Katherine Garbera - Exclusive

Russ felt tears burn at the back of his eyes and his anger grew as he approached the private landing strip. He had his doubts that this course of action was the right one but at the end of the day, sitting around and waiting for someone else to step in was too much.

Besides, if he sat alone in his house for one more day, he was going to give in to the temptation to swallow the barrel of his old six-shooter. And Russ wasn’t ready to give up his life yet. Not until he’d exhausted all avenues of getting the U.S. military out of Berzhaan. That wouldn’t bring his boy back, and he knew it. But taking action, doing something constructive for a change, was what he needed to do to finally move past the mind-numbing routine of raising the American flag and then visiting his son’s grave every day.

Tory dialed Ben’s cell number from the cab on her way to her doctor’s appointment. She knew it was a longshot but since she knew that Ben was in the business of rescuing hostages, she hoped he’d be able to help with Andrea.

His phone rang only once before it was answered. “Forsythe.”

Ben had a deep, sexy voice that she never quite got used to. It was hard to imagine the man she once thought of as a fluff-brained society boy turning her on just by saying her name, but it happened.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Hello, me. Did you get my voice mail?”

She really missed him. But she’d never let him know. Knowing her own independent spirit, she’d fought to keep a distance between them, but lately it was growing harder. She wanted to feel his arms around her in the middle of the night.

“Yes, I did. I thought we talked about you not calling me babe.”

“Must have slipped out. Are you calling to chew me out for that?”

“No, that’s not why I’m calling.”

“Why are you calling?” he asked.

She didn’t know where he was or what he was doing. And at first, that hadn’t bothered her, because her job was demanding and she couldn’t really talk about it, either. But lately her mother had started to notice Ben’s playboy-cover pictures, and she’d told Tory she didn’t understand how the man she’d met last Christmas could be so into her daughter and still be seeing all those other women.

“Andrea Jancey has been taken hostage by some terrorists.”

“I’ve heard.”

“I’m going to Berzhaan to do some investigative reporting.”

“Tory, don’t come—don’t go there. The country isn’t stable.”

“Neither was Puerto Isla, but I came out of there fine.”

“Barely,” he said.

She wasn’t going to argue with him. “I have a job to do.”

“I thought you were an anchor.”

“I am. But Ty thought I was the best person for this story.”

“I don’t. It’s dangerous.”

“Good thing you’re not my boss. Your job is no walk in the park, but you don’t hear me telling you to stay home.”

He sighed. She heard it over the connection and suspected he was running his hands through his thick, dark hair, something he always did when she frustrated him.

“I didn’t call to fight with you,” she said. “I want your help.”

“With what?” She heard the caution in his voice.

“Finding Andrea. I thought maybe you could—”

“No. We don’t get involved with civilians.”

“But she’s a friend, Ben. She was like my little sister at Athena. I mentored her, recommended her as UBC’s Berzhaan correspondent.”

“Babe, it’s not your fault she was taken.”

“I know that. Really I do, but she wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for me. I have to do what I can to help her.”

“You’re going to be stubborn about this, aren’t you?”

“I don’t think of it as stubborn,” she said. It was her job to get to the bottom of situations like Andrea’s. To find out exactly where her friend was.

“Can you please just let this go?”

What exactly was he asking her? Even Ty, who wanted her in the anchor chair, understood why she needed to go after this story. And Ben, who supposedly knew her better than her boss, should understand. “No.”

“Dammit, woman. Sometimes you make me crazy.”

She could tell he was trying to get them back on track. Away from the fight they both were dancing around, but she wasn’t ready to backpedal and say that everything was okay.

“Too bad.”

“Tory…”

“I can’t just let you blow this off like it means nothing. This is what my job is. I can’t refuse assignments because you think they might be dangerous.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“You like my job as long as I stay in New York while you go jetting around the world. I’m not a slippers-and-martini-holding kind of woman.”

“I know that.”

“Then act like you understand what it means.”

He said nothing for a moment and the cab pulled to a stop in front of the doctor’s office. She paid the driver and stepped onto the sidewalk.

“Listen, I’ve got to go.”

“Babe…understanding your job isn’t the problem. I have a hard time thinking of you in danger and me not being there to save you.”

“I don’t need you to save me.” She’d spent her entire life proving that she didn’t need anyone, afraid to let any person glimpse her vulnerabilities and insecurities. But she feared she needed Ben. He was the only man she’d ever really felt comfortable being herself around. The only man she’d let see the real Tory.

“But I need to. It’s part of my makeup.”

She understood that about Ben. She liked the fact that he did want to protect her. But that didn’t mean she’d avoid danger to please him. “Get over it.”

“I’m trying. I really am.”

She knew that. She loved him for it. The way he fought against his own instincts because he knew that she didn’t like it when he acted all macho. “Do you want to know my travel plans?”

“Hell.”

“Is that a yes or no?”

She entered the building and took the elevator up to Dr. Waters’s office. She signed in and found a seat in the corner, still waiting for Ben to respond.

“I guess that’s a no.”

He cursed savagely and she just waited, knowing he was fighting the same battle within himself that she always waged. They were both so strong-willed that their relationship wasn’t smooth sailing for either of them.

“Ben?”

“It’s not a freakin’ no. Yes, tell me when you’re leaving for Berzhaan. I’m going to be out of radio range for the next thirty-six hours. E-mail me your schedule.”

“I will,” she said, hating the feeling in her stomach that came from this new discontentment between them. It had been growing lately and she knew she was to blame. She wanted more from Ben but was afraid to ask for it. She could handle the toughest assignments, ask the hard questions of politicians and world leaders, but she had no idea how to ask Ben for what she wanted.

“Be safe,” she said, quietly.

“You too,” he said, and disconnected the call.

The capital city of Berzhaan wore its Russian influences well. Old and majestic, the architecture harkened back to a more civilized age. Ben rubbed the back of his neck as he ducked out of the busy foot traffic and into a familiar fast-food establishment where he was to meet his contact.

No matter what he might want to believe about a more graceful age, he knew that men like him had always been around and that fighting was something that had come naturally to this land in every age. There was something wild and untamed about the Middle East. Something that made even the most determined atheist sense there was a higher force at play in this land.

Ben ordered a Big Mac and fries from the attendant in perfect Russian. Most of the locals spoke Berzhaani, which was derived from Arabic, and Russian, after the country’s long relationship with the former Communist nation. No matter where he was in the world, he could get a Big Mac, but there was still something a little weird about ordering one in Russian.