Beyond The Limit (14 page)

Every time she used his first name, he felt his flesh react as if stroked by a warm, moist breeze. Cali compressed her full lips and adjusted the white hard hat on her head.

“Thanks for asking,” she added.

How badly Pete wanted to talk to her. But that was impossible right now. “Well, I've got a few more stops to make.” He didn't want to go. Instead, Pete ached to put his arms around Cali and tell her it was going to be all right. But that was not to be, and sadness flooded him.

“So do I,” Cali muttered. Swallowing hard, she turned on her heel and walked away. She wanted to run. Parker was a copy of Russ Turner in every way, and dread wound through her. This guy worked for Pete, so she couldn't fire him. She couldn't refuse to work with him. And worst of all, she was going to have to deal with Parker day in and day out. He was so damn bold and sure of himself. And he was chasing her. Cali could taste it. She wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her gloved hand. Escape. That was all she wanted at this moment. Pulling down the brim of her hat, Cali tried to breathe fully. She was breathing shallowly, as if scared. Well, wasn't she?

And then her quick strides slowed. She wondered if Pete had seen what Parker had done. If he thought she'd encouraged Parker's actions. What if he had? Would he blame her, the way she'd been blamed at the other project? In her experience, Cali found that men stuck together. When one woman came against all of them, hers was the reputation that got shredded and ruined. Russ had walked away laughing.

 

“M
R
. P
ARKER
,
WHAT DID
you think you were doing, holding Ms. Roland's hand like that earlier?” Pete stared hard at Brad Parker. The structural engineer had just gone over his notes with him, and their meeting was over. It took everything Pete had to keep his voice low and unruffled. He felt nothing like he sounded. Inside, he was furious. And as he appraised the shock in Parker's darkly suntanned features, he waited for an answer. An answer he practically wanted to shake out of him.

“Why…I was just reaching down to grab Ms. Roland's glove. The wind blew them off the rebar.”

“Really? That's not how it appeared to me from where I stood.”

Parker shrugged easily. He picked up his reports and clipped them back on the board resting on the table. “I was just trying to be a gentleman, Major Trayhern.”

He was lying and Pete knew it. Yet the innocent look on Parker's face would fool a lot of people. Maybe because he yearned for Cali, but could never have her, Pete saw Parker as a huge threat. Maybe he was just jealous. Okay, he damn well admitted it, but only to himself. “Next time, Parker, keep your hands to yourself. It looked like you deliberately reached out to catch her hand as she bent down to pick up her gloves.”

Parker chuckled. “Hey, she'd been wanting her hand held all day, Major. I was just complying.”

Rage funneled up through Pete. “Complying? As if she was wanting you to do something stupid like that?” He ached to curl his hand into a fist and put it right through Parker's smiling features. The guy was brazen, bold and arrogant.

Parker picked up his hard hat and placed it back on his head. “Major, with all due respect, I don't have to go out and chase women down. They come to me.” His mouth curved faintly.

“Let me be very clear,” Pete said, his voice deep, “I don't
ever
want to see you out on my site touching Ms. Roland in any way at any time. I don't care what the reason is. You got that?”

“Not a problem, Major. I can't help it if she was flirting with me all day long. But I'll refrain and make sure it doesn't happen again. Are we done? I've got some reports to type into the computer.”

“We're done.” Pete held on to his rage. He watched the man stroll out of his office as if he didn't have a care in the world. Rubbing his jaw, Pete wondered if it was true. Did Cali ask for his attention like that? Every cell in his body exploded with a screaming
no.
Cali had never flirted with anyone at this site. Not ever. Not even with him.

Sitting down on a wooden stool, Pete tried to focus on a set of blueprints. The sounds of earthmoving equipment provided a backdrop of noise as he unrolled the scrolls outward and flattened them. Try as he might to focus on his work, thoughts of Cali assailed him. His heart insisted Cali had not invited the advance, but jealousy ate at Pete. He was so deeply in turmoil over the possibility that she was drawn to Parker that bitterness coated his mouth. He reached for a soda, chugged some of it and set the can down a little harder than necessary. What was he going to do with these feelings?

