Running Fire

“I’ve never been on the receiving end of a combat medic before,” Leah admitted. Now, with her arm in a sling, she only had one good hand and found herself fumbling with the other packets.

The next moment, Kell was kneeling next to her, his knee nearly touching her thigh. It happened so fast, so silently, that Leah began to realize what SEAL meant. The man moved like a shadow. She’d been focused on trying to open the packet of food, distracted, and he’d just shown up like magic at her side.

“Let me do that,” he murmured, taking the bag. He tore it open, looked at the rest of the MRE and got everything open and available for her to eat after it was heated up. He took the plastic utensils out of their wrapper, as well.

“I’m not used to feeling helpless,” Leah muttered uncomfortably, giving him an apologetic look.

“Everyone needs to lean on someone at some point,” Kell said philosophically, easing back to where his MRE sat. Leaning up against the wall, one long leg hitched up, he quickly consumed everything in the MRE.

Leah thought about his words, slowly testing the food. If her stomach rebelled, she was not going to eat even if Kell wanted her to. Somehow, she knew he’d understand.

Kell tipped his head back and glanced over at Leah. He’d seen her brows dip over his comment. “Tell me about your family. Where were you born?”

The questions, softly asked, made Leah’s stomach clench. She owed him, so she said, “I was born in Istanbul, Turkey. My father is in the Army. He was stationed there with our family.”

“Turkey? You’re exotic, then,” he teased, smiling at her. Kell saw her look awkward. Why? “That was a compliment,” he added. And she was exotic looking, her green eyes slightly tilted, giving her a mysterious quality. But in truth? He also saw a haunted look in them, as well. Kell couldn’t figure out why she was so wary of him. So troubled.

“I’m hardly exotic,” Leah muttered darkly. It thrilled her that he saw her like that. At the same time, she remembered Hayden making fun of the tilt of her eyes, saying she looked ugly. She looked different. No other man would want her. She was lucky to have him. Oh, yeah, real damned lucky.

“Listen,” Kell said gently, “if you’re uncomfortable with me because I’m an enlisted person and you’re a warrant officer, you just tell me.”

Stricken, Leah felt her lips part as she stared in shock over his statement. “What? No. Of course not. You saved my life, Kell. I’ve never been one to make a big deal that I’m a warrant. I work with enlisted people all the time and I see them as part of my team. I respect them.”

“That’s good to know,” he said, holding her upset gaze. “You just need to speak up and tell me what’s comfortable for you and what’s not. I have a feeling you aren’t too good at communicating to others on a personal level.” He added a slight grin to take the sting out of his observation.

Leah was hiding a whole helluva lot and he felt as if she was a mine field he had to negotiate. He wasn’t sure where to step with Leah without her becoming defensive. Like she was right now.

Leah scowled, hit hard by his comment. She was too tired to put up her normal defenses to keep the world—and him—at bay. Kell had been nothing but kind, caring and supportive toward her. Leah waffled between evading what he’d asked and telling him the truth. She put the MRE aside, no longer hungry.

“It’s hard for me to open up,” she admitted, her voice strained.

“Maybe a trust issue?”

She stared at him. Good God, he was a mind reader! Leah saw no judgment in Kell’s expression, his expression sympathetic as he held her shaken gaze. She leaned back against the rock wall and closed her eyes. “I don’t trust too many people,” she admitted wearily.

Well, if she had been a real mine field, Kell told himself grimly, he’d have just lost his leg. The look on Leah’s face bothered him. She was a beautiful, confident, intelligent woman. A powerhouse, because she was a ball-busting Shadow pilot. Only the cream of the Army’s helo pilots ever got invited to join the 80th. And she was one of them.

He ate the rest of his MRE in silence. Looking at his watch, he knew he had to get going to find a new hide. His old one had been compromised last night.

Silently rising, Kell went about putting on his H-gear harness, placing six mags of bullets for his .300 Win-Mag rifle in the front pockets. Automatically, he checked his SIG Sauer pistol, made sure a bullet was in the chamber and slid it back into his drop holster.

His mind was moving over a mental list of what he had to do. Dawn was a good time to search for a new hide location. Usually, the Taliban didn’t start moving until after first light. Prayers and tea, in that order, first. By that time, the sun was well above the horizon. He set the rifle on the wall near his ruck.

Leah watched him, the silence heavy in the cave. It was because of her. Her prickly defensiveness. She never wanted a man to get inside her walls again. Never wanted a man to know who she was, her vulnerabilities and weaknesses. Hayden had exploited every one of them against her, took her power and controlled her to a large extent. Kell had scared the hell out of her with his simple observations. He was right that trust didn’t come easy to her. Compressing her lips, she asked, “How long will you be gone?”

