Soldier With Benefits (Military Men Book 2) (2 page)

A nightmare.

The man had preyed on her mind more than she cared to admit. They’d had some good times in Fiji. Very good. Working with him would be difficult although not impossible. She could cope. Rooming with the man though, that was going to be a problem. The room smelled of him, tempting and seductive. She already knew how it felt when his hands caressed her naked body. Each drift of his fingers, the pads slightly callused and bringing seductive friction with each touch. His confidence.

Oh yeah. He knew his way around a woman’s body. Heat collected, pooling low in her belly, bringing an edgy awareness. Uneasiness.

“Damn.” She was in trouble here and wise enough to admit it.

* * * * *

Louie Lithgow knew he was in trouble when his first thought was to haul Joanna into his arms, drag her off to his quarters and fuck her.

No, not Joanna.
Mac
.

Although if she thought a masculine-sounding nickname would make everyone ignore her femininity she’d better rethink her strategy. Didn’t work, not with the way those khaki pants of hers clung to her arse. The baggy shirt did a better job of disguising her breasts, but since he’d seen her naked, his imagination was quite capable of filling in the blanks.

Cursing under his breath, he headed for the rec room to grab a coffee. Most of the team was there, hanging and attempting to relax until this afternoon’s recon. A few of the new arrivals chatted with others more experienced in personal security in Iraq. Louie knew each of the new arrivals were skilled soldiers, used to military ways. They were more relaxed here but they still counted on each other while out on recon or an actual security detail. He didn’t know how Joanna would fit in. The recruitment team should have told him they were expecting a female.

Louie poured himself a black coffee, doctored it with two spoons of sugar and sauntered over to sit with Simon, his second-in-command and closest friend here.

Simon lifted a brow. “Heard there’s a woman amongst the new arrivals.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s she look like? What the fuck is she doing in this hellhole?” His clipped English vowels held disbelief.

Louie shrugged, pretended disinterest and took a slurp of his coffee. “Maybe she’s an adrenaline junkie here to make big money like the rest of us.”

He’d thought about her often, even more than he’d thought about home and his friends Nikolai and Jake. Now she was here and fighting the same dirty war as him. A picture formed before he could censor it. Blood. The acrid scent of cordite. Shouts. Masculine curses. A feminine scream— Louie shuddered, his flesh prickling into goose bumps at the all-too-real scenario.
Damn
. He ignored the racing of his heart and took another sip of coffee even though it tasted like mud.

Simon nodded. “Who’s she rooming with?”

“Me.” Louie set his coffee cup on the low wooden table in front of them and glared at his mate, daring him to comment.

Simon pursed his lips in a soundless whistle, eyes lighting with amusement. “So that’s the way of it.”

“It’s not what you think.”
Dammit, he didn’t want to sound defensive
. “I want to keep an eye on things. We’re here to do a job and I want to make sure nothing gets in the way of that.” Louie cursed inwardly, struggling for control because he wanted to smack the smirk off his mate’s face.

“As long as she can do the job.”

“She has both experience and qualifications otherwise they wouldn’t have given her the job. We’ll know how she handles herself soon enough.” Louie hated the idea of Joanna seeing action, didn’t want to imagine a bullet piercing her beautiful skin or a car bomb blowing her away or one of the hundred other ways a person could die over here.

Snarling under his breath, he grabbed his coffee. Somehow he was going to have to slot Joanna into the position of soldier instead of seeing her as a woman. Kind of difficult when all he could think of was the snug warmth of her pussy and how it felt while clutching his cock.

Parting from her at the airport in Nandi had been one of the most difficult things he’d ever done. He thought about his vibrant, beautiful lover often, a bright light on his horizon when the tension of constant war got to him. He’d made himself a promise during one particularly bad day when they’d lost a man. During his next furlough, he’d intended to find Joanna, to pick up right where they’d left off. Either that or face madness because she’d taken up residence in his head. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her.

Instead she’d found him.

Sorta fucked up his plans, added a few spanners and generally made the situation messy. He was her boss. He couldn’t make a move on her without it looking as if he was using his position. Sexual harassment. Hell, even if she were willing, it wouldn’t look good to the other men.

