Hard Beat

Her eyes are steadfast on mine, her voice still void of emotion, but I understand her a bit better now that I know the why behind it. Detachment is a necessity, and yet I want more from her.

“Where are you from?”

“Doesn’t matter. Podunk, USA. A black dot on a paper map. I’m giving you the answers you want, so the where is irrelevant.”

Except to me it’s all relevant when it comes to her. Every piece of information I can get will help me understand her, figure out the enigma of the female mind, and yet I don’t push her any further. I know by the look on her face she’s given me more than she ever expected to, so I’ll take it and tuck it away and decipher it all later.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to…” I release her shoulders and step away from her, raking a hand through my hair and blowing a breath out as I try to digest everything she’s told me along with the fact that she goes out at odd hours in this fucked-up place on her own. “So you go out at night to take pictures so you can deal with their passing?”

“No. I dealt with their deaths a long time ago.”

And the whiplash strikes twice as I lower my hand from my neck and look at her like she’s lost her fucking mind. She’s dropped one confession after another on me, and yet none of them explains the reason she’s being so foolish going out alone.

“Do you mind telling me what the hell is going on here? Because I thought we were past playing games and now you’ve sucked me right back there. You said you go out and take pictures to deal… What the hell has you so upset that you’re outside the walls when for safety’s sake you shouldn’t be?” I’m all worked up, agitated, and a

“You.”

I snap my head up to meet her eyes, and the clarity in hers surprises me, engages me, confuses me. The air thickens in the small space, a blessing and a curse all at the same time because that means I’m breathing her in, and that in itself – her perfume, her shampoo – is addicting and distracting. My throat feels like it’s being constricted as the silence stretches only to be interrupted by the stutter of our breaths. I clench my jaw and fists, restraining myself, from what I’m not exactly sure: from begging her to explain? From pushing her up against the wall and kissing her with the savage desire I feel until every carnal urge within me is satisfied?

Both are damn good options.

When I step into her and her breath hitches, I swear I can feel it deep down in the pit of my stomach. The anticipation of what we know we’re about to do and can’t take back co

As my heart races, I realize everything about me is affected by her proximity, and the next thought that crosses my mind staggers me. Why does this one woman get to me so profoundly?

Our lips hover inches from each other, our eyes still locked, amethyst to emerald, and bodies already on high alert when the sound of my telephone ring shrills in the small space and makes us jump apart like teenagers getting caught making out behind the gym. I swear as she laughs, the nervous energy between us has grown so palpable that I’m part relieved, part pissed off, and one hundred percent consumed by her as we both take a breath for what feels like the first time in minutes.

When I pull my phone out of its clip on my hip to dismiss the call, I glance at the screen only to find that I’m immediately pulled from the moment, my attention effectively diverted from what was about to happen with Beaux.

“Sarge,” I say when I answer the phone, but it’s a greeting to him and an explanation to Beaux all with a single word.

“Got a request for you to ride along. Boots down at ten hundred hours. Meet me at the usual.”

Any adrenaline I didn’t have flowing from Beaux and our almost kiss surges like a tidal wave through me, my thoughts whirling about what I need to do to get there before I even tell him yes. “We’ll be there,” I say, and before I even look at my watch to see how short we are on time, the line is dead.

“We’re on?” Excitement edges her tone as she turns to follow me up the stairwell.

“We’ve got ninety minutes to get there. Let’s go.”

Chapter 13

We’re jostled closer together as the windowless Stryker we can’t see out of bumps down the road. I watch Beaux as she takes in everything about the confined space: the soldiers’ faces, the gear they’re weighted down with, their fingers resting loosely on their weapons.

I try to put myself in her shoes, remember how I felt the first time I did this, and yet all I can think of is the look on her face and the hitch in her breath in the stairwell. Hell yes, I’m pumped to be on this mission, but I use the image of her to settle the antsy feeling causing my knee to jog up and down and fingers to fidget with my gear.

When I glance over at Beaux, I take in the way her hair is braided under the advanced combat helmet, and visually check to make sure her modular body armor vest is on properly – items required by Sarge, but I would have made her put them on if he hadn’t.

A harsh bump jostles us so that my elbow raps smartly off the metal behind me, and I know that if I’ve been thrown around, her small frame has to have experienced worse. Our eyes meet as the thought crosses through my mind, and although I see the grimace on her face, I also see the thrill in her eyes. And that thrill mixed with her flushed cheeks and devilish smirk tells me she gets this, gets me, in a way that so many others can’t.

She feels this same buzz in her body right now, that razor edge of not knowing what’s going to happen next, of the possible danger that lies just around the corner and rather than run from it, we’re heading straight into it. It heightens everything – your senses, your instinct, your emotions – to the point where you’re practically high on it like a narcotic. And hell no, we’re nowhere near as brave as the soldiers who surround us because they are the ones going face-to-face with this beast, whoever it may be, head-on, while we are on the sidelines reporting. But at the same time, this is as close as any civilians can get.

“You ready?” I mouth the words to her since my voice would be drowned out by the sounds of this mass of metal surrounding us moving at high speeds.

A slight smile – part nerves, part excitement – spreads over her lips and her hands grip tighter to her camera bag, and it’s a silly thought but I love that I get to share her first embed mission with her. I’m about to say something else to her when Sarge’s voice from the right of me, loud and booming above the other sounds, fills my ears.

“So we have five units moving in. Different approaches. We’re hitting a small town where we believe one of the couriers lives. He’s delivering messages between the top officials to the midlevel. We find him, we get one step closer to knowing when and where the big meet is going to happen,” he says, confirming my hunch as to why the mission is occurring.

“When we get there, you two will stay with Rosco over there,” he says, pointing to the guy next to Beaux. “He’ll be your babysitter.” He chuckles before carrying on about what is to be expected when we reach our destination.

“The military officials aren’t really saying, Bob. The only information we are allowed to report at this time is that the mission was considered successful. What exactly we’re looking at for measure of success is currently unknown, but they do believe the commanders have acquired the information they were looking for. Beyond that, details are slim,” I report to the lead anchor as I juggle my notes since we finished in perfect timing to hit the tail end of the evening news.