Red, Hot & Blue 09 - A Prince Among Men (5 page)

Vicki was not about to let the only story lead she’d found in weeks walk out the door without her. She grabbed the magazine and her oversized bag, which weighed far too much to be carrying around considering she was already weighed down with the damn body armor. She ran after him and caught the door he let slam before it hit her.

“I think you’re going to want to hear me out.” She spoke to his broad, stiff back.

“And why is that?” He laughed as he walked ahead of her. He didn’t turn around or even slow down.

“Because I could write a story about you whether you want me to or not. Your pictures are already in the public domain. You’re a public figure now, so you’re fair game.” She hated to do it, but this was war after all, and she was desperate.

That piece of information stopped him in his tracks. He spun back to her. “Why would you want to do that to me?”

“Because I came all the way here to get a story about how the lives of women in Afghanistan have changed since the defeat of the Taliban, and all I’ve seen since I’ve gotten here is fast-food restaurants and American and Canadian soldiers. Not one local Afghani woman anywhere. I’m getting nowhere on my story.”

“So? What does that have to do with me?”

“So maybe if you helped me, I could find the story I want to write and I wouldn’t have to write the one about you.”

He crossed his massive forearms across his chest. “So basically you’re blackmailing me.”

Vicki bit her lip. “Um, maybe. Is it working?”

He cocked a brow. “No.”

She raised her camera, as if to line up a photo of him, but all she saw through the viewfinder was one huge hand as he fisted the lens and forced the camera down and away from her face.

He let out a huge sigh. “What do you think I can do to help with this story of yours?”

Ignoring the way he said story, as if she was a child playing a silly game and not a serious reporter trying to change lives, Vicki read the name written on the patch across his chest. But she’d be damned if she could decipher the other stuff on his uniform that would tell her his rank. “Well, um, Hawkins…”

Her obvious ignorance of military matters had him snorting out a laugh. “Sergeant Hawkins, and what the hell are you doing here in the middle of Afghanistan, Miss…?”

“Vanover. Victoria Ann Vanover, but everyone calls me Vicki.” She extended her hand as she sensed a tentative truce forming between herself and the hulk before her. “And I told you, I’m here for my story, and I’m not leaving this country until I get it, Sergeant Hawkins.”

He took her hand as if he was afraid he would break her. “You can call me Hawk. And I still don’t know why you think I can help you.”

“But you’re willing to try, or at least hear me out if I promise not to write a story about you?”

That little reminder of her more-than-likely bogus blackmail threat brought a scowl to his lips. “Yeah, I guess.”

The bigger they were, the harder they fell. Vicki felt a huge smile tugging at her lips as she looked up at the towering giant above her, the one she’d just conquered single-handedly. She managed to control her grin and not look overly gleeful. Vicki didn’t want to push her luck, but she still silently congratulated herself.

Now all she had to do was come up with a way he could help her get her story, but really, how hard could that be? It would just take a bit of creative ingenuity. “Can we sit down somewhere and talk?” She’d have to get to know more about the man before she could determine how best to use him to her advantage.

He rolled his eyes. “All right. Where?”

Vicki glanced around them. “The coffee shop? I could use a cup of coffee.”

And she happened to know they had the best chocolate croissants there too. If she couldn’t have sex, she’d have chocolate.

“Fine.” He nodded and grudgingly headed in the direction of the franchise coffee shop. Then he halted and turned to issue a warning. “But we are sitting as far away from everyone else as we can get, and you are going to keep your voice down and not mention that magazine ad or writing a story about me again.”

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes at him. “Fine.”

Inside the shop, she learned more about Hawk just by getting coffee. Vicki nearly had to wrestle him right there on line to get him to let her pay for his plain black coffee along with her large, double-shot, sugar-free vanilla-soy latte. She finally managed it, though she was certain Hawk’s coffee tasted bitter to him simply because a woman had paid for it. Some men were stuck in the Dark Ages.

