On Fire Read online

  Chapter Five

  KHAT STOOD BETWEEN Annie and Bedir Tarik, waiting to see Mike arrive, along with many other anxious SEAL families at Operations at NAS North Island situated on Coronado Island, part of the San Diego Bay area. A C-130 bearing Mike’s platoon from Afghanistan had landed some fifty minutes earlier. The group waited restlessly, excitement crackling in the air, over a hundred women and children and parents waited anxiously for their loved one to come through the glass doors. It was a cold mid-December evening. Outside, darkness had fallen at 5:30 p.m., and the San Diego bay area was covered in a soft rain.

  Annie wiggled with excitement, her arm looped through Khat’s. “I just love these times,” she confided.

  Khat felt infused with joy. Mike was home! And safe. Mike’s mother, Annie, who was dressed in a black wool pantsuit and bright red silk blouse to celebrate the Christmas season, wasn’t able to stand still. She was a woman of constant action, always restless, and was moving from one low-heeled foot to another.

  “My dear,” Bedir murmured gently, “you’re going to wear out that spot on the floor.”

  Khat chuckled. Bedir was dressed in a pair of black slacks, a white shirt opened at the collar and a camel hair sport jacket. Khat liked the surgeon, who was a picture of humility. She’d found out over weekend visits to their horse farm in Alpine that he was Sufi, a Muslim sect that believed love was the answer to the world’s problems. Bedir had been the exact opposite of her intense, driven Afghan father, Jaleel. In fact, Khat had become devoted to Bedir, who was so easy to talk to and who had such words of wisdom for her. She lapped up his kindness as he’d helped her adjust easily to life Stateside.

  She felt Bedir’s hand on the arm of her gray wool coat.

  “My dear child,” he said, “if you’ve never waited for a SEAL coming home, it’s a process. They must get their duffle bag out of the plane, get signed in by the team’s senior master chief, put their weapons in their locker, and then they are finally able to walk through those doors and into our awaiting arms.”

  “How long will that take?” Khat asked, wanting desperately to see Mike.

  “Usually an hour,” he murmured, patting her shoulder. He met Khat’s anxious gaze. “Now when Mike comes through that door, you go to him first.”

  “But—”

  “Tut, tut, child. We have met our son here many times over the years. He’s engaged to marry you.” His eyes grew warm. “He’s going to want to see you first. We’ll wait right here. A man should hold his beloved in his arms, first.”

  Khat wasn’t sure. Mike’s parents wanted to see him just as badly as she did. Especially Annie, who was so excited. “Are you sure?”

  “Quite,” Bedir assured her.

  The noise in the crowded area grew as the door opened and the first SEAL came through it. Khat’s gaze was riveted on the door. She could see other SEALs walking down a long passageway toward the door. Each one had a huge duffle bag over their shoulder. She knew they weighed anywhere from sixty to ninety pounds, depending upon what was in them. Her heart took off because the first SEAL through the door was Travis Cooper, his Texas smile huge as his family shrieked with joy when they saw him emerge.

  Travis gave a loud whoop and winded his way through the crowd to what looked like his parents, who were waving their arms frantically so he’d spot them.

  Smiling, Khat felt everyone creep a little closer toward that door. More SEALs trailed out. More families squealed and called their son, husband, brother or father’s name. The room became a deafening chaos of the happiest kind. Khat found herself edgy. Was Mike all right? Had he lost weight? What hadn’t he told her in those Skype calls? Had he been injured and withheld it from her? She knew how often SEALs were out on patrols and got bruised or cut just by the roughness of the mountains they worked in.

  “There!” Annie cried, jumping up and down, waving her arms toward the opened door. “There he is!”

  Blinking, Khat didn’t recognized Mike at first. He was clean shaven. His hair was cut military short. No more beard! Her gaze was riveted on him, far back in the tunnel. Yes, she’d recognize his body, the way he walked, anywhere. The shadows hid most of his face but as he walked near the lights, she felt her heart soar with joy.

