Unexpected Oasis (14 page)

"Were you…involved?" My words end up not much louder than a whisper. I know it's quite possible given his profession and recent history, but I don't like thinking about it.

His attention is back on the screens. "No. Not directly." He moves to a window and peers through the blinds. "Both were locals. One was a worker who'd been having…relations with a much younger man the camp employed—though I'm pretty sure the relationship was
not
consensual. The young man's father was understandably upset and happened to have a gun.  The others… Well, let's just say never give locals alcohol. They're so unaccustomed to it the effects are unpredictable, and they're likely to kill each other over silly disagreements. Which is exactly what happened. One bottle of vodka and four men were dead."

"That's horrible."

"I know," he agrees, shaking his head. He glances at the phone screen. "Damn," he mutters.

"Still no connection?"

"Not yet."

I look around the room. Unlike the containers, this one is made of thick concrete walls. There are a few, shuttered windows, but they are tiny. If shit hit the fan and the door was blocked, a ninety-pound woman might be able to squeeze through them. I'm not sure my thigh would make it through, let alone my shoulders.

"This building is certainly more solid than the others," I note.

"Designed that way since it's more likely to be the object of an attack."

"Is that why it's so far away from the other buildings?"

He nods and turns back to the machines.

I lean against the wall and hug myself, wrapping my arms tightly across my chest. My body begins to tremble and tears blur my vision as any lingering adrenaline seeps from me. The dream-like trance I was in during the last half-hour is gone and everything feels painfully real. Intruders, men who would probably kidnap me, maybe rape me, possibly behead me, nearly discovered me. I was almost shot and nearly shot a man. We're hiding out inside a building designed to be somewhat bomb-proof as who knows how many potential enemies lurk outside.

I try to hold it all in, but a shuddery breath escapes my lips.

Trey glances over and immediately stops what he's doing. "Hey," he says, his expression caring and oh so sexy. "It's fine. It'll be fine. Trust me. I've gotten out of worse situations."

I try to absorb some of his confidence but end up breaking into a few barely controlled sobs.

"Andrea." He walks over to me and gently lifts my chin with one hand and wipes the escaped tears with the other. "You have to trust me."

"I trust you. Just not them."

"Rightly so. But I'm here to protect you and I don't know if you've heard but I'm somewhat of a badass."

I smile through my tears. "You are."

"I am," he says it with complete conviction. "Look, with this wind and any amount of luck the dust will be completely cleared out by morning and," he glances over his shoulder toward the satellite phones, "I'm sure we'll pick up a signal soon. But in the meantime, you're in a secure building with a man willing to take out everyone in these mountains to protect you. And a man with the skills to do it. Okay?"

Why did I push him away again?

"Okay."

He glances toward the opposite side of the building. "I see some cots back there. Why don't you try to get some sleep
? I'll keep watch."

I'm suddenly exhausted
, but I seriously doubt I'll be able to sleep. I need to get out of Trey's hair though and let him do his job. If he's consoling me every five minutes because I'm freaking out, he might miss something important on one of those grainy screens.

"That's a good idea."

He gives me a quick smile and hurries back to the
control center.
At least fear hasn't completely wiped out my common sense. Trey's job is to protect me and my emotional duress is making that difficult.

I suck it up and pull out one of two cots folded up under a table. There isn't any bedding
, but using my bag as a pillow, I curl into a fetal position with my back to the rest of the room, and close my eyes.

CHAPTER TWELVE

I
must have been more exhausted than I realized, or the hum of machines is like a lullaby, because the next thing I know someone is banging on the door.

I jerk upright, every aggressive hammering on metal shooting straight to my heart. Gun in hand, Trey approaches the door. In a rough voice he asks something in Urdo. The muffled response seeps through the thick steel, sounding somewhat urgent. Trey pulls back a metal slat, revealing a small window and peers through it. He turns back and reviews the monitors before opening the door.

I'm pretty sure my heart has stopped beating at this point and doesn't start again until Kaihan steps inside and Trey shuts and locks the door behind him.

They have another conversation in Urdo and then Kaihan hands over a piece of dark fabric. With it in hand, Trey walks over to me. Kaihan stays put, hands folded tightly at his hips. He looks tense, with deep lines around his wary eyes.

"What's going on?"

Trey holds out the fabric. It's pretty much shapeless and looks like nothing more than a sheet, but after more careful observation, I can clearly see the mesh screen. It's a burka.

"Are we leaving?" I can't keep the fear from my voice.

"Kaihan thinks we should. He says we can stay with his family. He's afraid others might be on their way."

"What do you think?"

His face is unreadable as he considers my question. "I think we should stay," he says finally.

Honestly, I have no idea if that response scares me or not. On one hand, traveling through the rough mountainside, hiding under a burka is so overwhelmingly frightening I can't even comprehend it. On the other hand, this place feels like a sitting target. We've already been attacked once and now it seems like we're simply waiting for another.

