Read Hold On (Delos Series Book 5) Online

Authors: Lindsay McKenna

Tags: #Romance, #Military

Hold On (Delos Series Book 5) (6 page)

“Gimme a break, Dara. I’ve been on Bagram six months out of every year for the last five years. You get to know the base and how it operates.”

“So, have you been to the Nest?”

“No,” Callie said pertly, “but I’ve heard about it from other women who have been there. They say it’s like an apartment.”

“It is. And it’s soundproof.”

“Good thing,” Callie said drily, giving her sister a wicked grin.

And then they both laughed, their hands over their mouths, looking more like teenagers than women who could, at any given moment, be putting their lives on the line.

*

Beau was swamped
by the children the minute he and Matt arrived inside the orphanage. They had made their cursory inspection outdoors, and seeing the children warmed Beau’s heart as he and Matt moved into the mudroom. They kept their M4s against their chests so a child couldn’t accidentally bump into a barrel and get hurt on the cold metal of the weapon. The boys gravitated to Matt, and the girls flowed around Beau. In part, it was because they both spoke their language, which created trust. The children’s openness and their happy chatter made the men smile.

Beau greeted Maggie and watched Callie disappear into the kitchen, where breakfast was being prepared for the children. He called the girls to accompany him to the big room, and they followed him like little ducklings. They all knew he brought wrapped candy, and their small hands reached for it when he patted the stuffed pockets of his cargo pants.

Matt had taken the boys to one corner of the big room, and Beau took the girls to another. In Afghan society, if an American soldier gave a little girl a piece of candy or food, the boys would come and attack her, beating her up until she gave up her prize to them. The boys were vicious when it came to intimidating a girl. They let her know from the time she took her first steps that she was valued far below any goat or donkey in the village.

As Beau sat down on a chair, he pulled his weapon to his back, getting it out of the way as the girls crowded excitedly around him, their eyes shining with eager anticipation, their small hands opened toward him, begging him for some candy. He smiled, spoke softly in Pashto to them, and pulled out a bunch of wrapped candies. As he held his large hand down toward them, he saw how different the girls were from the boys.

The boys would have charged forward, fighting and hitting each other, grabbing for as much candy as they could get. Instead, the girls waited, their eyes large with excitement. Beau told them he would start with one girl and allow each to take one piece in turn.

The girls were patient as Beau handed out all the candy to them. Then he called them over, asking them to sit down around his feet and eat their prizes. Across the room, he saw Matt had his hands full with the shoving, pushing boys. All it took was a deep growl from him in Pashto to stop the tussles, and they backed off, thinking they were going to get cuffed or struck with a belt or a switch.

Instead, Matt told them to sit down and be still. And they did.

Beau smiled and watched his charges slurping up the hard candy, licking their small fingers and smiling as they enjoyed their treats. He would remain with the girls until they finished their candy, because if he didn’t, the boys would try to come and take it away from them. And more than a few were looking longingly his way.

Beau gave them a dark, unspoken look of warning that they were not welcome. The boys remained sitting, squirming, but no longer fighting among themselves. Matt handed out one piece of candy to each of them. Beau chuckled to himself, glad he’d gotten the girls. They were far easier to work with than those wild little boys.

He happened to lift his head and was surprised to catch Callie staring at him. He wasn’t sure what the look on her face meant, but he smiled over at her and she promptly turned and left the room.

Beau wanted to tell her how pretty she looked this morning in her purple turtleneck sweater and dark gray cotton trousers. She wore her red hair in a long ponytail down her back, and he itched to slide his fingers through that molten crimson mass.

His dreams had been torrid last night, and he’d awakened this morning with a painful hard-on. Even worse, he’d also awakened with an ache in his heart—for Callie. This was clearly going to be about more than sex.

Unconsciously, he rubbed the area of his chest where his Kevlar vest rested. Callie was a complicated person, and Beau understood her distrust of men in general. Of course, getting hit on all the time was nerve-wracking, not to mention infuriating, to a woman. He remembered his father telling the boys one time how he’d met their mother. Amber had been beautiful, fawned over and chased by every boy on Black Mountain, when she was in her early twenties. Beau remembered how his father, who was a patient man, had gotten her to choose him over all her other suitors. He had treated her with respect, never tried to sneak a kiss from her, and took her on long walks instead, talking to her about what was important to her. What were her dreams? Her goals? What made her happy? What made her laugh?

His father was a wise man, Beau decided, and he swore he would apply that same philosophy to Callie.

“Here.”

Looking up, he saw Callie was holding out a washcloth. “You’ve got a bunch of little girls with sticky fingers, Gardner. Clean them up so they can come and get breakfast, okay?” She smiled one of the sweetest smiles he’d ever seen.

He grinned crookedly and thanked her. One by one, Beau dutifully cleaned every pair of little hands thrust up into his face. It took about ten minutes, but the girls’ mouths and hands were wiped clean of candy. He shooed them down the hall to the kitchen, and they ran like little wild horses, their hair flying behind them, giggling and laughing.

It lifted his spirits as well. Children were innocent. They needed protection and support. Sadness moved through Beau, because all of these children had been ignored by their villages and left to starve to death. They had no place to go. If he could have, Beau would have adopted the whole brood of them, but that wasn’t reality. And it broke his heart, because their lives in this harsh corner of the world were never going to have happy endings.

