Hot Soldier Down

by Cindy Dees

  TOM WOKE up to the feel of an unfamiliar weight. He was startled to see a cheery quilt lying on top of him. Yellow tulips and dark green leaves twined over its white background. A cool breeze blew across his shoulders, and he pulled the quilt up higher. A breeze? He opened his eyes again. The two tall casement windows stood wide open, admitting fresh air to the room. Between them, tottering on a rickety ladder was Annie, paint brush in hand.

  Two of the filthy, grayish walls already sported a brand-new coat of yellow paint. It was nice—a bright, butter yellow. A jar on the table beside his head was filled with daisies, their clean white heads nodding a greeting to him. Yards and yards of gauzy white cloth draped over a chair, and two iron curtain rods lay across the fabric, waiting to be hung.

  The room looked completely different.

  “What in the hell are you doing?” he growled.

  Annie lurched, startled. The ladder wobbled and gave an ominous squeak.

  Crap. His reflexes took over and he leaped out of bed. In slow motion, the ladder gave way while Annie flailed, trying to maintain her balance. He caught her as the ladder toppled over. Her weight knocked him to the floor, and they landed with a thud. Paint splattered beside them.

  She scrambled off of him. “Oh, my gosh! Did I hurt you? Tom, are you okay? Talk to me!”

  “What do you eat, anyway? You weigh a ton.”

  “I do not. I weigh 125, and that’s pretty good for a girl my height.”

  “You’re 130 if you’re a pound.”

  “Well, maybe I am, but it’s rude of you to say so. I can’t believe you did that! I’d have been okay, you know. I’ve had skydiving training, and I know how to do a parachute landing fall. Are you hurt anywhere?”

  What was she mad at him for? He was the one who saved her butt. “I’m hurt in a number of places, as I recall. But no, I don’t have any new injuries. And you’re welcome, by the way.”

  She scowled. “Thanks for the macho display, Tarzan. Now, let’s get you back into bed.” She stood up and began hauling on his good arm.

  “Ouch! Stop that.”

  “You walk around on two broken legs without a whimper, but you complain when I pull on your completely uninjured arm?”

  “It hurts my collarbone, which did break.” He eased himself carefully to his feet. “While I’m up, I think I’ll mosey into the bathroom—and no, I don’t want your help.”

  “Fine. I wasn’t going to offer. Besides, I’ve got to clean up this paint before it dries on the floor.”

  He looked at the yellow splat on the curling, filthy linoleum. “Leave it. It’s an improvement over the existing floor.”

  He left her staring at the yellow spot while he made his painful way to the bathroom. Damn. He felt as if he’d been run over by a Mac truck. Shouldn’t he start feeling better soon? What if he didn’t get better this time? Was this it? Was his career finished?

  He stared at his beard-stubbled reflection in the cracked, faded mirror over the bathroom sink. In a moment of bleak honesty he studied himself. He wasn’t getting any younger. Fine wrinkles were showing up around his eyes, and worry lines were permanently etched on his forehead. He was still hard and fit, but at what cost? It didn’t come easy to stay this way anymore, and he sure as heck wasn’t bouncing back from this injury like he used to.

  He’d always known the day would come when he had to hang it up, but he wasn’t ready for it yet. An unpleasant sensation tightened his gut. Surprised, he identified the feeling. Fear.

  Dammit.

  He stared himself down in the mirror, daring himself to be a coward and look away from his own hard-edged gaze.

  An errant thought struck him. How had he been getting shaved for the past two months, anyway? He ought to have quite a beard by now. Had Annie been doing it for him? Maybe she had a razor and some shaving cream hidden somewhere.

  He searched the bathroom, but the place was bare. He relieved himself and went back into the bedroom. Annie was already back up on the ladder, painting around the window. He sat down on the edge of the bed and asked, “Our cover story is that we’re a married couple staying here until I’m recovered enough to go home, right?”

  She stopped painting and looked over her shoulder at him. “That’s right.”

  “Then where’s all your stuff?”

  “What stuff?”

  “Girl goop. You know, makeup and lotions and annoying soaps.”

  “Annoying soaps?”

  “Those frilly things that don’t lather up and leave you smelling like a flower.”

  “Sorry. I’m an Ivory girl.”

  “If the government was suspicious enough of me to bug my hospital room, they’re gonna search this place if they find it. We need to make it look like we actually live here. Speaking of which, where’s my stuff?”

  “Your stuff?”

  “Surely I didn’t go on a mountain climbing expedition in South America without bringing a couple suitcases of clothes and doodads. And where’s my climbing equipment?”

  Her voice was dry. “I imagine it fell off the mountain when you did.”

  “Then where’s the gear I had on me? I must have been wearing a climbing harness. And I’d have had extra rope, a hammer, maybe some crampons and carabiners in my pockets.”

  “Okay, I get your point. I’ll go shopping for some mountain climbing gear this afternoon.”

  “And speaking of equipment, where’s my actual pack? The one I was wearing the night I got hurt.”

  “I suppose it’s still at the embassy.”

  “I need it.”

  “Why?” Suspicion blossomed on her face. “Are you planning to mount a covert operation from your sickbed?”