  Mike had always been handsome in her eyes, but now, clean shaven, she saw his hard jaw, the lean quality of his face, and she gasped softly, thinking he could have posed as a cover model. He moved easily with a duffle over his left shoulder, with that lion—like walk of his. And he spotted her even though there were five SEALs in front of him. His gaze locked on hers.

  The shouting, the shrieks of happiness, the milling, pressing crowd, all dissolved as Khat clung to his warm gold-brown gaze. His chiseled mouth drew into a wide smile and she felt his sensuality almost physically. It was the burning look in his eyes for her alone. She felt Annie and Bedir’s hands on her shoulders, coaxing her to go forward.

  “Go to him,” Annie urged her.

  As if in a daze, nothing quite real, Khat moved forward, winding through the groups and families. Mike walked with such confidence, his head high, the unshakable power that always surrounded him now invisibly embracing her. Khat’s mouth drew into a smile of welcome, only ten feet away from being in his arms once more.

  *

  MIKE SPOTTED HIS parents near the rear of the crowd the moment he swung into the tunnel leading from the official area where they checked in. And there, between them, stood Khat. His smile increased as he hungrily sponged in her tall form. He’d never seen her in civilian clothes and his body went hard. She wore a dove-gray wool pantsuit with a light green blouse beneath it, a darker gray wool coat over it. As he drew closer, he realized with a jolt that she’d cut her hair, the ends curled softly and barely touched her shoulders. It was her sparkling green eyes, filled with incredible joy over seeing him, that wound hotly through him.

  His parents nudged her forward to meet him. She nervously touched the bright red, green and gold scarf around her shoulders, emphasizing her beautiful face. To his relief, Khat had regained at least twenty needed pounds back on her sleek frame. She’d been grossly underweight in Afghanistan. As his gaze slid to his mother, who had her hand on Khat’s shoulder, he was sure she was responsible for helping Khat regain the lost weight. His mother was a great cook and he’d bet the horse farm that his father, who was a consummate gourmet chef, had also gently tended Khat, getting her to eat more.

  His heart swelled with powerful feelings as his gaze swept across the three of them. He couldn’t hurry down the tunnel too much because the families of the SEALs in front of him were crowding and clogging the entrance, hugging their loved one, screaming with joy, slowing the whole process down. Mike grinned and caught his father’s enthusiastic wave of hello. He lifted his hand in return, loving his father even more, if that was possible. Bedir had his hand on Khat’s other shoulder. Clearly, they loved her, and it was a relief to Mike. His parents were some of the most loving people he’d ever met and yes, he was prejudiced, but in truth, they were very humble and kind toward everyone. It warmed his heart that his parents were supporting Khat. He loved them with a fierceness that defied words.

  When Mike finally walked through those open doors, all sounds disappeared around him. He narrowed his focus on Khat, like a hunter who had spotted his quarry. She looked so good. He walked up to her, his duffle still balanced on his shoulder, and guided her away from the crush of people near the entrance. She smiled into his eyes, which only intensified his longing for her, the need to be alone with her.

  Mike brought her to the edge of the crowd, dropped his duffle on the deck and turned, sweeping Khat into his arms, his mouth curving hotly against hers. Her arms slid around his shoulders, her body flexing against his, their hips meeting, a burning sensation flaring up through his body. Her mouth was sweet. She tasted peppermint and chocolate. He cupped the back of her head with his hand, drinking deeply from her lips, starving for the taste and feel of Khat. He smelled the wool of her coa
t, the rain upon it, the incredible aphrodisiac of her special womanly scent that tore through him like a wild animal being awakened from deep sleep. Her lips were hungry, and he groaned as her fingers threaded through his short hair at the nape of his neck.

  Reluctantly, Mike eased from her mouth, holding Khat’s half-closed eyes that swam with love for him in their green and gold depths. “I love you,” he growled, slowly easing her to her feet, keeping his hand around her waist. “You look so damned beautiful, Khat…” He absorbed her flushed features, her eyes that glimmered with moistness, her hand caressing his jaw.

  Khat whispered, “I love you. It felt like years away from you.” She managed a slight hitch of her shoulders. “Not months, but long, long years.”

