Читать книгу Hot-Blooded - Karen Foley, Karen Foley - Страница 8

Kuwait City, six weeks later

THWAP, THWAP, Thwap.

The steady sound of helicopter blades cut through the air overhead, but Elena hardly noticed the noise. After three days spent sitting in a converted hangar alongside the U.S. military airstrip in Kuwait City, she’d become well accustomed to the sound of both helicopters and jets as they came in and then left again. The kicker was she should have been on one of those helicopters long before now.

She’d seen her orders; she was going to the Green Zone in Baghdad, where she would try to clean up the colossal mess that had been made of the military contracts there. She’d heard countless stories about how good the quality of life was in the Zone, and she’d actually begun looking forward to her deployment. In the six weeks since she’d volunteered to come to Iraq, she’d had plenty of opportunity to examine her life and had concluded that both Carmen and Larry were right—it was boring.

But that was all about to change. She was shaking things up in a big way. She’d embarked on an adventure and made a promise to herself to embrace each new and exciting opportunity as it came her way, no matter what. Now she stared at the woman holding the clipboard that contained her new orders, and silently counted to ten, willing herself to control her rising temper.

“What do you mean they’ve changed my assignment?” she demanded in dismay. “I’ve been sitting in this hangar for three days, waiting for a sandstorm to subside so that I can fly to Baghdad, Iraq. As in the Green Zone, complete with fitness center, modern plumbing and a fast-food burger joint. That’s what I signed up for—” she broke off to glance at the front of the woman’s uniform “—Major Dumfries. Not some remote outpost in northern Afghanistan.”

The other woman didn’t even have the grace to look apologetic. Instead, she met Elena’s gaze unflinchingly. “Your deployment paperwork clearly states that your assignment can change at any time, depending on need. The Defense Procurement Agency has indicated they now need you in Afghanistan, and you need to be flexible, ma’am.” She glanced again at the clipboard. “We have a helicopter departing for the outpost at 0600 hours tomorrow morning. I’ll see you back here at the airstrip then.”

Elena’s mouth fell open. “Wait! That’s it? Just like that, I’m now going to some hellhole in Afghanistan? How can you do this? Is it even legal?”

Major Dumfries smiled. “I don’t make the assignments, ma’am. I just make sure the folks get there in one piece.”

Elena took a deep breath and reminded herself yet again that this was an adventure—a new opportunity—and she would embrace it wholeheartedly. She pasted a smile on her face.

“Fine. I’ll go to this outpost.” Reaching down, she lifted her rucksack onto one shoulder and then hefted her two duffel bags with as much dignity as she could manage, considering they weighed about a gazillion pounds each. She started to turn away, and then swung back toward the Major. “Just out of curiosity, what kind of facilities do they have at this place?”

“Facilities?” The other woman’s eyebrow arched.

“Yes. As in dining hall, fitness center, recreation center … please tell me this outpost has facilities.”

Major Dumfries’s mouth twitched. “I understand they’re still in the process of improving the post, but they do have toilets and showers.”

Elena stared at her. “What about a dining hall? They must have that, right?”

“I believe there is a dining facility, yes.”

Elena drew in a deep breath. “Are there any other civilians at this outpost?”

“Several, as a matter of fact.”

Elena supposed she should be grateful for that. If there were other civilians at the outpost, then the living conditions couldn’t be too primitive. But she’d heard horror stories about some of the forward operating bases located on the northern and eastern perimeters of Afghanistan, particularly in regards to their vulnerability. She hadn’t planned on going to an area that was potentially dangerous. After all, she wasn’t a soldier. She had no combat training. She was a contracts geek—a desk jockey, for Pete’s sake. Her job was to meet with the defense contractors who were doing work on the various military bases and to negotiate terms and conditions for performance of that work. Aside from ensuring that the soldiers had the facilities and equipment they needed to perform their jobs, she had no military background.

“I’ve heard some of these outlying bases come under frequent attack by the Taliban,” she ventured. “Is that the case with this particular base?”

Major Dumfries gave her a reassuring smile. “You’ll be in safe hands, ma’am. We haven’t lost a civilian yet. There’s a special-operations detachment based there. They’ll keep you safe.”