  “I just want it.”

  “I wasn’t born yesterday, dude.” She scowled at him. “But far be it from me to argue you out of doing something insane. I’ll see if I can find it.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He grinned at the grudging tone in her voice. He sympathized. Growing up with good manners stunk sometimes. He had the same affliction. Like the time he thanked the drug dealer who’d just beat him up for wiping the blood out of his eyes. His guys had given him grief over that for months. Ah, well. So what if the Blackjacks were known as the most polite Special Forces squad in the U.S. Armed Forces? They got more women than most, too.

  He eyed Annie on the ladder in front of him. From this angle, he could see several inches up the cropped T-shirt she wore. Her stomach was tanned and firm. She might be a curvaceous woman, but she was also in good physical condition.

  As she continued to paint in silence, he gazed idly around the room. Slowly something disturbing dawned on him. He hated to make her mad, but he owed it to her to burst her bubble before it grew too big. “Would you mind coming down from that ladder for a minute?”

  “Why?” she asked. “I’m almost done with this section of the wall.”

  “I’m going to say something you’re not going to like, and I don’t want you to fall off the ladder again.”

  Frowning, she came down.

  “Would you mind setting down that paintbrush, too?”

  “You don’t want me armed, either?”

  “Nope.”

  She set the brush down.

  “Look. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Annie.”

  “But…”

  “But I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

  “About what?” she asked curiously.

  Long experience with women had taught him to be direct and brutal when it was time to let them go. “I’m in the middle of a blown mission. I don’t have time to play house with you. All this…nesting…you’re doing is sweet, but I can’t let you get involved.”

  “With you or with your mission?”

  “Either.”

  “Too bad. I’m already involved whether you like it or not.”

  With which? Him or the damned mission? “How so?”

  “Tom, I work at the A
merican Embassy. It’s no secret to the Gavronese government that I’m trained to do simple espionage work. I just spent seven weeks by your side day and night, and you disappeared out of the hospital this morning. Don’t you think they’re going to come looking for me?”

  He rubbed a hand over his face. “I really wish you hadn’t jumped into the middle of this.”

  “Don’t. I am a military officer, you know. I knew what I was getting into, and I can handle it.”

  “But you’re a woman.”

  “So?”

  “A woman can’t handle what my men and I have to do.”

  Her voice took on a distinctly belligerent tone. “And why not?”

  “Look, Annie. I’m not some chauvinist pig who thinks women are only capable of cleaning house and making babies. But what we do takes enormous physical strength and endurance.”

  “I’ll grant you that men are stronger than women, but it doesn’t mean we’re less intelligent or capable.”

  “Women are dangerous distractions in the field.”

  “Oh, please. I’ve worked with mostly men for eight years, and I’ve managed not to fling myself at any of my co-workers so far.”

  “How many of them have flung themselves at you?”

  That shut her up.

  “I’m not going to debate the pros and cons of women in combat with you, Annie. The point is, I don’t want you involved with me or my men.”

  “Tough. It’s already a done deal.”

  Frustration coursed through him. He knew what he was talking about, here. He’d played this game once, a long time ago, and it had cost one of his men his life. Annie was not taking him there again. He had to make her understand.

  “Dammit Annie. I want you out.”

  “And how are you planning to take care of yourself until you’re healed? Do you expect to stroll out the front door and go shopping without being noticed—assuming you could do it without passing out? Do you know who in St. George will help you and who’ll sell you out? Face it, Tom. You need me.”

  He stared hard at her, and she glared right back. As much as he didn’t want to accept her argument, she was right. He needed her help. For now. But that didn’t mean he had to like it one bit. As soon as he was a little stronger, he was ditching her like a hot potato.

  He sighed, resigned. “If you’re going to be part of this operation for now, you need to understand the ground rules my team operates by.”

  She crossed her arms and raised an amused eyebrow. Too cocky for her own good, she was.

  “First and foremost, I’m in charge. You do what I say, when I say it. No questions, no hesitation. Got it?”

  A wide grin spread across her face. “Got it.”

  “I’m serious, Annie. In my line of work, lives hang on orders being carried out instantly. I’m the leader of this squad not only because of my rank, but also because of my field experience. You’re going to have to trust me, quite literally, with your life. Can you do that?”

  She tilted her head to the side, considering him. At least she finally seemed to be taking him seriously. “How good are you at what you do?”

  He answered her quietly. “That Blackjacks are topnotch. If you run with my team, every one of them will die for you without a second thought.”

  “Let’s sincerely hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  “Agreed. So. Do you trust me?”

  “I guess I do.”

  Why did it feel so good to hear her say those words? It was a job. Just a job.

  “Welcome aboard then, Annie. Your first assignment is to find me something to eat.”

  She saluted smartly. “Yes sir. Right away, sir.”

  She marched out of the room, her rear end twitching pertly. Realizing he was enjoying the view, the smile faded from his face. He had a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Where in the hell were you?”

  Annie jumped. She managed not to drop the bags of groceries in her arms, but her keys clattered to the floor. She stepped inside the apartment and closed the door. “Gee, hello. Nice to see you too, Tom. What are you doing out of bed? You agreed to stay there today.”

