Beyond The Limit (17 page)

“Guilty as charged when it comes to talking,” Pete said, holding up his hands. He saw Cali giving the gift another long, careful look. A feeling of dread poured through him as he waited for her to decide whether to open it. His parents had been right: any important relationship took time. It was like the wine he was drinking presently; it hadn't been made overnight. The wine had to age before it bloomed. That gave him some solace, but not much. That he was even thinking of a relationship scared the hell out of him.

“Yes,” Cali murmured, “you are much better at talking with me than Mr. Parker is. And I appreciate that about you.” She stole a glance at him. His features were closed, but that quirk at the side of his handsome mouth gave away his real feelings. Her own mouth grew dry and her pulse accelerated. Cali was going to hurt him, and he was the last man on this site she wanted to do that to.

“As much as I'd like to, Pete, I can't accept any personal gifts from you—or anyone. You know, the bribery laws and all.” Her voice trembled slightly when she saw him wince ever so slightly.

“I realize I overstepped our business relationship,” he said, the words sounding hollow and robotic. Cali was declining his gift. This hurt a lot more than he'd thought it might. Unconsciously, he rubbed the center of his chest. “I'm sorry to put you in this position. You don't have to take it. I never intended it as a bribe.”

He heard Cali sigh. Her green eyes had turned lustrous and soft with some unknown emotion, and her delicious mouth flexed. Oh, if only he was a mind reader. “Whatever you decide to do about this, I'll back you. I know I was out of line.”

It pained her to see the haunted look in Pete's eyes. “Listen,” Cali said tiredly, “give yourself a break, Pete. We're out in the middle of nowhere. We can't go home to be with our families for Christmas. I think it's kind of natural to think of gifts for the people you work with, don't you? At one time, we used to be able to give presents to whoever we wanted. But construction has gotten so complex that even the hint of a gift between owner and contractors smacks of bribery.” She managed a slight smile. “I know you're not trying to bribe me.”

“I'd never do that to you, Cali,” Pete admitted, defeat in his tone as he studied his clasped hands. “And yes, I do miss my family. Christmas was always a special affair at our house. I guess the holiday got the better of me. Thanks for understanding.”

“It was a nice gesture. Just wrong time and place,” Cali said forlornly.

They always tiptoed around one another. So much was left unsaid. Sometimes, when Pete was tired after a long day, Cali would see his professional mask slip for just a second and he would look intently at her. The heat in his eyes would set her flesh on fire and start her pulse pounding. How she wanted to respond. And then she'd remember work and how a relationship wouldn't bode well for either of them.

Lifting her mug to him, she added, “Rest easy. I won't say anything to anyone. I know you did this out of the goodness of your heart, not to sway me into making certain decisions on your behalf.”

Sadness filled him. Pete lifted his own mug and gently touched the side of hers. “Thanks.” Cali was always good as her word. He had come to truly appreciate what she brought to the construction table; she was one of the easiest supervisors he'd ever worked with. They had their confrontations, but Cali didn't put her ego in the way as men did. No, they hammered out solutions and compromises that had kept the project on schedule and within budget. People like Cali were a rare find. And Pete quietly tucked away his feelings for her.

As often happened, the past came back to tap him on the shoulder and make him remember all the gutting, searing pain he'd experienced. He could live with Cali's rejection. What Pete couldn't live with was the blistering torture of once again losing someone he thought he loved.

“H
EY
,” P
ETE CALLED
to Cali as he drove up in his pickup, “are we going to celebrate our one year here at the site tonight?”

He saw her turn toward him and smile. Her white hard hat was coated with a light film of dust. She looked beautiful in her jeans and longsleeved white blouse rolled up at the cuffs. That pink handkerchief that was always around her neck was soaked with sweat. It was hotter than usual on this May afternoon.

Cali halted her progress with the three hoppers that loomed above her on tall steel supports. Her heart beat harder. Pete's smile was always a boost to her spirits. Wiping the sweat off her brow, she stepped up to the open window of his truck. “A small celebration?”

“Yes, a little one. No gifts involved,” he teased, remembering his faux pas last Christmas. That seemed so long ago.

“No gifts,” she laughed. “Sounds like a plan to me.” How she wished it could be more! But over the last five months, Cali had tried to stuff away her dreams and concentrate on the harsh reality of her job. Besides, they'd had a handful of IED attacks from the Taliban. Just as Sheik Hesam had warned, their enemy was far more active now that it was spring.

Her green eyes held such warmth that Pete found himself staring into them hungrily. “How about at my office? I've got a special wine from a Montana vineyard called Rattlesnake Creek. Compliments of my parents.”

“Sounds great!” Cali looked at the watch on her darkly tanned wrist. “It's 3:00 p.m. now. I've got to try and figure out what's wrong with this damn hopper assembly. What time do you want to meet tonight?”

“Is 2000 good?” And then Pete corrected himself, because Cali was a civilian. “How about eight?”

