Operation Summer Storm (23 page)

She straightened from her previous position, resting against a pack on the floor, and moved over to give him some more room. Looking down at the bottle now, she offered it to him, her eyes rounding, when he placed his hand over hers holding the bottle without taking it from her.

He smiled at her startled gaze. “You realize you could have gotten us all killed, putting Duffy down in front of the whole damn camp like you did,” he said.

Summer’s eyes narrowed. She’d acted without thinking, but it wasn’t fair of Del to keep hassling her about it. “I was only thinking of you Del—after all, he had just insulted your manhood,” she said sweetly.

Del smiled and shook his head, “Ox is a brave man,” he laughed then took the bottle from her– finally releasing her hand and taking a swig.

Summer felt the blood warming in her veins as a sense of wellbeing engulfed her. Listening to the men talking around her, she smiled sadly. She was going to miss these guys. It felt like she’d known them for years—could it really only be less than ten days? It just proves life-threatening experiences truly do create a bond between people.

Summer held out her hand for the bottle, and made a silent toast to her new friends, praying they would be kept safe, wherever they ended up after this. Where that was, was too scary to think about— so she didn’t.

Besides, this warm, floating high she seemed to be on was too nice to ruin right now.

Chapter Sixteen

The bright morning sun streamed into Summer’s eyes, as she rolled onto her back the next morning. Trying to open her eyes she groaned and threw an arm across her face to block out the harsh light.

“Up and at ‘em tiger.”

Summer heard Del’s voice, but it seemed to come from a long way off. She opened her eyes and tried to sit up. Both were a huge mistake. Her head pounded ferociously and her stomach heaved in warning.

“You don’t look too well,” Del informed her cheerfully.

“Thanks for pointing that out,” she muttered easing herself up into a sitting position on the floor. Sweet heaven—she didn’t think she’d ever felt this ill in her entire life.

“You really don’t look too good,” he added thoughtfully.

“Del, no offence, but could you just shut up. I feel terrible.”

Trying to keep a straight face, he asked if she wanted breakfast.

Summer shot him an ominous look and finally taking pity on her, he left her in peace. She sat for a few minutes and let her stomach settle before getting to her feet. Scooping water from a bowl near the door with her hands she sluiced it over her face to wake herself up. Absently rubbing her hip, she went outside in search of the others.

Finding Maloney sitting on the sand bags outside the bunker, she stopped in front of him.

“How are we this morning?” he asked squinting up at her.

“Now I remember why I stopped drinking. I haven’t felt this bad since I was in University,” she told him sitting down next to him.

“I’m not surprised—that local stuff has quite a kick to it.”

“No kidding,” she murmured. It was still touch and go with her stomach, and her head pounded.

“Coffee?” he asked holding up a cup.

Summer closed her eyes in response, and took a deep breath before shaking her head. Irritably she rubbed at her hip. When the nagging pain continued, she leaned sideways and eased back the band of her shorts. Blinking in disbelief, she tried to focus her blurry eyes.

“What the hell is that?” she gasped, pulling the fabric back further to find a pink tinged mark.

“I see you remembered your tat,” Del said strolling up to them propping his leg on the sand bag and resting his arm on top lightly.

“My what?” Summer gaped, “Oh, my God—It’s a tattoo!” She scrambled around to look at Maloney accusingly, “How on Earth did I get a tattoo?”

“You don’t remember?” he asked doubtfully.

“No, I don’t remember!” she repeated her tone, bordering on hysterical. “Why would I do a thing like that?”

“Beats me. Somehow we got onto the subject of tattoos and you called us all a bunch of…I believe the word you used was wimps… for not having any.” he told her with malicious delight. “Anyway, you decided you were going to get one and show us how tough you were.”

Summer shook her head in disbelief, touching her throbbing temples delicately. “Where the hell would I go to get a tattoo in this God forsaken place?”

“Old Yosef is a tattoo artist—amongst other things,” Del told her helpfully.

“I hate to ask, but who’s Yosef?” Summer asked wearily.

“He joined us with a few other guys late last night—are you sure you don’t remember any of this?” Del asked, keeping a straight face.

Summer glared at him, “I’m positive.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “He did a pretty good job.”

Summer stared at him, near to tears. “I can’t believe you let them do that to me.”

“To tell you the truth, we didn’t think you’d actually go through with it.” Del said, with a touch of admiration coloring his voice. “But you did bring this on yourself,” he pointed out. “You called us a bunch of wimps. We Marines have our pride you know.”

“I was drunk!”

“Anyway” Del went on ignoring her outburst “You kinda passed out halfway through, so we figured there wasn’t much point stopping,” he pointed out logically. “However, we did stop you from putting it on your arm,” he added as an afterthought.

Summer paled at that little piece of information. A tattoo was bad enough, but having one displayed on her bicep, like a bow legged sailor on shore leave, would have been nothing short of a catastrophe. Carefully she eased sideways once more, and took another look. It hadn’t registered in her fuzzy state of mind exactly what the tattoo had been of, only that somehow overnight she’d developed one. Looking at it now though, she was speechless. The whole thing was only ten centimeters round but the detail was astonishing. It comprised of an eagle, a globe of the world and an anchor—the Marine Corp insignia.

Maloney caught the glisten of tears, and took pity on her. “Come back inside and I’ll give you shot of vitamin B. That should have you feeling better in no time,” he said, emptying the dregs of his coffee onto the ground with a swift toss as he stood up. “And Summer,” he said turning back to face her. “I cleaned it up for you so it won’t get infected. We’d never let anything happen to you, you know.” he told her gruffly.

