Hard Beat

And yes she got the action shots – great panoramas of knock and talks happening at the same time on three different residences, soldiers’ backs with the muzzles of the M4 carbines visible over their shoulders – but she also got those kinds of pictures that make me stop and stare and read what’s beneath the surface. A platoon of soldiers looking weary, the lines on their faces and looks in their eyes depicting both the fear and monotony of their tasks. Villagers peeking out from windows, kids fascinated to see soldiers, and adults leery of their presence. Sergeant Jones giving instructions, the line of his posture and angle of the shot reflecting his authority without a single patch on his uniform in the image.

Then there’s me. The few shots she snuck when I wasn’t looking where the rush I feel from being part of the mission practically leaps off the page. She captured the perfect image of what that buzz Rafe and I talk about looks like, and it’s hard to look away.

Beaux’s muffled voice through the hotel room door pulls me from my fixation on the computer, and I shut it down, my thoughts now focused on her. The sex we had earlier was mind-blowing, but I’m nowhere near satisfied. When it comes to Beaux Croslyn, I have a feeling that no matter how many times she rocks my world, it’s not going to be enough.

So I close the laptop, scoot the chair back, and chuckle at my on-air attire of button-up dress shirt and the khaki shorts and bare feet that the computer camera couldn’t catch. One thing about fieldwork is I don’t have to abide by attire restrictions and wear stuffy suits like the desk anchors. Well that and I get unpredictability and sunshine on a daily basis. Can’t complain about that regardless of where that sunshine is located.

“How could this happen?” Her voice rises in a way that causes me to go and make sure she’s okay, because it doesn’t sound like she is.

The hotel room door is just barely ajar, and I can see her through the crack in the doorjamb. She paces back and forth as she listens to someone, hands gesturing, head shaking, and words being cut off every time she starts to speak by whoever is on the other end of the line. I’m intrigued and don’t mean to snoop, but the only other time I’ve seen her this agitated is with me, so I stand just inside the door and observe, curiosity getting the better of me.

“I told you… I can’t. This is… ugh… Just know I’ll take care of it somehow, okay… but please, no one else can find out…” Her voice drifts off as she turns her back from me, something else being mumbled into the phone that I can’t quite catch. Now I’m definitely all ears. “I know. I know. I call when I can – you can’t be mad at that. It’s not my fault and… Jesus!” She blows out a breath in frustration as she leans against the wall and puts her head back against it with her eyes closed. “He’s going to kick my ass.”

I can feel the tension radiating off her and am incredibly curious about what exactly is going on.

“We’ll deal with it if it becomes an issue. Regardless I’m the one who’s go

“Nice broadcast attire,” she says with a smile as she motions to my shorts and bare feet.

And I may be enthralled with the woman in so many ways I can’t enumerate them all, but I know a change of topic when I hear one. At first I thought she’d just gone into the hallway to give me privacy during my broadcast – but now I’m begi

“Thanks.” I give her a nod of my head, trying to feel out where to go with this. “Everything okay?”

“Yep,” she says as she brushes past me into the hotel room.

“Yep? Because it didn’t sound like it. What’s going on, Beaux?”

“Nothing.”

I snort, can’t help it because I wasn’t born yesterday. “Uh-huh. He’s go

When she finally looks at me, I witness her green irises swimming with conflicted emotion and her lips opening and closing without saying a word. I decide to let her have the moment, allow her to keep whatever cards she’s playing close to her vest.

“Don’t ruin this, Ta

She steps into me as soon as she finishes speaking, both of us proceeding cautiously, as I start to process what she’s said and she waits to see if I’ll accept her request. Her eyes plead with me, reinforcing her words, and as much as I want to shake some answers out of her, I also want to fold her in my arms and erase the look in them.

The fact that I don’t like the words I overheard or the fear I somehow feel emanating off her means I clench my jaw to prevent any questions from tumbling out, keeping them churning just beneath the surface. I don’t deserve to know all of her deep dark secrets yet because we’re still getting to know each other and still I feel the inherent need to protect her from whatever is haunting her eyes.

She must feel my turmoil because she reaches up on her tiptoes to brush her lips to mine in an attempt to ease the sting of the secrets she’s keeping from me. And call me a sucker, but it does help a little bit. Well, until my phone rings – Rafe’s distinct ringtone interrupting us.

Duty calls. Too bad everything within me wants to be focused elsewhere at the moment.

Like on her.

I know I’m dreaming, know this can’t be real, but it feels so good to see Stella and the familiar smile on her face again, that I welcome the memory. I glance over at her and just shake my head. There’s nothing else I can really do because she’s just that damn fu