Hold Me: Delos Series, 5B1 (2 page)

Beau’s love settled over Callie like a warm blanket. She felt it in his gaze, in the way he was holding her against him, rocking her just a little, as if he were rocking a frightened child. And right now, that was exactly how Callie felt. No matter how much she tried to tell herself Beau was going to be all right once he returned to Bagram and conducted his winter missions, her heart was awash in fear. Her emotions were raw, anyway, because she’d gotten a good dose of PTSD from that ambush late last year in Afghanistan.

“I can hardly wait,” she whispered shakily.

“Hey, look at it this way. We’re going to get married in late June after I return, and we can talk about all the wedding plans before then via Skype and email. There’s lots to look forward to doing together in the months ahead, Callie.”

Right now, thinking about finding a dress or anything else was the last thing on her mind, but she wanted Beau to think that it was the right answer for now. “You’re right. But you can’t see the wedding dress until I walk down the aisle with you.” She melted beneath his boyish smile, his eyes alight with mischief.

“Ohhh, come on, Callie, I’m black ops. We’re pretty good at tracking down wedding dresses!” he chuckled.

She laughed, fighting back tears. Since their escape from the Taliban ambush and during those horrific days and nights on the run, Callie had changed—she was now a fearful, high-strung person. Grandpa Graham assured her it was PTSD and that with time, her anxieties would begin to diminish. But they hadn’t. Or maybe she was still too close to the experience and expecting too much, too soon. Beau had been wounded in the attack. His captain allowed him to take leave to see her close to Christmas. He’d arrived here from Afghanistan just before the holiday, and a lot of her PTSD symptoms had gone away. He, too, had PTSD, but had learned to live with it.

Beau had always teased her that having sex was the best way to release the feel-good endorphins that would overwhelm the high cortisol creating her 24/7 anxiety. He was right about that! Even now, her body glowed from their lovemaking before their departure from the ranch.

“I know you would, Beau. Still, I’d like it to be a nice surprise for you.”

“Okay,” he said in his drawl, “I don’t want to disappoint the woman I’m going to marry. I’ll be good and not peek, okay? But let’s talk about all the other angles of bringing this shindig together, okay?”

Nuzzling her cheek against Beau’s chest, closing her eyes and inhaling his male scent, she whispered, “Yes, I’ll do that with you.” How much she was going to miss him! In her present broken state, she was a hot mess. On the other hand, he was stable, reliable, and in love with her. Having Beau made up for what she’d lost during that ambush and the nearly forty-mile run back to Bagram. He was like emotional glue, filling her fractured soul, holding her together so she could stabilize.

Callie wondered if she could make it without him—and was aware that these thoughts reflected a major change in her. After all, she was a rancher’s daughter, raised in a natural world where being tough in every way was important. She’d been confident, strong, and in love with life until that damned attack.

As if sensing her anxiety, Beau wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly, resting his cheek against her hair.

“It’s going to be okay, Callie. I promise you, I’ll be fine. I’m going to go work with Maggie over at the Hope Charity Orphanage on my days off.” He laughed a little. “I’ll go over there and change babies’ diapers and clean out the diaper pail like I did when we met there. Those four Afghan widows and Maggie will love having me around again.”

Laughing, burying her head beneath his and hearing the slow pounding of his heart soothed her. She said, “Oh, I already emailed Maggie and told her you’d be dropping by to help her and the orphans when you could. She’s tickled pink, Beau.” That was where Callie had fallen in love with Beau when he took up security duty at the orphanage with his Delta Force team leader, Sergeant Matt Culver. Her sister, Dara, was a pediatrician, and had also been there helping with the fifty babies and young children. Matt had fallen in love with Dara, she thought, from the moment he saw her at the Thanksgiving USO show at Bagram. Beau swore he’d fallen in love with Callie at the same time because she and Dara had performed a dual belly dancing routine for four thousand servicemen to lift their spirits during the holiday season.

