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Then one of the boys spotted me and gaped, openly pointing me out to his friends. They rattled off a question and Sebastian grinned.

“They want to know if Ms. Venzi is your wife, sir, or if you just brought her to do the cooking.”

I
’ll get you for that, Hunter!

Some of the troops laughed, but Grant looked slightly flustered.

“Tell them she does the cooking,” he said.

Sebastian gave them the answer and the boys nodded wisely. Then he handed
each of them a hard candy, and we moved on, watching as they waved goodbye.

From a distance, I snapped a
nother photo of them waving, then hurried to catch up with Grant.

“Would you like to explain that to me, Captain Grant,” I said, mildly, while secretly giving him the evil eye.

“I don’t want word getting out that we have a journalist with us,” he said, shortly.

He had a point, and
, despite the heat, I felt a shiver go down my spine. As I fell back to my place in the middle of the patrol, I glanced over to see Sebastian looking at me, a serious and worried expression on his face.

We moved slowly next to the dried riverbed when one of the Marines
on point yelled out, “Incoming!”

I looked up to see a bright flash in the sky and
heard an intensely loud roaring overhead. I half-dived, half-fell into the wadi, following the Marines who’d hit the deck the second their colleague had shouted.

The rocket propelled grenade
shook the ground as it exploded, and the percussion from the hot air deafened me. Even though I was terrified, I could tell that the noise wasn’t dangerously near to us.

“RPG, sir!” shouted the gunnery sergeant. “Bastards missed by 300 yards. Up in the foothills, sir. They
’ll have us in range any second.”

He was right: we were in their sights and pinned down. The wadi gave us good protection but we couldn
’t move either.

Sebastian crouched down next to me.

“You okay?”

“I
’m fine, don’t worry about me. I won’t move. Promise.”

He gave me an anxious look, then made his way back up to Captain Grant.

Two men moved forward with a small mortar and fired off a couple of rounds. The rush of sound was distinctly comforting.

“Hewitt,” shouted the
Captain, “call in air support. I want the shit bombed out of those fuckers. Give them the coordinates – now!”

I managed to turn around in the confined area and
took photographs of the Marine on the radio calling air-support, and of the two Marines firing the occasional mortar round.

Two more RPGs came in, each landing a little closer, although not close enough to concern the men around me. I thought I was having an out-of-body experience: everyone seemed so calm, including me; although another, quieter, rational part, was scared witless.

Luckily I had something else to focus on. Despite the heat and despite the fact I’d sweated enough to leave salt marks on my clothes, I was dying to pee. Maybe it was just fear after all, but I didn’t know how much longer I could hang on.

Another fifteen minutes passed and
the pressure on my bladder was becoming intolerable. I was seriously considering just peeing my pants right there. It was so hot, my clothes would dry quickly; the sting of humiliation would, however, last considerably longer.

I felt better when I noticed several of the Marines discreetly peeing into the wadi. God, it was so much easier for men. I should have worn a long skirt like the local women, then I could have just squatted down in the dirt
and no one would have been any the wiser.

At that moment, I heard the sound of a
jet streaking past overhead.

“Harrier,” muttered the bored-looking Marine who was
kneeling down next to me.

There was an explosion so loud, it sounded as if a whole
mountain had been blown up. A second explosion followed shortly afterwards. I pressed my face into the dirt at the bottom of the wadi and tried to remember to breathe. I counted to a hundred before I dared to look up again. A thick cloud of dust and smoke hung over the foothills, lazily drifting down into the yellow valley.

I sat up to take a quick photo. I even remembered to take off the lens cap, which I thought was pretty damned impressive under the circumstances – and I still wanted to pee.

Then I noticed that several of the men were grinning at me.

“Was that your first time under fire, ma
’am?”

“First time it was that damn close,” I said, with a thin smile. “I almost peed my pants.”

They laughed easily. “Well, you looked pretty cool, ma’am. We should make you an honorary Marine.”

“I
’m sure Captain Grant would be delighted with that suggestion,” I muttered, and winked at them conspiratorially.

I looked across to see Sebastian smiling at me. I pressed my hand over my heart, and smiled back.

After waiting to see if there would be any further RPG attacks, we slowly made our way back along the dried up riverbed.

