“They want to know if Ms. Venzi is your wife, sir, or if you just brought her to do the cooking.”
Caro threw me a dirty look and some of the guys laughed, but Grant looked worried. I could guess why.
“Tell them she does the cooking,” he said hurriedly.
I gave them the answer and the kids nodded knowingly. I passed out some hard candy, telling them to eat it right away and to toss the wrappers. They were probably too smart to get caught with Western goods on them, but it was worth reminding them. If the Taliban found them with the candy on them, they wouldn’t care that they were kids.
They continued to watch us until we were out of sight.
Caro snapped another photo of them waving, then hurried to catch up with Grant.
“Would you like to explain that to me, Captain Grant,” she said mildly, while secretly giving me the stink-eye.
“I don’t want word getting out that we have a journalist with us,” he said shortly.
Caro looked worried, then glanced across at me. I tried to smile reassuringly, but I probably just looked sick.
We moved slowly next to the dried riverbed when I saw a tell-tale flash in the sky and the guy next to me yelled, “Incoming!”
There was a loud roaring overhead as we half-dived, half-fell into the wadi. I craned my neck up, but I couldn’t see Caro, which meant she was somewhere in the riverbed with us.
The rocket propelled grenade shook the ground as it exploded, and the percussion from the blast was almost deafening.
“RPG, sir!” shouted the gunny. “Bastards missed by 300 yards. Up in the foothills, sir. They’ll have us in range any second.”
He was right: we were in their sights. The wadi gave us good protection but we were pinned down.
Keeping low, I made my way toward Caro and crouched down next to her.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said breathlessly, her voice shaking only slightly. “Don’t worry about me. I won’t move. Promise.”
It was the best I could do: the thought made me sick. I made my way back to the radio operator in case I was needed to listen to any comms chatter.
The gunny and another guy moved forward with a mortar and fired off a couple of rounds.
“Hewitt,” shouted Grant to the radio op, “call in air support. I want the shit bombed out of those fuckers. Give them the coordinates—now!”
Two more RPGs came in, each landing closer, although not close enough to worry me too much.
Fifteen minutes passed before we heard a couple of F15 fighter jets streak past overhead.
There was a massive explosion followed immediately by a second, and the mountain shook. I looked up to see a thick cloud of dust and smoke hanging over the foothills, lazily drifting down into the valley.
Caro was already sitting up to take a quick photo. God, she was fearless. The other men noticed too, grinning at her with admiration in their eyes.
“Was that your first time under fire, ma’am?” one of them asked.
“First time it was that damn close,” she smiled. “I almost peed my pants.”
They laughed easily. “Well, you looked pretty cool, ma’am. We should make you an honorary Marine.”
“I’m sure Captain Grant would be delighted with that suggestion,” she laughed.
Then she looked across at me and pressed her hand over her heart. I badly wanted to kiss her, but all I could do was smile back.
After waiting to see if there would be any further RPG attacks, we slowly made our way back along the dried up riverbed.
An hour later, we got back to the compound, hot and tired but alive, which meant we were one up on the enemy. Caro immediately ran toward the make-shift bathroom that Grant had designated for her private use. The guys were laughing at her crab-wise run, and it made me proud to realize how much she lifted morale just by being here. She hadn’t been scared enough to piss herself, unlike some men I’d seen under fire for the first time. My woman was fucking brave. My woman.
I decided I wanted to do something to show Caro how I felt about her—and I’d do it under the guise of her impressing the shit out of everyone. Yeah, it probably wasn’t keeping things on the down-low, but I was going to make her a camp shower.
I rounded up a couple of volunteers and explained my plan. They all wanted to help do something ‘for the ballsy writer chick’.
I’d noticed a bunch of jerry cans earlier, so I filled them with tepid water while we rigged a shower unit by punching small holes through a rusting bucket and hoisting the cans overhead.
When we’d finished, I strolled over casually and squatted down next to her.
“How you doing, baby?” I asked quietly, making sure my voice didn’t carry.
“Pretty damn good,” she replied calmly, “considering I nearly got my ass shot off today.”
I couldn’t help grinning at her. “You are so fucking amazing, Caro.”
“You’re not so bad yourself, Sebastian.”
Some of the guys were staring at us speculatively, so I stood up and pointed behind me. “We’ve fixed you up a makeshift shower, ma’am.”
“Excuse me?” she gasped.
“The guys wanted to do something for you—they think you’re a ballsy woman. So they’ve made you a shower. You’ve got about two-and-a-half minutes of lukewarm water. How’s that sound?”
“What? How?”
She gaped at me in amazement.
“I just left some cartons of water out in the sun. They got pretty warm: all we had to do was hoist them up and make a shower head. You’re good to go. Except you won’t be able to take off your clothes, but it’s better than nothing, I guess.”
“God, I love you!” she smiled. “But I think I love them, too!”
I knew she was joking, but I’d be a lying bastard if I said I wasn’t as jealous as fuck.
She waved at the shower-building team and they cheered her loudly.
“I’ll be right back!” she smiled.
The gunny who’d been on patrol with us slapped me on the back.
“Get in line, buddy. We’d all like to tap that.”
I don’t think he knew how close he came to losing his front teeth as he strolled away. Luckily, Caro reappeared, and the sight of her wearing just a t-shirt and pair of short yoga pants, redirected my attention immediately. She looked happy, and that was enough.
I tore myself away to head back to the comms room, trying to ignore the boner in my pants at the thought of Caro in the shower.
I stayed on duty late until Grant allowed one of the Shiite terps to relieve me. Helmand was a Sunni area, so the theory was that the Shiite interpreters were the most trustworthy. But it was just a theory, and Grant had to acknowledge that I couldn’t man the radio chatter 24/7. I’d been awake for 41 out of the last 48 hours and I needed to sleep. With Caro.
I headed to her room and instantly felt relaxed as I heard her soft breaths. I tried to make myself comfortable at the bottom of her mattress, but she woke almost immediately.
“Hey, baby,” I whispered as she sat up. “I didn’t mean to wake you—I just wanted to see you.”
She rubbed her eyes and reached her hands toward me. “You’re too far away,” she yawned.
I knew the smart thing would be to go to my rack and sleep, but hell, you get all the sleep you need when you’re dead.
I tried to stretch out on the mattress next to her, but my boots hit the door.
“Fuck,” I swore quietly, “they’ve given you a damn hutch to sleep in.”
“At least it’s private, Sebastian,” she murmured, running her finger across my cheeks.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “that’s something.”
I leaned over her, taking the weight on my arms, and kissed her gently, just like I’d wanted to do all day.
I hadn’t planned on starting anything, but Caro seemed to have other ideas because she tightened her hands behind my neck and locked our faces together.
It was such a fucking turn on having her here, like this, in the middle of a fucking hellhole. She pushed her tongue into my mouth, hungry and determined, then she ran her hands down my back, gripped my ass and squeezed hard.
God, I wanted her, even if it was a dumb fucking idea.