“Yep, I’ll become her official diaper changer when I go there to help out,” he agreed, grinning widely.

Her face fell as Callie heard the dreaded boarding call for Beau’s commercial flight to Seattle, Washington. Her arms automatically tightened around his waist. Scrunching her eyes shut, she wanted to dissolve into his body and always be with him, her love and need for him was so powerful. She felt Beau draw in a slow, ragged breath.

“I gotta go, sweetheart,” he rasped, kissing her hair and kissing her cheek. “I love you. I’ll be fine, so don’t worry. Okay?”

She felt as if she were being torn into bleeding, painful pieces. Releasing him, Callie choked back a sob, her throat tightening. Stepping away from him, lifting her lashes to his narrowing gray gaze, his hands on her upper arms, she whispered, “Don’t you
dare
die on me, Beau Gardner, or I’ll kill you.”

He laughed and shook his head. “You’re too funny, Ms. McKinley.” His smile disappeared. “I’m going over to tell your grandpa goodbye and I’ll be right back.”

Nodding, Callie knew her grandpa was deliberately standing apart from them to give them these last few minutes of privacy together. “Yes. He loves you so much, Beau . . .”

She watched Beau nod, smile, and stride over to him. The two men shook hands and she could tell by their body language that there was genuine affection between them. Grandpa Graham had been an unsung hero in the Persian Gulf War. No one would ever know how many men’s lives he’d saved that fateful day in Iraq. He and Beau had just naturally gravitated to one another and Callie knew her grandpa treated Beau like the son he’d never had. Beau was special in that way. His easygoing West Virginia charm, his earnestness, and sincere warmth, had made her entire family fall in love with him.

Tears burned in her eyes but Callie swore she wouldn’t cry. It would tear Beau apart, and she wanted him to leave thinking she’d be fine. She would cry tonight, alone, without him at her side in their small cabin behind the main ranch house.

The two men hugged one another, slapping each other on the back, and then separated. Callie pasted on a smile, swearing silently to make this parting good for Beau. She didn’t want him anxious about her in any way because it could distract him when on a mission and get him killed.

Walking toward him, she smiled up into his eyes, opening her arms. Beau halted and swept her into his arms, his mouth crushing hers. She moaned as he took her lips hungrily and then grew tender, worshipping her, sharing his love for her in another way. Unable to get enough of him, of his strong mouth cherishing hers, she wanted to scream, to cry, to beg him not to get on that plane.

Beau regretfully eased from her soft lips, holding her gaze. “When I get to Bagram I’ll email you first thing so you know I arrived safe and sound.”

Giving a jerky nod, she said, “Yes, thanks. Just be careful Beau.”

He released her and picked up his carry-on bag. “I’m going to marry the girl of my dreams.” He leaned over, giving her one last hard, swift kiss on the mouth. “I’ll come home to you, sweetheart. That’s a promise . . .”

And he was gone.

Just like that.

Callie stood there, watching him disappear down the corridor, heading to the plane. Wrapping her arms around herself, she felt devastated by Beau’s immediate absence, even though she could still see him. She knew that he felt the same way, though he didn’t show it the way she did.

“Hey,” Grandpa Graham whispered, walking up to her, sliding his arm around her hunched shoulders, drawing her against him. “He’s going to be all right, baby girl.”

Just her grandpa’s roughened, low words, soothed some of her terror. “I’m sick with worry,” she sobbed, placing her fingers against her lips, looking up into his somber blue gaze. He was a big man at six-feet, five-inches tall, and his once black hair was threaded with silver, still cut military short.

He eased his rough, calloused hand across her mussed red hair. “I know you are. But that’s because you love him so much.” He patted her arm. “You were brave for him just now, baby girl. I’m proud of you.”

Hot tears welled in her eyes and now she sobbed, pressing her hand against her mouth to try and stifle the sounds.

