Читать книгу The Sergeant's Temptation - Sophia Sasson - Страница 15

CHAPTER SEVEN

“THE DOCTOR SAID I need to be in a sling for two weeks. We don’t ship out for another four,” Alessa said evenly. She put her good arm behind her back so he couldn’t see her make a fist.

“He also said you need to take it easy for six weeks or more.” Luke shifted on his feet, unwilling to look her in the eye.

“Technically I’m logistics so I’ll be sitting in the safe house monitoring your operations. That’s the definition of easy.”

“C’mon, Parrino. You designed our entrance strategy into Pakistan. We’re going to be crossing the border illegally from Afghanistan. That’s not only dangerous, it’ll be physically taxing.”

“If I’d dislocated my shoulder in the field, Rodgers would have set it and we would’ve moved on. I wouldn’t even have this brace.”

“We’re not in the field—you know it’s different.”

How is it different?

“I can handle it.”

He met her gaze, his blue eyes intense. There was so much he wasn’t saying.

“I can’t take the risk. We don’t know what we’re facing, and I need each unit member in prime condition.”

She wasn’t going to win this one, so she decided to change tack.

“You need me to find Ethan. I’ve been looking at the satellite imagery from the last mission.” He raised a brow and stepped toward her. Smiling, she booted her computer. “I found an image of the safe house from two years before the ambush.”

“What good does that do?” Luke frowned.

She held up her hand. “Just wait.”

He tapped his foot as she inserted her access card and punched in her pin. She resisted the urge to look at him. He was keeping his distance this time, close enough to see the screen but not as close as he had stood yesterday. Still, she felt the heat coming off his body and tamped down on the irrational feeling that she wanted him closer.

“Okay, this is the picture of the safe house from the unit’s files, shortly after the attack.”

He nodded impatiently. She knew he’d probably studied this picture for hours so she didn’t dwell on it. “Look at this area right here.” She pointed to the southwest corner of the property where the house had stood, then quickly switched the picture.

“Now look at that same corner two years ago.”

Luke leaned forward, placed a hand on her desk and inched his face toward the screen. “Oh, my God.”

She nodded excitedly, pleased that he felt the same way she did about the finding. It had been a long shot, going back through the prior satellite images, but her instinct had led her there and it had been the right call.

“That depression in the ground...” He turned to look at her and she realized how close his face was to her own. She could see the blond stubble on his cheeks and wondered what it would feel like against her skin. The harsh overhead light glinted off his hair, giving it a coppery glow.

He cleared his throat and straightened. “I’ve been having a hard time figuring out how Ethan would have escaped. Satellite imagery clearly shows him entering the house seconds before the blast and nothing afterward, but if that depression...”

“...is a tunnel, it explains how he might have escaped.” She spun her chair to face him.

“Or been taken.”

“Either way, it’s plausible that he wasn’t in the house when the bomb went off.” She held his gaze, and as if sensing what was coming, he broke eye contact. “Luke, you need to focus on the mission. I can concentrate on tracking down the leads related to Ethan. I won’t be a burden.”

He rolled his shoulders and sighed. She had him. Almost.

“When we’re on the ground, you can’t disappear to go check out that property and confirm that depression is a tunnel,” she continued. “But I can. Who knows what else we may find. You need me.”

His eyes connected with hers and warmth filled her heart. Why is he looking at me this way? She could see the no forming, the downward turn of his lips, the plea in his eyes. A rational argument wasn’t going to win him over. This wasn’t about her injury or her usefulness in the field.

“If you keep me off the mission, there will be more rumors about me. About us. Whatever your real reason, I hope it’s worth ruining my career for.” It wasn’t a fair jab, but she had no choice. This was too important. If a rumor circulated that she’d been asked to sit on the bench because of her relationship with the commander, she’d never live it down. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life as a sergeant. A promotion was long overdue, and she’d never get it without being part of something big. Finding Ethan alive was big.

He rubbed the back of his neck and his shoulders dropped. The fluorescent light highlighted the bags under his eyes as he sighed. Her words may have hit him harder than the punch she’d delivered to his solar plexus.

“I need your word that the second your shoulder bothers you, you’ll tell me.”

Fat chance. She smiled sweetly. “Thank you. I won’t let you down.” No good soldier ever told a commanding officer the truth about the extent of their injuries.

He narrowed his eyes but nodded and left. Alessa let out a breath and sank back in the chair. She had convinced Luke that they should work together, but could they?

Last year when things had evolved with Aidan, she’d convinced herself that it was love. But even a kiss with Aidan hadn’t made her glow from the inside out like even a look from Luke did. She closed her eyes. It had to be the excitement of working in the unit, the departure from routine. It was time to focus on the assignment at hand. She couldn’t let another man be the downfall of her career.

* * *

“HOW COME YOU get to be the husband?” Luke’s teasing tone came off with a hint of jealousy and Alessa smiled inwardly.

