In Love and War

by Lovelace, Merline; McKenna, Lindsay; Irvin, Candace

  Chuckling, Khalid looked down at his daughter, who stood proudly at his side. “Ah, this is good! I have told Halima that the USA military has women in it. She did not believe me! Now she must.”

  Tara rapidly translated all that had been said. Relief was clearly etched in Dave’s eyes.

  “Ask the chieftain if we may come into his village,” he told her. “We’ll need accommodations. Ask him if my men can stay in his people’s homes. Tell him we want to get out of our U.S. military gear and we’ll need Afghan clothing. We’ll pay for everything.”

  Tara translated all that to Zaher, who nodded.

  “Yes, yes. Come, it is nearing darkness. You must be tired and hungry. We have little, but what we have, we share with you.” He turned and gave rapid orders to his soldiers, who in turn went to Dave’s men and gestured for them to follow.

  Tara said, “Khalid will have each of his men take one of our team to a different house, to be fed, given space to sleep, and provided with Afghan clothing.”

  “Great. Where are we going?”

  Tara turned back to the chieftain. “My chief would like to speak with you at length tonight. Will that be possible? There is much to discuss, honored Zaher.”

  “Of course,” Khalid said. “Come, you two will share our humble house and food.” He turned to Halima. “I will allow you, my daughter, to find suitable men’s clothing for Captain McCain.”

  “Yes, my father, I would be more than honored to do so.”

  Dave felt exhaustion pulling at him. Khalid’s home was a bit larger than most, but then, he was a warlord, and very rich by most Afghan standards. There was one extra room available and it housed his weapons. They had dined on dates, goat’s milk cheese, dried fruit and fragrantly spiced rice with lamb. Tara had remained at Dave’s side at all times. The chieftain had his entire family, children included, sit around them in a semicircle in the carpeted living room, resting on large, colorful silk pillows with gold tassels. Huge silver platters of food had been set on the burgundy Oriental carpet. The servants who attended were quick, silent and respectful as one course after another was presented. Tara had whispered to Dave that if he didn’t eat well, Khalid would be offended.

  Rubbing his stomach because he’d overeaten, Dave finally saw the chieftain raise his hand. Everyone in Khalid’s family, including his wife, Fazila, left them. Silence fell in the room after they had left. Khalid lit a pipe and smoked it for several minutes.

  “Chief Johnson does not smoke?” he inquired, when Dave declined the pipe Khalid offered him.

  Tara shook her head. “No, he doesn’t, my lord.”

  “Pity. A good smoke after a good meal is like rain to the parched land.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “And was your leader satisfied with my humble meal?”

  Tara grimaced inwardly. She turned to Dave and said, “Burp.”

  “What?” Dave replied with a frown.

  “I said burp. You know, belch?”

  He gave her a strange look. “Why?”

  “Because in their culture, it’s considered a sign that you liked the meal if you belch. Now, fake it if you have to, but do it. He’s asking if you enjoyed his hospitality.”

  Dave kept his face carefully neutral. He placed his hand over his stomach and forced out a big belch. Instantly, Khalid smiled, making his dark, lined face look much younger than before.

  “Excellent, excellent,” the chieftain murmured. He put the pipe down on a silver tray and then drew himself up.

  Tara forced a belch as well. Khalid nodded deferentially to her, a pleased look on his face.

  “May we talk of why we’re here?” she asked the chieftain.

  “Yes, talk is welcome now, Captain McCain.”

  Tara launched into the game plan Dave had gone over with her on the C-141 as they flew long, endless hours from the U.S. to Afghanistan. She roughly sketched out what the team was here to do: locate Taliban and either capture them, which was their preference, or kill them. Most of all, the team wanted to learn where the regional leaders were hiding. She explained that Dave would need the close support, guidance and help of the chief and his men to accomplish all these things.