  He grinned and leaned down, picking up his duffle in his left hand. “I know the feeling, angel. Come on,” he urged, leading her around the fringes of the crowd, “let’s meet my parents. They’ve done this a time or two and they know the drill.”

  She nodded, slipping her hand around his waist, content to be held in the harbor of his embrace. Feeling as if she were in some kind of never ending dream, she saw Annie and Bedir near the exit, waiting for them, smiling hugely. Turning, she managed in a low tone, “You have the nicest parents, Mike.”

  “I know,” he said, giving her a glance. “They love you almost as much I love you.”

  Khat couldn’t speak, she was so close to crying. They slowly threaded their way in and around the joyous, noisy families. “Your mom has been over at the condo cooking all day. She said she makes you a favorite meal of lamb when you get home.”

  “Did she teach you how to make Moroccan tagine?” Mike watched Khat’s mobile expression. She looked deliriously happy.

  “Indeed she did. The kitchen at your condo smells wonderful with the scent of spices she used.”

  Khat felt much calmer to Mike. She’d had two and half months to decompress from five brutal years of combat. He no longer saw lingering tension in her face. Her gaunt cheeks had filled out, and a new softness, a new aura of femininity surrounded her. He was sure his mother, who was an ultrafeminine woman, had something to do with Khat’s transformation from living in the male world of combat into celebrating her soft, beautiful womanhood. “I like your hair. When did you cut it?”

  Khat touched the soft strands. “Two weeks ago. I was tired of wrestling with all of it. Your mom suggested I give it to Locks of Love. Annie said my hair would be used to create a wig for a woman who had lost her hair during chemo or radiation treatment for cancer.”

  “That’s my mother,” Mike told her, nodding. “She’s got a huge, generous heart like my father.” He gave her a warm look. “And so do you.”

  Khat stood to one side as Mike set the duffle aside and took his mother Annie into his arms. She wanted to cry, but forced back the tears, the love between them so evident. Annie gave her son a loving look as she released him from her hug. Tears were streaming down her cheeks.

  Mike gave her a gentle smile and hugged once her again, the protection of a son for his mother.

  Bedir came over, kissing his son on each cheek and then hauling him into a bear hug against his long, slender body. He slapped Mike on the back, giving him a hearty grin. “Welcome home, son.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” He wrapped an arm around both his parents, holding them, their heads bowed against one another.

  Khat felt tears slipping down her cheeks as she saw them step out of the family embrace. There were no dry eyes among them. When Mike turned to reach out and draw her against him, she saw tears on his face. It was then that she realized the power of love that bound this family together. Bedir walked over and slid his hand around Khat’s shoulders and placed the other around his wife.

  “Now,” Bedir said formally, “we are going to go to Mike’s condo and have a wonderful Moroccan feast.” He lifted his chin and looked at his son. “Your mother has been cooking for three days preparing this dinner for you. A labor of pure love.”

  Mike nodded. “My mouth has been watering for the past week,” he said, giving him mother a look of grateful thanks.

  Annie said, “And I taught Khat how to make tagine. I told her it was your favorite meal.”

  Mike looked over at Khat. “Did you take notes?”

  Khat laughed. “You’d better believe I did.”

  “Good,” Mike murmured teasingly, “because my wife has to know how to make tagine.”

  “I’m not too bad in the kitchen,” Khat said, giving him a playful look. His arm around his waist felt wonderful to her. He was dressed in his SEAL cammies. He pulled his black baseball cap out of a pocket and settled it on his head.

  “Ready to head to our home?” he asked her, kissing her cheek, feeling the dampness of tears beneath his mouth.

  Our home. The words meant so much to Khat. “Yes…yes, I am…”

  *

  KHAT LAY NAKED in Mike’s arms. She heard the ancient, hundred-year old grandfather clock out in the living room chiming—it was 10:00 p.m. His parents had left their condo after helping them clean up after the marvelous Moroccan dinner. Knowing how tired Mike was, Khat had shooed him off to take a well-earned shower before the sumptuous, delicious meal. He hadn’t been able to have a shower in two days after coming out of Afghanistan. She moved her fingers through the short, dark strands. His arm was around her shoulders, knuckles moving softly against her upper arm.

