Six
the close call they’d experienced the first day out, Owen was relieved yesterday’s flyover had gone off without a hitch. Although sitting next to her in a helo most of the day had put him on another kind of edge. Her knee would brush his accidentally, and his cock would twitch, not caring she hadn’t meant anything by it. And then there’d been the times she touched him on purpose to get his attention and point to something. He’d had to force himself to follow her direction and not gape at where her hand was on his arm, shoulder, hand, leg. Once she even reached over and touched him without looking at him, and she’d grazed dangerously close to his groin area. No amount of mental explanation could stop his cock from stirring.
And this was the day after their impromptu target practice. Christ on a cracker, that woman was the wrong kind of deadly. Oh, she’d been a quick study, but initially her aim had been off, and he’d had to stand from behind with his arms around her as he helped her sight in the target. Several rounds of skin on skin contact torture. Her body was rounded and soft in all the right places. He was grateful he’d had to squat behind her to keep his head level with hers. Otherwise, she would’ve felt his raging hard-on pushed up against her. So even though the light touches from yesterday had been damn near maddening, it was still a break from the intensity the day before. It had helped him regain his focus. She was a job, and he had a responsibility to ensure her safety.
Nothing else.
Owen watched her from several feet back. Today, they were in Nangarhar, and she’d been interviewing locals for a couple of hours. There’d been a couple of young Afghan men who’d gotten a little too close for his comfort, and he’d quickly put himself between Caitlin and the tribe members. She’d been quick to follow his command, but she’d also managed to ease the tension and get back to work. Other than that, things had gone fairly smooth.
The interpreter working with her today was one he wasn’t familiar with, but Lorenzo had worked with the Afghan man a few months ago on some other assignment and vouched for him. Not that Lorenzo’s word meant anything. The few times Owen had been around him, he got a weird vibe from the dude. Lorenzo liked doing things his way and had a tendency to lead Caitlin in his direction rather than accepting her input and letting her report how she wanted. Owen didn’t understand filming the news, so he let that part slide. But Lorenzo’s pushiness didn’t stop there. When the cameraman wasn’t focused on controlling their work, Lorenzo flirted with Caitlin. She’d chatted and laughed with him, but she’d also kept distance between them. Still. Seeing him make pass after pass at her? Yeah, that pissed Owen off. He had no right to be mad, but it left a bad taste in his mouth.
He knew the basics about Lorenzo, but he didn’t trust the other man. Therefore, he had Asad, the interpreter, checked out before letting him near Caitlin.
Owen took out his binoculars and scanned the area. His guys had set up a perimeter and checked in on schedule, but Owen didn’t like surprises. It was better to be prepared than caught unawares. Every fifteen minutes, he scanned the border of the village, looking for any threats.
When he finished his sweep, he turned to where Caitlin had been standing. Ice shot down his back when he saw she was no longer there. Without hesitation, he moved to where he’d last seen her, eyes scanning the thin crowd. They were in a small village, mud houses surrounded them, and the locals moved about, probably curious about the newcomers and their helicopter. He tapped his comm. “Bravo Team One, no eyes on Charlie, come in.” Caitlin’s codename was Charlie. He’d chosen it since it was the military phonic for the letter C and helped secure her actual name during radio communications.
“This is Bravo Team one. Charlie and Lightweight are in the house on your two. Over.”
“Copy,” Owen said as he headed toward the house just to his right. Lightweight wasn’t phonic for shit. But he figured since utilizing the first-letter-of-the-first-name method, it was a better option than Loser for Lorenzo.
Owen didn’t wait for an invitation when he reached the open door. His heart raced, which pissed him off. He wasn’t scared about fucking up his mission. He was worried. About her.
Yeah, seriously pissed.
He knew the guys on his team would keep eyes on her location, so he had no doubt she would be in the house since she hadn’t been seen exiting it.
Jesus Christ! The moment his gaze found her, she’d be lucky if he didn’t wring her damn neck!
* * *
Caitlin interviewed several of the local tribe members, but it hadn’t been easy winning their trust. She was an American on their land. Just because they appreciated the fight against the Taliban and ISIS didn’t mean they welcomed outsiders with open arms. The bomb dropping nearby certainly hadn’t helped smooth their ruffled feathers. Each time she asked someone new about it, Asad had to rush to translate the frustrations echoed from all. Eventually, she’d gotten to the heart of the matter, and with each person, she’d been directed to another. When she’d been hunting down each new lead, Lorenzo filmed various groups of people going along their normal lives. The material he captured would be spliced in with the interviews she conducted to tell the complete story.