Conversation stopped dead and Louie glanced up to see Joanna—Mac—pausing in the doorway. He watched her closely, as did every other male in the room. Louie caught the slight tightening of her jaw, the firming of her mouth, but only because he knew her intimately. Her breasts rose in a quick breath and she glided to the coffee machine and the two men standing beside it.

“This oughta be interesting,” Simon muttered.

Louie wanted to leap to his feet, shove the other men out of the way and stake his claim. His hand gripped the mug of coffee, the color leaching from his knuckles. Going against every instinct screaming through him, he calmly took a sip, watching the interaction in the same way as the other men. Slowly the tension eased from his shoulders. Although he couldn’t hear the conversation, it was obvious Mac wasn’t falling for the flirtatious lines from Charlie or Garrett, one of their medics.

“Probably a first for those two,” Simon spoke Louie’s thoughts aloud.

“Do them good,” Louie said.

Simon studied her intently. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Your wife will be pleased to hear it.” Louie took care to keep his voice neutral. No way was he giving his mate an opportunity to rib him. Besides, Simon hadn’t seen her as he had with her hair spilling down her naked back, her lips wrapped around a cock. His cock…

Bloody hell. He had to stop his thoughts tripping into sexual territory. He studied Mac, trying to see what Simon saw. A tall woman dressed in khaki trousers, a sand-colored shirt, which didn’t exactly flatter or showcase her curves, and sturdy boots. He couldn’t fault her for that. This was work and her attire was suitable for the job and climate. She didn’t look much different from any of the others, which meant she wouldn’t present a special target for the militia forces. From a distance they wouldn’t realize she was a woman. Also a good idea in this Muslim country. She wore her brown hair tied back, confined in a low knot of some sort. Because it was bound so tightly, none of the rich array of colors reflected in the light, the strands of red and gold. In the sun her unbound hair had reminded him of autumn leaves. Her skin carried a light tan and up close there was a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her pert nose, just as he remembered. Thick, lush lashes surrounded golden-brown eyes—whiskey eyes he’d called them in Fiji—while her mouth was curved and luscious, the bottom lip plumper than the top.

Mac might look the soldier at the moment, but Louie would bet if any of them saw her the way he’d first seen her, dressed in a golden bit of nothing, swaying on the dance floor, they might reevaluate their opinions. He certainly wasn’t fool enough to let them into the secret.

Mealtime came and went. Louie listened to the questions and conversations and learned at the same time as the other men. Bosnia, Papua and New Guinea and Afghanistan. Mac had seen plenty of action in hot spots around the world.

Time for the route reconnaissance in preparation for the CBS jaunt the next day. Louie stood and several others did as well, including Mac. He liked to throw the new recruits into the action straightaway, and they had another reconnaissance group going out tomorrow. The trick to successful protection lay in careful planning, checking and rechecking planned routes for potential problems.

Outside, two of their specially armored cars waited for them along with local drivers who spoke the language. His men donned protective vests and hats and readied weapons, both rifles and pistols, before climbing into the vehicles. The new recruits waited for instruction.

“You two in the back vehicle. Follow Simon’s instructions. He’ll explain about the things to look for. Mac, Tai, you’re with me in the lead vehicle.”

Mac entered the rear of the vehicle with Tai and Garrett while Louie took the passenger seat. He checked the link between the cars. “Come in, Simon.”

“Louie, we’re good to go.” Simon’s voice crackled through the radio.

“Basically we’re checking the route we’d like to use to take the CBS reporters tomorrow afternoon. If it’s a no-go, we’ll try the longer alternative route. Anything that raises your suspicion let me know, particularly if you see anyone watching us and talking on their mobile or using it to take photos.” Louie rattled through the rest of his spiel automatically. The hair at the back of his neck prickled insistently, a sensation he knew not to ignore.

He scanned their surroundings as the driver pulled out of the compound. Nothing out of the ordinary. Locals going about their business, mostly males, with a few women dressed in head-to-foot black, their faces covered while they scurried down the edges of the road, carrying shopping baskets. Two battered vehicles drove slowly past, a radio blaring in one.