  “You’ve got to be exhausted,” Khat whispered, laying her head on his shoulder, inhaling his male scent.

  “Yes and no,” Mike said, turning on his side and easing her onto her back, looking deeply into her green eyes that were alive with heat and hunger. Her cool slender fingers glided across his chest and shoulder, reacquainting themselves with his body. She found new scars, bruises and swelling. Her soft lips parted as she lightly grazed each one, as if to heal them. Sensing her worry, Mike captured her fingers, kissing them. They’d had hellish months after Khat had left Bravo. Khogani had attacked the base, killing four Americans. He then set out to destroy several Shinwari villages around Bravo. Thankfully, Dur Babba, Khat’s family village, was spared. It had taken SEALs, Rangers, Delta Force and Marines to throw back the violent attacks by the Hill tribe before the winter storms got so bad they stopped their massive, murderous attacks.

  Mike released her hand, moving his fingers across the pearlescent quality of her abdomen, noticing the surgery scar had shrunk and was less pink. “How are you doing?” His fingers brushed the area lightly. Mike hoped this would be the last scar Khat would ever have. He turned, meeting her gaze.

  “I’m doing fine. One of the SEALs, Frank, is a fitness trainer, and when he found out I just had surgery, he offered to take some time and show me exercises to strengthen that area of my body.”

  “I know Frank,” he said, laying his hand gently across her belly. She was incredibly beautiful filled out, her ribs no longer prominent, her hips more rounded. Even her breasts were fuller, the nipples a rosy pink, peaked and beckoning. Mike didn’t want to rush into anything with Khat. He’d had a talk with Dr. Mason before leaving Bagram. The surgeon had warned him that scar tissue, even adhesions in the area of the surgery, could cause her discomfort, even pain, during intercourse. The last thing he wanted to do was cause Khat more pain.

  “He thinks I’m doing well. And I do, too.” Her fingers drifted down his hard muscled arm, touching his hand lying across her belly. His hand was warm, strong and calloused. The emotional thought that she would one day carry his child, his darker skin against the white of her belly, made her go weak with longing for Mike. “Do you want to go to sleep?”

  Mike smiled slowly. “Not even. How about you?” He watched her move her head from one side to another, her lips parting. The look in her dark green eyes was hunger—for him. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to disappoint Khat. That was the power she held over him. He wanted her so damn badly, sometimes he couldn’t string two coherent thoughts together in the same sentence.

  Lean
ing down, he moved his mouth across her lips. “We need to take it easy tonight.” He lifted his head away just enough to catch her pout. “Doctor’s orders,” he reinforced gruffly, kissing her wrinkling brow.

  “What are you talking about?” she demanded, seeing the hesitation in his eyes. “I’m fine. Never mind it’s been two and a half months without you, Tarik.”

  Laughing softly, he shook his head. “My sweet desert woman who has absolutely no patience when it comes to lovemaking.” He tunneled his fingers through the soft, silky hair along her right temple. He told her what Dr. Mason had said. Seeing her brows dip, Khat obviously really didn’t want to hear it, her hands already beginning to caress him, building the heat within him.

  “That sounds like a punishment,” she muttered defiantly.

  His grin widened. “You’re amazing, you know that? Here you are a paramedic, and with a very good knowledge of a person’s body. And then you think Mason is wrong? That the same rules that apply to everyone else somehow don’t apply to you?”

  Her lips twitched with amusement, watching the smile light up his entire face. Mike looked impossibly handsome when his mouth curved upward. The intensity never left his eyes, but he appeared so much more relaxed when he smiled. “Okay, so Dr. Mason is being conservative. Is he saying we shouldn’t have sex?”

  “No,” Mike said, his thumb caressing her cheek. “Just don’t be hanging off chandeliers, doing it on a table, hanging off the stairs…stuff like that.” He gave her a wicked smile.