Lindsay McKenna - Taking Fire

Mike looked forward to her gentle touch. He did as she asked, watching her. The lamplight emphasized her green eyes. He saw shadows beneath them. “Tough day?” he wondered. Her lips thinned for a moment and then relaxed.

“It’s always a mix,” she murmured, re-splinting his arm. Leaning up, she fashioned the dark green cotton sling so it supported his broken arm once more.

The nape of his neck tingled wildly when her fingertips brushed his flesh as she tied a knot in the sling. “Thanks,” he murmured, “it feels a hell of a lot better in this position.” He inhaled her scent, a mix of sunshine, fresh air and her. It made him very aware he was hopelessly attracted to Khat.

Khat eased away, wildly aware of Mike’s nearness, his maleness. For whatever unknown reason, he never felt threatening to her. Instead, she felt protection radiating from him, surrounding her. She saw the liquid darkness in his eyes as he followed her movements. His look held desire, and she once more felt flummoxed by the feelings Mike automatically ignited deep within her body.

Almost breathless, Khat said, “I’ll bet it does feel better. Your fingers are swollen because your arm hung down for most of the day. It’s hard for the circulation to get back up into the area of the break because the tissue is swollen around it.” She took his fingers, squeezing them gently, assessing the situation. Khat would never admit she liked touching this man as she gently massaged each finger, pushing some of the fluid out of them and into his arm. “The swelling will probably go down in a few hours,” she murmured.

Picking up her stethoscope, she listened to his heart and lungs. With her small pen flashlight, she moved it across his eyes, watching his pupil response. Moving to his other side, she took his pulse and wrote all her observations down in her small notebook.

“Am I going to live?” Mike asked drily, absorbing her profile, the light glinting through the thick strands of her hair that she had captured in a ponytail.

“Definitely,” she murmured, looking up at Mike. He was so masculine but dangerous to her in a new and unexpected way. Her throat tightened. “I figured you’d rebound today. You’re in great shape, and your body is responding quickly.”

“When can I be picked up by Medevac?” Part of him wanted to get back to the FOB; the larger part of him didn’t. Mike found her lifestyle fascinating. And he knew Khat put herself on the line. Taliban were all over these mountains like fleas on a dog. She had to be careful where she rode so she wasn’t seen or discovered.

Khat stood and put everything back into her medical pack and closed it up. “Shortly. I took a chance you’d be improved today.” She hauled the ruck to the wall and then pushed some tendrils of hair off her cheek. “One is scheduled in at 0100 this morning.” She glanced at her Rolex. “It’s 2200 now. I’ve got time to change, eat and get the horses ready. It’s going to take us an hour to ride down a steep goat trail to reach the valley below.” She saw his face light up, and she smiled a little. “Then you can be with your own kind once again. I imagine everyone on your team is looking forward to seeing you back in the fold.”

Mike sat there watching the shadows across her face. “I’m going to miss you.” That wasn’t a lie. He saw her cheeks grow pink as she walked to her kitchen hole and brought out the grate and a magnesium tab.

“You’ll be happier back at Camp Bravo, Mike. This kind of life isn’t for a SEAL.” She brought out the teakettle and set it on the grate. Khat would miss him, too, but she bit back the comment.

Rubbing his beard, Mike growled, “I’ll worry about you.”

She made a sound in her throat. “I’ve been out here for five years, and very few people know I’m here. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” She was touched by his gruff reply and sincere concern. She rocked back on her heels, watching the magnesium tab begin to heat the water.

Scowling, Mike said, “Don’t you get lonely out here?” She was young, beautiful and he couldn’t imagine this kind of isolation for a woman her age.

“No.”

“If you took a packhorse with you this morning, you must have gone somewhere to render medical aid. To a village, maybe?”

Khat grinned at him. “I’m going to miss all your observations and trying to put them together to figure out who I am.” She saw his eyes narrow upon her and once more, her heart started a slow pound. Her gaze fell to his hand resting on his knee. Beautiful hands for a man. If only... And Khat gently tucked those thoughts away. She was damaged goods. Her parents had been shocked by what had happened to her. Her angry, upset father had said no man would ever consider her wifely material.

Khat brought the two mugs down and placed the Darjeeling tea bag into each.

“Have you saved other men like you saved me?”

“Yes. But not often.”

“Was I the heaviest?” He grinned.

Khat laughed softly. “Yes, you were.”

“Were they SEALs?”

“One was. The other was a Marine Force Recon sniper.”

“And you got them out of here like you’re going to get me out? By horseback?”

“Yes.” Khat poured the boiling water into the cups. Placing them on the tray, she stood and brought down her box of shortbread cookies. “Different locations, but the same scenario. They were wounded, too.”

“Did they make it?”

Khat placed the cookies on the tray and then closed the box, taking it back to the hole in the wall. “Yes.”

Mike watched her bring the tray over. She set it on his right side and knelt down on the other side of it. Picking up the spoon, she placed the sugar into his cup and stirred it for him.

“I don’t want to lose touch with you, Khat.” Mike held her startled gaze as he picked up the mug.

“That can’t be.”

“Why not?” He watched her expression over the rim of his mug. For a moment, Mike swore she wanted to keep their connection, but then decided against it.

“I have all the help I need.” Her heart was doing funny things in her chest. He had seen her naked beneath the waterfall. That realization alone had shocked her. But Mike had treated her with nothing but respect. He didn’t try to grope her or speak in sexual innuendos to her.

There was a reflective look in his gold-brown eyes now as he considered her answer. She watched his lips curve around the mug’s rim, and she felt a sudden, white-hot heat stab through her lower body. Surprised, she hid her reaction. No man had ever affected her like he did. All they were doing was drinking a cup of tea together!

“Well,” Mike said gruffly, “out here, you can never have enough. Bravo is roughly twenty-five miles from here.”

Giving him a sad look, Khat whispered, “I know your heart is in the right place, Mike, but we don’t operate the same way.”

He grimaced. Yeah, he got that. The black ops food chain had a lot of levels. And she was somewhere unreachable, far above him. “Still,” he said patiently, “I’d feel better if you’d take my platoon’s sat phone number. If things happen, we might be the QRF you need.”

“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?” Her lips twitched with amusement. He was endearing with his stubborn protectiveness, and it made Khat feel good. No one else ever cared that she was out here, operating on her own, an American surrounded by enemy Taliban every day.

“You’re alone out here,” he said in a low tone. “I’ve got five rotations under my belt in this area, and I know it crawls with Taliban. You might someday find yourself in a situation. And if your handler, or whoever he is, can’t cut loose the air or ground assets you need, you might find us an alternative. That’s all.”