P
ETE REACHED
D
ARA
-
I
-S
UF
, the largest town in northern Afghanistan, just at dusk on the blustery mid-November evening. Cali was with him. He pulled into Sheik Hesam's resplendent “other” home. The two-story adobe structure was large, covered with ivy and surrounded by a ten-foot-high wall of the same material. This was Hesam's official headquarters, Though he preferred a simple, quiet village life to the city. Only in winter did he stay here, Pete had discovered.

The sentries were on horseback and heavily armed. As Pete and Cali drove up to the black, wrought iron gate, the guards recognized them immediately, smiled and allowed them into the compound. Roiling gray clouds, pregnant with rain or a mix of snow, threatened.

Pete tried to quell the anxiety fluttering in his chest as he braked the Tundra in the gravel parking area. The IEDs, or roadside bombs, were getting to be a regular and dangerous intrusion at their site since the Taliban had renewed their attacks. These threats were slowing down the project. Hesam had invited them to a crucial meeting on how to deal with this menace.

Cali had an almost permanent scowl on her brow these days. More restless than usual, she kept crossing her legs or folding her hands in her lap. Oh, she'd make remarks about things they passed as they drove along the only asphalt highway in this area—birds, animals or people in carts drawn by horses or donkeys. Small talk, he thought. Nothing personal. He didn't know whether to be relieved about that or not.

Pete climbed out and saw Javad, his interpreter, come walking through the main doors. The young man was dressed in dark burgundy pants, a white, voluminous shirt, cinnamon-colored vest and an astrakhan hat on his head. He smiled and waved exuberantly. Pete grinned in greeting.

“Javad. I didn't expect to see you here,” he said. He ambled around the front of the Tundra, carrying a carved chest made of elm wood. The wind was biting and he was glad to be wearing his Marine field jacket.

“Hello, Pete. I decided to hitch a ride to town and visit my uncle's home. I hope you don't mind if I ride back to the site with you tomorrow?” Javad shook his hand, then turned and greeted Cali warmly. She smiled and shook his hand, too.

“Of course you can ride back with us. Not a problem.” Damn, but he'd wanted to drive back alone with Cali, maybe get a handle on her recent change in behavior. She was edgy all the time now and a lot less communicative. Something was eating at her, but he couldn't guess what it was. Normally an owner never discussed personal issues with the main contractor, just business. Now, with Javad riding back with them, Pete definitely couldn't bring up such a delicate topic with Cali.

“Excellent!” Javad said, and escorted them into the house. “Come, my aunt and cousins are about to serve us a wonderful dinner. My uncle is eager to see you.” He led them through ornately carpeted rooms to a cream-colored stucco archway.

Inside, Hesam sat among pillows on a brilliant blue, yellow and red handwoven rug. The sheik's face beamed with undisguised pleasure as he gestured for them to enter. “Come in. Welcome to my humble abode. Sit, sit. My wife and daughters will serve us shortly. Javad, come and sit on my left?”

“Of course, Uncle.”

Cali smiled and tried not to let her strain show as she conversed in the sheik's language with him. Working nonstop with Brad Parker was getting to her. He'd never touched her again, but his flirtatious looks made her stomach clench. He was trying to wear her down. Just as Russ had done. She was wiser this time, but didn't have the luxury of firing Parker. For now she had to live with it.

Cali sat on a comfortable turquoise-and-crimson pillow opposite Pete. There was little time to chat before Ladan, Hesam's wife, entered, bearing a silver tray filled with steamy, spicy food. Her daughters, in traditional dress, brought fruit and drinks. For the next several minutes, Cali focused on greeting the entire family. After the women politely excused themselves, the rest of them got down to the serious pleasure of eating. Even though she was upset, Cali found herself hungry. The Qorma-i Tarkari, a dish of cauliflower, carrots and potatoes topped with lamb sauce and seasoned with turmeric, cumin, saffron and dill over basmati rice, was delicious.