"I just made contact with the airfield," Trey continues. "The sandstorm is expected to be completely cleared by early morning. They'll be able to send a chopper then."

"And if it isn't?"

"We're well armed here. And this building is secure."

"For how long? And what about supplies?"

"There's water and food. Enough for a few days."

God, to be trapped like a rat in this tiny building, surrounded by the enemy, while Trey defends our nest, sounds horrifying.

He steadies his serious brown gaze on me. "We can leave. The chopper can just as easily rendezvous with us outside the compound. The burka will offer you anonymity. No one will assume you are anything but a local woman. With Kaihan you'll be safe."

"What about you?"

"There's no hiding me under a burka."

"Well, that settles it. I won't leave without you and I won't risk your safety to assure mine. We stay."

He smiles. It's faint, but I definitely see it.

With a crisp nod of his head he turns back to Kaihan. A conversation in Urdo ensues, ending with Trey handing Kaihan back the burka, the two men kissing the air beside eachother's cheeks, and finally a firm handshake.

"As-salaam 'alaykum," Kaihan says to me before Trey opens the door for him to leave.

"Salaam," I reply in a small voice as the door closes and locks behind him. Once again I have this overwhleming fear for his safety. If Kaihan dies because of me, because of us…? What will his wife and his children do? I don't think I'd be able to live with the guilt. 

"It'll be okay," Trey says.

My gaze lifts to his, which is lined with a million emotions. His gaze stays locked on mine, and for a brief moment I have this absurd fantasy he'll come over and comfort me. How nice it would be to nestle into his arms and forget this entire night.

"Why don't you try to get some more sleep," he suggests and turns back to the monitors, eliminating any thoughts I have of losing myself in him.

I nod and ease back on the cot, once again keeping my back to him and the room of gadgets. I don't know how I'm going to sleep now but I close my eyes anyway, mostly to ward off tears threatening to erupt.

The next thing I know, the sound of helicopter blades chopping the air fills my ears. Bright light floods the room and at first I can't tell if it's from a spotlight shining into the windows, or the sun.

The stiff muscles of my back tell me I've probabaly been asleep for a while on this hard, unforgiving cot. My guess is it's daylight.

Rubbing my eyes, I sit up. Besides the bright computer monitors screens, the room is empty.

With even stiffer legs I rise and cautiously approach the door. It has to be the helicopter coming to rescue us. And Trey is simply outside greeting them. Has to be…

My hand is on the door handle when it flings open. I jump back startled. I really wish this, I-go-to-open-the-door-just-as-someone-else-opens-it nonsense, would stop.

He's backlit, so I can't clearly see his face but I can tell he's grinning broadly. "Taxi's here," Trey announces.

I breathe a sigh of relief. "Thank God."

"I'll escort you back to your room so you can retrieve the rest of your things. They're ready to take off ASAP."

There's an urgent undertone to his voice that not only makes me quicken my step, but also tells me we're not completely out of the woods yet and I should probably be worried.

We hurry back to the container that had been a place of pure bliss until last night—until I decided to ruin it. Carefully keeping my gaze off the dual mattresses, I quickly grab the small amount of possessions scattered throughout the tiny room and shove them in my bag. It takes all of five minutes. His room is next. I'm curious to peek inside, but he merely ducks his body inside and emerges with a duffle.

We jog to the chopper. I set my bag of the floor, grip the edge of the open door, and make the first attempt to clamber in. When I fail, Trey lifts me up and places me inside. I scramble for the seat. His duffle bag lands on the floor at my feet, and he climbs in behind me.

The first thing he does is make sure I'm properly strapped in. Kneeling before me, he makes swift work with the buckles and straps, his brow gently furrowed, his fingers nimble. As I watch him, I can't help but wish we'd met under different circumstances, another time and place, a time when I wasn't such a wreck…

He glances up at me. I don't bother hiding that I'm watching him.

"You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

He hands me the headphones, shoves his duffle bag and my bag under the bench, and then takes his seat across from me. He's buckled in within seconds.

"Any time you're ready, gentlemen," his voice sounds in my headset.

"Hold on," one of the pilots replies.

The chopper lurches up. It's only been a few days, but I've already forgotten how horrible riding in this giant dragonfly is. Or maybe they're flying less
carefully
, like they're in a hurry as well.

I keep my eyes closed. In fact, I don't open them until we've landed and Trey's voice sounds in my headset. I was tempted to open my eyes once, when the chopper did this weird, swoopy thing, but decided I was better off not seeing the ground before I hit it.

One eye peels open, then the other. Off in the distance, the familiar white, cinderblock buildings greet me. I've never been so happy to see something so drab. Releasing the buckles to my harness, I gleefully toss the earmuffs and headset on the seat beside me and rush for the exit. I'm ready to be on the ground and then disappear into my room.

