Hot-Blooded. Karen Foley

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       2

       Kuwait City, six weeks later

      THWAP, THWAP, Thwap.

      The steady sound of helicopter blades cut through the air overhead, but Elena hardly noticed the noise. After three days spent sitting in a converted hangar alongside the U.S. military airstrip in Kuwait City, she’d become well accustomed to the sound of both helicopters and jets as they came in and then left again. The kicker was she should have been on one of those helicopters long before now.

      She’d seen her orders; she was going to the Green Zone in Baghdad, where she would try to clean up the colossal mess that had been made of the military contracts there. She’d heard countless stories about how good the quality of life was in the Zone, and she’d actually begun looking forward to her deployment. In the six weeks since she’d volunteered to come to Iraq, she’d had plenty of opportunity to examine her life and had concluded that both Carmen and Larry were right—it was boring.

      But that was all about to change. She was shaking things up in a big way. She’d embarked on an adventure and made a promise to herself to embrace each new and exciting opportunity as it came her way, no matter what. Now she stared at the woman holding the clipboard that contained her new orders, and silently counted to ten, willing herself to control her rising temper.

      “What do you mean they’ve changed my assignment?” she demanded in dismay. “I’ve been sitting in this hangar for three days, waiting for a sandstorm to subside so that I can fly to Baghdad, Iraq. As in the Green Zone, complete with fitness center, modern plumbing and a fast-food burger joint. That’s what I signed up for—” she broke off to glance at the front of the woman’s uniform “—Major Dumfries. Not some remote outpost in northern Afghanistan.”

      The other woman didn’t even have the grace to look apologetic. Instead, she met Elena’s gaze unflinchingly. “Your deployment paperwork clearly states that your assignment can change at any time, depending on need. The Defense Procurement Agency has indicated they now need you in Afghanistan, and you need to be flexible, ma’am.” She glanced again at the clipboard. “We have a helicopter departing for the outpost at 0600 hours tomorrow morning. I’ll see you back here at the airstrip then.”

      Elena’s mouth fell open. “Wait! That’s it? Just like that, I’m now going to some hellhole in Afghanistan? How can you do this? Is it even legal?”

      Major Dumfries smiled. “I don’t make the assignments, ma’am. I just make sure the folks get there in one piece.”

      Elena took a deep breath and reminded herself yet again that this was an adventure—a new opportunity—and she would embrace it wholeheartedly. She pasted a smile on her face.

      “Fine. I’ll go to this outpost.” Reaching down, she lifted her rucksack onto one shoulder and then hefted her two duffel bags with as much dignity as she could manage, considering they weighed about a gazillion pounds each. She started to turn away, and then swung back toward the Major. “Just out of curiosity, what kind of facilities do they have at this place?”

      “Facilities?” The other woman’s eyebrow arched.

      “Yes. As in dining hall, fitness center, recreation center … please tell me this outpost has facilities.”

      Major Dumfries’s mouth twitched. “I understand they’re still in the process of improving the post, but they do have toilets and showers.”

      Elena stared at her. “What about a dining hall? They must have that, right?”

      “I believe there is a dining facility, yes.”

      Elena drew in a deep breath. “Are there any other civilians at this outpost?”

      “Several, as a matter of fact.”

      Elena supposed she should be grateful for that. If there were other civilians at the outpost, then the living conditions couldn’t be too primitive. But she’d heard horror stories about some of the forward operating bases located on the northern and eastern perimeters of Afghanistan, particularly in regards to their vulnerability. She hadn’t planned on going to an area that was potentially dangerous. After all, she wasn’t a soldier. She had no combat training. She was a contracts geek—a desk jockey, for Pete’s sake. Her job was to meet with the defense contractors who were doing work on the various military bases and to negotiate terms and conditions for performance of that work. Aside from ensuring that the soldiers had the facilities and equipment they needed to perform their jobs, she had no military background.

      “I’ve heard some of these outlying bases come under frequent attack by the Taliban,” she ventured. “Is that the case with this particular base?”

      Major Dumfries gave her a reassuring smile. “You’ll be in safe hands, ma’am. We haven’t lost a civilian yet. There’s a special-operations detachment based there. They’ll keep you safe.”

      Elena swiped a hand across her eyes. “I need a drink.”

      She wasn’t aware she’d muttered the words aloud until she saw the amusement in the other woman’s eyes. “Alcohol is prohibited in Kuwait City, ma’am.”

      “Great,” she replied. “I can’t even have a last drink before I leave civilization.”

      Major Dumfries tucked the clipboard under her arm and leaned forward, glancing around to ensure they wouldn’t be overheard. “This is strictly off the record, but sometimes the U.S. embassy personnel have access to alcohol. I understand they’re having a small send-off tonight over at the hotel for some of their aides who are returning to the States.”

      A party? At the hotel? That was the first positive bit of news she’d had since arriving in Kuwait City three days earlier. Since then, it seemed she’d done nothing but schlep her gear back and forth between the hotel and the military airstrip, waiting for transportation to her final destination. Which was supposed to be the Green Zone, not some scary outpost in eastern Afghanistan.

      Oh, yeah, she definitely needed a drink.

      “Do I need an invitation to get in?”

      “No, ma’am. Just take the elevator up to the concierge level at 2000 hours and follow the noise. Nobody will even notice you’re there. But don’t overdo it. The only thing worse than flying in a helicopter is flying in one with a hangover.”

      ELENA STEPPED OUT of the elevator and paused. Major Dumfries had been right about the noise; she could hear the festivities from down the hall, and it sounded as if the party was in full swing. She hesitated, hoping she’d dressed appropriately. Nothing worse than standing out in a crowd when all she wanted to do was blend in. While she’d brought five sets of agency-issued uniforms with her, she’d been restricted on how much civilian clothing she could bring from home, and had settled on several pairs of pants and tops, and some comfortable workout gear. The crimson blouse she’d chosen to wear with her jeans wasn’t dressy, but it would have to do. She wore her dark hair loose around her shoulders, allowing it to wave naturally around her face, and had opted for just a touch of mascara and some lipstick.

      She drew in a deep breath and smoothed her palms over the seat of her jeans. Crashing a party of strangers was totally out of character for her, not to mention bad manners. She wasn’t sure she had СКАЧАТЬ