“So,” Hesam said to Pete in English, “my nephew intimated that you had a special package arrive at your site last week. Can you tell me about that?”

Pete wiped his mouth on his napkin. Hesam was key to the site being built. His men provided the very necessary workforce. Some things Pete would not divulge to the sheik because it was company business. However, this was an easy subject to talk about, and he looked over at Cali. She gave him a nod.

“The package was very important, my lord. And Javad was there in my office when it arrived.” He smiled at the teenager. “You can't keep a secret, can you?”

Flushing, Javad bowed his head. “Major, I saw how excited you were, and when you told me what it was, well, I just dropped a hint to my uncle.” He raised his hand and pressed it to his heart, giving Pete an earnest look. “I did not tell him what it was, Major. I swear to Allah.”

Smiling wryly, Pete said, “Thanks for that, at least.”

Everyone chuckled.

Pete waited until the food was cleared away by the women and the four of them were alone once more. He picked up the elm box and presented it to Hesam. “Sir, these are a gift from me to you. They were late in coming, and I apologize. But the intent is heartfelt.”

“Ah, a gift.” Hesam eagerly took the long, rectangular box and set it on the floor in front of him. “You are a very generous man, Major.”

Eager to see his reaction, Pete grinned. “I've been waiting for these to arrive for some time, my lord. Please, open the latch.”

Hesam did so and opened the box. “Oh, I do not believe this!” Stunned, he looked up at Pete. “Can this be so? Do my eyes deceive me?”

“Your eyes do not deceive you, my lord. Those are two Colt .45 replicas. The real deal. And I have the holsters for them, out in the truck. Please, look at the pistols. They're created from originals found back in the late 1800s of our Wild West era.”

Hesam murmured with undisguised pleasure as he picked up one pearl-handled pistol and looked at it. “This is indeed a
great
gift, Major. Thank you.”

“You had mentioned at one time that you were interested in our cowboy era.”

“Yes, I am. You see, we still ride horses here in my country,” Hesam said, turning the piece over and over, looking at the fine detail and workmanship. “And since I am a gun collector, one of my dreams was to own a pair of Colt .45s.” He gave Pete a look of incredulity. “This is an amazing and gracious gift. Thank you very much. I shall cherish these pistols.”

“You can fire them, too,” Pete said. He asked Javad to go out to the truck and retrieve a wooden box containing the leather holsters. Grinning, Javad sat up and practically ran out of the room.

“Then I will wear them daily,” Hesam declared. “I will become a cowboy of the Old West.”

“I've provided a great deal of ammunition for them, my lord. That, too, is out in the truck. It's a pretty heavy box, and you may want some of your men to carry it into where you keep such things.”

“You have thought of everything, Major.” Hesam beamed with pleasure. “You are truly a good man with a generous heart.” He waved the Colt .45 and watched the glint of light bouncing off the silver surfaces. And then, as if struck by a brilliant thought, he turned to Cali and spoke to her in Pashto. “Are you sure you do not want this man as a husband? He's very generous.”

Coloring fiercely, Cali shook her head. Her heart thudded at the unexpected words from Hesam. “My lord, I like Major Trayhern very much, but not as a husband. That just wouldn't work in our situation.”

“Pity,” Hesam said. “For he is a man among men. My daughters are very interested in him.” He chuckled. “But I told them that he was not of our faith and therefore unavailable to them.”

“I understand,” Cali said.

“Besides, I'm sure the major has someone back home?”

“Not that I know of, my lord.”

“Pity.” He turned and switched to English. “Will you both come with me? To my office? I have some strategies to stop the Taliban from being so bold. I need your thoughts and ideas on how we can work together to keep your site safe for the future of my people.”