  He glared at her from his reclining position on the ancient, overstuffed sofa that had come with the apartment. “I was worried sick when I woke up and you were gone. I couldn’t stay in bed.”

  A warm feeling crept into Annie’s irritation. “I went shopping. I picked up more food, and I had to get you mountain climbing supplies.” She plunked one of the bags on the scarred coffee table beside Tom. It rattled metallically. “I managed to find some used gear, so you won’t have to make it look broken in.”

  “Good thinking.”

  Tom’s grudging approval made her afternoon of foraging through dark, dusty, cobweb-ridden pawnshops worth the hassle. “I’ve got one more load to bring in from the car. Back in a minute.”

  She hauled her best find of the day out of the trunk of her car and heaved one of its black nylon straps over her shoulder. Although she exercised daily, she was huffing by the time she reached the apartment. How Tom managed to sneak all over the jungle carrying this bag full of rocks was beyond her.

  Triumphantly she set his backpack on the coffee table. “Merry Christmas a little early.”

  “My pack!” He reached out eagerly. His hand stopped abruptly in midair. He grunted and collapsed back on to the sofa, holding his rib cage. His eyes closed tightly as he waged a struggle against pain.

  Annie jumped forward. All her best intentions to keep her distance from him went right out the window. She bent over him in concern. “Are you okay? Is there anything I can do for you? I picked up some painkillers from the embassy, today. Shall I get you one?”

  “No. Just leave me alone. I’ll be okay.” His voice sounded thin, not the rich tones of his usual speaking voice. It took all the punch out of his attempt to be stoic and macho.

  She sat down on the edge of the sofa beside him. His eyes flew open and the expression in them shifted from annoyed to startled. She kept forgetting he’d been unconscious most of the time she’d been getting so intimately familiar with him. He looked away. She spoke quietly to his averted face. “You must hate having anyone see you like this.”

  He didn’t respond. But then she didn’t really expect him to. She continued, “I can only imagine how frustrating it is to be accustomed to perfect health and then find yourself in this situation. Give it a little time. You’ll be back to your old self soon.”

  He turned his head and gazed bleakly at her. “Will I?”

  His words cut like a knife. She was responsible for potentially ending his career and causing him all this anguish. She reached out to smooth away the frown from his forehead. To her surprise he closed his eyes and accepted the comforting touch. And as usual her fingers couldn’t resist straying into his dark, silky hair.

  As much as she savored touching his vital warmth, she had to stop this. He’d made it crystal clear earlier that he wanted nothing personal to do with her. She’d pegged him correctly. He was one of those men to whom the mission was everything. Reluctantly, Annie removed her hand and asked, “Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”

  He sighed. “Actually, you can. In the top pocket on the right side of my pack, there’s a burner phone.”

  She fished around and found the small black phone. She handed it over, watching while he punched in a series of numbers. “Who are you calling?” she asked.

  “Voice mail. Seeing if my team left a message for me.”

  “They probably don’t know you’re out of the hospital.”

  “They will momentarily. I just sent each of them a text message to make their way here.” He set aside the phone. “In the big section of my pack, near the top, there’s a little vinyl notebook. Could you get it for me?”

  “Yes, sir.” Annie found it and gave it to him. Interested, she watched him flip to several pages covered with a jumble of numbers.

  “Paper and a pen
, please.”

  Annie fetched a yellow legal pad and a pen for him.

  He tore off a single sheet of paper. “Never write on a pad of paper. The impression goes through to the pad and can be lifted for someone else to read.”

  “I’ll remember that, Major.”

  Tom stopped and looked up at her. “What’s all this sir and Major stuff?”

  “Well, you do outrank me, and apparently I’m your lackey, now.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Look. I can be a jerk. I get tunnel vision on problems I’m working on. I swear, it’s nothing personal.”

  Annie resisted the self-deprecating charm in his voice. “What was all that stuff about me following your orders without question?”

  His voice went dead serious. “I don’t give orders often, but when I do, it’s because people are going to die if something doesn’t happen fast. If I ever do give you an order, I expect you to hop to it, not because of my rank but because of my experience.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “One of my team’s missions is to rescue civilians. That’s essentially how we’ll treat you, even though you’re military. It’ll be less confusing for everyone if we treat you as a non-combatant evacuee. Can you live with that?”

  Annie considered him. She knew full well he was splitting semantic hairs with her, but he had made several good points. They were going to be living together in pretty intimate circumstances. And he was still going to need care and assistance.

  She didn’t for a minute believe the ridiculously hopeful expression he was throwing at her was sincere. He was a smart enough operator to try charming her into agreeing with him. But damned if that boyish smile wasn’t hard to resist.

  “You’re just saying this stuff because you want another one of my massages.”

  He accepted her surrender gracefully. “Guilty as charged. In fact, I may even have to order you give me one on a daily basis.”

  “Oh, yeah? Who’s going to die if I don’t do it?”

  He arched a dark brow at her. “My, my, we have led a sheltered life haven’t we?”

  “And just when I thought you might be a nice guy.” She fussed with putting away the groceries. “Are you hungry?”