  Dave enjoyed the low, mellow sounds of Pashto spilling effortlessly from Tara’s lips. In the flickering light of the oil lamp, he could see she was tired. From where he sat, he could see dark circles beginning to appear beneath her glorious blue eyes. Every minute, his respect for her was mounting. She had taken off her beret before dinner, and her smooth cap of dark brown hair outlined her skull. Halima had come over earlier, before the meal, to touch and inspect Tara’s short hair. The young woman had looked sad, and Tara had smiled and said something to her in Pashto. Then Halima had taken off her turban and allowed her long, black hair, to flow over her shoulders, to below her small breasts.

  Shifting his attention back to Khalid now, Dave watched the older man’s wrinkled, thin face as he devoted his full attention to what Tara was saying. Dave thought he saw delight, anger and then a look that could only be interpreted as desire for revenge in the man’s narrowed, dark eyes as she finished.

  “You tell Captain Johnson that we will work together, as one force, to hunt down the leaders of the Taliban. They are in the neighboring village of Deh Rawod, which is twenty miles from here.”

  Tara turned to Dave, whose gaze was fixed on her. Skin prickling pleasantly beneath his hooded inspection, she managed a slight smile. “Good news,” she told him, and repeated the chief’s words in English.

  “Ask him if we can turn in and sleep, okay? Tell him we’ll start doing serious planning tomorrow morning.”

  “Of course…”

  Tara felt uncomfortable. The room she was in was large, but most of it served as a weapons cache. There was a strip left, seven feet by four feet, for them to sleep within. They lay side by side on pallets, surrounded by many boxes of ammunition, grenades and other paraphernalia of war. This was the only room available. The darkness was almost complete. The window was open, allowing sporadic gusts of fresh air into the space. The huge wooden door, which hung on leather straps, was closed.

  Sighing, Tara turned onto her back, resting her hands beneath her head. Dave was barely two feet from her elbow. She was still in her uniform, but had taken off her boots, as had he.

  “Can’t you sleep?” she asked, when she heard him shift restlessly.

  He smiled a little and rolled over on his side, facing her. “No. Too excited. Hyperalert. I don’t trust the Taliban, who are probably no more than twenty miles away, not to attack us here tonight.”

  Tara nodded. Dave’s closeness made her feel safer than she probably should. Still, his strong presence, his quiet charisma, which had immediately won Khalid’s respect, was a comfort. “Do you think they will?”

  “I don’t know.” Dave caught himself wanting to reach out and brush a strand of hair off her forehead. There was just enough moonlight spilling through the window for him to see her features. Outside, he could hear the bleat of goats and sheep in nearby corrals.

  “I’m so tired I could die,” Tara whispered, closing her eyes. “I feel stretched like a wire.”

  “Jet lag combined with the stress of living under the threat of combat,” he murmured.

  “You feel the same?” Tara opened her eyes and looked over at him. It was a mistake. Dave’s eyes were hooded, and if she didn’t know better, she’d say that was tenderness burning in them. Swallowing hard, she felt her heart take off at a gallop. Quickly lowering her gaze, she tried to ignore his nearness, his quiet, powerful masculinity.

  “Maybe if we talk about home, it will help bring us down,” Dave offered. He saw desire in Tara’s eyes when their gazes locked for a moment. Desire? That was unexpected. Had she seen his wistful feelings toward her in his eyes? Hoping not, Dave scowled. He shouldn’t be drawn to her at all. Not now, under these conditions.

  “Does that do the trick?” she asked, chuckling softly.

  “Yeah, usually
does. I’ll go first….”

  Tara closed her eyes and pulled her hands from behind her head, settling them across her stomach. “Okay…you first,” she murmured. Tiredness lapped at her. How desperately she wanted to sleep! And how she had to fight the urge to simply turn toward Dave, inch forward and snuggle in his arms.

  “I was born in Barton’s Junction, Wyoming. My family owns a cattle ranch at the edge of the Tetons, the most mountainous part of the state. I have two younger brothers and a sister. They all work on the ranch, helping out my parents.”

  Tara opened her eyes and, against her better judgment, looked over at him. She was surprised at how the tension had drained out of Dave’s face as he lay there on his side, one arm propping him up. “You don’t like being a cattle rancher?” she asked.

