All for You (10 page)

The woman was so much more than she appeared. Dedicated. Smart. And so damned sexy.

The vehicle rolled out of the parking lot and headed to the MOUT site, leaving him to his thoughts for the moment.

That kiss still burned on his lips. A foolish gambit, one he wasn’t going to regret but one that he couldn’t repeat.

No matter how much he might want to.

He’d given up drinking and boozing. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. But with Emily, there was something more there. A need. A desire for something more than a stolen kiss or an office flirtation.

He felt a pull of something real, something stronger than just sex.

Something that terrified him with the strength of it. He was trying to be the soldier the sergeant major wanted him to be. The warrior his men deserved. If he couldn’t get clean and stay clean, how was he supposed to expect his men to do it? He wanted to save the remains of his career. He wasn’t sure he could even go to bed with a woman without being shitfaced drunk.

He couldn’t remember the last time something like that had even happened.

Sex and alcohol were all twisted up inside him and he damn sure wasn’t about to admit his own personal psychosis to her.

He’d kissed her. She’d kissed him back.

It would have to be enough. Because the truth was, he didn’t trust himself to try anything more.

He swallowed the bitter pill of frustration as they pulled into the MOUT site a few minutes later. Life was so much easier when he was drinking.

“Ready to get your ass whipped?” Reza asked

“Oh yeah. I’m going to lay your ass out flat,” Teague said, pulling on his gloves.

“You wish, pretty boy. You better wear a face mask ’cause I’m going to double tap you right between the eyes,” Reza said. Reza tapped his own forehead

Emily came up beside them, adjusting her hair beneath her helmet. He had no idea how to help her with that. Claire would have been able to give her some pointers on that one but Claire was in California right then. Emily was on her own as far as her hair was concerned. “Um, can I be the complete and total newbie here and ask what you’re talking about?”

“You don’t know what we’re doing today?” Teague looked at her with an expression close to bafflement on his face. He looked back at Reza. “You didn’t tell her?”

“Tell me what?” Emily sounded like he was dragging her toward a darkened pit filled with slithering things.

“We’re going to a shoot house.”

“A what?”

“Shoot house.”

She went very still. The kind of still that made Reza think she was second-guessing her decision to come out here. “What’s a shoot house?”

“A building where we go shoot each other with sim rounds.”

“And sim rounds are…”

“Very painful,” Teague said with the wicked smile of someone who knew exactly how painful they could be.

Teague was enjoying her discomfort far too much. “Go see why they’ve stopped.” He was used to bossing the captain around. Teague was a good guy but he was ADHD boy. Needed someone to step on his neck to keep him focused and out of trouble. Teague unsupervised was a recipe for disaster. Reza wondered just how much of that was real and how much of it was a façade Teague put on to avoid any major responsibility. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re going to shoot each other?” Emily sounded shocked.

“With fake bullets.”

“You just threatened to shoot him in the face.”

Frustration at her naiveté snapped at its leash inside him, surprising him with its intensity. “Haven’t we had this conversation before? The one where I explain to you that we’re not giving out candy and roses when we’re busy winning the hearts and minds?”

“Stop putting words in my mouth,” she said more sharply than he’d anticipated. Something had gotten under her skin in between leaving the office and coming out here. He wanted to know very much what it was.

But he didn’t know how to ask. “Then what is it?”

She opened her mouth to speak, then snapped it shut. “Never mind. I’m tired of you laughing at me because I don’t know anything about the world you’re from.”

Reza stepped close, until his body armor almost brushed against hers. “I’m not laughing at you, Emily,” he said, keeping his voice low. “You’ve never been to combat. You’ve never seen men die because of actions you’ve taken or worse, actions you did not take. You’re untouched by all the death and dying and killing that smothers a man’s soul.” They were alone near the truck. He did not bother to rein in his urge to brush his knuckles against her soft cheek. “You have no idea how rare and precious being untouched by the war really is in my world.”

She didn’t flinch beneath his touch but she also did not acknowledge it in any way. Her skin was soft, satin beneath the rough ridge of his knuckles. Her breath was a scattered thing, coming in fits and huffs.

He wanted to tell her more, so much more. Wanted to satiate her curiosity to know about the war and send her back to her protected office, where she would never have to venture out into the real world.

A knight in shining armor would want to protect her. Cherish her.

Reza was no knight. He was a warrior. A man who fought for what he wanted. But with Emily, those things were no longer clear. And for the first time in his adult life, he turned away from a woman who’d trembled beneath his touch. There was more to Emily Lindberg than Reza had realized. So, so much more.

