Chapter
Twenty-eight
T
he image filled Becca’s laptop screen, frozen in the spot where she’d pressed pause.
The shot of a combat boot sticking out from beneath a tarp.
That scene had been what finally got to her. Though since the whole documentary had
her in cold sweats and feeling ill, perhaps it was more accurate to say that shot
had been what finally knocked her into motion. Pushed her out of her frozen state.
Her eyes riveted to the screen as she watched the physical and emotional breakdown
of a soldier in the middle of a firefight when he’s told his teammate is dead.
All of the horrifying sights and sounds of the ambush had been caught on video in
the midst of the action, recorded in the same region where Tucker was right now.
Immediately after Logan had told her how Tucker had left OSU and gone to Afghanistan
to save her career, she’d driven home in a shocked daze. The moment she walked in
the door, she headed directly for her laptop and started to research the war in Afghanistan
in earnest. Not like the other times when she’d cruised the troop support pages that
focused on trivial things, like informing supporters not to mail chocolate to troops
during the heat of the summer.
She didn’t go to the feel-good sites where they posted pictures of smiling men in
uniform and upbeat thank-you notes from soldiers who’d received the care packages.
Instead, Becca set out to do some real research about the region where Tucker had
been sent . . . Actually, where he’d volunteered to go. Because of her. The knot in
her stomach tightened.
Before today, she hadn’t been able to tell where exactly he’d been sent. The address
he’d given her for mail didn’t say. She assumed a military APO address was kind of
like a post office box. The mail got there, but the sender never knew specifically
where the receiver was located.
But Logan had mentioned the name Kunar, and if nothing else Becca had absorbed some
of Emma’s search engine savvy. She searched and there was plenty to find on the happenings
in the Kunar Province in Eastern Afghanistan, but what she discovered did nothing
to relieve her worry. It only made things seem a hundred times worse.
Where was her phone? She needed her cell phone now. Her panic about Tucker overshadowed
every other part of Becca’s world. Small, everyday tasks seemed impossible. She was
shaking so hard, she could barely hold the phone, forget about dial. Somehow she eventually
managed to hit the right buttons and make the call.
When her sister answered, Becca’s fears came tumbling out in a cascade. “Emma, I’m
watching this war documentary and so many of them get killed. I still haven’t heard
from Tucker, and Logan hasn’t called me back yet. What if he’s dead?”
“Wait, Becca, slow down. I can barely understand you. What happened? Why are you crying?”
Emma sounded wide awake even though Becca had called her when she knew her sister
was usually sleeping. Even fully awake, Emma’s voice coming through the phone did
nothing to calm Becca’s sobs. “Calm down and tell me exactly what happened.”
She wheezed in a shaky breath and began, “I went to see Tucker’s army friend before
I left work. He told me Tucker didn’t get assigned to go to Afghanistan. He volunteered
to go.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because the university has a non-fraternization rule I didn’t know about and he was
afraid if he stayed, I’d get fired.”
“How would anyone know if you were
fraternizing
?” Emma’s emphasis of the word made it all sound as ridiculous now as it had to Becca
in Logan’s office.
“Apparently we got caught on the security video in the library.” Thinking back, was
that the last time she’d felt truly happy? Tucker, wanting her so badly they were
like two teenagers making out against the stacks.
“Rebecca! You and Tucker had sex in the library?”
“No. We just kissed a little.” Or a lot. She glanced back at the picture on her computer
and got a cold hard reminder of exactly where Tucker was because of his attempt to
do the right thing. “None of that is important now. What is, is that I spent all of
tonight researching where he is. And . . . Emma, it’s horrible.”
“War is horrible, Becca. But remember, for centuries men have been going and coming
back again. I’m sure he’s fine. He’ll call again when he can.”
Becca glanced at the screen on her computer, and the tears began anew. She couldn’t
shake the images running through her head. What she’d read. The hatred the insurgents
had toward Americans. The jihads against coalition soldiers. That one combat boot
. . .
Emma’s usual solution to everything—to look it up online—had backfired this time.
