Five
was still rattled by the time they’d made it back to base that evening. She was a professional, so she’d done her job, interviewed the soldiers in the field, asked them about their knowledge of the MOAB dropped in Nangarhar. None of them had said anything to make her think there was some cover-up or more going on outside of what NATO had stated in the press release following the airstrike. Of course, that didn’t mean much. The intel could be above their pay grades. She needed to get in the field and question the locals. They wouldn’t understand the military dynamics, but if there were men with guns trekking around in the days before and after the airstrike, chances were someone saw something. People don’t forget experiencing something like that first hand.
For about the hundredth time today, visions of what happened earlier flashed through her mind. She’d known there was a risk she’d get shot at. It had been a lecture her father and Allie had given her. In addition to her boss. But knowing it was possible and it actually happening—the first time out, no less—were two completely different things. How could she push the fear away and do her job when she couldn’t make it one day without fearing for her life? And what would happen to her if the men she was with were injured or killed?
Suddenly, the rule about her not being able to carry a weapon seemed ridiculous.
She’d retreated to her room under the guise of work, unable to face Owen after him seeing her act all scared. She’d thrown herself into her job and pretended it hadn’t happened in order to get through the rest of the day. But now, he was just the man she needed to see.
She yanked her door open, intending to cross the hall and bang on his door, but his had already been opened. She hadn’t had time to cross the distance to his room when he’d shot out the door and stood in front of her.
“Where are you going?”
“I…er…was coming to see you.”
His shoulders relaxed. “Good. I don’t have to remind you that if you intend on exiting this building, I have to be with you.”
She glared at him. “Then why did you just remind me?”
He huffed out a sigh. “Just making sure you get that.”
“I’m not twelve.”
He smiled in a way that warmed her insides. “No. You’re definitely not.” Just as quick as the smile appeared, it was gone. “What do you want?” he asked, all business.
She almost lost her nerve, but this was too serious. “A gun.”
He blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I want a gun. After what happened today—” He started shaking his head. “I think it’s stupid—”
“No,” he said, slicing his hand through the air. “Don’t even go there. I already told you that’s not possible. If you carry a gun, you’re considered a combatant and then anybody can come after you.”
“I think it’s pretty freaking clear I’ll be shot at whether or not I’m packing.”
He ran a hand through his short hair as a low groan escaped. “I get that today was scary—”
“That’s not the point,” she snapped, and almost stomped her foot. Thank God she didn’t because it would’ve totally negated the whole, I’m not twelve defense. “It’s dangerous out there. What if we get separated—”
“Won’t happen.”
“What if everyone gets blown up, and I’m left to defend myself?” she continued as if he hadn’t said anything.
“Caitlin, you’re letting your fear control your emotions.”
“Damn right I am.” She was breathing heavy. She knew this was a long shot, but she had to make him understand how important it was to her. She glanced around as panic settled over her. “I have to be able to defend myself if you are captured…or, or, or worse…have body parts scattered all over the place.”
He reached for her, and she gasped. “Take a deep breath.” She tried, but it was shallow. He ordered her to do it again. “Breathe with me.”
She watched his lips and tried timing her breaths with his. Her lungs burned, but she did it.
“That’s better,” he whispered as he released her arms. “The first time I got shot at, one of the men in my unit got killed. I went back to base and got drunk. It’s not really advised, but it was either find the bottom of a bottle or find someone to beat up. Fight or flight instinct’s a bitch when you can’t actually flee. Going through that? It’s real, and it’s raw, darlin’. Believe me, I know what you’re feeling.”
She was calmer now, but that didn’t change her reality. “The difference, Owen, is you know how to fight. I don’t.” She waved her hands at him. “You don’t have that big rifle on you right now, but I see a gun on your leg. I bet you have other weapons, too. A knife? I have nothing to defend myself with.”
He studied her for a long, agonizing minute. Then he jerked his head to the side. “Let’s go.”
