Model Soldier (12 page)

“Yes, now, and don’t you worry about being cold. I’ll warm you up. Believe me.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her up and out of the blessed warmth of the sheets.

“Oh, okay. But try not to get my hair wet. It will take forever to dry.”

Hawk laughed. “Oh, sweet thing. I can’t make any promises. I find shower sex tends to get pretty wet.”

Shower sex?

Emily glanced down and took in his spectacularly naked, beautifully muscular form. The thick thighs, small waist and indescribably large forearms.
Oh boy.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go back to sleep? You seemed pretty tired before,” she teased, unable to resist.

Rapidly getting visibly hard again, Hawk took a step closer until their bodies touched. His voice low, he said, “I think we’re done sleeping for the night. What about you?”

Not having closed her eyes yet, and with a really long flight home just hours away, Emily still nodded in agreement.

If she was going to have only one night with this man, she was going to make the most of it. She’d deal with the many consequences later.

Chapter Eleven

Afghanistan.

The most heavily mined place in the world and, for better or worse, Hawk’s home for the next year. He got his first glimpse of the desolate region in the dim light of dusk.

The plane carrying him, his squad, and their loaded pallet of gear landed without incident at the old Kandahar International Airport, now being used as the base airfield. Having secured a seat in the front row of the C14 aircraft, Hawk’s boots hit the ground ahead of his men as he took his first step onto Afghan soil. The blast of frigid air in his face served as the local welcoming committee.

Kandahar was only the initial stop on their tour of Afghanistan. Next up, Bagram Air Base, then a quick hop on a helicopter to their final destination, the mountainous outskirts of Kabul, where the insurgents waited for them. He had no doubt the baddies would be very sorry to see them arrive.

Hawk and his men had gotten their official Afghan primer back at Hohenfels, but during their quick welcome tour of the base at Kandahar he realized that actually being there, seeing the sights, listening to the stories and first-hand experiences of the Army guys already there, was quite an eye opener.

The base at Kandahar was riddled with old crashed Russian helicopters from the war in the eighties. Even the rafters for the roof in one of the buildings were made from old Russian helicopter blades. The base was high compared to sea level and there were mountains off in the distance everywhere he looked.

That was some of the cool parts about being there but it was the ear-full they got at the dining hall during chow that was enough to cause Hawk to have no appetite for his boiled carrots, mashed potatoes, and ketchup-covered meatloaf.

“When they talk about landmines, they ain’t shitting you. There are land mines everywhere outside the fence,” the soldier from the 10th Mountain Division informed them.

Hawk had no intention of venturing outside the fence during his brief stopover, so that wouldn’t be an issue.

“So there are a lot of Canadian troops here, huh?” Wally asked through a mouth-full of macerated food.

Across the table, their welcoming party of one nodded. “Yup. But there are a lot of Army units here, too. The main ground guys are from the 10
^th
Mountain like me. The Army aviation units attached to us are from all over. There’s a lot of reserve units on base, as well.”

“I heard we’re to expect a lot of snow.” Unlike Wally, Pettit asked his question
before
he shoved another forkful of food into his mouth.

The soldier let out a snort. “Snow? Yeah, there’s snow, and cold, but that’s nothing compared to what it’s like here in the summer.”

Wally took one glance at Pettit’s concerned face and laughed saying, “I’m from Alabama. I can handle the heat.”

The soldier shook his head. “The heat’s not the issue. Don’t get me wrong, it’s hot, but the humidity’s not like in the south. It’s more of a dry heat. The problem’s the sand. It’s baby powder fine and boy, does it blow. There are sand storms all the time in summer. Damn stuff gets into everything. Feels like I’m always cleaning it out of my damn weapon.”

Four-foot snowstorms that hit overnight in winter and sandstorms every day in summer. Lovely. Hawk never thought he’d ever find a place that made Iraq look appealing, but he may have done just that. Thank you, Uncle Sam, for the year vacation in Hell.

The soldier kept on and what he said had Hawk laying down his fork and knife so he could give the unbelievable tale his full attention.

“Don’t worry too much about the weather, though. It’s the locals you really need to watch out for. We pay off the warlords to allow our convoys to drive back and forth to our forward operating base. If we don’t use his truck drivers and workers, we get attacked, so guess what? We make damn sure we use his men and all is good.”

“I’ve heard rumors about the locals doing some sick shit, like hiding IEDs in corpses so when the soldiers go to investigate the body they get blown to kingdom come,” Wally piped in.

“That one’s not a rumor, it’s fact. These guys are crazy bastards. A few years back supposedly a local warlord who was on our side, probably because we paid him enough to be, skinned a local alive for attacking American soldiers and hung his body on a post for everyone to see as an example.”

Hawk shook his head in horrified disbelief. “Shit.”

“Jesus!” Pettit hissed under his breath.

“I know. It’s the stuff of movies but it’s real. Hey, you can see the house and compound belonging to one of the local warlords from the fences at the airfield. Ask someone to point it out to you when you leave.”

All just part of the Kandahar welcome tour Hawk supposed. He let out a sigh as he wondered exactly what the chances that he and all of his guys would get out of Afghanistan alive and back through Kandahar on the journey home with all their parts in working order.

He’d thought more than a few times about what he’d like to do with sweet little Emily when he finally got home. But now, hearing the horror stories, he was even more certain his decision to avoid starting anything more with her before he left was the correct choice.

Hawk didn’t need the image of Emily crying for him back home distracting him downrange. Sure, she was probably pissed he’d only emailed her that once, and even then, he’d kept it short, but in the end she’d thank him…
if
he was around to be thanked.