If this went any further, he would ruin it. He always did. There was nothing in his life he didn’t screw up and he very much did not want to screw this up.

He wanted to keep her on her pedestal. Keep her unsullied by the war and the world he lived in. He pulled his gloves out of where she’d stuffed them into a small pocket. “Make sure you wear these today,” he murmured.

Reza felt Emily hesitate before she climbed the hill toward the MOUT site behind him. His gaze fell to his gloves on her hands, and an unexplained warmth spread somewhere in the vicinity of his belly as he watched her.

He wasn’t entirely sure what the hell had happened to him. Not so long ago, he’d gone up one side of her and down the other for keeping information about a soldier from him. Not so long ago, he’d told her she did not belong in the army.

Now she was out at the range with him, wanting to know about the world he lived in.

A world he didn’t want her to know. The scars on his body were testament to the ragged ugliness of war.

She’d watched movies about combat. He’d led men in combat. Bled with them.

What on earth had possessed him to bring her out here?

He knew what it was and it pissed him off. If she was going to deploy, maybe something she learned today would save her life later. He hated to think of her in a bunker with rockets landing all around. His stomach twisted hard. He wouldn’t be there to keep her safe.

People like her simply didn’t recognize the world for what it was: a cruel, hard place that would crush the best of them. It was a world that required exactly what they were about to do: train.

If he couldn’t protect her, he could train her. At least a little. A little was better than nothing.

If she backed away from the shoot house, he wouldn’t let her go. She needed to do this, to see this in training where it was safe. No matter how much he wanted to protect her from the smoke and chaos of war—even a mock war like they were getting ready to wage today—the simple fact was she was going to deploy. Better to learn what she could here today rather than head to the desert with zero training. The threat of violence was a very real thing in his daily life and if she was going to deploy, she needed to understand that.

He watched her as she approached, careful to keep his expression neutral.

Part of him wanted her to run, to turn away from the violence of his life.

But another part of him, the dark part, wanted her to join him in the muck and the mire. That darkness held a powerful lure, a quiet shame mixed with the pride: he was good at what he did.

She flexed her hands in those gloves and his guts clenched.
Down, boy.

“You ready for this?” he asked as she stopped next to him.

She peered up at him intently through her army-issued protective glasses. They were at least three sizes too big. “Is one ever really ready for something like this?” She didn’t look nervous but he heard the stress in her voice.

“Would it help you to know that I’m looking forward to this? This is the fun stuff I signed up for.” Not the killing parts. No, not those. But the force-on-force mock fights? That was the fun stuff.

“Fun? Are you serious?”

“Hey, Sarn’t Ike, check this out!” One of his old lieutenants, Miller, ran up from the entrance to one of the blown-up windowless buildings of the mock city. He lifted his shirt, showing a brilliant purple and red welt on his side.

“That shit’s going to hurt like hell tomorrow,” Reza said with a low whistle. “Did the medics check you out?”

“I’m not fu— Nah, I’m good,” Miller said, stopping himself once he realized there was an officer present. “Ma’am.” He saluted and Emily returned the courtesy.

Reza almost shook his head at the sharp perfection of her salute. She obviously hadn’t learned the half-assed officer salute that so many officers passed off as real customs and courtesies. He watched her expression change from horror to pure curiosity.

“Is that—”

“Some of the guys were screwing around, Ma’am. Doesn’t hurt that bad.” Miller had turned about as red as the bruise on his side.

“How did that happen?” she asked, peering closer.

Miller glanced at Reza for permission and Reza nodded. Unless he was mistaken, that bruise had come from an epic case of fucking around and he didn’t mind Emily hearing that. She needed to see the fun side of the guys in addition to the fucked up stuff inside their heads. Maybe if he could get her to see them as people, she’d stop thinking of them as victims.

“Couple of the guys cornered me. I let my guard down and well…there you have the results.”

Reza grinned, feeling the warm comfort of familiarity slip around him as Miller ran back toward his boys. This, Reza knew. This was the only thing that kept him from crawling back into the bottle. A chance to lead his boys again.

He wasn’t in charge today. No, that day was still a long way off. But he wanted—no, he
needed
—to be back with guys like Foster and Miller. With captains like Teague.

“Just follow me and stay close. It might get a little loud.” Reza watched as she tried to get her bearings over the sounds and the movement and the noise.

People who had never been to combat didn’t understand the chaos on the battlefield. It was oh so easy to second-guess the actions of the men and women on the ground when the videos captured everything, but in the thick of the fight? Yeah, it was never as easy as the video games and armchair quarterbacks made it seem. There was too much smoke, too much yelling, far too many people.

