Brotherhood Protectors: Before The Brotherhood (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 6

  He knew the basics about Lorenzo, but he didn’t trust the other man. Therefore, he had Asad, the interpreter, checked out before letting him near Caitlin.

  Owen took out his binoculars and scanned the area. His guys had set up a perimeter and checked in on schedule, but Owen didn’t like surprises. It was better to be prepared than caught unawares. Every fifteen minutes, he scanned the border of the village, looking for any threats.

  When he finished his sweep, he turned to where Caitlin had been standing. Ice shot down his back when he saw she was no longer there. Without hesitation, he moved to where he’d last seen her, eyes scanning the thin crowd. They were in a small village, mud houses surrounded them, and the locals moved about, probably curious about the newcomers and their helicopter. He tapped his comm. “Bravo Team One, no eyes on Charlie, come in.” Caitlin’s codename was Charlie. He’d chosen it since it was the military phonic for the letter C and helped secure her actual name during radio communications.

  “This is Bravo Team one. Charlie and Lightweight are in the house on your two. Over.”

  “Copy,” Owen said as he headed toward the house just to his right. Lightweight wasn’t phonic for shit. But he figured since utilizing the first-letter-of-the-first-name method, it was a better option than Loser for Lorenzo.

  Owen didn’t wait for an invitation when he reached the open door. His heart raced, which pissed him off. He wasn’t scared about fucking up his mission. He was worried. About her.

  Yeah, seriously pissed.

  He knew the guys on his team would keep eyes on her location, so he had no doubt she would be in the house since she hadn’t been seen exiting it.

  Jesus Christ! The moment his gaze found her, she’d be lucky if he didn’t wring her damn neck!

  * * *

  Caitlin interviewed several of the local tribe members, but it hadn’t been easy winning their trust. She was an American on their land. Just because they appreciated the fight against the Taliban and ISIS didn’t mean they welcomed outsiders with open arms. The bomb dropping nearby certainly hadn’t helped smooth their ruffled feathers. Each time she asked someone new about it, Asad had to rush to translate the frustrations echoed from all. Eventually, she’d gotten to the heart of the matter, and with each person, she’d been directed to another. When she’d been hunting down each new lead, Lorenzo filmed various groups of people going along their normal lives. The material he captured would be spliced in with the interviews she conducted to tell the complete story.

  The last young man she’d spoken with told her of his uncle, saying the man had been out with his goats when he saw suspicious men. Caitlin followed the young guy to his uncle and asked him some questions. The uncle confirmed he’d seen those suspicious men his nephew first discussed, but said his wife had talked directly to one of them. She’d had to cajole him into letting her speak to the older woman. He refused to allow his wife to come out of their home with the military men in the village. Owen and some of his team were visible to everyone, so there was no denying it added to the tension of the small crowd, but eventually, the uncle had invited Caitlin, Lorenzo, and Asad into their home to talk to his wife.

  “Ask her where she was when she saw the men,” she said to Asad. He repeated her question in Pashto.

  The woman replied, and Asad translated, “In the field near the goats.”

  “And how many men did you see?”

  “Nine.”

  “Your husband said you spoke to one. Is that correct?”

  “Yes.” She nodded again as Asad translated.

  “What did he say to you?”

  The woman became animated, saying what seemed like quite a lot, and Asad kept his focus on her until she finished. Then he turned to Caitlin. “He said to go back to the village and not come out until morning. It wasn’t safe to meet mother.” Asad used air quotes on the last word. The woman had a confused expression on her face, but Caitlin understood the message loud and clear.

  “How many days was this before the airstrike?”

  “Two. Yes, two days.”

  “Did he say anything else?”

  The woman nodded before she spoke, but before Asad translated, he asked her something. They talked back and forth before Asad focused on Caitlin. “He asked her if she’d seen anybody selling military weapons.”

  “What?” Caitlin asked. “Did she?”

