Beyond The Limit (4 page)

“That means that you did a little research on me,” he said, running his hand along the wood-paneled wall. Roland Construction obviously paid attention to details. In other construction projects, the low bidder had given him trailers that were nothing but shells, filled with old, dilapidated furniture.

Cali followed him into the adjoining sleeping area. She'd personally picked out the conservative rust-red, autumn-gold and burnished-orange print for the practical cotton bedspread. To add to his comforts, Cali had hired a widow from a nearby village to clean Pete's trailer on a weekly basis. The woman had been taught how to use the washer and dryer in the trailer for his laundry. The curtains, bedspread, sheets and other linens were all washable, and nothing required ironing.

“This is nice,” Pete murmured, liking the dark brown curtains hanging in the two windows. He caught himself. Would he be saying this to a male? No. Scowling, he added, “It will do.” The middle panels were white lace, which lightened the place considerably.

A personal computer for his private use sat on a built-in desk in one corner, and a solid, blond-wood storage cabinet with a lockbox stood by the bed.

“I know we have the best security, but you need a safe for your important papers.”

Pete didn't argue. “Vigilance pays off.”

“Every time,” Cali agreed grimly. She'd learned from experience, long ago, to install safes that couldn't be moved by enterprising thieves.

“I see a TV,” Pete stated. “That seems out of place.”

“Television doesn't work out here,” Cali said, pointing to the small set on one of the cabinets opposite his bed. “I'm working on getting you a satellite feed. It has taken me three weeks to get the paperwork through channels in Kabul, something I thought would go a lot faster than it has. There's a drawerful of the latest DVDs.” She pointed toward the cabinet. “I think that will keep you out of trouble and sate your appetite for a while. Satellite hookup should be another two weeks if we're lucky, I'm told.”

Turning, Pete tried to remain immune to her presence, which was like sunlight shining through dark clouds. Cali's short red hair was slightly mussed by the breeze crossing the Afghan plain. There was a challenging glint in her eyes. His gaze fell to her full mouth. “You've thought of everything.” What did she look like when she really smiled out of pure joy?
Don't go there, Trayhern. That's dangerous country, pardner. You should know that by now….

Feeling heat moving within her, Cali tried to cover her surprise over the intimate, burning look Pete sent her. Just as quickly, it vanished. The man was a woman magnet—no doubt about that! Accordingly, she moved away and walked quickly down the hall toward the central workroom.

“I hope so,” she responded. “I already have a site radio and satellite phone installed. All four computers, office and personal, in the trailer are hooked up to a special satellite connection so you can e-mail Kabul about business, and in your spare time, your friends around the world. The commercial feeds aren't installed yet, but will be soon.”

Cali felt Pete behind her, the pleasant hollow sound of his boots oddly comforting. Fighting her responses, she kept an even tone in her voice. “You can continue to talk to the outside world.” She turned and motioned to the large counter. Beneath it the project drawings hung from racks, ready for use. “Last but not least, the rest of your workstation.”

Pete halted near the entrance to the work area. He really liked the quarters. The main space included two desks, several built-in file cabinets and a framed print of a massive grizzly bear catching fish in a mountain river. Cali had done her homework, and that signaled that she planned to start off on the right foot on this multimillion-dollar project.

“I know Muslims don't abide alcohol,” Cali told him, “but I took a chance that you were probably a wine drinker. Below the desk in your quarters, under lock and key, is a pretty good selection of California wines.” Right now, she could use a drink to anesthetize herself against this man's charms.

“Good guess! And thank you. I do prefer wine over hard liquor.” How much did Cali really know about him? Pete wondered. How deeply had her company dug into his background? It made him feel slightly uncomfortable. Did Cali know about his messy relationships? He hoped not. It was hard enough for him to deal with, much less have an outsider privy to his debacles.