One wrong choice and the squeeze of the trigger ended a life. It might be fun, what they did in the shoot house, but that fun ended the minute they rolled with real rounds in the chamber.

“A little loud?” She was shouting. “I’m not sure it can get any louder.”

“If you’re still talking to me in a few months, I’ll take you out on an op in the tunnels. You want to talk about loud.”

“Tunnels?”

“We do tunnel training because we never know when we have to go below the cities, or literally in tunnels.”

Her eyes widened slightly as though she was only just starting to grasp the variety of situations his boys faced. It was fascinating watching the scales fall from her eyes. She took everything in. Watched with a fascination that told him she wasn’t missing anything.

Her brows drew down in a slight frown. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing. You’re just…You’re different out here.” She tipped her chin at him. “More intense. You really do enjoy this stuff, don’t you?”

The strange feeling in his belly unfurled completely, spreading warmth wide through his blood. “There is nothing better than leading men in combat,” he said over the noise.

Nothing until he held that experience up next to the possibility of touching Emily again.

What would he give up for a few more minutes alone? To touch her the way he wanted, to feel her soften beneath his mouth and his fingers.

An explosion ripped through the noise and he ducked, more on instinct than anything else. When he looked over at her, her jaw had tightened in determination.

And Reza fell a little harder.

E
mily had never been so terrified in her life. For the last three hours, she’d watched grown men run around shooting each other with tiny rounds that looked like miniature lipsticks.

She felt alive. More alive than she’d ever felt before in her entire life. Even when one of those tiny rounds had slammed into the concrete next to her face, she didn’t want it to end.

Her blood pounded through her veins, slammed with adrenaline and fear and laughter. She’d never heard so much trash-talking, ever. Her father’s country club would never be the same to her again. There was an easy comfort in the way the men bonded, the way they’d mostly adjusted to having her on the mock battlefield with them. She covered her mouth with one hand, hiding her smile. Her mother would be so ashamed of her thoughts right now. Her behavior was most unladylike.

And she was loving it.

But there was something else, something she hadn’t counted on. Reza. He shadowed her as they walked through the shoot house, his big body blocking her when the guys got a little too close. He wasn’t obvious about it. He was just there. Solid. Steady.

Her shield. It was not something she might have appreciated otherwise, but the shouts of the men when they got hit by the rounds was enough to set her nerves on edge with a prickle of fear. How badly did it hurt?

She’d actually shrieked at one point when a burly specialist had crashed into the wall near her, only to practically bounce back to his feet and charge back into the fray.

It was terrifying. It was exhilarating. She’d never felt anything like the raw power of the sound of weapons reverberating off her breastbone or the exciting chaos of rounding a corner and wondering what skulked down the next hallway.

They were outside now, taking a break for lunch, if one could call the food product contained in a Meal Ready To Eat, or MRE, actual lunch. She bit back a growl of frustration as she tried to open the thick brown plastic that encased the foodstuffs. She glanced longingly at the knife Reza had produced from a hip pouch and then she blinked and her MRE was snatched from her hand. A flick of his wrist and he’d sliced the top off and handed it back to her.

“You need a knife,” he said mildly, “when you deploy.”

She started pulling each item out of the pouch, reading the heavy black letters carefully. There were half a dozen pouches inside the first pouch. Applesauce. Ham slice. A tiny pouch with a little folded napkin, a mini bottle of Tabasco sauce. Salt, pepper. A spoon. It was a complete three-course meal in a bag. “Is this really a ham slice?” she asked. “And do we eat so many MREs in Iraq that I’d need a knife?”

Reza gazed at her and she tried very hard not to notice how drop dead sexy he looked right then. He leaned back on his helmet and his body armor. His patrol cap was kicked back high on his head like a ball cap and he’d rolled his sleeves up in the warm afternoon sun. There was a hint of black ink beneath the edge of one sleeve. Funny, she hadn’t thought about whether he had tattoos. Now, though, she wanted to know more.

His uniform was wet from sweat and his combat t-shirt clung to his body. And oh, what a body. The man was powerful and gorgeous, but it was not the power that attracted her at that moment.

It was the kindness he was showing her. A kindness she had not expected from him. The rough sergeant who’d laid into her on more than one occasion was relaxed. Not snapping at her. It was like he’d put on a different attitude toward her completely: he was more mentor than sergeant right then.

“Sometimes. We went without food back in OIF 06-08. They couldn’t get the jackasses who were running logistics to come to our base. Some of the wives sent care packages but it got to the point where we’d have fought over a ketchup packet.”

Emily stopped where she was, trying to figure out how to open the package of crackers, figuring crackers and cheese were about all she could stomach right then. “How long did you go without food?”

