dad wouldn’t insist on them dining together tonight, because she wanted to drown her sorrows in a big, very unhealthy, very unvegan chocolate milkshake.
Pax was the last one on the bus. Most of the team rode in Humvees ahead and behind the bus of Djiboutian trainees, but Pax and Bastian the bastard were stuck together, playing the role of teachers controlling students on a field trip.
The bus was owned and operated by the Djiboutian government, providing steady work for at least one citizen. The US military hired Djiboutians whenever possible, a laudable practice that sometimes made his job more difficult, but this driver, at least, was well trained.
It was fortunate also that these students took their studies seriously. The men were all young, strong, and eager to defend their country, but that didn’t mean a break from the guerrilla training wasn’t welcome, and they’d seemed to enjoy the excursion to see Linus before the world learned of his existence.
He heard the banter as they claimed the little chimp as Issa or Afar, but the tribalism was a joke. These men had learned to set it aside. Like the others on his Special Forces team, Pax had the language skills to work with the locals, but his fluency was in French, not Arabic, and the conversation drifted from the French he could understand to the Arabic he couldn’t. Not a concern, because Bastian the bastard was fluent in Arabic and could monitor what was said. Their complementary fluency was why they were paired on the bus.
It was a relief for Pax to sit back and close his eyes, tune everything out, and try to forget how fucked up this deployment had become.
Except every time he closed his eyes, he saw Morgan, naked and beautiful, giving her body to him with an uninhibited boldness that left him weak and wanting more two days later.
He didn’t like it that Linus was about to go public, but he was no longer in charge of Morgan’s security, no longer had any say in her life. Not that he ever had.
His cell phone vibrated, and he answered without bothering to check the ID, thankful for the distraction. “Sergeant Blanchard.”
The man spoke rapid French, and Pax changed mental gears. “This is Charles Lemaire, I need to speak with Dr. Adler. It’s urgent. News of the site has leaked. Our intelligence minister has just informed me that ISIS has put out a call for volunteers to destroy Linus.”
Shit. As if they didn’t have enough problems. “Do you have the resources to protect the site?”
“No. I was hoping the US military could assist. Our president is contacting your Navy captain as we speak.”
It would probably fall to SOCOM, maybe a team of SEALs if the threat were imminent; otherwise, marines would be set to guard. His guerrilla trainees might be defending the site far sooner than anyone had expected. He shook his head. This wasn’t his battle. Not his mission. “To reach Dr. Adler, you have to call the new head of her security team.” He gave the man Ripley’s phone number.
Call complete, he tucked away his phone and trudged down the center aisle of the bus to Bastian’s seat. He told the chief—second in command of their A-Team—the news. Bastian’s gaze swept over the forty trainees who were ready and eager to defend their homeland. “I’ll radio our XO. We should head back. Plan the defense of the site.”
Pax nodded. He’d been hoping that was what the chief would say. He was still a bastard, but he was a smart bastard.
Morgan’s workday, already
cut short due to the tour, was utterly demolished by the phone call from Lemaire. She was forced to leave Ibrahim and Mouktar to work unsupervised while she and the security team went to the minister’s office.
Upon arrival, Minister of Tourism Jean Savin led her to a small conference room, where Charles Lemaire waited along with Minister of Natural Resources Ali Imbert. Ripley stood guard at the door, while Sanchez covered the building entrance, same as when Pax had accompanied her.
Imbert, a native of the country who, according to Lemaire, was one of the old-school ministers who’d been upset to learn Dr. Adler was a woman, studied her critically, then said, “Your government spends money protecting a woman while our site remains vulnerable. We asked you at our last meeting if they would protect Linus, but they have only protected you.”
“Without this woman, you’d have no site to protect,” Morgan replied. “But I didn’t ask for the protection. It was offered after a warlord bombed my car, and I’m not a fool, so I accepted.”
Lemaire said something in rapid French to the other minister, and she had a feeling he was admonishing the man. In English, he said, “I have been informed Captain O’Leary has promised guards—Marines, he said—and even as we speak, there is a detachment of your soldiers—the ones who are training our men—who are coming up with a defensive plan for the site.
Morgan met Ripley’s gaze. The man gave her a quick nod with an even quicker smile. His A-Team was on it.
A flicker of warmth spread through her at the notion that Pax might be behind that action. Foolish because he wouldn’t be doing it for her. Linus wasn’t hers. The australopithecine belonged to Djibouti, and protecting his fossilized remains was in America’s best interest because goodwill between countries would lead to a US-controlled airstrip. Which would give the US an edge in the war on terror in East Africa.
That was all there was to it.