  He shrugged and quirked his mouth. Picking at a thread on the Oriental rug beneath the pallets they rested on, he murmured, “My dad was in Army Special Forces during the Vietnam War. I was raised on the stories he told us, and I wanted to follow in his footsteps. I like the adventure.”

  “And you’re the eldest son, right?” She smiled a little when his mouth softened. Tara found Dave’s mouth absolutely mesmerizing. He had a full lower lip, the upper one slightly thinner. She could tell instantly from the way he held his mouth and the look in his eyes what he was feeling. Maybe he thought she couldn’t interpret nonverbal signs, but that was her specialty, and Tara was finding it very easy to read him.

  “Yeah, guess I fell into that trap, didn’t I?” He chuckled.

  “You’re making a career out of the army? Put in your twenty and then go home and become a rancher?”

  “Looks like it,” he murmured, drowning in her wide eyes. Tara was incredibly easy to talk to. “I was only going to do six years, to fulfill my officer’s commission, but….” He frowned.

  “Uh-oh, real life intruded, right?”

  Cocking his head, he studied her in the gathering silence. “What is it about you? I find myself wanting to spill my guts to you.”

  It was her turn to laugh softly. Opening her hands, Tara said in a quiet tone, “I’m mother confessor over in the intelligence section. Everybody comes to me and tells me their sad stories.”

  “You don’t look like a mother confessor.”

  “No?” Tara found herself melting beneath his teasing grin. The way his mouth quirked caught her off guard once more. Fleetingly, she wondered how well he kissed. Very well, she bet. Suddenly frightened of the way her thoughts were meandering, she tried to remain immune to him.

  “You’re too young and pretty.” He held up his hand. “I know, I know, that’s not a politically correct thing to say to a fellow army officer….”

  “But it’s a nice compliment. Thank you.” Tara felt heat scalding her neck and flowing up into her face. Thank goodness the semidarkness would hide her blush from him!

  Dave realized he was letting his stupid heart lead his head. Hadn’t he learned his lesson about women yet? But there was something guileless and trusting about Tara McCain. When he’d seen her soothing, low voice work its magic on Khalid, he’d felt an instant respect for her. The old chieftain was smitten with her from the looks of it, but that wasn’t a bad thing, in Dave’s opinion. It was better than Khalid having issues with her being a woman in the army.

  Clearing her throat nervously, Tara tried to move on to a less personal topic. “You said you were going to spend six years in the army and then get out and go home. What made you change your mind?”

  “Hmm? Oh, that. Well…” He scowled. “I got married.”

  Tara grinned. “That’s supposed to be a happy time. From the look on your face, it was a disaster.”

  “It wasn’t at first,” he murmured. Why was he bleeding out his sob story to Tara? Dave couldn’t help himself. Her liquid eyes were so wide and compassionate that he felt himself falling helplessly beneath her magic. “Wanda, my ex-wife, was a wild child. I guess what drew me to her initially was her free spirit. Sort of like Halima. She reminds me of that same type of rebellious personality.”

  “That’s not all bad. Being independent.”

  Dave nodded. “Attraction of opposites, I guess,” he said, staring blankly down at the dark carpet between them. He traced the flowery design with his index finger, lost in the pain of his past. “She was a lot younger than me. Actually, she was the daughter of an army major.”

  “What attracted you to her?” Tara wondered what kind of women Dave liked. Obviously, the wild child variety, which wasn’t what she was at all. Maybe she should feel relieved. Instead, she felt disheartened. Why?

  “Loved to party. Wasn’t afraid to be herself. She was full of life.”

  “I imagine she gave her parents a run for their money. Most army brats aren’t rebellious. They toe the line and are conservative by nature.”

  “You got that right,” Dave chuckled. “I think her father was relieved she was marrying me. It got her out of their household and into mine.”

  Tara saw the pain in his eyes as she met his fleeting gaze. He immediately dropped his eyes, slowly tracing the design in the carpet over and over again. “And life was good?” she prodded.

  “For a while, yeah. We were married for three years and then it fell apart. The divorce was ugly. I never want to go through that again.”

  “I’m sorry. Any children?”

  “No, thank goodness, there weren’t.”