“Until nightfall,” he answered. Kell handed her four bottles of water from his ruck and set them beside her. “I want to see these empty when I get back tonight,” he told her, giving her a serious look. “There’s a cave to the right of this one. There’s all kinds of foodstuffs, ammo and boxes of water. I don’t know how steady you’ll be on your feet today, but if you get bored, look around a little.”

“Okay,” she said. He was so damned swift and efficient, his hands flying over his gear, pulling the ruck up on one shoulder, the Win-Mag in his large left hand. He settled the boonie cap on his head. He had a pair of wraparound sunglasses hanging out of one of his cammie shirt pockets.

Kell strode out of the cave, turned right, and Leah could hear him repacking his ruck. When he came back, he set the ruck down, strapped the Win-Mag on the back of it and then hauled on the pack. Moving his hands along the thick straps, he belted it up so it rode comfortably on his shoulders and around his waist.

“I’m taking the sat phone,” Kell told her. “There will be no way for you to contact me.” He gestured to the cave. “No signals get in or out of here.” And then his voice became teasing. “If I had an iPod, I’d give it to you to listen to some good bluegrass music, but it’s back at Bravo.”

She managed a slight smile, drowning in the warmth of his gray gaze. “I like bluegrass.”

“Really?” Kell was pleased. “We have something in common.” He patted his left breast pocket. “I always carry my harmonica with me.”

“Where were you born?” Leah couldn’t stop the personal question from flying out of her mouth. She had a million questions for this man who had saved her life.

“Sandy Hook, Kentucky. My folks are originally from Alabama and moved us up north when I was a year old.” He crouched down near her, his eyes becoming serious looking. “Now listen, Sugar, you take it easy on yourself today. I know you’re a Type-A hotshot pilot, but right now, your wings are clipped and you need to stand down for just a bit.”

Leah felt like the sun had suddenly come out and incredible warmth encircled her. It was Kell. It was his genuine care and concern for her. She felt heat moving from her neck into her face. At twenty-eight she was blushing? His eyes were large, intense upon her, as if she were his whole world in that moment. The sensation was hot, alive, and Leah suddenly felt her body respond to him as a man. Rocked by the unexpected sensations, she managed in a whisper, “I’ll be good. Don’t worry.”

Kell grinned and reached out, moving a few strands away from her flushed cheek and eased them behind her delicate ear. He’d seen his care make an amazing difference in Leah. It struck him that she wasn’t used to a man’s attention. And that she was innocent. As if she didn’t know how to handle him or his teasing. Kell tucked that knowledge away, not wanting Leah to feel threatened by him. In the back of his mind, he was very sure some bastard had really hurt her emotionally. She reacted like an injured animal that was constantly being threatened. And he saw her eyes suddenly go soft when he’d tucked those ginger-colored strands behind her ear.

He liked touching her, understanding she craved it. He craved her. That was a far different scenario. This was his territory, his world, and she was a stranger to it, thrown off guard and out of her element. It was up to him to make her feel welcomed and a part of it.

“Take care out there,” Leah whispered as he rose fluidly to his feet.

“Always,” Ballard promised. He lifted his hand and then walked silently out of the cave.

* * *

KELL SAW A SMALL penlight on as he approached the cave many hours later. He turned the corner and saw Leah sitting up, her gaze on him as he appeared around the wall of the cave. “How are you doing?” he asked quietly, coming over and shrugging out of the ruck.

“Okay,” she murmured. “How’d it go out there today? Any luck?”

He knelt down on one knee, setting the ruck up against the wall. “No luck. I had to find and build a new hide today. Took most of the day, and the Taliban was quiet in the area.” He gave her a glance, seeing that her eyes looked dull. “Are you in pain?”

“A little,” Leah admitted, pointing to her arm in the sling.

“I should have left you some pain pills,” he said with apology, opening his ruck. “Here—” he handed her the medication “—this will stop the pain but keep you clearheaded.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, popping the pill in her mouth and drinking the last of the water in the fourth bottle.

Leah didn’t want to admit she’d looked forward to Kell coming back to the cave. His skin gleamed with sweat and she could tell he’d been running. His trousers were filthy, probably from digging a hide into a rocky mountain slope. He tossed his boonie cap over on his sleeping bag. His hair was dusty, as well.

He took off his H-gear, setting it next to the ruck. “Have you been up and about?”

“I tried.” She pointed to her bandaged head. “Dizzy.”

“Were you wanting to pitch forward?” he wondered, sitting down on the sleeping bag and unlacing his desert boots.

“Yes. How did you know?”

He smiled tiredly. “That’s a deep cut on your scalp. And I think you have a pretty good concussion. Probably a level-two variety. Most people get nausea and dizziness for two or three days after the incident.” He pulled off his boots and his dark green socks that were soaked with sweat. Rubbing his fingers across his aching feet, he said, “I’m taking a bath over there in that pool,” and pointed to it. “Need to get clean.”

“I’ve been looking at that pool, too,” Leah said wistfully. She wrinkled her nose. “I’m filthy.”