  “No. She just told me that one of the village men had been recruited into ISIS, and he’d come back the week before the bombing. There was talk that he’d negotiated a deal with Americans for weapons.”

  Her mouth fell open. “An American selling weapons to ISIS?”

  Asad’s head bobbed side-to-side. “An American military man.”

  What the… “Who was the buyer? The guy from the village, I mean.”

  Asad began to translate her question, but a loud noise cut him off.

  “Caitlin,” Owen shouted from the front of the house. She turned to face his direction, but before she could step out of what she likened to a den, he was in there. “What the hell are you doing?”

  She pointed to the older lady, who was scrambling to stand behind her husband. “This woman spoke to someone in the military before the bombing.” Caitlin stopped short of the weapons details. She needed to get more information before she let that knowledge out. If someone in the military was actually selling arms to ISIS, that was huge.

  Owen’s gaze shot to the woman. They narrowed a bit before looking down to Caitlin. “I don’t give a fuck,” he said flatly. “You are not to leave my sight.”

  “Sorry, but she wasn’t allowed to leave the house to speak to me. I had no choice.”

  “I’ve been here the whole time,” Lorenzo said. Owen’s head whipped in his direction where he stood in the back of the room with his camera aimed at her and the locals.

  “Stick to shooting video. Let me worry about the big boy stuff.”

  Crap. Caitlin grabbed his shirt. “Hey. You don’t have to be rude, and you’re freaking them out,” she whispered heatedly. He grabbed her wrist and yanked it off him.

  “Wrap it up. We’re done for the day.”

  “But we’ve only been here a few hours.”

  “Done,” he repeated and backed away. He crossed his stupid arms over his stupid chest and glared at her.

  Caitlin shuffled over to Asad. “Tell them we have to leave, but we’ll be back tomorrow—”

  “Nope,” Owen said, cutting in. “We’re dropping to another quadrant tomorrow. And we’re sure as shit not disclosing where ahead of time.” He looked at her like she’d lost her mind.

  “Right,” she muttered and looked at Asad. “Thank her for her time, and let her know if I get a chance to come back and ask more questions, I’ll bring some fruit as an offering.”

  Once Asad finished, she smiled and nodded her goodbye before following Owen out of the house. She was so mad at him for shutting down her interview. He had no idea how hard it was getting people to talk…and that didn’t include the repressed class of women in this country. The fact that her husband had agreed to the interview and the lady actual told her some interesting information were both more than she expected after the first day of getting zilch from the troops.

  She wanted to bite his head off, but he was busy barking orders in his ear thingy as he walked beside her toward the helicopter. As they got closer, the other men traveling with her materialized from various directions and converged. They all loaded in the aircraft. When Caitlin sat, Owen reached for the harness.

  “I got it!” she yelled over the whirl of the propeller. She did not need his help with anything.

  He gently knocked her hands away and fastened her in before strapping into the seat beside her.

  Within moments, they were airborne, and Caitlin’s anger grew. She kept her gaze locked away from the brute sitting beside her and stewed. She had no problem with him protecting her, but she hadn’t been in any danger when he’d ordered their evacuation from the village.
Caitlin knew how to follow rules. Heck, she understood why there were rules in the first place, but what he did was flex his authority muscle. Nothing else.

  The return trip took as long as it had to get to Nangarhar this morning, but it felt like it only took minutes. When they landed, she ripped at her harness, and stomped off the plane. As soon as she was far enough away from the noise, she turned to Lorenzo.

  “Send me the raw footage you have when you get back to your room. I need to see what I have to work with.”

  He smiled. “You could always come with me and watch it. I think you could use a break away from all this to focus on work.”

  “No more field trips today, kiddos,” Owen said, stepping up to them. “We can set you up in a meeting room here if you need to keep working.”

  No way did she want to be in a room with Owen right now. She needed to get away and find her wits. She refused to even look at him right now. “Tempting, but I need to go over my notes. Send me the video, and I’ll message you with any questions I have.”