Elena swiped a hand across her eyes. “I need a drink.”

She wasn’t aware she’d muttered the words aloud until she saw the amusement in the other woman’s eyes. “Alcohol is prohibited in Kuwait City, ma’am.”

“Great,” she replied. “I can’t even have a last drink before I leave civilization.”

Major Dumfries tucked the clipboard under her arm and leaned forward, glancing around to ensure they wouldn’t be overheard. “This is strictly off the record, but sometimes the U.S. embassy personnel have access to alcohol. I understand they’re having a small send-off tonight over at the hotel for some of their aides who are returning to the States.”

A party? At the hotel? That was the first positive bit of news she’d had since arriving in Kuwait City three days earlier. Since then, it seemed she’d done nothing but schlep her gear back and forth between the hotel and the military airstrip, waiting for transportation to her final destination. Which was supposed to be the Green Zone, not some scary outpost in eastern Afghanistan.

Oh, yeah, she definitely needed a drink.

“Do I need an invitation to get in?”

“No, ma’am. Just take the elevator up to the concierge level at 2000 hours and follow the noise. Nobody will even notice you’re there. But don’t overdo it. The only thing worse than flying in a helicopter is flying in one with a hangover.”

ELENA STEPPED OUT of the elevator and paused. Major Dumfries had been right about the noise; she could hear the festivities from down the hall, and it sounded as if the party was in full swing. She hesitated, hoping she’d dressed appropriately. Nothing worse than standing out in a crowd when all she wanted to do was blend in. While she’d brought five sets of agency-issued uniforms with her, she’d been restricted on how much civilian clothing she could bring from home, and had settled on several pairs of pants and tops, and some comfortable workout gear. The crimson blouse she’d chosen to wear with her jeans wasn’t dressy, but it would have to do. She wore her dark hair loose around her shoulders, allowing it to wave naturally around her face, and had opted for just a touch of mascara and some lipstick.

She drew in a deep breath and smoothed her palms over the seat of her jeans. Crashing a party of strangers was totally out of character for her, not to mention bad manners. She wasn’t sure she had the courage to go through with it.

But then she remembered that by this time tomorrow, she’d be hundreds of miles away from here and nobody would even remember—or care—that she’d been at this party. She’d never even see these people again. Really, what did she have to lose? This might be the last night she had to enjoy herself for the next six months. Straightening her spine, she followed the sound of music and laughter. If this was going to be her last night in civilization, she was going to make it one to remember.

As soon as she stepped into the function room, Elena realized she needn’t have worried. There were dozens of people inside, all of them talking or laughing together in small groups, and none of them paid her any attention. Several even smiled at her in a friendly, offhand manner. The lights had been dimmed to a pleasant glow, and a bar had been set up along one wall. The music was loud and upbeat, and a cloud of cigarette smoke hung suspended near the ceiling. Most of the people were men of varying ages and although all of them wore casual clothing, it wasn’t difficult for Elena to distinguish the active-duty military from the civilians. If their haircuts didn’t set them apart, their physical conditioning did.

Elena skirted the crowd and sidled over to the bar, where bottles of alcohol were lined up alongside plastic cups and an ice bucket. When she didn’t see a bartender, she looked around, uncertain.

“It’s an open bar, hon, so help yourself.”

Elena turned to see a woman approach the bar beside her and liberally pour herself a glass of white wine from an uncorked bottle. She was older than Elena, probably in her forties.

“Are you sure? I mean, who provided all of this?”

The woman smiled and gave Elena a friendly wink. “You know the old adage—don’t ask, don’t tell. All I can say is drink up, because you never know when we’ll have this opportunity again.”

That was the truth, Elena thought bleakly. Just thinking about what lay in store for her in the days and weeks ahead made her unaccountably homesick for her cozy little apartment back home. Despite the fact that she’d volunteered for this deployment, right now she couldn’t think of a single good reason for being here. Most people who volunteered did so because they had some patriotic calling or felt the need to support the troops in some way. Others did it for the money, which was in itself a huge incentive. But not her.

Nope.