“I know.” she answered quietly. Getting to her feet and following him back inside meekly. Despite the insistent throbbing in her head she couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped. A tattoo? Willow was going to freak.

* * * *

Summer dozed for a while and woke feeling a lot better than she had earlier.

She rolled over and winced, remembering why her hip was still sore—too late. Lifting herself to rest on her elbows, she looked over and saw Tate sitting with his long legs before him, whittling a piece of wood casually.

“Good morning.” he said coolly.

Summer winced. He didn’t sound too happy about something she thought, hoping to escape before she found out why. Her head still felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool and she really didn’t feel up to being on the receiving end of Tate’s angry scowl. Getting to her feet, Summer realized she was too late. He’d just begun to wind up.

“From all accounts you enjoyed yourself last night,” he said as she made to walk outside.

“Apparently,” she agreed weakly—it was still hard to believe she’d done the things Del and Maloney had said she did.

“Do you think that was smart?” he asked, still not looking up from his woodcarving.

Judging from the way her head still pounded—no she didn’t think it had been too smart at all—but she’d be damned if she was going to admit that to Tate sitting there acting so condescending and self-righteous.

“If you have something you want to say,” Summer stopped in front of him, “say it so I can then go and find a shower.”

“Do you have any idea how stupid it was? Getting drunk like that?” he fumed tossing the knife across the room at a timber pole holding up part of the structure then stood up.

Summer’s gaze followed the throw. “So I drank too much—I’m not a saint. I’d imagine you’ve had too much to drink on occasion,” she watched in curious fascination, as the handle of the knife wobbled with the impact of striking the timber.

“That’s not the point,” he grated.

Switching her attention back to Tate, her temper simmered. “Of course it’s not. You’re a big strong man—taking care of man business whatever the weird kinda kinky shit that was—I’m just a woman who should sit in the corner and ‘stay’ like an obediently dog.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. Would you shut up and listen,” he asked, stepping closer to her.

Summer stared at him defiantly.

“Anything could have happened to you last night. You were passed out on the floor when I came back. Do you think any of the men here would think twice about taking you even in that condition?”

“Del and the others were here,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, and look where that got you,” he said, his eyes flicking down to rest on her hip.

Summer wondered if this conversation was not making any sense because her head had started to throb, or because she was finally going insane. What had she done that was so wrong?

“Well, if you’re so concerned about my welfare—where were you all night?”

“I was negotiating our way out of here—alive. In case you’ve forgotten, we aren’t exactly here on vacation,” he snapped.

Summer stared at him for a long moment. “Why are you so angry at me?” she asked quietly, looking up into his frowning face.

Tate studied her, his eyes soaking up her slightly blood shot eyes—still blue enough to drown in and her tempting mouth, that was occasionally too smart for her own good and felt the tension drain out of him. He knew he was overreacting. He was making a fool of himself. But when he’d come back last night and found her sleeping, he’d thought about waking her to take her down to a secluded spot he’d found earlier in the day, wanting nothing more than to just have her alone. To be able to tell her things—stupid things, he shouldn’t be dreaming of. He’d just wanted a few lousy minutes of privacy without an audience in the same room.

Then he’d come closer and discovered she was drunk…his Summer, his perfect—untainted, Summer, had gotten completely sloshed.

Immediately, he’d gone back outside and confronted Del and Tupper and even Maloney—badly wanting to make someone pay for ruining the only thing that had gotten him through sitting there listening to that bastard Duffy, insulting his country and his pride, just to keep him onside and ensure their safety. To come back and find the very people he trusted with her safety, had betrayed him, had been the last straw.

In the cold hard light of day, he could see he’d overreacted, and probably deserved the dirty looks he had put up with all morning from the men in his unit—after raking them over the coals the night before.

Yep, Ox. You’re losin’ it.
Big time. Summer Sheldon had brought him to his knees and now he didn’t even have her onside—he’d seen to that just now by jumping all over her as soon as she’d opened her eyes. He gave a frustrated ‘Argggh’ then rubbed his hands through his hair. “I’m getting you out of here,” he told her, heading for the door.

Summer frowned “What are you talking about?” she called after him, and then had to hurry to catch up with him as he went outside. “Tate Maddox, Get your chauvinistic arse, back here now. I’m talking to you damn it!” she yelled.

He stopped and spun around to face her. “You never swore until now either—you’ve been hanging around Marines too long.”

* * * *

Summer had gone down to the river she’d found not far from the main camp and washed out her clothing—sick of living in the filthy shorts and shirt she’d had on for the better part of seventy-two hours.

Maloney was standing guard not far away, within calling distance in case any trouble came along. She might be angry with Tate, but she wasn’t stupid. These Mercenary men scared the day lights out of her.

She walked into the cold water and washed, scampering back up the bank to wrap herself in the towel she’d brought down with her. Her clothes were wet, but thankfully now clean, so she sat down in a sunny spot and waited for them to be at least a little drier, before she put them back on.

Maloney had told her to take her time; there wasn’t a lot to be in a hurry for, at least for the moment. They were pretty much stranded here, until they got some kind of word it was safe for them to move.

A stick broke behind her and she spun around in alarm to find Tate standing there looking down at her, with the hard expression he wore when he was playing his cards close to his chest. Yes, she’d gotten to know all his little habits and moods. She’d learnt to figure him out the hard way, with lots of experience. Just like now, once more she was on the receiving end of one of his disgruntled looks.

“Before you start, Maloney’s just over there. I asked him to come with me,” she said defensively, before he could start on her for being irresponsible…again.

“I know. I’m relieving him, so to speak,” he said, coming over to sit beside her.