He’d deal with her anger when he got back Stateside. The vision of tempering an angry Emily put a smile on his face. Hawk tucked that little scenario away to enjoy later when he was in the semi-privacy of their temporary lodging for the night. But right now, he needed to arm himself with as much info as he could to make sure he got both himself and his men home.

Hawk turned his attention back to the soldier across from him. Leaning forward, he asked, “What have you heard about what’s waiting for us in those mountains in the Kabul Province? Whatever you can tell me, I wanna hear. All of it.”

Emily walked into the meeting late, which was not her fault at all.

Someone had fallen onto the subway tracks, so they had stopped service to get the stupid person off the tracks. She felt justified in calling the person an idiot because, one, they weren’t hurt, and two, who leans so far over the tracks to see if the train is coming that they actually fall in unless they are brain dead?

Anyway, her train had been late and consequently, so had she for a meeting with Katie and the big bosses, the owners of the agency, aka the guys who signed her paycheck—well not literally, the accountant did that, but still, they were important.

She was sticking with blaming the subway; it didn’t matter that she lived near enough to walk if she absolutely had to for any reason, like the trains not running. But it was a long walk and cold outside, and she had on her new red patent-leather shoes and there were a ton of puddles from a recent rainstorm. 

Emily tried not to think about how she had been running late that morning anyway after having slept like crap the night before because she was once again reliving her one night with Hawk.

Her brain knew thinking about him was pointless. It should anyway, she told it enough! But yet, the rebellious gray matter continued to disobey the minute the lights went out at night, and Emily had no control over it.

Apparently Emily looked as flustered as she felt as she flung her bulging briefcase on the desk while at the same time offered a hurried apology.

Katie smiled sympathetically and said loud enough for the entire table to hear, “Tough ride in?”

Thank goodness for Katie, smoothing things over. Emily answered with a short laugh, “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you. They actually shut down the subway. But I’m here now and ready to get to it. So what did I miss?”

Mr. Howard, as in The Howard & Dean Agency, nodded in her direction. Hopefully that was a good thing, Emily wasn’t sure.

Mr. Dean, the other half of the partnership, began speaking again. “You’re just in time. We were about to review preliminary results of the Army campaign. The client reports that they’ve tracked a small spike in recruitment since the new Army ads hit two weeks ago. However…”

Uh, oh.
Howevers
were never good.

He continued, “it is not nearly as large a response as the SpecOps ads yielded last year. We need to evaluate why that is. Any ideas, people?”

Mr. Dean glanced around the room expectantly.

Katie shrugged. “I’d have to say that I’m not sure we can expect the same response. It’s apples and oranges trying to compare SpecOps and enlisted Army. We portrayed SpecOps as elite, which made people want it more.”

Mr. Howard nodded. “Exactly why we did not approach the Army campaign in the same way. Our goal, which was successful in some respects and not so in others, is to show the Army soldier as a warrior, a protector of our freedom, yet at the same time, make it so that young men and woman can identify with him. Relate to him. See themselves in his shoes...or rather combat boots. Todd, the ad, please.”

Mr. Howard’s assistant Todd instantly held up one of the print ads. Suddenly Hawk’s piercing eyes bore directly into Emily as she stared at the glossy photograph before her.

Her traitorous heart began beating faster.

The perfect tag team player, Mr. Dean took over where his partner had left off. “Take a look at this ad. Our man has the terrifying warrior look down pat. The question is how do we make him appear more accessible?”

Katie sat up straighter in her chair and pushed aside the ever present box of crackers she kept next to her at all times now to combat the morning sickness since she’d decided to reveal her pregnancy to the entire office.

“Perhaps that’s the difference in the response. Accessibility. BB did a press tour as the SpecOps ads hit. National television appearances on the morning talk shows, local radio stations in targeted areas, live appearances. We’re also missing the advantage of being connected to a big name. Remember, we piggy-backed the recruitment ads on top of a national Andre Milano underwear ad campaign starring BB.”

Howard and Dean nodded as one.

Emily nearly choked.

Hawk was unhappy about posing for her in his uniform. She shuddered to think how he would react if they decided he had to pose in designer underwear! And she cringed at the thought of having to tell Hawk he was going to be interviewed by the five chattering ladies of
The View
, like BB had so willingly been.

She had to put a stop to this, and now.

Emily raised her hand tentatively to speak. She was used to being the assistant, sitting silently, taking notes, supplying what her boss Katie needed, just like Mr. Howard’s assistant Todd and Mr. Dean’s assistant Marci. She was not used to being an active participant, but this being her assignment now, she had to speak up.

Mr. Dean noted her raised hand and bobbed his head in her direction with an amused smile. “Emily?”

Nervous, Emily spoke quickly, hoping all the while that the words “I slept with the model” weren’t emblazoned in red across her forehead.

“Hawk, um, Staff Sergeant Hawkins, the model, is currently deployed in Afghanistan. We would have to get the approval of his superior officers to have him sent home for that kind of press tour.”

Mr. Howard shook his head slowly and Emily could almost see the wheels of his mind turning as an idea formed. “I don’t think there’s a need to have him sent back here. Afghanistan is perfect. Do the tour over there.”

Emily frowned. “But there’s a war on. I’m not sure I can get a United States soldier booked on ‘Good Day, Afghanistan’ even if they are on our side.”

Her little joke earned her a frown from Mr. Howard. “I don’t expect you to. We need to show this soldier in his element, not sitting around drinking coffee and chatting with some show’s hostess. I want him eating with his men, working out at the base, training. Or, you know, a video of him handing out dolls or chocolate or whatever to the little Afghan kiddies.”

Mr. Dean nodded vigorously. “That would cover the other aspect of this campaign. The client wants the market to realize the Army’s focus is the people over there. Giving the war a face the public can relate to is just as important as giving the Army a relatable personality. I think it’s a great idea.”