Every piece of information Becca unearthed was worse than the last.
“No, Emma. Something’s wrong. I know it.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do. I can feel it. I dozed off on the couch tonight and I had a nightmare. Tucker
was lying there in the dark, all alone.” Becca hadn’t wanted to speak it aloud, as
if that would make it true. “It’s freaking me out. I know it sounds crazy and I don’t
even believe in stuff like that—premonitions or whatever, but—”
“Becca, stop. It was just a bad dream.”
“But the number of casualties—”
“You can’t think like that. It’s war. Of course there are casualties. But there is
always going to be a risk. When isn’t there? I could get killed crossing the street.”
“You don’t understand. He’s not just at war. He’s in the worst place there is in the
war. The place where like eighty percent of all the casualties of all the forces occur.”
“Where are you getting these statistics?” The doubt was clear in Emma’s tone.
“Online, the same place where you get your facts and statistics.” She threw that indisputable
detail at Emma as a defense against her doubt. “Look it up yourself and see. Search
for U.S. military forces in the Kunar Province in Afghanistan. It’s absolutely horrifying.
Worse than I ever imagined. There was a reporter embedded there, and he wrote a book
and took video and made a documentary.”
“Tell me you didn’t watch that documentary.” Emma had used her mommy voice. Becca
ignored that.
“I had to, Emma.” And after watching it, she might never sleep again without nightmares.
“The camera was there filming live during an actual ambush. Men were shooting and
shouting and bleeding . . . Em, they showed . . .” She couldn’t even finish the sentence.
“Okay. Rebecca Hart, you listen to me. You turn off your computer right now. You stop
reading and watching anything about Afghanistan.”
“But—”
“Don’t you
but
me. Just do as I say. What you found isn’t up to date. Books and movies take time
to produce and release. I’m sure things change month by month over there, so the situation
could be totally different now. Remember the troop reductions we talked about when
you first told me he was going?” Emma didn’t wait for Becca to respond but instead
surged on. “I searched it after you told me, and it’s definitely happening. We’re
pulling troops out and turning things over to the Afghan government and their army.”
“Really?” Becca drew in a shaky breath.
“Yes. And that wouldn’t be happening if things were still as bad as you say they were
when that reporter was there and the video was being filmed.”
She hated to admit it, but what Emma was saying made some sense. The moment she hung
up, she’d go back and check the date on the documentary again. Wouldn’t it be wonderful
if everything was settled down over there by now and she’d worried for nothing? “You
really think so?”
“Yes, I do.”
Becca would give anything to believe that. “Okay. I guess you’re right.” She wiped
her eyes with her last remaining tissue. She’d have to buy more. She had a feeling
she’d need them if Tucker didn’t call her very soon.
“You have to try and get some rest, Becca. Staying up all night watching nightmarish
videos and reading about troop casualties isn’t going to help your state of mind any.”
“I know, but I don’t think I’ll be able to fall asleep.” She hadn’t even been able
to eat anything for dinner, which might be contributing to the sick feeling in her
stomach as much as the fear.
“Just try to rest, and tomorrow go and get some of those over-the-counter sleeping
pills.”
Becca generally wasn’t the sleeping pill type. Herbal tea and maybe an old movie on
television before bed had always been enough to lull her into oblivion, but there
was no way she’d be able to sleep with the sounds and images from that documentary’s
battle replaying in her mind. “All right, I will.”
“Promise?”
“Yes. I’ll go to the pharmacy and buy some, I swear.” She needed to be well rested
if only to keep herself on an even keel mentally.
If Tucker was able to get in touch with her, she didn’t want him to hear how worried
she’d been. She needed to be able to respond to his e-mail or phone call like everything
was fine, so he could concentrate on keeping himself safe without her being a distraction.
That was
if
he called or e-mailed. If he wasn’t . . . the word
dead
echoed in her head and increased the nausea.
As that thought resurfaced once more, she pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle
a fresh sob. She was a wreck. Emma was right. She needed to sleep, and to eat, and
to calm down.