She’d come because she’d had something to prove. Because she’d wanted everyone—her sister and cheating ex-boyfriend included—to see that she could be spontaneous and adventurous. She’d wanted to kick-start her life back into gear, but right now she just felt out of place and oddly alone, even in the midst of the party. She’d been excited about going to Baghdad, knowing she’d be just one of hundreds of civilians, and that the quality of life there was pretty good. But the prospect of spending six months at a remote outpost in the wilds of Afghanistan was another matter altogether. Quite frankly, it scared the hell out of her. She recalled Major Dumfries’ assurance that they hadn’t lost a civilian yet, but found little comfort in her words.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” the woman continued. “Where are you stationed?”

“Oh, I just came in from the States three days ago,” Elena explained. “I’ve been waiting for transportation to Baghdad, but just found out this morning that my orders have been changed.”

The woman nodded sympathetically. “That happens a lot. Where are they sending you now?”

Elena squinted, trying to recall the name of the base where she was headed. “Some forward operating base in Afghanistan. Shangri-la?” She laughed. “No, that’s not right, because I’m pretty sure this place isn’t paradise.”

“Do you mean Sharlana?“

“Yes! That’s the place.”

The woman’s face grew sober, and she took a long swallow of her wine, avoiding eye contact.

“What’s wrong?” Elena asked, dread uncoiling in her stomach. “Do you know something about Shangri-la that I don’t?”

The woman lowered her cup and sighed. “Didn’t you hear? The Taliban attacked a U.S. base just forty miles north of Sharlana last night. Eight civilians were killed.”

What?

Elena stared at the woman. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, yeah.” The woman gave a bitter laugh. “There are no military stationed there. Rumor has it that the civilians who were assigned there—including the ones who died—had ties to the CIA, so the base is probably only used by intelligence personnel.”

Elena blew out a hard breath. “That’s awful.” She hesitated. “Has anything like that ever happened at Shangri-la, er, Sharlana?”

“Not that I know of, but then again, there’s a Marine expeditionary unit stationed at Sharlana to deter any attacks.” She smiled at Elena. “You’ll be perfectly safe.”

That was the second time that day she’d heard those words, so why did she have trouble believing them? With a groan, she grabbed the nearest bottle and proceeded to pour several fingers of a pale green liquor into a plastic cup. She tipped it back, swallowing the entire contents in a single, long gulp and then gasped as the alcohol burned the back of her throat and made her eyes sting.

“Whoa, take it easy,” admonished the other woman, watching her with a mixture of astonishment and admiration. “That stuff’ll knock you on your ass.”

“Oh, good,” Elena gasped, as warmth seeped through her body. “I’m actually in need of a little technical knockout.”

The woman laughed. “Suit yourself. Just remember that you’ve been warned. Good luck, hon.”

Elena watched the woman saunter away before she poured herself another glass of the green liquid, this time filling the cup. The alcohol had left a pleasant taste in her mouth, a sweet mixture of black licorice with minty undertones. She took a hefty swig, swirling the liquid around on her tongue and enjoying the flavor. She never drank anything other than wine or the occasional glass of beer, and now she wondered why. This stuff was delicious.

“Careful there. You know what they say about the Green Devil.”

The voice was deep and amused, and something inside Elena quivered in response. She turned to see a man leaning negligently against the bar, watching her. A broad-shouldered, lean-hipped man with a face that could have graced any number of different magazines, from guns and hunting, to high fashion. The appreciation in his eyes, combined with his lazy smile, caused a rush of heat to slide through her veins that had nothing to do with the liquor she’d just consumed.

He wore a black T-shirt and jeans, and her first thought was that he had a body designed for battle—or a woman’s pleasure—honed to masculine perfection and sculpted in a way that she’d read about but had never actually seen up close. He had impossibly chiseled cheekbones and a mouth that would put a Renaissance angel to shame. In the indistinct light, she couldn’t tell what color his eyes were, and his dark hair was cropped close in a distinctly military style. He was altogether delicious.

Elena wanted to bite him.

The thought came out of nowhere and shocked her so much that she started, sloshing the alcohol over her fingers.

“Green Devil?” she repeated lamely, sucking the liquid from her fingers and trying not to stare.

He nodded toward the cup she held. “Another name for absinthe.” Reaching out, his hand closed around the cup, his fingers brushing against hers and sending a quicksilver thrill of awareness through her. “Did you know this stuff was banned in the U.S. until just a few years ago?”