Matt was busy schooling the wayward boys, and it was clear that they were listening to him. Beau smiled to himself, watching his sergeant speak to the boys in Pashto like a native. He was a good leader, not one who used bullying tactics to get them to do what he wanted.

Beau had seen real changes in the boys since he’d been at the orphanage, and it was all thanks to Matt. He had stopped the boys from hitting or attacking the girls, which was a huge triumph. As the last boy left and walked, instead of raced, down the hall, Beau sauntered over to Matt. The boys and girls were now integrated at the tables. These boys were going to learn to respect the girls. It was a good lesson for both genders as far as he was concerned.

Matt pointed with his bearded chin toward the front door. It was time for another stroll around the grounds of the orphanage.

*

Callie groaned, sitting
down in Maggie’s empty office and pushing off one of her shoes. It was three p.m., and all the children were down for their naps. Her feet were aching, and she longed to sit down and rub some of the soreness out of them.

“Here,” Beau said, placing his M4 aside and sitting down on the stool in front of her chair. “Let me do that for you.”

Callie hadn’t even heard him enter the office. “Don’t tell me you give foot rubs, too!” she said incredulously. Grinning gratefully, she set her shoe aside.

“Yes, ma’am, I do. My ma has weak feet. I think they call it ‘fallen arches.’ I used to watch my pa take each foot separately and gently massage them. She got so relaxed that sometimes she’d fall asleep on the couch while he massaged away. She always felt better after he worked on them.” Beau held up his long, spare hands. “I got lucky, Callie. I got his hands.” He reached for her right foot.

“I would
love
a massage,” Callie sighed. “I need shoes with better arch support, that’s for sure.” She leaned back, and the moment Beau’s hands enclosed her foot, she felt the magic his mother must have felt when Beau’s father began working on her feet. His hands felt wonderful!

“You know, you work too hard around here, Callie,” he drawled. “Now, just close your eyes and go far away in your mind. I’ll take care of these poor, sufferin’ feet of yours.” And he did, running his hand up and down her arch, her skin warm and velvety beneath his seeking fingers as he pushed and cajoled those tight muscles to loosen them up.

“Ohh . . . ,” she whispered. “That feels so good, Beau . . . thank you . . .”

His mouth curved faintly as he began to knead her flesh, taking each toe, gently moving it, getting it to relax. The soft sounds emanating from Callie’s throat pleased him.

He wanted to do something for her. God knew, she flew around this place, helping the four widows and then assisting Maggie with tons of paperwork in her office. Callie was constantly on her feet, and he’d never seen her take a break.

“Must be that belly dancing, ’cause your ankles and calves are truly fine,” he murmured, sliding his fingers from below her knee downward.

Callie sighed, utterly relaxed. “Everyone works hard around here. And hey, you can do this any time you want.” Barely opening her eyes, she studied his bent head as he focused solely on her leg, ankle, and foot.

“Well, you and I are going to be in this neck of the woods until next March, so let me know when you need another boost.” As a matter of fact, Beau was making some long-range plans for them both.

He would, of course, have to go on missions with his team, but they’d also get a few days’ rest at Bagram. Then he could call her up and ask her out, or do something special to gain more of her trust. He’d been looking for an opportunity to talk to her today, and by sheer luck, he’d found her here.

“Mmm, you’ve got a deal,” Callie murmured. His hands were strong but gentle.
He truly does have magic hands
, she thought as her cranky feet began to glow with improved circulation. When he was done with one foot, he leaned down, retrieved her shoe, and eased it back on, placing it beside him on the wide stool.

“Are we ready for the other foot?” he teased, already picking it up and coaxing the shoe off her foot.

“Ohh, for sure . . . thank you . . .” Callie felt absolutely adored. Worshipped, as a matter of fact. Her mind rejected that image, but she couldn’t help but feel spoiled rotten by Beau Gardner. His hands soothed her sore feet, and as he kneaded her ankle and then her calf, she could do nothing but sigh with pleasure.

The way he monitored his strength against her flesh told her he’d be a sensitive lover. Clearly, he wasn’t the kind of guy to show off his strength to women, and this was a refreshing change for Callie.

She began to doze off, and it wasn’t until Beau placed her shoe back on her foot that she roused herself.

“Feel better now?” Beau asked, gently tapping her ankle.

“Like night and day,” she admitted, her voice husky as she sat up, rubbing her eyes. “I must have dozed off. I never do that!”

“Only for about ten minutes,” Beau said. He eased off the stool, walked over to retrieve his rifle, and snapped it back into his chest harness. “The kids will be down for another fifteen minutes. Would you like a cup of coffee? I’m having one,” he said, gesturing at the freshly made pot sitting on the back shelf in the office.

“That sounds good,” she said, still trying to wake up. “My feet feel wonderful. I guess I owe you,” she offered, feeling suddenly shy.

“Uh-oh,” Beau teased her mercilessly, pouring her a cup and then adding the sugar and cream she liked. Stirring it, he turned and walked across the office, handing her the mug.

“What?” Callie demanded, thanking him for the coffee. Her eyes moved upward, meeting his. There was such merriment in their gray depths that she felt embraced by an invisible energy coming directly from him to her.

“Well,” he drawled, returning to the coffeepot, “you said that you owe me. Now, what am I to think about that?” He sauntered to another chair that sat near hers.

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