The last young man she’d spoken with told her of his uncle, saying the man had been out with his goats when he saw suspicious men. Caitlin followed the young guy to his uncle and asked him some questions. The uncle confirmed he’d seen those suspicious men his nephew first discussed, but said his wife had talked directly to one of them. She’d had to cajole him into letting her speak to the older woman. He refused to allow his wife to come out of their home with the military men in the village. Owen and some of his team were visible to everyone, so there was no denying it added to the tension of the small crowd, but eventually, the uncle had invited Caitlin, Lorenzo, and Asad into their home to talk to his wife.
“Ask her where she was when she saw the men,” she said to Asad. He repeated her question in Pashto.
The woman replied, and Asad translated, “In the field near the goats.”
“And how many men did you see?”
“Nine.”
“Your husband said you spoke to one. Is that correct?”
“Yes.” She nodded again as Asad translated.
“What did he say to you?”
The woman became animated, saying what seemed like quite a lot, and Asad kept his focus on her until she finished. Then he turned to Caitlin. “He said to go back to the village and not come out until morning. It wasn’t safe to meet mother.” Asad used air quotes on the last word. The woman had a confused expression on her face, but Caitlin understood the message loud and clear.
“How many days was this before the airstrike?”
“Two. Yes, two days.”
“Did he say anything else?”
The woman nodded before she spoke, but before Asad translated, he asked her something. They talked back and forth before Asad focused on Caitlin. “He asked her if she’d seen anybody selling military weapons.”
“What?” Caitlin asked. “Did she?”
“No. She just told me that one of the village men had been recruited into ISIS, and he’d come back the week before the bombing. There was talk that he’d negotiated a deal with Americans for weapons.”
Her mouth fell open. “An American selling weapons to ISIS?”
Asad’s head bobbed side-to-side. “An American military man.”
What the… “Who was the buyer? The guy from the village, I mean.”
Asad began to translate her question, but a loud noise cut him off.
“Caitlin,” Owen shouted from the front of the house. She turned to face his direction, but before she could step out of what she likened to a den, he was in there. “What the hell are you doing?”
She pointed to the older lady, who was scrambling to stand behind her husband. “This woman spoke to someone in the military before the bombing.” Caitlin stopped short of the weapons details. She needed to get more information before she let that knowledge out. If someone in the military was actually selling arms to ISIS, that was huge.
Owen’s gaze shot to the woman. They narrowed a bit before looking down to Caitlin. “I don’t give a fuck,” he said flatly. “You are not to leave my sight.”
“Sorry, but she wasn’t allowed to leave the house to speak to me. I had no choice.”
“I’ve been here the whole time,” Lorenzo said. Owen’s head whipped in his direction where he stood in the back of the room with his camera aimed at her and the locals.
“Stick to shooting video. Let me worry about the big boy stuff.”
Crap. Caitlin grabbed his shirt. “Hey. You don’t have to be rude, and you’re freaking them out,” she whispered heatedly. He grabbed her wrist and yanked it off him.
“Wrap it up. We’re done for the day.”
“But we’ve only been here a few hours.”
“Done,” he repeated and backed away. He crossed his stupid arms over his stupid chest and glared at her.
Caitlin shuffled over to Asad. “Tell them we have to leave, but we’ll be back tomorrow—”
“Nope,” Owen said, cutting in. “We’re dropping to another quadrant tomorrow. And we’re sure as shit not disclosing where ahead of time.” He looked at her like she’d lost her mind.
“Right,” she muttered and looked at Asad. “Thank her for her time, and let her know if I get a chance to come back and ask more questions, I’ll bring some fruit as an offering.”
Once Asad finished, she smiled and nodded her goodbye before following Owen out of the house. She was so mad at him for shutting down her interview. He had no idea how hard it was getting people to talk…and that didn’t include the repressed class of women in this country. The fact that her husband had agreed to the interview and the lady actual told her some interesting information were both more than she expected after the first day of getting zilch from the troops.
She wanted to bite his head off, but he was busy barking orders in his ear thingy as he walked beside her toward the helicopter. As they got closer, the other men traveling with her materialized from various directions and converged. They all loaded in the aircraft. When Caitlin sat, Owen reached for the harness.