“No, I had no idea.” Elena watched as he swirled the cup in contemplation. “Why was it banned?”

He raised his gaze to hers, and one corner of his delectable mouth lifted in the barest hint of a smile. “The government believed it contained hallucinogenic properties, and could cause a person to lose their sanity.”

Elena had absolutely no doubt that it was true. In fact, she was certain that she was hallucinating at that exact instant. What other reason could there be for the vivid images that were flying through her head? Images of this man, naked and gleaming with sweat as his body moved with purpose and strength over hers, his muscles flexing as he drove into her. She could actually smell him, a mixture of pure, male sex and something subtle and spicy, and the combination made her feel intoxicated.

Oh, yeah. She had definitely lost her sanity.

She passed a hand over her eyes and gave a shaky laugh, trying to dispel the erotic imagery. “Wow. I had no idea. I guess I owe you a big thank-you for saving me.”

“Chase McCormick,” he said, extending a hand. “Always glad to be of service.”

Oh, if only!

Elena reached out, and his fingers closed warmly over hers. Hardly realizing she did so, she stepped closer to him. The only thing she was conscious of was a slow heat building low in her abdomen, and how her breasts felt full and tight.

“Elena de la Vega.” Was that her voice that sounded so husky and breathless?

He smiled, and the floor shifted beneath Elena’s feet. The man was more gorgeous than he had any right to be, but when he smiled … sweet mercy!

“Easy,” he said, and set the cup aside to grasp her beneath her elbow. He dipped his head to look into her eyes. “You okay? For a second there, you looked as if you were going down.”

Now there was an idea.

How long had it been since she’d pleasured a man with her mouth? On that score, her sister Carmen had been right. Her sex life had been boring and predictable, and as much as she’d like to put the blame fully on Larry, he’d had no trouble trying something risqué with his new girlfriend. Which meant Elena must be the one with the problem, and it was way past time she did something about it.

Now she looked at Chase McCormick, and just the thought of tasting him … of having him in her mouth … caused ribbons of lust to unfurl low in her belly. In fact, just thinking about touching this man caused her heart to beat faster. She had no idea who this guy was, and yet here she was, contemplating doing risqué things with him that she’d never done with Larry.

Her eyes slid over Chase again, admiring the broad thrust of his shoulders and the way his T-shirt hugged the contours of his pecs and his flat stomach. She wanted badly to touch him.

She’d worked with dozens of military guys over the years, and while several of them had made their interest in her clear, Elena had never been tempted into a relationship. For the most part, they’d been too masculine, brimming with testosterone and confidence. She’d known instinctively that a man like that could overwhelm her, both physically and emotionally. The last thing she needed—or wanted—was to be dependent on another person for her own happiness. She’d seen what that kind of neediness had done to her parents and had vowed she wouldn’t make the same mistake.

But as her gaze drifted over Chase’s leanly muscled physique, she couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like to be with him, to let him overwhelm her.

To lose herself in him.

He was the sort who would take his time with a woman, ensuring her pleasure before reaching his own. He would be assertive, playful and maybe even a little kinky. For one wild instant, her imagination surged. Images of Chase, wearing nothing but his dog tags, played through her head as she envisioned all the things they could do.

Then she remembered that after tonight, she would leave for some godforsaken outpost in northern Afghanistan where there was a real possibility, however small, that she would be killed. In that instant, she regretted every wild, crazy, impetuous thing she had never done. For instance, she’d never had casual sex, and had never engaged in a one-night stand. Instead, she’d deluded herself into believing she was happy having mediocre sex with Larry Gorman.

But she still had tonight to make up for all those years of self-denial, and somehow she had a feeling that this guy could make it all worthwhile. Withdrawing her hand from Chase’s, Elena deliberately picked up the cup of absinthe.

“I’m fine,” she assured him, smiling. “In fact, I’m better than fine, and if this stuff makes a person insane, then I want more.” Without taking her eyes from his, she tipped the cup back and drained the contents, willing herself not to cough on the strong alcohol. When she’d swallowed it, she delicately licked her lips and gave him what she hoped was a seductive look. “Because tonight, I intend to go a little crazy. Wanna come along for the ride?”