  “How about a drink?” Lorenzo asked. “Not quite the break I’d hoped for, but you don’t have to leave for that.”

  She blinked, not sure how to respond. “That’s sweet, but the only way I’m getting a break is if I’m in my room.”

  “Well, now, that’s a little more like it,” Lorenzo said, taking a step toward her.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake,” Owen growled, and raised an arm between them, stopping Lorenzo’s advancement. “I have to watch her twenty-four-seven, and sure as shit don’t wanna suffer through thirty seconds of you humping her leg like a horny stray dog.”

  Lorenzo turned red. Caitlin gaped at him.

  “Er, Commander, the pilot wants to know what time to meet in the morning,” one of his guys asked.

  “Oh-eight-hundred. Give the locals more time to rise and shine before we show.” Then he took Caitlin’s arm, pulling her along, but looked over his should as they walked. “Make sure Lorenzo gets safely to his hotel.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  She heard Lorenzo cussing behind her, but she was too stunned to form words. Owen practically dragged her all the way to the barracks.

  “You’ve lost your damn mind!”

  “I did you a favor.”

  “I don’t need anything from you.”

  He shook his head without another word and didn’t let go of her until they reached her door. She yanked her arm free with unnecessary force, opened the door, and slammed it in his face. She held in the scream that lodged in her throat. If she let it free, that…that…that jerk would come barging in.

  Of all the nerve!

  She’d found him damn near irresistible days ago, and now she wanted to knee him in the balls like she’d learned how to do back in college.

  She tossed her stuff down onto her bed and whipped the hijab off her head with an angry huff.

  “That sorry son of a bitch,” she muttered, stalking around her tiny room. She unlaced her shoes and kicked them off, a furious groan escaping as the second one flew across the room and landed against the wall. She pulled her shirt off, leaving the tank on. It was hot, and dirty, and dry, and all of that miserableness just compounded her anger. If she could pummel him, she would. She would so march over there right this second and go toe to toe with him. But the man was like a million times stronger than she was. She wasn’t an idiot, nor was she one to condone unnecessary violence. But the thought of inflicting pain eased a little of her fury.

  Just a little.

  It took several breaths before she could turn to her notebook and begin scanning the information she’d jotted down. Not quite calm, but no longer seeing red. Until his words drifted back to her.

  I did you a favor. Was he mental? So much for calming breaths! She growled as she dropped to the bed, but as soon as she landed, she yelped and shot up. Something stabbed into her leg. She looked at the blanket, fearing some desert-dwelling insect had stung her, and knowing if she had to go ask Owen for medical attention, she’d stay here and die a slow miserable death instead.

  But it was much worse than some creepy crawly. That red haze from before? Oh, it was back as she stared down at Owen’s fancy shamancy tactical pen. He’d let her use it the other day, and she’d kept using it instead of digging out one of her own. He hadn’t asked for it back, and since she knew it could be used as a weapon, she hadn’t felt inclined to return it.

  Until now.

  I don’t need anything from you. Her last words to him echoed, reinforcing that resolve. She grabbed the pen and headed for the door.

  Chapter Seven

  Owen sat at the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, head in his hands.

  “You’re fucking losing it,” he muttered.

  Why had he torn out of Nangarhar like that? They hadn’t been scheduled to leave for another hour, but the second he realized Caitlin wasn’t where she was supposed to be, he’d gone apeshit. On the surface, he’d come across as a stern asshole because years in special ops honed him to function in the worst of situations. But on the inside? He’d freaked out. He knew she wouldn’t have had time to go far. He knew his guys had eyes on her, too. He’d gotten to her side within forty seconds of losing her.

  A litany of cuss words ghosted out of his mouth. He’d lost her. It had been short, and she’d been okay, but he’d still lost her. Owen knew it happened all the time. Hell, it had happened to him before. Difference was, those times, he’d lectured whoever it had been for disobeying orders and continued on. Today? He’d had this insane need to get her the hell out of Dodge.