“Couple days where we had nothing left. Then the brigade commander found out about it and flew in some supplies.”

“How did the commanders not know there were bases without food?” She was shocked.

Reza shot her a baleful look. “You have no idea how much a commander is responsible for. Logistics are one of those things that are supposed to take care of themselves.”

“Food should be one of those things,” Emily insisted. “There’s no way anyone should not know that.”

Reza smiled and it was carved in bitter sadness. “There are so many things commanders don’t know. That they can’t know.”

There was something deeper in those words, something filled with hurt and darkness and pain. She reached across the space, squeezing his forearm gently. “And there’s some things they’re supposed to know,” she said. “I deal with all kinds of commanders and I’m shocked at who they allow to lead soldiers.”

Reza shook the tiny bottle of hot sauce into the grey pouch in his hand. “You’re talking about Marshall, aren’t you?”

Emily thought back to the captain who’d called her a very foul name for refusing to change one of his soldier’s profiles. “Him. And others. They turn into petulant children with bad tempers when they don’t get their way.”

Reza laughed sharply then took a long pull off his CamelBak. “I’ll have to remember that the next time Captain Marshall is crushing my nuts over something stupid.” He stuck a plastic spoon in his pouch and stirred. “Marshall’s a dickhead but sometimes, he’s not a bad guy.”

“You could have fooled me. He’s going to drive one of his soldiers to kill himself. The man has no compassion.”

“Maybe he has other things besides compassion driving him. Compassion almost got him killed back in OIF 2.”

“OIF 2?”

“Iraq 2004. The first couple of rotations into Iraq were OIF 1, OIF 2. Then the years started getting split and we started calling them things like OIF 06-08.”

“Ah. What happened to Marshall in OIF 2?” She was curious now. Despite his being an unrelenting ass, Emily was curious how Reza would justify the captain’s actions.

“He was a lieutenant, brand new. First deployment. He’d found a group of women and children. Two of the kids had been shot and left in a bongo truck.”

“By us?”

“No one knows, honestly.” Reza concentrated on whatever he was mixing in front of him. “His platoon tried to get them to the local hospital. The truck was rigged to blow. He lost two of his boys trying to save a couple of Iraqis who died in the blast, too.” Reza pinned her with a haunted look.

Emily swallowed a bite of stale cracker and thick, viscous cheese. It caught in her throat and she washed it down quickly with a sip from her bottled water. She wanted to ask more about the things that shaped Reza. Wondered what had turned him into the hardened warrior who sat calmly eating his lunch and talking of a war she’d only seen on TV.

Reza pushed away the memories and focused on the little captain next to him. She was a sneaky fox; that was for sure. She’d found a way into his head and that irritated him. It irritated him more that he’d gone down memory lane and remembered that Marshall hadn’t always been such an asshole.

At the same time, it meant she was damn good at her job because he hadn’t even realized it. If he wasn’t careful, she’d have him confessing to a hell of a lot more than someone else’s memories.

There were things he wanted to confess and it started with stripping off her clothes and doing inappropriate things. Would her entire body flush if he used his mouth on her?

God, he was so screwed. He couldn’t concentrate if he was thinking about her standing naked and exposed in front of him.

But the more the thoughts lingered, the more he wondered if he could do it. If he could be with a woman—with this woman—without being shitfaced drunk.

“Okay, so after you finish your lunch, you want to give it a go?”

Emily stopped chewing. “Give what a go?” she asked carefully.

“The shoot house. I’ll get one of the guys to let you borrow their weapon and you can try to clear a room.”

“I’m not really sure what that means,” she said quietly.

Reza couldn’t help the grin that escaped. “Just like what you saw all morning. You shoot bad guys.”

“Are you serious?” She sounded terrified and excited. Her eyes lit up and her lips parted just a little. Enough to draw his gaze and make him think about nibbling on the corner of her mouth. Every little thing drove him closer and closer to the edge of doing something stupid.

The hitch in her voice reminded him of the first time he took any scared private through a shoot house. There was a glint in her eyes and she tipped her chin.

“I’ll go with you,” he said quietly. “And the guys will take it easy on you. You’ve got gloves, you’ve got body armor and eye protection.”

“But I could get shot.”

“With a sim round.” He didn’t want her hurt but she needed to do this. She needed to experience this firsthand. It was as close to war as he ever wanted her to get.

“I’ve heard you guys complaining about how bad those things hurt all morning. I’m not exactly into S and M, you know.”

Reza chuckled softly. “Scared?”

“So?” she said, lifting her chin.