She patted the truck door. “I'll be there. First, I'll want to clean up and look decent.” She pointed to her dusty white blouse and filthy jeans. Crawling around the materials hoppers was a dirty, thankless task.

Nodding, Pete put the Tundra in gear. He spotted Kabir, the team leader for the day shift. The Afghans were now operating the plant for Roland Construction. Kabir didn't look happy, even at this distance. “Sounds good.”

“What kind of wine?”

Her smile went straight to his heart. “It's a sauvignon blanc. My mother visited a vineyard over in Missoula. She was impressed with their variety of organic wines and sent me a bottle. I kind of like the name of it—Blind Curve.”

“Intriguing,” Cali agreed, lifting her hat to wipe her perspiring forehead with the back of her arm. She could feel the grit on her skin.

“Yeah, sort of like our lives, isn't it? Blind curves?” Pete wanted to say more, but they both had to get back to work. The desire to connect with her had only increased, and he looked forward to these precious moments with Cali.

“Oh, no argument from me on that one. I feel like my life has been one huge blind curve since coming here. We never know what will happen next.” Cali meant that on a personal level as well, but she couldn't admit it to him. Pete would think she was talking about the unexpected Taliban attacks.

“Speaking of which, I'm going to touch base with security. We're looking at different ways to ensure fewer IEDs along our perimeter road. See you later.” Pete nodded to Cali and drove on.

She got back to work, trying hard not to anticipate the precious hour she would spend alone with Pete. Settling her hard hat back into place on her damp hair, Cali continued toward the hoppers. Tongues wouldn't wag if she went over to his trailer at that time of night. With the project cranking up to full gear because of the land drying out, she was up until midnight every night working and planning with him.

The day's heat was stifling. And excessive for this time of year. The winter had been milder than usual, which helped them in digging foundations, building new roadways and pouring thousands of yards of concrete. They were even a little ahead of schedule. As expected, the concrete pouring had been slowed last November because of cold winter temperatures. Placement of concrete had come back on schedule in mid-April. But for whatever reason, the three hoppers hadn't been working right. Lately, the feed mechanism kept jamming.

Cali was spending most of her time on the problem, since the Afghan crews could not figure out why it kept occurring. Getting into the open hopper assembly was perilous, and Cali respected that safety was most important.

As she walked quickly down the road, her thoughts moved to another problem. The leader of the day team, Kabir, was a man she didn't trust. Cali didn't know why. He lived in a nearby village and had a large, extended family. Hesam felt the thirty-year-old Afghan was a trustworthy and competent leader. But for some reason he made Cali think of a weasel.

Even now, she saw a flash of anger in his eyes as she reached the site. His arms were wrapped tightly against his chest, showing his defensiveness.

“Did you find anything during your inspection, Kabir?” Cali looked up at the three hoppers.

“Nothing.”

She felt his dislike of her, and yet suspected Kabir didn't like anyone who wasn't an Afghan. More than once they'd tangled on issues involving the plant and its maintenance. Kabir seemed to think he could let some of the oiling and cleaning of equipment slide, and Cali had caught him at it several times.

“Where are the maintenance records, Kabir?” She wasn't going to be pushed around.

“In the shack.”

“Get them for me, please.” Cali saw him glare at her. “Now.” It wasn't a request. It was an order.

“I think you should come in and see them. I've put them all out on the desk for you to inspect, Ms. Roland.”

Shrugging, Cali said, “Fine.” Her boots crunched on the gravel as she made her way to the small wooden building behind the hoppers, where many tools, and all the maintenance records, were kept. They were not pouring concrete tonight or tomorrow, so the plant was quiet. All the workers had been sent home nearly an hour ago. Only Kabir remained at Cali's request.

She spent the next ten minutes poring over the records, while Kabir sat on a wooden stool nearby, glowering at her.

The shack was stifling, even though the door and all three windows were open. How she wished that an afternoon breeze would sweep down from the mountains and cool them off. Hard hat set aside, Cali leaned over the desk, her eyes narrowed as she went through the records one entry at a time. She'd brought out her ever-present notepad and pen and set them beside the paperwork. As she began to pick up a pattern of missed maintenance, she vaguely realized the light was growing dim.

Glancing up, Cali looked out the window toward the hopper assembly. The sky was turning a dark gray, from gathering thunderheads.

“Turn on the light, please, Kabir?” she said, bending over the desk. The stool scraped the wooden floor behind her as she focused on the records.

Suddenly, Cali felt a strong hand wrap around her mouth, and she gasped. She was lifted off her feet and jerked back against Kabir's hard, lean body. Shock and terror surged through her. What the hell was he doing? Fighting to free herself, Cali brought her steel-heeled boot down on his foot, but barely grazed it.

Kabir grabbed Cali as she twisted and jerked. Her breathing was harsh and choked. She knew she was in trouble, so she lifted her foot and pushed against the heavy wooden desk with all her might, trying to upset his balance. Kabir was the same height as her, but heavier. His hand slid roughly against her mouth, and she bit him.

