Jack palmed Monica's back. "Personally, I prefer my flight surgeon not be dead on her feet when she treats me, which is why Doc Hyatt got private quarters in the first place, unlike the rest of the crew dogs bunking double. A roommate would be disruptive enough even without the guard. Don't we have another room, even a closet available?"
Thank you, Jack.
Keagan dropped the file on the desk. "We can't put her in the luggage return hangar with all the Colonel's soldiers."
Crusty leafed through papers on a clipboard. "There's a storage closet we were using for extra bedrolls. We could stack those in the hall instead and set up a cot for her."
Relief sighed from Yasmine so loudly Monica wanted to laugh. Needed to laugh. Except life just wasn't that damned funny lately.
Yasmine rose, slowly, with an imperialistic poise that would have no doubt propelled her beyond a first-runner-up slot at the Miss Texas competition. "I should return to the kitchen."
A truck backfired outside. Once again?
Oh, God, a shot. Not a truck.
"Down! Shooter," someone shouted, inside or outside.
Pop. The window shattered, sending glass and military personnel flying. Another bullet whistled past.
No time to think. Training assumed control. Monica launched toward her sister. Saw the Colonel tackle her first.
Monica hit the ground. Hard. Jack? Where was Jack?
His arm hooked around her waist. "Quit worrying about your sister. She's fine."
He jerked Monica as he rolled. Toward the wall. Under the table and out of the line of fire.
Her heart thudded against his. Another shot took out the jagged edge of pane. Glass spewed inside. Shards tinkled along with shouts and gunfire.
Then nothing. Just barked orders but no more shots.
Still pinning Yasmine, Colonel Cullen reached for his radio on the desk corner. Already the LMR squawked reassurance—only a hungry local trying to steal a box of rations.
Monica sagged against Jack. Adrenaline gushed from her pores in the aftermath. The irony of it struck her like a stray bullet.
They were nowhere near the terrorist compound. It was just a regular sunny day in Rubistan...interspersed with the occasional gunfire. And to think her mother left Red Branch, Texas, for this.
Jack eased his weight off her, his arm sliding until his hand rested just below her br**sts in the tangle, his leg moving in what turned into a firm, hot nudge between her legs that left her hotter. He stopped. His eyes widened with realization. Accidental positioning, sure. But no less potent.
She couldn't move, couldn't find air or space or anything but his face filling her vision. And the hell of it was, she found the hold of his stare just as captivating as the warm corded thigh between her legs.
Ten minutes ago she would have sworn she couldn't remember the sound of her mother's voice. But right now, Mama whispered through her head sure as a surprise honeysuckle spring breeze in the middle of the desert.
Sugar, this is exactly why I left Red Branch, Texas.
Chapter 6
Two hours and one disarmed local rioter later, Jack flattened a hand against the closed door outside Monica's quarters. He should go to bed. He would go to bed.
As soon as he looked at her again and reassured himself she was alive and not full of bullets.
Being a military spouse sure sucked sometimes—even when the marriage was a freaking farce. He'd sometimes wondered how Tina would have handled his combat missions. He'd never considered what it would feel like to be on the other end of the worry. Yeah, it definitely sucked, especially given he already understood how damned bad it cut being the one left behind by death.
One look and he would leave her alone.
A dumb-ass decision when his anger still crackled inside him, adding an extra blue tinge to the flame from his fear of losing her. Permanently.
Too many emotions fired, but then he'd never been one to play it safe. No question, the hungry look in her eyes when she'd stared up at him from their clinch on the floor had been anything but safe.