  Tiredness was stealing over Tara. She closed her eyes. “And how long ago was that?”

  “Two years ago.” Dave looked over at her. Tara’s eyes were closed, her thick lashes resting against the planes of her cheeks. Fighting an urge to reach out and graze her skin with his fingers, he sighed instead and allowed the silence to lengthen between them. Five minutes later, he knew by the way her breasts rose and fell gently beneath the uniform that Tara had fallen asleep.

  Sitting up, Dave drew the thin blanket up across her shoulders. He didn’t want her to get chilled. September in this country brought hot days and cool nights. As he tucked her in, Dave had the wild, hungry urge to kiss those soft, parted lips of hers. No way. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right.

  Easing back onto his pallet, he frowned and pulled the blanket up to his waist. Facing the door, his M–4 rifle near his hand, he knew he had to separate these startling new feelings he had toward Tara from the mission that lay ahead of them. Tomorrow, everyone’s lives would be on the line.

  As he closed his eyes, Dave tried not to think of Tara as a target. The last thing he wanted was for her to be wounded or killed. His heart simply couldn’t handle that possibility.

  Chapter 3

  “I think you’ve made believers out of the people of Tarin Kowt,” Tara said to Dave as they sat in the all-terrain vehicle on a hillside above the village. It was nearly dusk. The October sky above them was pink and lavender. The sun had already set. Some thin, high cirrus clouds spread across the sky like a horse’s tail.

  Dave stirred in the driver’s seat. “A week makes a difference, doesn’t it?”

  “Getting all the helicopter supplies, including food packets, in for Chief Khalid and his people made them believe your team is serious and here to stay.”

  “It’s true. It has.” Because he had not had many opportunities to be alone with Tara during daylight hours, Dave had driven up the dusty road from the village to a barren hill overlooking the small valley where Tarin Kowt nestled. He savored his time alone with Tara even though he knew he shouldn’t. It was true they slept close to one another in the munitions room of Khalid’s small home, and that was a special hell for Dave. He wasn’t getting the sleep he needed because he wanted her in his arms.

  “You’ve been part of the magic of this week,” he murmured, cocking his head in her direction. Even in male Afghan clothes, Tara looked feminine to him. The thick frame of her dark lashes emphasized the beauty of her blue eyes. When her lips lifted and she grinned back at him, his heart skittered with need. For her.
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  “Let’s give Halima credit, too. She’s a real warrior, that one. And she can ride a horse like no one’s business.”

  Laughing softly, Dave gazed out over the valley. They had the Taliban on the run, but it was never safe. Sitting too long on the hill could make them a target, drawing mortar or sniper fire. “Yeah, she was practically born on one.” He started the engine and began the slow descent down the rocky, dusty yellow trail that served as a road. All around them the shadows of night began to creep over the barren, mountainous desert, creating perfect hiding places for Taliban soldiers.

  “My butt’s still sore from riding all day yesterday,” Tara griped good-naturedly. “You sat on that horse like you were born to it. But then, you were raised on a Wyoming cattle ranch.”

  Yesterday, they’d ridden into the surrounding mountains with Khalid and his men in search of a Taliban leader. Halima had headed the column, for she knew some of their hideouts from sneaking up on them and locating them on a hand-drawn map she’d created.

  Dave roused himself and stayed on the track. Getting off it might cause them to drive over a land mine. The mines left by the Russians a decade earlier were real killers of Afghan people. Khalid had given Dave and the team a map that indicated where known minefields were located.

  “With a continual supply of gas and food,” he told her as they bumped down the hill, “we’ll be able to investigate that fortress that Halima says has tunnels.”

  “When are we going?” Tara allowed herself a moment to study Dave’s rugged profile. Since coming to Tarin Kowt, he’d been busy eighteen hours a day, barely grabbing enough sleep in their tiny makeshift quarters to keep going. How she looked forward to those few hours with him. Oh, she would never admit it to him…. Tara found herself fighting hourly not to like Dave more than she should. She reminded herself that he was based in Kentucky, and she in Washington, D.C. A long-distance relationship just wouldn’t work.

  “Day after tomorrow, when we get new supplies.”