Chapter Eleven

The dry air was thick around her as she readjusted her helmet strap, making sure it was secure. Her knees and calves screamed in protest from the crouching position she was in, and she was sure the others behind her were feeling the same physical effects.

They’d been hiding from enemy gunfire for over an hour, unwilling to reveal their position until reinforcements came from base several miles away.

She tightened her grip on the M16 that was in her hands, its weight reassuring her she was not unarmed. Unlike her previous tour, she was fighting this time. It was no longer up to her companions to defend her, because she too had to fight for her life. It terrified her. She didn’t want to kill, but the consequences were deadly.

In front of her Aaron was helping a wounded soldier who’d caught a ricocheting bullet in the thigh. It wasn’t a fatal wound because it missed his artery, but it was painful and cut down on his mobility.

“Trujillo, any ideas…?”

Aaron glanced over his shoulder at the question. “None, Mitchell,” she replied, and it was the truth. No brilliant plans were coming to mind that didn’t involve reinforcements. And those were late – she hoped they hadn’t encountered enemies of their own.

Pop. Pop. Pop. The AK-47 of the enemies sounded again, and sand sent flying as the bullets hit the ground only feet away from the hidden troops. “We’re sitting ducks. I think they’re guessing we’re in this area,” Mitchell said, nerves clear in his voice. She didn’t blame him – he had a pregnant wife and a kid waiting for him.

The walkie blipped to life, “Jones to Trujillo, I repeat Jones to Trujillo. Reinforcements cannot approach closer for fear of attack. Rendezvous at location quarter mile northeast of your current location – understood?” “Roger that, Jones – moving ASAP.” “Insurgents in rooftops to ten and six, be vigilant.” “Roger,” she repeated, replacing the walkie in her hip pouch.

“Alright, we need to meet with reinforcements a quarter mile northeast from this point. Enemies have snipers and ten o’clock and six o’clock from our current spot facing northeast,” she repeated to the troops. They all nodded, listening to her. She wasn’t the highest ranking officer, but she was the best tactician they had at the moment from her years of working on abstract ideas and risk analysis.

“We can cut off enemy fire from ten by going this route but we need to cover our tails from six. If we can reach these buildings, we’ll be shielded from both,” she said, pointing on the makeshift map they’d drawn in the sand with their rifles.

The company was moving swiftly, following her plans. Pop. Pop. Pop. The enemy was firing. The M16s blasted rounds back in return. She wished they had snipers of their own, but the only one they had was injured at base. Most of the Special Forces were help up twenty miles away – too far away to help. They were on their own.

Sand inches in front of her stirred as bullets sprayed the ground. “Fire from two!” she called, dancing back several paces. She swung her rifle up, and fired in the direction the enemy fire had to have come from, judging quickly from trajectory. A body fell from a window, giving her a grim satisfaction. She would live, if not but a few seconds longer.

Aaron and Mitchell were covering from the back, leaning around a corner. She hoped her fiancé and friend would not get hit, because their backs were exposed toward two, but no more fire was coming from that direction.

A flash caught her eye – a quick, silver glint.

A yard away, nestled in a small pit of sand, was a grenade – an enemy one. Fuck.

She sprang forward, her body landing over the hole. Briefly her eyes met Aaron’s, and she saw the pain in his gaze, and expectancy of loss. She counted, but it didn’t come. Nothing came, in fact, but the pops of the AKs, and the bams of the M16s.

Mitchell grabbed the back of her uniform, yanking her to her feet. The grenade had malfunctioned. “No need to get a medal of honor for my sake, Trujillo,” he grunted. Aaron squeezed her hand as they ducked behind a corner, “You’re alive!”

No sooner had his words been spoken that a loud pop echoed in the street, and a warm, wetness covered her face. She blinked, her world stained red. Aaron was no longer Aaron, but a lifeless corpse.

Her eyes snapped open, and she felt tears running down her cheeks. Her legs were tangled in the covers as she took several deep breaths. David was asleep still, his expression peaceful. Forcing her mind to calm, she moved as close to him as she could, not caring if she was making a lot of movement.

“Nina?” he asked sleepily. She said nothing, and huddled into his chest. He wrapped his arm around her, sensing her need for comfort. Finally she found some peace, and slipped back into the world of sleep.


~~

The loud bass music pounded as Adela and Carles approached the club, the club that she used to work at. But she was no longer dressed in her uniform, but a dress that he had bought for her. It looked good on her, the hemline shorter than normal, but it was still modest enough that she allowed him to buy it.