“So, are you stationed here at KAF?” she asked once they were seated at his choice of tables, where he could keep his back against the wall and watch the door at the same time while remaining out of earshot of the other patrons. Talk about paranoid.

“No,” he answered simply.

This was going to be a hell of an interview if he persisted with the one-word answers. She’d get the necessary information out of him one way or another. Vicki was a reporter and a damn good one, and although Hawk was a challenge, she’d had difficult interviews before.

“All right. Where are you stationed?” she prodded. Anywhere other than here sounded pretty good to her about now.

“In the Helmand Province.”

Vicki scribbled that down in the notebook she’d pulled out of her bag. “Which base? What’s the name?”

“Why does the name matter?”

Why do you have to be so difficult? She longed to ask him that. Instead, she shrugged. “Actually, you’re right. The name doesn’t matter as much as the location. So tell me this, do you have a Pizza Hut and a coffee place at your base?”

That earned her a snort of a laugh from Hawk. “No.”

That was very promising news. “Are there locals there?”

“Yes.”

Okay. Another one-word response, but at least the one she wanted to hear.

“Women?” Vicki was getting excited now.

“On base, no.”

“Anywhere near base in the surrounding country?” she clarified. This guy was as hard to get a straight answer out of as the prime minister.

“Yes.” Hawk looked as if he didn’t want to tell her, but he did eventually.

Woo hoo. Vicki did a happy dance in her head.

Meanwhile, Vicki noticed Hawk watching as she excitedly tapped her pink pen on her matching leather-covered notebook and absently twirled her chin-length chestnut hair around one finger.

“Can I ask you a question now?” he asked.

Surprised at his interest, she nodded. “Sure. What?”

“What the hell is a woman like you doing here in Afghanistan?”

A woman like her? What was that supposed to mean? The judgment in his voice and the disparaging sound of the comment got her immediately riled up.

She leaned forward in the chair. “I’m here because these women need me. They have no voice of their own. Even women supposedly with a voice still have no say. Listen to this.”

Vicki whipped a file folder and some papers out of her bag and waved them in his direction. “Reporters Without Borders reported in this article that on May 31, 2007, a twenty-two-year-old female Pashtun television personality was shot at point-blank range in her family’s home in Kabul. When the police arrested the man two days later, he reported he’d been hired to punish her for refusing to marry. Surely even you, Sergeant Hawkins, see how wrong that is.”

She immediately regretted her last sentence as his face hardened. When he leaned menacingly forward, she’d never seen a man look scarier in her life.

“Of course I see it’s wrong.” He spoke slow, low and even and so near her face she felt the air of his words rush at her. “I risk my life and the lives of my men each and every day for the rights of these people. Men, women and children.”

“Of course you do. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply anything.” Damn, she was messing this up in a major way.

Hawk leaned back in his seat and Vicki felt able to breathe again. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Ms. Vanover?”

Ignoring that they were no longer on a first-name basis, Vicki nodded. “Yes, you can take me to your base.”

That request visibly took him by surprise. “What? Why?”

“So I can talk to the locals and get the real story.”

Hawk shook his head. “No. Definitely not.”

“Why not?”

“For one, there are no women at my base.”

“So?”

“So? There’s a reason for that. It’s not some resort or spa you can just flit off to. You wouldn’t like it. Trust me. There are no women because women don’t belong there, and you definitely couldn’t handle it.”

Vicki let out a huff of air at that insult. “Saying stuff like that, you sound as bad as the Pashtun men.” One angry look from him had her backpedaling immediately. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m just frustrated.”

Then an idea struck her—a terrible, wonderful idea. Pretending she was hot, which actually she was, she opened the front of her body armor and fanned herself lightly with a folder.

“Hawk, if you decided to take me with you, I’m sure I could make it worth your while.” Vicki unobtrusively pulled the hem of her shirt slightly lower in front. The neckline dropped deep enough to show just the swelling tops of her not inconsiderably sized breasts. She leaned toward him. Vicki watched his gaze drop predictably to her cleavage as he raised his brows.