Trey already has the bags unloaded and waits for me at the open helicopter door. He offers his hand in assistance. As much as I long to touch him, I'm scared to take it. Scared to be reminded of what I'm missing, but more scared of how I'll feel when I lose it again.

I'm right back to square one, right back to where I was mentally only a few days ago. I was never really back, not fully. My old self just came in for a visit. She's long gone.

I help myself out of the helicopter, ignoring the scowl on Trey's face.

The blades have slowed considerably, and the concrete pad the vessel rests on keeps the dust to a minimum, but it still swirls around unpredictably in the air. My scarf—the one Trey gave me—and my glasses are nestled in my bag, so using the front of my shirt, I cover my nose, squint, and make a ducked run for clearer air.

He follows behind me with our bags in hand. Once we're clear of the chopper dust, I hold my hand out for my bag. "I can take that," I say.

"Why don't I escort you back." It isn't a question.

I cringe. Judging from T
rey's expression, I haven't kept it to myself.

"There's protocol I need to explain," he says. "You're a civilian who's just gone through a traumatic experience—"

"I'm fine," I interject quickly.

"Are you?"

"Yeah. Perfect. Now that I'm here, it's all good." Honestly, I do feel okay. It's like last night was some horrible dream.

"That's wonderful if it's true." He doesn't seem remotely convinced. "Unfortunately, this isn't something that can simply be swept under the rug."

Wishful thinking on my part. You can't cut your finger anymore without filling out some form. Why I even hoped this might be different…

"C'mon." Trey juts his head toward the row of white. "Walk with me and I'll fill you in."

As we walk toward the barracks, I keep my gaze on the ground while he explains what happens next. It's worse than I expected. Besides forms to complete, there's a physical and a visit with the compound shrink, and very likely a meeting with not just my boss, but the company VP. Oh, and HR will likely want to chat with me too. The forms are just the tip of the iceberg.

"I'll email you the forms as soon as I have access to my computer. But don't feel obligated to fill them out today. And don't be surprised if John wants to talk with you today as well. You are under no obligation to talk to him or anyone but the shrink."

"It isn't a problem. I don't mind talking to them." Not really. I'd rather just forget it.

"Just so you know you do not have to do anything today. The rest of the day is nothing but R&R, and that's an order. I can't make promises for tomorrow."

We reach my door. "Well, I guess I have something to look forward to," I say dryly as he hands me my bag.

"I am sorry. For everything."

There seems to be more to his apology. I don't want to think about it. Having him so close to my bed is too tempting as it is. I turn for the door.

"Andrea, wait."

Closing my eyes, I pause but don't turn.

"We need to talk about what happened."

"No we don't. It's all good."

"No. It isn't." His hand grips my shoulder, and I expect him to physically spin me around, to take full control of the situation.

The hand abruptly falls. "Please turn around and look at me."

Shit. I might have been able to muster up an argument if he'd decided to manhandle me. I'm defenseless now.

I move to face him but I still avoid looking directly at him. If I do, he'll see my weakness for sure.

I'm pretty sure I hear him sigh. At the very least he takes a deep breath. "I owe you an apology," he says as he removes his sunglasses, presumably so I can see the sincerity in his eyes. I don't need to see anything. It saturates his words.  

"No—"

"Yes. It was presumptuous and arrogant of me to assume anything, especially without discussing it with you, and especially knowing why you're here. What you came from."

My lips press together.

"And the way I reacted to your very understandable concern was appalling. My ego was bruised and I reacted…poorly. I'm sorry. I really am. I put you in a position I had no business putting you in."

Finally I lift my gaze to look at him. God, he's so beautiful. His brows pushed gently together, his brown eyes filled with regret and…longing.

Jesus. I don't know… What am I…? How—?

Ugh.

I swallow, think about saying something, and then decide to simply nod.

"It's just," his gaze flicks briefly to the ground and he smiles, "I, um…" He scratches his fully sprouted beard. "I just…" His gaze levels on me. I'm nearly knocked out by its intensity. "I don't want to pussyfoot around this. I really enjoy spending time with you, Andrea. And I know this is all a whirlwind, but our time is limited and I don't want to waste a second of it. Life is too short, too unpredictable. And I hope this isn't just my ego talking, but you did seem happy before I screwed it up. I hate to see you run away because I got a little…eager. We can take it slower, but I…" He frowns and goes silent. 

It would be appropriate for me to talk now, but I can't. I just can't. I have to process this first.

He runs a hand over his short hair. "Anyway, I'm going to take a shower and maybe a nap since I didn't exactly sleep last night and then afterward, I think cocktails by the pool sounds like the perfect way to unwind after a few days of dust and chaos. If you'd like to join me—" he holds out his hands, palms facing forward. "No pressure, of course. In fact, I doubt we'll be the only ones there."