“I think I have some of those nighttime pain relievers here. They always put me to
sleep.” She’d cried herself into a headache anyway.
“Good. Go take those. It’s the weekend. You don’t have classes. Do you have anything
else you absolutely have to do tomorrow?”
“No.”
“Then you go and take two. Close the blinds and curtains tight, go to bed, and sleep
late. And if you can’t fall asleep in like half an hour, you get up and take another
pill.”
“But the label says the dosage is one to two tablets.”
“You’ll be fine taking three. Trust me. I’ve gone up to four.”
Emma was usually a champion sleeper. Becca frowned. “When did you ever need to—”
“Never mind. This isn’t about me. It’s about you, and you need to rest. You’ll feel
so much better after some sleep. Everything will look different in the morning when
you’re well rested.”
Good, because even breathing seemed harder than it should right now. “Okay. I’ll give
it a try. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“You better.”
Becca hung up with Emma and had just pushed herself off the couch, when there was
a knock on the door. The sound made all the calm Emma had instilled in her disappear.
She hadn’t ordered delivery. Who could be here this late on a Friday night? Not for
the first time, Becca considered how she should have pepper spray or something for
times like this, but one look through the peephole allayed the fear she was about
to be attacked.
It was Logan. She couldn’t get the door open fast enough to let him inside. “Did you
hear from his parents?”
“Becca.” The expression on his face told her the answer. He knew something, and whatever
it was, it wasn’t good. If everything was fine, he would have called. He wouldn’t
have shown up here looking like this.
“No. Logan. No.” She shook her head. It couldn’t be true. “Do not tell me they told
you he’s dead.”
When the room began to sway, Logan reached out and grabbed her by both arms. As she
concentrated on the black letters spelling ARMY on the front of his gray sweatshirt,
Logan held her steady and said, “We don’t know he’s dead. But he’s missing.”
Chapter
Twenty-nine
I
t was a hellish night followed by a pretty horrendous day. Hour after hour of waiting
and uncertainty. Becca definitely was not going to fall to sleep and she didn’t take
anything to help. How could she when she was waiting for word about Tucker?
She’d never felt so alone. Tucker’s mother was not handling the news well, and Logan
had driven to be with her. But he promised if Tuck’s family was notified with any
updates at all, he would call. Day or night. Good or bad.
The phone rang more than ever, sending her into a near heart attack each time. Ninety-nine
percent of the calls were from Emma, checking on her, asking if she’d heard anything
new. A few times it had been Logan checking up on how she was doing. Asking one more
time if she wanted to drive to Tucker’s parents’ house to wait with them.
That would have been interesting. How the hell would she have explained her position
in his life?
I used to have sex with your son, before he volunteered to put his life in danger
because of me.
No, she was better off in her apartment where she could cry and look like a mess in
private without adding to his parents’ already overwhelming stress.
She’d grown so accustomed to jumping for the phone each time it rang and seeing Emma’s
number come up, it was a shock to see an unknown number on the display.
“Hello?” Shaking, she answered and held her breath, waiting for what she hoped would
be good news.
“Becca.”
“Oh, my God. Tucker.” Air whooshed out of her as she grasped for the arm of the couch
and lowered herself onto the cushion. The sound of his voice and her relief at hearing
it took Becca off her feet. “They told me you were missing.”
“Yeah, I know. That wasn’t quite the truth. I mean I knew where I was, but the radios
were down so no one else did, but I’m fine.”
“I was so worried.” She bit back anything else, about exactly how panicked she’d been.
About how she’d practically paced a hole in the floor of her apartment over the last
day. Now was not the time to complain about how bad things had been for her, because
they had to have been infinitely worse for him.
“I know. I’m sorry to worry you. I called as soon as I could. The minute I got off
the bird here at base, the captain told me they’d informed my parents I was missing.
I hung up with them and dialed your number. I figured I’d better call my mom first—”
“No, no. Of course. I’m glad you called her. She was really worried. Logan is there
with them.”
“Yeah. He was on one of the extensions on the house phone. He told me to make sure
I called you.”