The palm trees they passed provided little respite from the hot afternoon sun. Sweat trickled down Louie’s back, making his shirt cling, his skin itch. He ignored the discomfort to concentrate on their surroundings.

“Man at three o’clock,” Mac said in a calm voice.

Louie’s gaze swiveled to the location she indicated. He spotted the man seconds before the ruins of a bombed building hid him from view.

“He’s moving off,” Mac said.

“Checkpoint,” the driver muttered, slowing the vehicle.

Louie cursed and slipped his gun out of sight but retained it in his hand. Local soldiers ran the roving checkpoints. They shot first and asked questions later. Cooperation and patience were key to remaining alive. If all else failed the driver would barrel straight through and hope for the best.

“Tell him we’re going east,” Louie instructed the driver.

The driver spoke rapidly in the local dialect, answering questions fired at him by the young soldier.

Louie relaxed fractionally when the soldier waved them through. “Good man,” he said to the driver.

They made excellent progress despite the slow-moving traffic and the wait for a British army convoy to pass through an intersection. Overhead, a Black Hawk helicopter buzzed like a whining mosquito, drawing sporadic fire from a patch of undergrowth.

“Don’t like this,” Simon said via the radio. “More gunfire than usual. Not many locals either. What’s your gut say?”

“Something’s going on,” Louie agreed, the back of his neck still prickling in warning. Danger lurked in the shadows. Somewhere. “Guess our quiet period is over. Can you see anything?”

Up ahead, two vehicles jammed on their brakes, coming to an abrupt stop. Behind the second recon car, another stopped, blocking their retreat. Magically, the few remaining locals faded into the background, leaving a deserted street.

“Ambush
,” Simon shouted.

Gunfire cracked directly behind them. A signal. Bullets rained down. From the front. From the rear. The rat-a-tat-tat of guns filled Louie’s ears, made them ring.

“Fire!” Simon hollered through the radio.

Louie concentrated on the two vehicles in front. “Shoot to kill.” Simon would watch their six, but he gave orders anyway. “Mac, check our rear.”

Like a freak hail storm, the bullets pelted their vehicle. Cautiously, Louie opened his door. Crouched behind. Fired.

Mac, Tai and Garrett fired with rapid precision from behind lowered windows. The jackhammer of AK-47 assault rifles echoed between the buildings, replaying in his head. All the time he was aware of Mac behind him. Part of him wanted to throw her back in the vehicle, keep her safe. He started to move and froze when a bullet whizzed past his cheek.

“Fuck.” He ducked behind the door, forced himself to concentrate. Just him and his weapon in hand. Shoot to kill. Fire. Fire.
Fire!
Bullets hit the door, kicked up dust until his eyes smarted. Men shouted. Somewhere in front of him, a man shrieked for help, his French accent casting him as one of the insurgent volunteers from abroad. Fanatics, they came from all over the world to fight for the cause.

Time slowed, the insurgents returning a barrage of fire. Sweat dripped down Louie’s face. He swiped it away, fear clutching at his chest. They couldn’t keep this up for much longer. Should they make a run for it? He fired another round of shots, assessing the situation, making decisions.

“Rear car is retreating,” Simon reported in a terse voice.

Thank you, God. Something was going right.

The driver moved the second car up, giving them better cover. Another of the insurgents fell to the ground, didn’t move. Grimly, Louie fired until all return fire ceased. The guns of his men fell silent, but they remained watchful. Louie cautiously peered around the door to scan the vicinity. When no one moved, he ordered everyone back into the vehicles.

They’d been bloody lucky this time. He swiped a weary hand over his face. Mac… Damn! Thoughts of her had distracted him. Time to get a grip. He’d get them all killed if he didn’t start thinking with his head instead of his dick.

“We’ll keep going,” he said into the radio, still rattled by his uncharacteristic veer from commander to man. Their driver pulled away. They passed several bodies, the dark patches of blood a stark contrast to the dusty ground.

“What happened to the plastic surgeon who stood too close to the fire?” Garrett asked, breaking the tense silence.

“No idea,” Louie said.

“He melted,” Garrett said with a trace of smugness.

There was a moment’s startled silence and then the driver started laughing. Louie found himself smirking.