“Roland Construction makes it a policy to know who we're working with,” she said with a shrug. “We like to start off positively by letting an owner know we value the relationship. We're a team.” Cali held out the keys to the safe and the wine cabinet. Although she wanted to touch him again, she dropped them into his calloused palm instead.

“Sounds hopeful,” Pete said, depositing the keys in his pocket. “To some construction companies I was always the bad guy.” He saw her relax slightly, resting her long fingers on her curvy hips. The only thing marring the sensual picture was the 9 mm Beretta and holster strapped around her left thigh. A beautifully long and curved thigh, at that. She was a modern Annie Oakley, and Pete was sure she could handle that weapon with ease. The fact that they were in a dangerous part of the world made him frown. The idea of Cali being shot or killed made his gut clench. Stymied by that feeling, Pete shoved it aside. If she were a man, he wouldn't give it a second thought. But she was a woman. Somehow, he had to keep that from getting in the way.

“Roland Construction has a different philosophy,” Cali informed him, walking back to the door of the trailer. “We see ourselves as a two-horse team. We want to go the same direction—together—not at cross purposes with one another.”

Pete nodded. He saw her implacable look become even more unreadable, if that was possible. She wasn't easy to plumb at all. Maybe, as a woman in a man's world, Cali Roland had learned not to broadcast her feelings. “Thanks for the thoughtful touches.”

“You're welcome. You'll find the pantry and refrigerator well stocked with food.” Cali added, “There's a village less than a mile from here. I hired an older widow who is willing to come out and clean your trailer weekly, plus cook you two square meals a day. That okay with you? Or maybe you're the kind of guy that likes to do housework?”

“Construction types don't do well at that,” Pete stated, wanting to get right down to work. The whole day had been turned upside down, and he felt unprepared to deal with a woman at his site. A beautiful woman.

“How about cooking?” Cali asked a touch impatiently, wanting to get the hell out of his trailer and away from him. Being in close proximity with Pete Trayhern was like holding her hand over an open flame.

“I'm pretty good at that, so I think if this lady comes over once a week to clean up, dust and wash my clothes, that will be fine. I can rustle up grub to feed myself.”

“Got it,” Cali said, with a nod of her head. Looking at her watch, she said, “It's nearly 1700, and the day is done. I'm going to have security set up, and then I'm retiring to my digs, which is about four hundred feet in that direction.” She pointed north.

“Good. How about radios?” All of a sudden, Pete didn't want Cali to leave. He wanted to ask her personal questions and get on a more intimate footing. All of that, of course, was folly.

“Radios and chargers for the site are in your bedroom quarters next to your personal computer. I think you'll find everything you need in there. Barnes will be on the same frequency as us. If any bandits think they can steal things out of the work trailers or from us, they won't get far.” She gave a wolfish grin.

“I can tell you've done this before,” Pete said. Her smile of bold self-assurance made him desire her even more. Never having met a woman quite like Cali, Pete thought his response was precisely because of that: how refreshing she was. Damning his curiosity, he dragged in a ragged breath.

Opening the door, Cali said, “A few times. I'll meet you at the main project trailer tomorrow at 0800. Ahmed will come and drive you over there.”

“Sounds good.” Pete lifted his hand in farewell.

Cali went down the steps without a word. She hurried to the Toyota and got in without a backward glance. Maybe that was a good sign—that she wasn't drawn to him.

Turning around, Pete closed the door and headed for the kitchen. There was a coffeemaker, he'd noticed, and he wanted a hot, strong brew. Still, as he puttered around his new kitchen, his mind and heart kept straying to the green-eyed, gun-totting Cali Roland.

She was one hell of a woman in a decidedly man's world. And they were going to be working together in very dangerous circumstances. Pete didn't like the physical danger. But the real jeopardy would be learning how to work with Cali without getting involved on a personal level. And yet involvement seemed inevitable. It was just a question of when…and how badly it would hurt in the end.

C
RACK
! C
RACK
! C
RACK
!