“Let it go, now. You don’t have to be brave for Beau anymore,” Graham told her roughly, pulling her into his arms and holding her. “Just let it go . . .”

*

Beau was bleary-eyed
as he arrived at the Delta Force barracks at Bagram. There were only thirty operators on the team and many of them were home on leave because of the holidays. His room was a sharp contrast to the cozy ranch house he’d left behind. It was plywood with thin walls and he could hear his brother operators snoring in the early morning hours. Throwing his duffle bag on his bunk, he looked at his watch, seeing it was 0400. He’d already checked in with the duty officer, gotten all the paperwork out of the way, and trudged back to his new digs.

The flights were hideous this time of year, filled with uncomfortable passengers packed into too-small seats. He’d slept as much as he could during that time. He breathed in Callie’s scent on his Levi’s jacket as he shrugged out of it. For a moment, he held it up to his face, inhaling her sweet scent. He’d already sent her an email from the main HQ to let her know he arrived safely. That would give her some peace, at least.

It was snowing right now, not hard, but just enough to make driving around Bagram miserable. Ice on the asphalt had turned it into a skating rink. At this time of year, Beau knew Bagram was pretty much shut down for the holidays, since most people knew the Taliban were back in Pakistan for the winter. He got undressed, found his towel, washcloth, and soap, and padded down the hall to the showers. Everyone else was still fast asleep.

His mind was disoriented from jetlag, coupled with fatigue, but his heart already ached for Callie’s presence. He worried about her because she was still entrenched in the PTSD from what she’d experienced last November. Beau had known she was traumatized from her capture by the Taliban. His captain let him take leave after the attack, close to Christmas, so that he could be with her at that time. Because he’d sustained a gunshot wound to his calf during her rescue, he’d received permission. They had needed each other so much, and their time together had strengthened them both.

As he opened the door to the white tiled area, he placed his towel on a wooden bench outside the five showers. Turning on the faucet, he felt the warm spray of water begin to dissolve some of his jetlag. He lifted his face, allowing the water to drench his black hair. He’d had it cut and trimmed, his beard gone, for going home to Butte to visit Callie. Now it would all grow back. The operators wore beards in order to fit into the male Muslim culture. He wiped his face, the warm water feeling good, washing away the human grit collected during the long, boring flight.

He knew Graham McKinley would take good care of Callie in his absence. The retired Marine sniper would be a fierce guardian for his granddaughter. The men had talked in private about Callie’s emotional instability and PTSD. Beau agreed with Graham that she would do much better being outside, riding, working in the barn, and just focusing on keeping busy. He knew that Callie didn’t do well in an office setting.

Graham promised him he’d keep Callie outdoors on good days when a blizzard wasn’t visiting the area. He loved both his granddaughters, Dara and Callie, but Beau could see that headstrong, wild child Callie, was his personal favorite. Graham would never admit that, but Beau sensed it and his intuition was never wrong about such things. He’d managed to stay alive, thanks to his hunches.

His mind turned to his own parents, Cletus and Amber. They, too, worried about him returning to Afghanistan. Beau knew that there wasn’t a time that they weren’t worried about their three sons. Coy and Jackson were younger, and they were Marine Recons, black ops. Both were in harm’s way all the time, just as he was as a Delta Force operator.

His parents, he knew, tried not to let their worry about their sons overwhelm them. But Beau always tried to put himself in their shoes having three sons in danger all the time. He was seeing it play out personally with Callie, trying her best to put on a brave face so he wouldn’t worry about her while he was here in Afghanistan. He knew that there was very little he could do to help her from here, and hoped Graham would take her under his wing and get her through this lonely period.

He scrubbed his hair clean with Afghan lye soap, the only soap he’d use. The Taliban had good noses, and if the wind was right, they would smell the scent and think nothing of it. But if he stupidly brought some U.S. brand of soap and used it on his body, it could be his death knell. The Taliban would smell it and know in a heartbeat that he was the enemy.