Unexpected Oasis

Unexpected Oasis

C.D. Hussey

Copyright (c) 2014 C.D. Hussey

Cover Art by Michelle Warren

All rights reserved. This eBook may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by any means, without expressed, written permission. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidences are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Other Books by C.D. Hussey

The Human Vampire Series

La Luxure:
Discover Your Blood Lust

Book One in the Human Vampire Series

de Sang
: Embrace Your Blood Lust

Book Two in the Human Vampire Series

Eveillez
: Deny Your Blood Lust

Book Three in the Human Vampire Series

Expiez
: Redeem Your Blood Lust

Book Four in the Human Vampire Series

Blood of My Blood Series

Villere House:
Blood of My Blood

Coming Fall/Winter 2014!

Bayou Grisé:
Sins of Sanite

To stay updated with C.D. Hussey, please visit:
http://www.cdhussey.com/

CHAPTER ONE

I
t isn't until the plane lands and I finally slide the window shade up to reveal an endless sea of rocky brown wasteland that I truly begin to question my decision to come here.

Dusty, desolate, desperate, dead—all perfectly good descriptors of the Afghanistan countryside. Dead might be going too far since there
are
actually people milling about on the Tarmac. But since they're covered from head to toe, with wrap-around sunglasses and scarves over their mouths, presumably to protect their eyes and lungs from the fine layer of dust floating in the air like smoke, it's hard to say. There could be corpses under all that fabric for all I know.

What have I done? Six months? Did I really sign on for six months?

It's voluntary contract work, so really, I can quit at any time.

And go back to what exactly?

With a sigh, I peer out into the endless brown. At least the mountains looming in the distance—past a three-foot thick, razor wire topped fence—look pretty. Rocky, but pretty.

I wanted, no,
needed
, change. And this is Mars compared to Lawrence, Kansas. No doubt about that.

Clutching my small carry-on, I shuffle off the plane among a sea of
Fatigues
. I'm not the only civilian flying in from Dubai, but close. The other civilian is a short, skinny, middle-aged man wearing khakis and a plaid button up shirt.

I know he's another engineer and I know he's heading to the same compound I am. Not only because he looks like an engineer—there's a look, trust me—but because he has his work badge tucked into his front shirt pocket. I can just make out the name of the company I work for, "Hughes & Ralston", at the top.

He tried talking to me in the Dubai airport and I ignored him. I won't be able to ignore him for much longer.

The sun is oppressively bright as I emerge from the plane and beats down on me with unwavering intensity. My sunglasses feel inadequate—a metaphor for how unprepared I am for the next six months.

My comrade is standing at the bottom on the airstairs, looking as shellshocked as I feel. He holds out his hand as I step off the last stair. I might as well get over my introversion. After all, I'm going to be working with this guy. I can't be an island forever.

Although really, that's what I want. I want to drown myself into work during the day and hide in my own little bubble at night. I don't want to make friends. I don't want to socialize. I want to disappear into this crazy, foreign environment, and forget the last seven years of my life. Especially the last seven months.

I end up smiling and shaking his hand with firm, fake enthusiasm.

"Conrad Fisher," he says.

"Andrea Gib—" I close my eyes at the slip. "Ellis," I correct. I'm still readjusting to my maiden name. It was a pain in the ass to change it back. My entire professional life was based on my married name. But I couldn't be Andrea Gibson anymore.

"Hughes & Ralston, right? I was told a lady from the Kansas City office would be arriving the same time as me."

I smile but my teeth stay planted behind my lips.

"Look, they're unloading the plane," he says.

Oh good. Hopefully, he'll be distracted enough looking for his bags he won't try to continue the conversation.

We shuffle to the side of the plane where baggage is being tossed onto a conveyor belt and then flung aside by workers. Conrad retrieves two large pieces of luggage. After a few minutes where we stand in awkward silence, my red suitcase tumbles recklessly down the belt and lands in a poof of dust when tossed aside.

I frown. My entire life is in that bag. I sold everything before coming here. And I mean everything. I hired someone to hold an estate sale for me. Like I'd died. It wasn't far from the truth.