Cali was in a deep, early morning sleep when rifles fired loudly near her trailer. Automatically, she rolled out of bed, her hand moving to the bed stand to grab her Beretta.

She jerked on her jeans and thrust her feet in a pair of oxfords, as more gunfire erupted outside. She heard the screams and shouts of men, the thundering of horse hooves.
Bandits? Taliban?
She wasn't sure, but quickly threw on a coat over her silk pajama top. Within a minute, she was dressed and running down the hall of her trailer, radio in hand. She left the lights off for safety.

“Barnes! Report!” she snapped, unlocking the door with shaking hands.

The sky was clear, the stars so close Cali felt as if she could reach out and touch them. Dawn, a thin purple line, was just outlining the jagged hills to the east. After leaping off the stairs, she ran around the corner of her trailer toward the commotion.

More gunfire. A geyser of dirt spewed up in front of her, and Cali lunged for the ground. Heart thudding heavily, she watched as dust rose around her. She could barely make out a group of riders about a quarter of a mile away. Barnes and his team were firing repeatedly, with cool precision.

“Bandits,” Barnes growled into the radio.

“Roger. Under control?” Cali scrambled from of the dirt and sprinted toward the men flattened on the earth ahead of her.

“Roger,” he answered. “Wounded two, I think. They're hightailin' it now. Fun's over.”

Grimacing, Cali raced up as the men slowly got off their bellies to their feet. The three of them had state-of-the-art night goggles and infrared night scopes on their rifles. Cali couldn't see so well, but she could hear the thundering beat of horses retreating to the south. She gasped for breath, hand pressed to her chest. It felt as if her heart was going to explode with the fear and shock. Cali hadn't expected an attack.

Glancing down at the luminous dials on her watch, she saw it was 0400. Daylight would come soon. Breathing hard, her heart still pounding, she halted in front of Barnes, who was coolly dropping an empty magazine and slamming a new one into his rifle.

“Everyone okay?” Cali demanded, her voice husky with adrenaline.

“Yes, ma'am,” he said, pushing the night goggles to the top of his head. “Everyone's fine. No wounds.”

Cali heard the thud of heavy footsteps behind her. Twisting, she saw Major Trayhern barreling out of the darkness. He had a pistol in hand, and unlike her, he'd had the smarts to put on his flak jacket.

“What's going on?” he demanded, sliding to a halt in front of the group.

“Bandits, Major,” Barnes drawled. “They were just snooping around and testing us. They probably wanted to see if we had security out here.” Chuckling darkly, he looked at his comrades—Bobby Mills, who was thirty years old, and Gabe Willis, a year younger. Both had served with him in the Corps and were sniper trained. “I think we shocked the shit out of 'em,” Barnes said, laughing softly.

“We saw them approaching from the south,” Mills told Pete and Cali. “We waited until they got close enough for us to put bullets in front of their horses.”

“Yeah, there were about fifteen of 'em,” Gabe said, his soft Kentucky drawl belying his tension.

“Any casualties?” Pete demanded, looking to the south. The darkness had swallowed up the bandits. The plain was quiet once more, and it was colder than hell out here, almost freezing, he realized. Worriedly, he looked at Cali, whose face was etched by shadows in the grayish light. Her hair was mussed, her eyes narrowed and her mouth set. Noticing she wore a quilted jacket, he asked, “You got your flak vest on under that thing?”

“No, I don't. I forgot to have it hanging on the back of a chair near my bed. Next time,” she told him brusquely. Even in starlight, Cali could see Pete's reaction. Did she see concern burning in those slitted eyes? Or anger? She wasn't sure about anything except the adrenaline making her heart hammer.

“You could have been hurt,” he said, his voice heavy with warning. “You know better, Ms. Roland. This isn't the only third world country you've worked in.”

Ms. Roland. He'd called her Cali before. Yeah, he was pissed, all right. “Save your scolding for another time, Major. I'm fine.” She glared at him, furious that he would dress her down like a child in front of her security team. And she wasn't about to tell him about the bullet that had nearly hit her.