She followed him outside and into an ATV. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
They pulled up next to a target range. “We’re shooting?” she asked, a smile forming slowly. Was he going to show her how to shoot and let her carry a gun? She’d never shot one before. Probably need to keep that little bit of info to myself.
Owen grabbed her hand and tugged her behind him to the side of the area. She ignored her heart’s sudden spike at the touch and blamed it on adrenaline of getting to fire a weapon. “In a minute.”
He turned her to face him and placed his hands on her shoulders, staring down at her.
Unable to take the silence, she darted her gaze around and asked, “What’s going on?”
“In case I become incapacitated and there are no other fighters around to defend you, you need to know some basic self-defense.”
“What?” The word came out as a whine and her shoulders dropped. “C’mon. I’m not going to be carrying a set of car keys to stab a mugger.”
“A woman your size can take down a man my size with little practice.”
“Oh, balls,” she muttered, and rolled her eyes. “You’re really going to show me self-defense? How in the world do you expect me to be able to get close enough to jab my finger in an assailant’s eyeball when he’s carrying a machine gun? Or stomp on his foot when he’s throwing a grenade at me?”
“Have you taken defense courses before?”
“Yeah, in college. Though a drunken frat boy isn’t in the same realm as an Islamic extremist juiced up on jihad.”
He mumbled something about her being impossible and a few other words she didn’t quite catch. “Look, I’m trying to help you out here. Make you feel better about being outside the wire. Do you want my help or not? Because we can go back to the barracks and do a whole lotta nothing ’till morning.”
She pressed her lips together, realizing this offer was more than she thought she’d get when she’d first asked. Besides, she knew she was too keyed up to sit in her room right now and focus on her story—or lack there of. “Fine.”
He clutched her wrist. “When someone grabs you by the arm—”
She brought her elbow in and twisted her arm, breaking his loose hold. “I know what an arm sweep is.”
Without warning, he dropped his hand onto her shoulder. She slammed her hand on top of his and swung her other arm around, knocking his away.
He gripped her other shoulder harder than the last time, and she grabbed his hand again, this time capturing his thumb and twisting herself to make him bend over. Then she brought up her leg, stopping short of actually kneeing him in the face. “Station also made us go through training before my first overseas assignment.” She grunted as she kept hold of him.
“Point taken. Now let go so I don’t hurt you.”
“You would expect me to let go of an attacker?” she teased.
She shouldn’t have.
So fast that she wasn’t able to process what had happened, he’d extracted himself, whirled behind her, and whipped his arm around her neck, slamming her back against his front.
She panicked and grabbed his arm, but he’d already gotten the upper hand.
“Should’ve tucked your chin.”
Instead of responding, she wiggled, trying to get away.
“Stop trying to wrestle me. You’re just gonna waste energy.”
Caitlin froze, knowing he was right.
“If you get pinned, your go-to move is to strike.” He leaned in closer, his breath tickling her ear. “Stomp my foot. Dig those tiny little nails in my arm. Whatever you have to so you can turn. Then you can punch in the balls or hit the face.”
She knew this. She should feel ashamed she hadn’t responded as quickly as earlier, but with him surrounding her, the only thing she could feel was heat. She was acutely aware of his arms around her, his mouth a hairsbreadth from her skin. Her heart took off even as she tried to keep from panting.
She told herself to relax, ordered her body to release its tension, and somehow she found the will to do so, to drop her hands from the arm currently caged around her neck. Unable to talk just yet, she nodded, and then eased her head against his chest.
Owen stiffened, and she realized when she’d thought she’d relaxed, she’d actually melted into him. Her back was one with his front, and when she’d dropped her hands, she’d gripped the sides of his legs. Why had she done that? Maybe she needed to help support herself. Didn’t matter. She shot a mental order to let go of him, but she’d apparently lost all control over her body’s actions. What was more shocking was that she didn’t want to release him. She liked the way he felt.