 

I
T WAS NEAR MIDNIGHT
when Hesam was done laying out elaborate plans to keep the site safe. Scratching his head, Pete sat opposite the sheik at the large, highly polished mahogany table. Intricately hand-carved, the oval piece had the legs of a lion—an impressive table for an impressive leader.

Cali sat to his left. She looked drawn and tired. So was he. His only wish was that they could steal a few moments together.

“The Taliban is gathering force up in the Kush Mountains,” Hesam said wearily, sipping the last of his coffee. He set the delicate, white china cup painted with roses on the saucer at his elbow. “I fear they are only going to get bolder. My friend the tribal sheik of the next province is low on men and horses. He has asked me to take over more distant forays into the mountains for him. I said I would try, but could not guarantee to provide the number of soldiers he needs to keep the Taliban out of the caves and valleys of his land.”

“With most of your men employed by us,” Pete noted, “you don't have the usual resources to hunt them down.”

“It's more than that, Pete,” Cali said. She tapped the map spread before them with her fingertip. “Sheik Hesam may control this province, but the mountains are more of an obstacle than flat plains.”

“Very true,” Hesam said sadly. “There are pockets of Taliban who get together in these high mountain valleys to plan and plot. They then lure the youngest men, sometimes mere boys, to trek over the mountains and plant the roadside bombs. Few suspect boys of such carnage.”

Glumly, Pete agreed. And he wasn't going to start shooting every youth he saw outside their perimeter fence as a possible Taliban suspect. “I need to try and get your security guards to stop more of these boys and find out if they are from local villages or not.”

“One way around that would be to issue everyone a photo identification,” Cali suggested. She glanced toward Hesam, whose black brows rose with surprise. “Anyone, and I mean anyone, coming around or into our site, would have to wear this photo ID. Those caught without it would be immediately suspected of being Taliban.

“That's a cost I'd have to determine, and then run by my boss in Kabul,” Pete warned them heavily. They would need thousands of dollars in time and people to pull it off. “I personally like the idea and will back it, but I can't guarantee that it will be approved.”

Hesam waved his heavily ringed hand. “Major, I will absorb the cost.”

Pete stared in surprise at the sheik. “Sir?”

“I'll bear the cost.” Hesam frowned and propped his hands together in front of him. “After all, I'm just as concerned about this as you are. Any incursion into my province is a threat to my power here. My people must see me as proactive. I can hire those with photographic experience, buy the necessary equipment and have women of the villages within thirty miles of the site get people lined up for identification cards. What do you think of that?”

“That is an incredible offer, my lord,” Pete declared.

Cali heaved a silent sigh of relief. “I'd back the plan with your ideas.”

Rubbing his hands together, the sheik said, “Excellent.” Peering over at Pete, he added, “And I assume you must still seek approval for this identification card process from Mr. Elliot?”

“Yes, sir. But I don't think he'll balk at it, since we aren't having to put new money into our budget.”

“Let me know when he approves it. In the meantime, I will ask my beautiful wife to contact women leaders in our villages to begin making the necessary arrangements. Hopefully, by the time Mr. Elliot approves this, we will have much of the infrastructure in place and be able to move quickly.” Plucking at his black-and-gray beard, Hesam said, “With winter coming on, there will be fewer attacks. The heavy snow in the Kush will slow or stop most Taliban maneuvers. That is their pattern—rest in winter, attack vigorously from spring through autumn. So we can use the winter to get the identification process defined and completed.”

“It's good to hear the Taliban will ramp down for a while. Our teams need a rest,” Pete said.

“We do,” Cali agreed, feeling weary from the long day. “It would give us some breathing room.”

She saw the hope in Pete's shadowed gray eyes, too. How she ached to talk to him privately. Cali needed to talk to someone about Brad Parker. But who? With winter approaching and snow threatening to fall heavily within weeks, she was going to be very busy. Everyone would be scurrying, because winter always caused setbacks in schedules and planning due to inclement weather conditions. Still, as she glanced at Pete, silently absorbing his presence, she wished she could simply talk with him—woman to man.