“Things will get easier once that fence is in place,” Barnes said soothingly, running a clean cloth down the stock of his rifle. “That was just an advance team to see if we had security. So don't get uptight just yet, Major. This kind of thing will go on all the time out here, so you might as well get used to it.”

Cali saw Pete scowl at Barnes, his mouth thinning. Then he glanced around the darkened plain. “Okay, let's get back to our trailers. Barnes, we'll review security later today. We may need more hardware. You did good under the circumstances.”

“Yes, sir.”

Cali turned and walked away, fuming, her pistol in her hand. She wasn't wearing her holster, either. Was Trayhern going to dress her down for that little infraction, too? Halfway back to her trailer, she heard someone jogging after her. Trayhern, probably to give her a lecture on desert safety. The sky was brightening above the mountains, and she could see his facial features a little more clearly. He looked concerned.

Pulling up next to her, he murmured, “I shouldn't have chewed you out like that in front of the security team.”

“They work for me, Major. I'm number two person at this site.” Her nostrils flared. Cali glared and she glowered at him as they walked on across the desert. “Next time you have anything to say to me in the way of criticism or critique, we do it in private, not in front of my employees. Got it?”

“It won't happen again.” Okay, so he had that coming. Jet lag combined with the unexpected attack and deluge of adrenaline through his groggy system had made Pete forget himself for a moment.

Cali bridled beneath his stubborn look. He said the words, but she could tell he wasn't sure about it. Trayhern was infuriating! She halted at the corner of her trailer. “Midday, the fencing material arrives here at the site. In the meantime, I'm going to introduce myself to the regional warlord, Sheik Baider Hesam. He's got a small place in a village less than a mile from here.” Cali pointed northeast. “I need workmen, and that is my priority for today. I can't hire anyone without Hesam's blessing.”

“When are you going to see him?” Pete saw the banked anger in Cali's narrowed eyes. As a manager of people, he knew better than to have handled the situation with her as he had. And if he'd thought she was going to be soft because she was a woman, he could see that wasn't true.

“Sooner rather than later. I'm going to have my driver, Hakim, take me over at 0800. I'm taking my general foreman, Ray Billings, with me, as well.”

“I'd like to go with you.” Pete saw surprise flare in her eyes, quickly replaced with irritation.

“If you want to join me, we'll pick you up five minutes earlier at your trailer.”

Nodding, Pete said, “Sounds good. How many men do you think we'll need to install the fence?”

“We've got several miles of fencing to erect, Major. Even though it'll happen in stages, we'll need a large crew initially, a smaller crew for long-term modifications and additions.”

Ouch.
Okay, it was no longer “Pete,” but “Major.” Well, he'd burned a bridge with Cali, hadn't he? The woman was as hard as the granite slopes of the Hindu Kush. He had no one but himself to blame for her tough facade and detachment from him now.

“I'll bring my interpreter with me.”

“I'll pick Ahmed up at his trailer,” Cali said.

“Thanks. In southern Afghanistan, we always brought gifts to the head men when we paid an official visit.” Pete sought her opinion, hoping to defuse some of her anger toward him. “Do you know what's appropriate up here?”

Cali softened toward him, seeing he was scrambling. “My company did some research on this sheik. He likes the Wild West of America. I'm taking him a Comanche war ax from the mid-1880s as a gift.”

Pete nodded. “Good idea. I don't have anything to give him.”

“Then tell him you have a gift on its way. You can figure out what he'd like and get it here pronto. Hesam enjoys surprises. Good ones, that is.”

“Okay, thanks for the advice. I'll e-mail my father and see what he can scrounge up for me.” Knowing there was nothing else he could do, Pete said, “I'll see you at 0800.”

It would be too soon as far as Cali was concerned. She gave him a brisk nod, did an about-face and climbed the steps to her trailer.
Good riddance.
In college she'd been one of the few women in her class working on a civil engineering degree. When no one was looking, the male students had often tried to shame and humiliate her with sexual harassment. She never took their guff, and she wasn't about to take Trayhern's, either.