Hawk drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. After what seemed like a really long time, he finally spoke. “Just so there’s no mistake, let me get this straight. Did you just offer yourself to me if I take you to my base?”

Hmm. What answer was he looking for here? Should she play innocent and deny it? Or was he interested and she should confirm the offer? Not that she’d really go through with it. She could worry about the consequences of crossing Hawk later. After she was at his base and had a story.

As she tried to decide which way to play this, he shook his head and stood.

She panicked and jumped up from her own seat, trying to figure out how to stop him from leaving.

Flinging his empty coffee cup in the garbage, Hawk glanced back at her over his shoulder. “I leave tomorrow at thirteen hundred. Be packed and ready to go.”

Holy Crap. “You mean you’re taking me with you?”

“Yes, and if you’re smart, you won’t say another word or I may come to my senses and change my mind.”

The thrill of getting what she wanted coursed through her until another realization hit. Did his giving in mean he expected her to put out?

Uh, oh. What if she couldn’t get out of her bogus offer of sex? What then?

All right, she could do this if she had to. She could probably force herself to go through with it considering she was horny and he was physically attractive, in an annoying, macho-asshole sort of way. She could always close her eyes and pretend he was Groundpounder. That might work, even though Hawk and his caveman personality and grunted, one-word dialogue was the polar opposite of Groundpounder’s eloquence.

This was all a bit more complicated than she had originally anticipated, but she was finally going to get her story. That outweighed everything else. The details would work themselves out somehow.

Gathering her papers from the table, she grabbed her coffee cup and scurried off after him to ask where she should meet him the next day. Then she’d have to track down the commander here at KAF and straighten out all the necessary paperwork.

She’d get her story and worry about the consequences, sexual or other, later.

Time seems to be flying now that my leader is away and I am in charge in his absence.

Monday was patrol day again. Patrol day is always a fun time when we get to leave the small measure of safety provided by the firebase’s wire-lined fences. Members of my squad travel to the far reaches of our sector. Black, Bender, Moraches, Walker, Wallace and I, a handful of soldiers, out in the open, exposed, pitted against a numerically superior, unseen enemy.

The tactical importance of this geographic bowl cannot be underestimated. My firebase sits right in the center of what used to be a favored passage of the Taliban. Our primary mission is to make sure it never becomes that again.

Tuesday was a training day. We often go to the range we constructed to practice team and squad tactics. I ran my soldiers through rigorous events designed to hone their skills to the point the motions are second nature.

Ryan’s fingers halted on the keyboard as a familiar, faint sound cut through the air. Lou’s helicopter. Mail call.

He saved what he’d written so far and flipped the lid of the laptop shut to keep out Wally’s prying eyes before he left the hut and went to stand near the landing zone.

No other chopper sounded the same as Lou’s. Like the pilot himself, it was definitely one of a kind. Both were older than dirt but kept trudging along, getting the job done and always there for you if you needed them.

Although mail call felt less exciting than it used to now that Gretchen had given him the big heave-ho, there was always hope for care packages from family or supporters back home. Waiting anxiously to help offload the mail once Lou landed, Ryan was soon joined by Wally, who probably wanted to see if any more beef jerky would be arriving. Whatever the reason, the more hands helping, the quicker the job would be done.

An even bigger surprise was waiting for them than jerky. That became obvious when Hawk jumped out and turned to reach into the chopper. Was Ryan hallucinating, or was that really a female his leader was helping out of the chopper?

Oh my God.

Next to him, Wally let out a long whistle. “Looks like Hawk picked up more than Afghanis. Unless that’s what he bought with the money. And I tell you what, if that is what he spent it on, he better damn well be fixin’ to share.”

Doubtful, on all counts. Ryan’s first thought was that the woman must be Emily, Hawk’s girlfriend. She’d been with them at Bagram, so it wasn’t inconceivable she could be here at base working on another ad with Hawk. But Emily was blonde and very slender, and even from this distance, Ryan could see this woman was a brunette and filled out a bit more voluptuously than Emily, in all the right places, he might add. That was obvious even beneath the body armor.