“He told you to call me in front of your family? Didn’t they wonder why? Or who I
was?”
“Nah. I doubt it. No one said anything to me about it anyway. It was a little chaotic
there with both my parents, and my brother and sister and Logan all in the house trying
to be on the line at once.” He paused. “It’s really nice to hear your voice.”
She let out a laugh that sounded too much like a sob about to break through. “It’s
good to hear yours, too.”
That was an understatement.
She needed to tell him how she felt before it was too late and he hung up and something
bad happened.
“Becca—”
“Tucker, I—” Her words tumbled out on top of his.
When they both stopped talking at once, Tucker said, “Sorry. You go first.”
“No. It’s fine. You first.” She was having enough trouble breathing. She could use
the delay.
“Okay. I wanted to . . . to tell you I love you.” He paused for a second as her pulse
thundered at his words. “You don’t have to say anything, but I wanted you to know.”
“I know I don’t have to say anything, but I really want to. I love you, too.” Relief
flooded Becca. Now he’d said it, and she’d said it back, it seemed as if she’d opened
the floodgates and she couldn’t close them again. She began to babble. “When you get
back I don’t want to be only friends, or even friends who have sex. I want us to be
together for real. And eat fried bologna sandwiches and go to the rodeo and . . .
I don’t know. Do everything and anything together.”
“That’s really good to hear. I’d like that.” There was a smile in his voice.
Becca was smiling, too, until she remembered the damn university rule, which had caused
this mess to begin with. Now was not the time to get into that with him. Not with
him still a world away and in danger.
“And I don’t care what I have to do to be with you. We’ll work it out somehow. Okay?”
She’d start looking for a new teaching position tomorrow if that’s what it took to
be with Tucker.
“Okay.” He let out a huff of air. “God, I wish I could hold you right now.”
“Me, too.”
“No, really. You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to tell you how I feel, and to
see you . . . and to touch you.” His voice dipped low and sexy. It caused a craving
deep down inside her.
“I know what you mean. Me, too.” But as much as she’d love to fall into bed with Tucker
and show him exactly how much she loved him, the relief of knowing he was fine now
couldn’t dispel the fear she could lose him again. “How much longer until you come
home?”
“Things change a lot around these parts, but the platoon is scheduled to be here until
spring.” Tucker laughed. “Sorry about the shitty timing. I tell you I love you and
then follow it up with how I won’t be able to see you for months.”
“It’s okay. I’ll wait as long as I have to.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how I felt before I left. I should have. I guess I was
too chicken.”
Becca wasn’t certain she could have handled hearing it before he’d left anyway. Not
when she’d been so confused about his leaving to begin with. Before she’d known the
true reason why he’d left. Before she’d realized the depth of her own feelings for
him.
“Tucker Jenkins, you are anything but chicken. You’re a hero, just for being there
where you are and doing what you do.”
“No, not really. Any one of the men in my squad has done the same and more every day,
but thanks for saying so. Look, I can’t tell you how much I hate to say this, but
I’ve used up more than my share of phone time.”
“Of course. Go. It’s fine.”
“I don’t know what’s going to happen around here over the next few days. The rotation
schedule’s . . . It’s a little messed up right now, but I’ll try my best to call you
back soon. Okay? Keep your phone nearby.”
“I will.” It had been practically glued to her body since yesterday anyway while she
had been waiting for word. After he said that, she wouldn’t let it out of her sight.
“I love you, Becca.”
She smiled as the tears escaped and spilled down her face. “I love you, too.”
“Jinxy. Get the hell up and make room for the returning hero.”
“Shut up, Conseco.” Tucker rolled his eyes. If he hadn’t been starving, he would have
bypassed the base’s building where the cook served a hot meal once a day, and headed
directly for a shower and then bed.
“Sure, sure. No problem. Hero gotta sit, don’t he?” Jinx shoved to the side and made
room on the bench next to him. Not that Tucker wanted to sit with them given the mood
these guys were in. Now that they knew he wasn’t actually dead, it seemed they were
determined to taunt him until he wished he were.