 

T
HE SUN WAS BRIGHT
, the cloudless sky a deep turquoise as Hakim drove the Land Cruiser toward Pai Tawa, the village where Hesam lived. Cali sat in the front seat, the map across her knees. They were like a cork on an ocean, bumbling along at twenty miles an hour over the deeply rutted dirt road. In the back seat was the major with his interpreter, and Ray, her general foreman. Although the village was less than a mile from the site, it seemed to take forever to get there. She'd sent Hakim ahead at 0600, to make sure the sheik would see them at such an early hour. Normally, business was not conducted until the midafternoon, but this couldn't wait.

Cali heard Pete talking to his interpreter. He was having him write down questions to ask the sheik. Earlier, Pete had tried to make amends to her by handing her some warm toast with butter; a breakfast gift of sorts. Surprised by his gesture, she'd eaten it. Most of the bosses she'd worked with wouldn't have been so conciliatory. Cali could forgive, but not forget. Unsure of what to think of Trayhern at this point, she wondered how the audience with the sheik would go.

“Do you have any experience with men like Hesam?” she finally asked, turning to look at him.

Pete lifted his head. “A little. We had to deal with the tribal leaders in the border region where my company was stationed. Why? Do you have suggestions?”

Good.
He wanted her advice, and she was glad. Cali had been in the Middle East for many more years than he had. She eyed the well-groomed interpreter next to Pete. She didn't know why, but she just didn't trust the bearded young man. Compressing her lips, she said, “If you want, follow my actions. Once we enter Hesam's house and get to the room where he holds his audiences, you might want to introduce yourself.” She glanced again at Ahmed, who was scowling at her. “Your interpreter should then take over and begin translating. Hesam knows some English, but we'd be better to speak to him in his language to ensure there are no misunderstandings. Right now, we need his blessing, his support and his men for our site.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Cali found herself unable to protect herself from Pete's boyish smile. A sudden vulnerability melted his outer demeanor, and she marveled at how much younger he looked. All that starch and military toughness dissolved in an instant.
This
was the man she was drawn to—that little boy with delight and impishness dancing in his eyes.

She scolded herself, reminding herself it would be a huge mistake to get personally involved with her boss. Giving him a slight, one-cornered smile, Cali turned back around. She was eager to create a working alliance with Sheik Hesam.

As Cali exited the car, she put a scarf on her head out of respect for Islamic traditions. According to her information, Hesam was pro-American, and that was good for them and the project.

 

“W
ELCOME
,
WELCOME
,” Sheik Hesam said with a flourish. Seated against richly brocaded cushions, the leader made an impression of opulence and poise.

Ahmed, the interpreter, hurried ahead of Cali and Pete. He bowed and offered salutations in Pashto to the forty-five-year-old sheik. The translator then gestured grandly toward Pete, who had taken off his cap and left his pistol outside the room with the two sentries.

Sheik Hesam nodded deferentially to the major and motioned for him to sit to the right of him, a position of honor.

Pete was shocked and unhappy that his translator took over. Cali's advice had been correct. This was a gaffe and Pete tried to keep his irritation toward Ahmed in check. Pete touched his head and then his heart as he bowed to the warlord. Cali entered next, followed by Billings, who carried the gifts to be given to the sheik. Pete tried a bit of Pashto with Hesam, whose dark brown eyes gleamed with pleasure over the greeting.

While he went through the formalities, Pete took note of the leader's physical traits. Hesam was lean, about five foot nine inches tall. His tobacco-brown skin was weathered, with deep wrinkles around his thin mouth and broad brow. His neatly cut, black-and-gray beard emphasized his square face. The warlord wore a yellow turban, loose brown trousers, a long-sleeved white shirt that fell to midthigh and a black leather belt studded with silver and lapis lazuli cabochons.