By now, my bathroom needs had intensified and I practically sprinted the last hundred yards to what passed for restrooms in the compound.
‘Sprinted’ might have been an exaggeration: I was wearing nearly 22 pounds of body armor; ‘staggered’ was probably more accurate.

But the relief could not be exaggerated. I floated out, oblivious to the catcalls and helpfully unhelpful comments
from the Marines who were watching me with wide grins on their faces.

All I needed now was a hot shower, a good book, and a hot man. I
’d come very near to an up-close-and-personal encounter with the Taliban: some life-affirming sex would be very welcome. I couldn’t see Sebastian among the sea of desert utility uniforms, but I hoped he’d find me later.

I dragged my sorry carcass to my room, dumped the body armor gratefully, then took my laptop and solar charger outside, and sat in the shade, writing my notes.

I could see a small flurry of activity going on at one side, with Marines hoisting up bits of rope and old jerry cans. My body was too weary to wonder what they were doing, and my brain was too stunned to care. But then I noticed that Sebastian seemed to be organizing the work party. After another ten minutes, he strolled over casually and squatted down next to me.

“How you doing, baby?” he said, in a low voice.

“Pretty damn good, Chief,” I replied, “considering I nearly got my ass shot off today.”

He chuckled quietly. “You are so fucking amazing, Caro.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Sebastian.”

We both noticed the speculative gazes we were garnering at the same time. He stood up abruptly. “We
’ve fixed you up a makeshift shower.”

“Excuse me?” I said, certain that I
’d misheard.

“The guys wanted to do something for you
– they think you’re a ballsy woman. So they’ve made you a shower. You’ve got about two-and-a-half minutes of lukewarm water. How’s that sound?”

“
What? How?”

I gaped at him and he smiled back.

“I just left some cartons of water out in the sun during the day. They got pretty warm: all we had to do was hoist them up and make a shower head. You’re good to go. Except you won’t be able to take off your clothes, but it’s better than nothing, I guess.”

“God, I love you!” I murmured. “But I think I love them, too!”

He snorted, but thankfully looked amused as I waved at the shower-building team.

“I
’ll be right back!”

I hurried to my room and grabbed a small sachet of shampoo. I hadn
’t thought I’d need it, but I was so happy that I’d included it in my gear after all.

The shower felt wonderful: washing the salt and dust out of my hair felt even better. I even managed to make a stab at washing
my clothes while I was wearing them, before the water ran out. Then I sat out in the afternoon sunshine and let my clothes dry on my body, while I chatted to some of the guys, listening to their stories.

Captain Grant came out to check on me and I even managed to get a smile from him. I hoped the
truce would hold – provided I managed not to oversleep again, of course.

Another
box of MREs, four hard candies, and a really bad coffee later, I crawled into bed. If Sebastian came into my room in the night, he’d have to poke me awake with a sharp stick. My shoulders ached from wearing the heavy body armor all day. I couldn’t imagine how the guys must feel: their armor was even heavier, plus they had to carry their packs, ammunition and an eight pound rifle.

Their entire
equipment and packs probably weighed more than I did.

And with that thought, I passed out.

Chapter 15

It was dark when I woke up
; I realized I wasn’t alone.

“Hey, baby,” he whispered. “I didn
’t mean to wake you – I just wanted to see you.”

He was sitting at t
he bottom of my mattress again. I peered into the dark, his outline faint against the darker shadow of the wall.

I rubbed my gritty eyes and reached out for him. “You
’re too far away,” I grumbled, holding up my arms towards him.

He uncoiled himself from the floor, and
tried to stretch out next to me, but his boots hit the door.

“Fuck,” he muttered, “they
’ve given you a damn hutch to sleep in.”

“At least it
’s private, Sebastian,” I said, running my finger across his stubbly chin.

He smiled. “Yeah, that
’s something.”

He leaned over me
, taking his weight on his arms, and kissed me, softly. I think he just had a simple goodnight kiss in mind; I certainly didn’t.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and locked
our faces together. Needing more, I pushed my tongue between his lips, and explored his mouth hungrily. He tasted of salt and mint gum. Desire bloomed inside me and I ran my hands down his back, resting them on his fine ass, feeling the rough material beneath my fingers, and squeezed hard.

“Are you sure, Caro?” he breathed.

“Yes,” I whispered back. “Here and now.”

He groaned softly
, and I felt the weight of his body press down onto my chest.