I retrieve my fallen bag and try in vain to brush off the dust. The particles are so fine they've already soaked into the voids in the fabric. Short of a super, heavy duty, industrial, SteamVac, I'm not sure what will remove them.

"So, what now?" Conrad wonders. "How the hell are we supposed to know who our escort is?"

I glance around the airfield. It's crawling with activity. Men, women, all in some form of uniform, busily doing whatever they do.

"I have no idea—" And then I see him, walking toward us with unwavering purpose. He's huge, intense to look at, and radiates unmistakable authority.

He carries himself like a military man, but his clothing definitely puts him in civilian category. Khaki pants and a lightweight button up shirt—the type sold in sporting goods stores for fishermen—with the sleeves rolled up. Even through the loose fabric I can see the bulging outline of his shoulder muscles and his exposed forearms look like a bundle of twisted ropes. A very expensive looking watch is showcased on his left wrist.

His hair is short and neatly trimmed, but his dark brown, nearly black stubble is slightly scruffy and splattered with gray. I can't see his eyes beneath the mirrored Oakley's, but I can still feel his hard stare on me.

I look down. I'm suddenly sixteen and the cutest guy in high school is walking toward me.

I'm once again reminded of Mars as I twist my foot back and forth in the rocks and dust. Though it would probably be easier to find water on Mars than this parched piece of earth. Truly an alien world…

The sound of my name snaps me back to attention. The cutest guy in high school stands before me expectantly. I remind myself I'm a professional woman with twenty years on the sixteen-year-old squirming inside me and hold out my hand. He shakes it firmly. His hand is large and roughly calloused. It feels good wrapped around mine.

He also shakes hands with Conrad, but all I can think about is the size of his hand and how it dwarfs Conrad's. 

"Jason Trey," he says. His voice is deep, rumbling, and quite sexy. There is apparently no end to his attractiveness. I find the thought odd. It's been a while since I've thought of any man besides Jim as sexy. "Though everyone calls me Trey. I'm head of security for Merritec Village. I will be your escort today. First things first, I need to see your badges."

My badge is on a lanyard around my neck, and I dig it out from beneath my shirt as he looks over Conrad's badge. When he turns to scan mine, I can't help feeling a tad self-conscious. The badge is right between my breasts, my shirt is tight, and I can't tell if I'm sweating through the fabric or not.

Once finished, he points to my bag and asks, "Is that all of your luggage?"

I nod, not trusting my voice just yet. He picks up my sixty-pound suitcase, the muscles in his forearm twitching beautifully as he does. Flicking his chin toward a white SUV with black tinted windows, he says, "We're in the Toyota B6. Follow me."

Another hulking man gets out of the vehicle when we approach and opens the back gate. "This is Justin Johnson, my second and our medic today."

Medic? We need a medic?

"Double D," the man corrects in a thick southern accent.

"Not Double J?" I ask.

"Nope," he replies with a grin. "Double D." He salutes us with a forefinger and a wink, and then turns to the SUV and opens the rear cargo doors.

Trey carefully sets my suitcase in the back and turns to Conrad. "You going to put your stuff in the back?"

"Uh, yeah."

Trey waits with an impatient twist to his lips as Conrad struggles to heave his oversized duffle into the truck and then his huge suitcase. Panting like he's just run a marathon, he joins me and we wait for instructions.

Double D grabs something dark out of the SUV and hands them to Trey. I realize with a skip to my heart they're bulletproof vests. Military style helmets dangle from the vest straps.

"D here is going to do a quick search of your bags—nothing too intrusive, we just need to make sure your luggage hasn't been compromised."

All I can think about is my vibrator tucked away in one of the pockets. It hasn't gotten a lot of use lately—I haven't been feeling sexual, even with myself—but I brought it anyway. There's no way
D
will miss it.

"Is that really necessary?" Conrad says.

"Yes," Trey replies. Short, sweet, and to the point.

D has already begun looking through my bag. He doesn't linger as he sifts through my clothes and unzips pockets.

"You can put this on while we wait," Trey says, handing one of the vests to Conrad. He just about drops it when Trey releases his grip on the tan Kevlar.