With a yelp, he released her.

Cali spun around, disoriented. The door. She had to get past Kabir and scream for help! But the Afghan leaped forward, blocking off that escape.
Damn him!
What was going on? Why was he attacking her?

Making a leap for the door anyway, Cali slammed directly into his chest, bouncing back like a ball off a wall. She crumpled to the floor, then scrambled to her feet again. When Kabir advanced on her, his slitted eyes filled with rage. Seeing his arm swing back, his fist cocked, Cali threw up her forearms to protect herself from the coming blow.

Why was he attacking her? Was he angry she was a woman? His boss? The thoughts collided violently with her instinct to survive.

His fist slammed into her elbow, and pain arced up Cali's arm. The jarring blow threw her back onto the wooden floor. Lifting her legs, she kicked out as Kabir started to lean down, his fingers curved like talons, to grab her by the shoulders.
Yes!
The impact of her boots connecting with his chest made him gasp. He was thrown backward, his arms spinning like a windmill as he tried to break his fall.

When he crashed heavily against the wall and dropped to the floor, Cali scrambled away on all fours. Breathing hard, half sobbing, she headed toward the open door.
Escape!
She had to get out!

Everything became like a slow-motion movie to Cali as she staggered to her feet. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Kabir leap up with amazing agility. He grabbed for a wooden club leaning near the door—a two-foot-long wooden handle for a sledgehammer.

Terror sizzled through Cali as she dug the toes of her boots into the rough shack floor and launched herself forward in a last ditch attempt to escape. But as she reached the door, she heard Kabir's footsteps behind her.
No! Oh, no!
He was going to hit her. As Cali bounded out the door, her world suddenly exploded. Stars, lights and fireworks went off inside her head. It was the last thing Cali remembered.

 

W
HERE WAS
C
ALI
? Pete stood impatiently on the porch of her trailer and knocked once more. It was 9:00 p.m. He turned and scanned the plant site, visible in the glow of security lights that had been put in place last year. The sulfur beams cast a yellowish hue over everything they touched. Pete saw Hesam's security guards on horseback, conducting their normal rounds outside the fence. Everything looked quiet. But where was Cali?

After knocking again, Pete waited for a response, yet heard nothing. This was strange. She was always in her trailer at this time of night. He'd tried calling her on the radio, but there was no answer. Sometimes radios wore down and needed a recharge. Maybe hers wasn't working, and that's why she hadn't returned his call. Worried, Pete hurried to his Tundra and drove down to the concrete plant. There were security lights around the area, but no light in the operator's station.

The shadows were inky and deep as he pulled the truck to a halt near the building. Getting out, he heard the crunch of his boots against the gravel as he hurried toward the maintenance shack. That was the last place he'd seen Cali.

The door was wide open and it was dark inside. Once he flipped the switch and the light came on, Pete looked around the small space. A lot of papers were scattered over the desk and across the floor. His eyes narrowed. Cali's hard hat sat on the desk, too. How could that be? She'd never leave her hat behind.

Pete's heart beat harder. Something had gone wrong; he could feel it. He saw a wooden sledgehammer handle lying on the floor and picked it up. The light was poor, so he moved under the one naked bulb hanging from the ceiling and closely inspected the wood. As he looked at it, he saw something that made his breath hitch; strands of red hair matted with dried blood.

His mind spun. The first thing he could think to do was go to his truck and pull out his radio. Selecting a channel, he waited impatiently.

“Hesam here.”

“My lord, this is Pete. Is Cali at your village visiting, by any chance?”

“Er, no. Why?”

“I think I have a problem. Can you get over here right away? I might need your help.”

“Of course. My horse is saddled. It won't take but twenty minutes to reach you.”

Pete knew Hesam preferred riding his black Arabian stallion to driving his car. His clan had always been horse people. “Okay, that's fine. Come to security headquarters.”

“I will.”

After hanging up, Pete grabbed Cali's hard hat and the sledgehammer handle, then started back to the truck. He drove to the security trailer and contacted the chief, advising him to have guards check the entire site for Cali.

Within twenty minutes, Sheik Hesam reached the plant site. Pete tried to be patient while the sheik galloped toward the trailer, and handed one of the security teams the reins to his mount.

Not wasting any time, Pete said, “My lord, I think something has happened to Cali. I can't find her anywhere.” He relayed what he'd found.

Hesam scowled as he eyed Cali's hard hat. “She goes nowhere without her hat. It is a matter of safety to her.”

“Exactly,” Pete muttered. “One security team has looked everywhere and not found her, nor have your horseman outside the fence.”

Hesam turned to his guards and exchanged quick words in Pashto. “Who was around when Cali came down here?” he added in English, addressing the Roland sentries.

“My lord,” one sentry said, “the only man here was Kabir. I saw him myself. Miss Roland was going to meet with him about 3:00 p.m. Everyone else had been sent home.”