Rodgers took it in stride. “’Cause I’m the better-looking one.”

“Can’t believe you made me the boozing foreign correspondent who flirts with all the women,” Luke whined.

“I needed you to have cover for when you disappear or don’t answer your door. If you’re a boozer, you’re prone to be sleeping it off. And being a womanizer gives both of us cover if you need to talk to me in public or if for some reason I need to come to your apartment. Remember, my husband, Rodgers, doesn’t really take care of me, if you know what I mean.”

The men laughed and Rodgers pretended to look hurt.

“Are you sure that our explanation for this many foreigners arriving at the same time will fly?” Steele asked. His mop of curly red hair was scraped back into a ponytail.

They were in the training warehouse they called the “pit,” sitting around in a circle, eating dinner and going over the final details for their mission. The last few weeks had flown by. The team had pulled together, putting in eighteen-hour days to get ready. Alessa had never worked this hard in her life, and she loved it.

They had ordered pizza, Chinese and subs. They hoped to only be out of country for two weeks but had planned on six just in case. They had all served in the Sandbox before and knew that while there was good food to be had overseas, there was nothing like greasy pizza, Chinese and salty deli meats.

Alessa grabbed a box of noodles and used a pair of chopsticks to spoon some onto her Styrofoam plate.

“In that area, the only new arrivals are refugees. That’s why Rodgers and I are from Azerbaijan. Since we don’t speak the language, none of us can be Afghani or Pakistani. That’s why Luke and Boots are Canadian foreign correspondents and the rest of you are from Syria. That way only three new apartments are being rented. We won’t arrive together since we’re using separate border crossings, and I did get us on different floors. I’ll make a big show of talking about how nice the Canadians are.”

Alessa had picked an apartment building for them to stay in. It hadn’t been easy finding a safe house without army resources.

Dimples snorted at the remark and Alessa tried not to get irritated at him. “I know it’s a stereotype, but we don’t have a lot of time to create backstories, and the reason stereotypes exist is because lots of people believe them. We have to behave in ways people expect based on who we say we are.”

“I still say we should’ve used a single safe house,” Dan said quietly.

Alessa took a breath. Once the commander approved a plan and issued orders, she wasn’t used to people continuing to discuss and question. But that was the whole point of the unit. She and Luke spoke at the same time and she paused before he waved for her to continue.

“I didn’t find any houses that I could verify. I can check out more possibilities once we’re on the ground.” Alessa knew she sounded snippy, but she had spent days vetting all the options and the apartment building was the best choice.

“None of you can complain. I’ve got to share with Boots. Man, in the summer heat, the whole apartment will be smelling like toe fungus in a minute.” Luke’s tone was light. He was sitting cross-legged and reached for another slice of pepperoni pizza.

“I’ve got news for you.” Alessa took a bite of her noodles. “The whole apartment probably smells like a rat died in there last year. Boots is going to be your air freshener.” She pointed to the phones sitting beside the men. Non-army-issued smartphones that she had gotten them for communications and to download briefing materials. The phones were encrypted and required each man’s thumbprint and a password to access any information. Even if someone forced their thumb, they would still need the password. A team member under duress could also enter a panic password that would make his captors think he had unlocked the phone while sending his location and a distress signal to the rest of the team. Getting these phones had taken some doing. The unit had a spending account, but purchasing required using army resources so she’d bought standard-issue supplies and equipment, sanitized them, then sold the items on the black market to get cash to buy the phones from an underground network. Her first illegal act. Selling government property. Authorized by Luke. Technically, she had cover, but she really hoped this was all legitimate.

“Okay, one last time, we have to get serious about our covers. Look at the personality sheets coded in green on your briefing materials. We can’t all behave the same way, so I’ve given you all personalities. For example, I will be the gossipy Azerbaijani woman who shares a little too much about her husband’s shortcomings.”

Rodgers made a sound of protest at that. “You better keep it limited to professional things,” he muttered.

Alessa rolled her eyes at him and Luke laughed. The sound wrapped around her and she fought to keep her eyes pinned to her plate of noodles. One look at him and she wouldn’t be able to stop staring.

Since the fight and her injury, she had managed to sneak in some training. Her shoulder still hurt, which made her train even harder. She wasn’t going to let the team down. Thankfully, Luke’s time had been taken up with administrative tasks, so she’d seen very little of him. Nearly all of their recent communications had been through email and this was just fine with her. Perhaps the closeness she’d felt to Luke was just because of the explosive secret they shared about Ethan and things would be businesslike from here on out.

“Hey, at least you don’t have to see his ugly mug every day.” Steele motioned toward Dimples, who gave him a wide grin. “Parrino, you did a great job with these covers, but I’m not sure I can pull off being this guy’s brother. I mean, look at him—men ain’t supposed to have dimples.” Steele made a face.