  He turns to me. "Here." He opens the other vest and I tentatively slip my head through the opening. When he drops it on my shoulders my knees buckle but I try my damnedest to hide the weakness. For some reason I don't want to see that impatient twist on Trey's lips when he looks at me.

"They are heavy," he mutters. Leaning close, he reaches around me, pulling the side straps to the front and fastening them.

His nearness doesn't escape the attention of the sixteen-year-old inside me. I can see his eyelids through the gap in the top of his glasses. I can't see his eyes, but he has thick black eyelashes most women would kill for—including myself.

He looks up at me and I see my reflection in his lenses. I look star-struck. And old. When did I start looking so haggard? Oh right, seven months ago. I quickly look away.

"Thanks," I say quietly. Once again I'm an awkward teenager. I shift uncomfortably under the heavy vest.

"Here." He gives me a helmet and I put it on. Now I feel
really
awkward.

He turns to Conrad struggling helplessly with his vest. I hear him sigh before leaving me to help my coworker get suited up.

The SUV doesn't look that special. Actually, it doesn't look special at all. Heat sears my skin as anxiety overtakes my brain. I'm wearing body armor, we're about to leave the safety of the military base, there have been a number of contract workers in this region kidnapped and beheaded, I'm a woman in a world where my gender can be stoned to death for being raped, and I'm about to drive into the middle of it all in this soccer mom mobile?

I'm going to burst into flames. Any minute…poof! Nothing but ash.

"Before we head out, we need to go over some ground rules."

Trey's deep commanding voice is ice cubes in my coffee. He and Double D stand at the rear of the Toyota, their positions identical—legs spread wide, hands clasped behind their backs. I'm reminded of the drill sergeant in every military movie I've ever seen.

"When we leave the airbase and hit Indian Territory, any number of things could happen. It's unlikely but we still need to be prepared. If we encounter any problems before we hit the highway, we'll push back to the airfield. After that point, we'll push on to the compound. If anything happens to me, Double D here is in charge." The other man holds up a hand. "If we encounter enemy fire, get down in the vehicle wheel-well." He bangs against the side of the SUV. "There's a panic button attached to the steering column. If neither Double D nor I are able to activate it, you'll need to. But then get back to the wheel-well until help arrives. Do not leave the vehicle. Whatever you do, stay inside the vehicle. Is that clear?"

I nod and see Conrad do the same, but my head is swimming in a pool of fuzz. Panic button? Indian Territory? Enemy fire? Another shot of heat lights up my body.

I close my eyes and try not to let my anxiety show.

"There's no need to worry," Trey continues, his deep rumble soothing. "It's unlikely we'll encounter any problems." I open my eyes to find him looking directly at me. "Very unlikely."

I nod again and then glance away. In some ways I wish I could see his eyes so I could tell what he's thinking, but then decide I don't actually want to know.

I climb into the SUV. Conrad gets in beside me, and Trey and Double D overflow the front seats with their massive bodies. Trey holds up what looks like a missile launcher attached to a cord.

"Panic button," he says before returning it to a holder mounted under the steering wheel.      

I rap my knuckles lightly on the window. It's like knocking on solid oak and I feel somewhat better. Must be bulletproof glass…

"Everyone buckled in?" Trey asks. My confirming yes is barely audible. "Let's rock and roll then."

Double D releases a "Whoop" as we pull away and I feel like we're heading into battle, especially when he checks over his gun.

I have confidence in our security team's ability to protect us, but my heart still roars to a sprinter's pace as we exit the airbase.

Immediately outside the fence, the scenery dramatically changes. We're on a paved road in the middle of what looks like rush hour. The vehicles sharing our road are a mixture of heavy-duty trucks, motorbikes loaded with supplies and passengers alike, old compact cars, a few new ones, and the occasional goat. I even see a car with at least four children sitting in the open trunk.

The driving is erratic and seems to have zero rules, but though I see a few close calls, miraculously everything progresses smoothly. I'm reminded of my trip to Rome and then immediately forget it. The last thing I want to think about is my honeymoon.