The hand he had on her belly eased, but he didn’t take it away. His fingers spread ever so slowly, splaying across her tummy, his hot breath coming quicker. The air suddenly became thinner when she realized his hand wasn’t the only part of him moving. There was no space between them, so she knew the instant he got hard. She might have moaned. She didn’t know. She had no idea what was happening, really. But the moment she made a sound, he cussed and released her. Caitlin stumbled, no longer having him supporting her weight. But she stabilized herself quickly and faced him as her hormones rioted at the loss of contact.
He ran a hand though his hair. His muscles corded, lethal, deadly, she knew, but now another descriptor flew to the front of her head as his musclesrippled—so incredibly sexy.
“Sorry. That was out of line.”
She continued her perusal of his body, admiring how strong and male he was. Her gaze lingered on the evidence of his arousal, missing the feel of it against her, and wondering how it would feel inside her.
He made a strangled sound. “Stop.” Her gaze shot to him, and her cheeks warmed at being caught staring at his package. He swallowed. “That won’t happen again,” he said, obviously still trying to apologize.
Because she was both turned on by this man and shocked by her own body’s reaction to him, she wanted to deny his words, yet agree and seek the privacy of her room to hide from him and whatever just happened. She was so confused. By him. By herself.
Rather than go down a road that could totally embarrass her, she chose a route that would hopefully lighten the mood. With strength she did not feel, she smiled. “There are plenty of ways to distract an attacker.” She shrugged.
He quirked an eyebrow and crossed his arms, though a smile played at his lips. “An effective technique.”
“I’m not afraid to use any weapon in my arsenal.”
He chuckled, but the heat was still in his eyes. “God help any man who tries to take you down.”
“Maybe I was just looking for your gun.”
“You know exactly where my gun is.”
“What kind of lady would I be if I just reached for it?”
“One who goes after what she wants.”
“True. But maybe I’ll just wait for you to give it to me.” She licked her dry lips. Neither one was talking about a firearm, and she needed to get this conversation back on track, no matter how much the thought of him giving her what she wanted lit her up. “Like your pen.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “It is a tactical pen. You can take an eye out with it.”
She rolled her eyes. “It amazes me you think it’s more likely a man will sneak up behind me when I think the reality is one will shoot at me from across a field.”
He took a deep breath and dropped his arms as he regarded her. He glanced to the side as if he were deciding something. The next words held no hint of the playfulness he’d just displayed. “I carry my assault rifle across my chest.” He waved his hand in the area where she’d seen it on him before. Then he reached for the gun on his leg and pulled it out. “This is my sidearm.” He holstered it. “I also have a knife here and here,” he said, pointing to the one at his belt and one hidden on his ankle. “If something happens to me and my men, and you are in a life or death situation, Caitlin, life or death,” he said again, slowly, pointing at her. “You can retrieve what you need off me to buy yourself time until you get rescued.”
She gaped at him, processing his words.
“I’ll show you how to shoot the guns.”
Her eyes popped, and a huge smile spread across her face. “Really?”
“This isn’t playtime, Caitlin. These weapons are highly lethal.”
Her hand snapped to her forehead. “Sir, yes, Sir,” she echoed the line she’d heard from many of the people in uniform.
“Jesus. Stop doing that until I’ve had a chance to show you proper form.”
“Later. Right now I get to handle your guns,” she said quickly, a different kind of excitement now coursing through her veins. He was seriously going to let her use his guns for protection.
“Don’t think I’m going to just let you take my weapons either. I won’t stop shooting until I’m dead. You got that? I’m serious. Life or fucking death.”
“Okay, okay.” She couldn’t control her stupid grin.
He groaned, but the miserable noise still sounded sexy coming from him. “C’mon, let’s go do some shooting.”
“Yay!” She jumped up and down, clapping, letting her excitement bubble over.
His eyes dropped to her chest, and she stilled, the heat from earlier only barely banked. He gritted his teeth and then jerked his head to the side, urging her to follow.
“Could definitely blow off some steam with some target practice,” he muttered, though she didn’t think he’d intended her to hear.
Whatever. He was giving her permission to handle his gun.
That thought did naughty things to her libido.