“I got it!” she yelled over the whirl of the propeller. She did not need his help with anything.
He gently knocked her hands away and fastened her in before strapping into the seat beside her.
Within moments, they were airborne, and Caitlin’s anger grew. She kept her gaze locked away from the brute sitting beside her and stewed. She had no problem with him protecting her, but she hadn’t been in any danger when he’d ordered their evacuation from the village. Caitlin knew how to follow rules. Heck, she understood why there were rules in the first place, but what he did was flex his authority muscle. Nothing else.
The return trip took as long as it had to get to Nangarhar this morning, but it felt like it only took minutes. When they landed, she ripped at her harness, and stomped off the plane. As soon as she was far enough away from the noise, she turned to Lorenzo.
“Send me the raw footage you have when you get back to your room. I need to see what I have to work with.”
He smiled. “You could always come with me and watch it. I think you could use a break away from all this to focus on work.”
“No more field trips today, kiddos,” Owen said, stepping up to them. “We can set you up in a meeting room here if you need to keep working.”
No way did she want to be in a room with Owen right now. She needed to get away and find her wits. She refused to even look at him right now. “Tempting, but I need to go over my notes. Send me the video, and I’ll message you with any questions I have.”
“How about a drink?” Lorenzo asked. “Not quite the break I’d hoped for, but you don’t have to leave for that.”
She blinked, not sure how to respond. “That’s sweet, but the only way I’m getting a break is if I’m in my room.”
“Well, now, that’s a little more like it,” Lorenzo said, taking a step toward her.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Owen growled, and raised an arm between them, stopping Lorenzo’s advancement. “I have to watch her twenty-four-seven, and sure as shit don’t wanna suffer through thirty seconds of you humping her leg like a horny stray dog.”
Lorenzo turned red. Caitlin gaped at him.
“Er, Commander, the pilot wants to know what time to meet in the morning,” one of his guys asked.
“Oh-eight-hundred. Give the locals more time to rise and shine before we show.” Then he took Caitlin’s arm, pulling her along, but looked over his should as they walked. “Make sure Lorenzo gets safely to his hotel.”
“Yes, sir.”
She heard Lorenzo cussing behind her, but she was too stunned to form words. Owen practically dragged her all the way to the barracks.
“You’ve lost your damn mind!”
“I did you a favor.”
“I don’t need anything from you.”
He shook his head without another word and didn’t let go of her until they reached her door. She yanked her arm free with unnecessary force, opened the door, and slammed it in his face. She held in the scream that lodged in her throat. If she let it free, that…that…that jerk would come barging in.
Of all the nerve!
She’d found him damn near irresistible days ago, and now she wanted to knee him in the balls like she’d learned how to do back in college.
She tossed her stuff down onto her bed and whipped the hijab off her head with an angry huff.
“That sorry son of a bitch,” she muttered, stalking around her tiny room. She unlaced her shoes and kicked them off, a furious groan escaping as the second one flew across the room and landed against the wall. She pulled her shirt off, leaving the tank on. It was hot, and dirty, and dry, and all of that miserableness just compounded her anger. If she could pummel him, she would. She would so march over there right this second and go toe to toe with him. But the man was like a million times stronger than she was. She wasn’t an idiot, nor was she one to condone unnecessary violence. But the thought of inflicting pain eased a little of her fury.
Just a little.
It took several breaths before she could turn to her notebook and begin scanning the information she’d jotted down. Not quite calm, but no longer seeing red. Until his words drifted back to her.
I did you a favor. Was he mental? So much for calming breaths! She growled as she dropped to the bed, but as soon as she landed, she yelped and shot up. Something stabbed into her leg. She looked at the blanket, fearing some desert-dwelling insect had stung her, and knowing if she had to go ask Owen for medical attention, she’d stay here and die a slow miserable death instead.
But it was much worse than some creepy crawly. That red haze from before? Oh, it was back as she stared down at Owen’s fancy shamancy tactical pen. He’d let her use it the other day, and she’d kept using it instead of digging out one of her own. He hadn’t asked for it back, and since she knew it could be used as a weapon, she hadn’t felt inclined to return it.
Until now.
I don’t need anything from you. Her last words to him echoed, reinforcing that resolve. She grabbed the pen and headed for the door.