He leaned toward her, his voice low. “Then think of how much you’ll be able to relate the next time a kid comes into your office and talks about how scared he was the first time he got blown up?”

Emily narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s a dirty trick.”

“It’s why you wanted to come out here, wasn’t it?” She was going to do it. He’d struck her deeply with that comment and she might be prim and proper but she had too much pride to let him win.

He watched her nostrils flare as she took a deep breath. “Okay, fine.” She stood up and started pulling on her body armor, slightly less awkwardly than she’d been earlier that day.

He stood and pulled on his own kit. He stopped as she tightened her helmet chin strap to keep it from falling into her eyes. She was chewing on her lip as she dressed for battle and tried to look like she knew what she was doing.

“Emily,” he said softly. “I’ve got your back. I won’t let you get hurt.”

She stopped where she was fiddling with her gloves and looked up at him. For a brief moment, the chaos behind them at the shoot house fell away. They were engulfed in a world of silence. He almost reached up to stroke her hair off her cheek. The urge to kiss her then was overwhelming and it was sheer willpower that he didn’t move any closer to her.

“I know,” she whispered. Her throat moved as she swallowed and he suddenly badly wanted to drag his teeth against that scattered pulse. “I trust you.”

Three little words nearly dropped him to his knees. They destroyed him, knowing she was placing her faith where it wasn’t deserved. Where he couldn’t keep it safe.

She trusted him.

“Ready?”

A deep, steadying breath. “Sure, why not. Let’s go get shot at.”

She sounded so sarcastic, he couldn’t resist the laugh that escaped him. “It’ll be fine. A couple of bruises if you actually get hit on your arms or legs. Think of them as battle scars.”

Her gaze drifted back to his body like it had earlier. He’d found her curiosity about his scars off-putting earlier, but now? Now his blood warmed as her gaze trailed over his arms and chest. He cleared his throat roughly.

“LT!”

LT Josh Miller had grown up a hell of a lot since Reza had been his platoon sergeant. He strode up to Reza with a confidence that had been battle-born.

“What’s up, Sarn’t Ike?” Miller carried his weapon casually and there was no salute exchanged between them on the range. He wasn’t sure when the rule of no saluting in a tactical environment had come into military history but it made sense.

No point in being sniper bait.

“We need to borrow a couple of weapons. Captain Lindberg wants to run through the shoot house.”

Miller glanced at Emily, who stood stoically by his side, then back to Reza. “Sure thing, Sarn’t Ike.”

Miller would likely bust his balls later because Reza knew how it looked. And no matter that he
wanted
to sleep with Emily, the simple fact was that his reputation preceded him and everyone was simply assuming based on his past. He didn’t want them thinking that Emily was just a cheap screw.

She was important to him. It was more than just wanting her to know this so she could do her job. He wanted her to know what it felt like—even if this was a bad facsimile of real life.

He glanced at Emily as Miller reappeared with two M4s. He handed her the first weapon and she immediately grasped the pistol grip and put her finger on the trigger.

“Okay, stop,” Reza said, taking the weapon from her a little too abruptly. He handed his back to Miler, who was watching with interest. “Watch me. This is how you hold your weapon.”

He demonstrated by angling the weapon across his body, the sling over one shoulder, the butt stock high against the pocket of his shoulder. “Look where my finger is,” he said. His finger rested alongside the trigger. “You never put your finger on the trigger until you’re ready to shoot something.”

Reza let his own weapon hang in front of him as he took the second M4 from Miller. “Take the sling and put it over one shoulder. You want it tight but able to move.” She held on to the weapon lightly as he adjusted the sling.

“It feels like the end of it is going to hit me in the face,” she said.

“It won’t. Keep it tight into your shoulder so you maintain control of it. The last thing you need is to hold it too loosely and have it bouncing around as you’re trying to hit your target.”

She swallowed nervously. “You mean a person, right?”

“Target,” he corrected, uncomfortable with the direction of her thoughts. He stepped behind her and reached around her, encircling her body with his as he showed her how to lift the weapon and look down the scope.

She was small, so small, even wearing her body armor. He caught the scent of her shampoo, something clean and light that reminded him of sunshine.

“Remember how it feels when you have the weapon right. Tight in your shoulder. Pull back on it so you’ve got a good grip.” His lips were near her ear, despite their helmets. She nodded, trying to get her head angled so she could see down the scope. A subtle shift but she leaned back into him. It was enough to send Reza’s mind straight toward inappropriate thoughts. The kind of thoughts where she was naked and wrapped in his arms and he was…He moved away from her before he embarrassed them both. “Lower it.” She did. “Now raise it.” She did, trying to mimic his earlier motions.