  But oh, that wasn’t the end of his stupidity. When that slimy Lorenzo made yet another pass at her, Owen couldn’t sit there and listen. She’d turned him down already, but the dude wouldn’t take no for an answer. The man lacked any skills when it came to reading women, and Owen had been about two seconds away from giving Lightweight a personal lesson.

  A door slammed, and he rose. Was she going to try to sneak away? They were on a base for Christ’s sake. He grabbed the shirt he’d discarded and took a step toward the door, but it flew open before he reached it.

  He almost winced at the anger rolling off her. Damn, but if she wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Even angry. There was just something about this woman.

  And he hated himself for thinking of her like that. Yes, he was a straight, virile man, but he was also a special operator in the military who knew how to keep his dick in his pants, even if his cock refused his orders, too.

  “I got your favor right here.”

  She yanked her arm back and swung in his direction. He didn’t see what she had in her hand, but he deflected whatever it was she threw at him. She yelled as she charged. Pissed off women weren’t part of his combat training, but his skills kicked in anyway. He grabbed her arm and spun her around, holding her by her midsection against his body. She kicked out, her foot connecting with the door, making it slam so hard the walls shook. She gasped out in sound of pain, and he barely had time to notice her shoes were off because the infuriated woman had managed to gain enough force when she connected with the door that he lost his footing. Owen tripped over his boots, and he landed on his back on the bed, still holding her to him. She flailed, but he refused to lessen his grip.

  “Caitlin.”

  “I hate you!”

  All right, then. He twisted to his side and managed to turn her so that her back was on the mattress, and he rolled on top of her. He grabbed her arms and pinned them above her head.

  She growled, and he slapped his halfway free hand over her mouth. It wasn’t really the best position to be in, her beneath him, writhing, but damn. What choice did he have? “Would you calm down?” he said through his teeth. Her movements were making him stir until he became excruciatingly hard.

  She slowed, but her breath sawed in and out of her body, forcing her breasts to mash against him. Jesus, he did not need to be thinking about her body when she was pinned beneath him.

/>   On a bed.

  While he lost yet another battle with his wayward dick.

  After several agonizing seconds, she completely relaxed, and he chanced moving his hand. When she didn’t scream, he pulled it away to prop himself up a little higher, creating some space between their heaving bodies. Though his hadn’t been because of exertion.

  At least not yet.

  No. He had to focus here. He looked to the side, willing his mind to work, and saw the object she’d hurled at him.

  “If you get this pissed when you run out of ink, I’d hate to see how you handle road rage.”

  She glared wordlessly.

  “When I told you it was a weapon, I didn’t think you’d try using it on me.”

  Still nothing. And he was glad her hands were secured far away from his gun.

  He sighed, dropping his forehead on top of hers, losing the hardest battle of his life—resisting her. “I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I was jerk.”

  The seconds ticked by, and somehow, he found himself closer to her. He was strong enough to hold himself up, but the strength currently in control wasn’t led by his external abilities, overriding the power in his arms. And he’d quickly learned that he had no mental or emotional control when it came to this woman. It was some other force within calling the shots.

  “You’ve been a jerk since I got here,” she said, but there wasn’t any fire in her words.

  He had his eyes closed. A last ditch effort to put some distance between them. He knew if he opened them now, he would be a goner.

  “You drive me insane, baby.”

  Her breath bathed his face, and his mouth dropped closer to inhale the luscious scent that was her. All her. He shouldn’t be doing this. He should not be holding her down on his bed. He knew this. He fucking knew this.

  He couldn’t move away. Every time he shifted, thinking he was creating space, he was drawing nearer to her.

  “Owen,” she breathed. His name leaving her mouth caused her lips to brush against his. That was how close they’d gotten.