“Hey, Cowboy, tell us what happened. Did you really fend off a camp of enemy fighters
with your bare hands?” Tompkins grinned.
“No, not bare-handed. I heard he used his cowboy bullwhip. You know, like Indiana
Jones.” Conseco made a whipping motion and sound.
Tuck shook his head and tried not to laugh.
Post-battle adrenaline, he guessed. They were still all riding a high from the attack,
as well as trying to deal with the losses, each in his own way. With no more fighting
as the enemy hid and licked their wounds, the squad needed an outlet. It seemed for
some of them, teasing Tuck was it. Lucky him.
“Oh, is that how he did it?” Jinx nodded knowingly.
“Here ya’ go, Cowboy.” The cook planted a hot sandwich right off the grill in front
of Tuck. “And bull riders don’t use whips, you idiots.”
“Thanks, Jonesy. And you’re right. They don’t.” Maybe he had one ally here, after
all.
“You see in bull riding, it’s all in the hips. Like this.” Jonesy made some pretty
obscene hip thrusts with accompanying sexual noises, and Tuck sighed.
“Ah. Gotcha.” Conseco laughed along with the rest of the guys in the room.
“Yeah, yeah. Real funny.” Tuck scowled and took a bite of the sandwich. Since he was
there and enduring this torture, he might as well eat. At least the food was good,
even if the company wasn’t.
“Cowboy. How many bastards were there at the weapons cache? I heard a dozen.” Smith
leaned across the table and spoke low.
Somehow the story had grown to epic proportions in the past few hours. After he’d
tracked the fighter he’d seen dragging the weapons away from the outpost, Tuck figured
out two things. One, he was far from help and outmanned, judging by the number of
insurgents who’d been bombarding the outpost. A single shot would take out the fighter
with the weapons, but it would also reveal his presence and location. He’d be hard
pressed to retrieve those weapons and get back to the outpost before the enemy knew
he was there and alone. And two, if this guy was bringing the stolen weapons to the
place the coalition forces had yet to find, the spot where the bastards hid their
stash, it would be more valuable for Tuck to follow him than to kill him.
The plan worked. The fighter brought the guns to a group of men, where there was much
inspection of the booty and rejoicing before they hid it. All while Tuck hid and watched.
It had taken all night to wait out the fighters, who eventually left once the Apaches
had stopped sweeping the area and chewing up the hills with their fire.
It had taken Tuck another hour to convince himself they were really gone before he
dared try the radio. Thank God it had worked. He called in his location in a whisper,
and more important, he told the captain the location of the cache. He didn’t dare
go in to recover the weapons since more than likely the cache was wired with explosives.
Instead, he moved as slowly and silently as he could to the designated landing zone
and waited to be extracted.
“No, man. Not twelve. There were only four,” Tuck told him.
“Four.” Smith shook his head, slow and steady.
Smith and the forward observer at the outpost had been friends. Tuck had learned the
FO took a direct hit with a grenade while on the radio calling in an update to the
base. That’s what jammed the platoon’s frequency.
Tuck knew what Smith was thinking. How could so few do so much damage? “There were
way more at the outpost, Smith. They just didn’t make it back to the weapons cache
because we got ’em.”
“Yeah, we got ’em.” Smith nodded. He stared at his plate for a bit. Not eating. Just
staring. “And after the bird picked you up? What happened?”
“We blew the shit out of their hidey hole.”
Smith’s head bobbed in another nod, and then he went silently back to his meal.
Tuck finished his sandwich in two more big bites and then stood. “Well, it’s been
fun, boys, but there’s a shower in my future.”
He was filthy. Though what else was new? He dumped his trash in the bin and headed
for the door.
“Hey, Cowboy.”
Resigned to getting more crap from his teammates, Tuck stopped in the doorway and
turned back toward Conseco. “Yeah?”
“You tell her yet?”
Tuck grinned. “Yeah. I did.”
Conseco nodded once, then turned toward the grill. “Jonesy. Got another one grilled
up for me?”
Tuck didn’t miss the satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his teammate’s mouth.