It was strange being back at the club. He hadn’t gone in since her accident. After all, the reason he kept going back in the first place was no longer there.

Gerard was a short ways ahead of them, talking to some of the others that had decided to tag along.

“There you are! What was taking you so – whoa! Nice dress Adela,” the younger defender said, distracted by the female. Carles rolled his eyes, “Put your tongue back in your mouth. You look stupid.” “That’s because he is stupid,” a voice teased. The older defender grinned upon seeing the familiar face, “I didn’t know you were back in town, Cesc.” “Here I am. Moc moc!” The three laughed as they repeated the virtually meaningless words.

Adela self-consciously watched them, but Carles noticed, and pulled her closer. Even though it was cute to see her biting her lip, he wanted her to be comfortable. “Cesc, this is my girlfriend, Adela Baskaran. Adela, this is my teammate and longtime friend, Cesc Fàbregas,” he introduced. “Nice to meet you,” the Arsenal player said with a smile, shaking hands with the girl.

A pretty girl stood beside him, “I’m his girlfriend, Carla.” The girls smiled at each other, glad to have another female around.

Walking into the club, they headed up to the VIP section.

It wasn’t long before Gerard went to go dance, and Cesc followed along shortly with Carla. The two remaining watched as the three goofed around on the dance floor.

“What are you doing here?” a snide voice interrupted their quiet moment, “I fired your sorry ass.” Both turned, and Carles’ jaw clenched upon seeing Adela’s ex-boss, Núria.

“I’m so sorry I inconvenienced you by getting hit by a car,” Adela grumbled lowly, though the other woman heard it.

“I don’t care about your sorry excuses. Now stop bothering the customers. I’m not hiring you again, so you might as well leave,” the blonde said, pointing her finger toward the door. But the brunette was getting angrier, fueled by pint up emotions, “I’m here as a customer actually.” “With him?” the woman said with an incredulous laugh.

Carles went to protest when Adela turned, giving him a sly smile, her eyes sparkling. She leaned up, capturing his lips. Throwing caution to the wind, he responded eagerly, welcoming the very public display of affection.

His one hand tangled in her hair as he tilted her head to the side, giving him better access as his tongue parted her lips, slipping into her mouth. Instead of backing down like normal, she battled him orally for control, though he won through sheer strength (though not with lack of determination). His other hand trailed down her side to her hip, then back up again, his thumb faintly brushing over the swell of her breast.

She moaned softly as her own hands wandered over his chest and shoulders. When they finally parted for air, a very red Núria was left to stumble out of the room.

“Sorry about that,” Adela blushed as the VIP door snapped shut. Carles laughed, “Don’t be. That was very satisfying.” They glanced down, and saw the disgruntled manager disappear into her office, not remerging after several minutes. Cesc and Carla were dancing with each other near the corner, and Gerard was at the bar ordering a drink.

He took a moment to admire her as she gazed at the couples dancing on the floor. The dress really did wonders for her figure, especially her legs. Long, lean, tan – he wanted to run his hands down them. He was certain he could die happy if she allowed him to do that. But then again, just being with her was often enough. To know that she loved him, actually wanted him and not his money, was one of the best feelings in the world. It made his heart beat faster than scoring a goal, and his adrenaline rush more than a gratifying tackle.

“Do you want to dance?” Carles asked, pulling her from her own thoughts. She smiled shyly, “I don’t really know how.” He shrugged, “Neither do I.” “Then why do you want to?” she asked. “The good boyfriend answer is because you look like you want to. My honest answer…I want to touch you,” he said, voice dropping in volume.

“Both are acceptable,” she whispered, blushing darkly. Grinning, he grabbed her hand, and pulled her toward the door. She went down the stairs, and he couldn’t help but admire the rear view as they slipped through the crowd.

Yes, spending time with her was gratifying, but he was certainly glad he wasn’t a blind man.


~~

David could tell Nina hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in the morning, but he was surprised at how quickly she’d seemed to shake it off as they got ready. She had disappeared into the bathroom for a shower, and returned sharp and alert. He wondered if it had to do with the military, and having to operate on little to know sleep, even in life or death situations.

They had spent the day going to attractions in the city, including the Sagrada Familia and Parc Güell.

He’d gotten a call from Carles about going to a club, but he didn’t want to go without Nina, but then no one could watch the girls. He knew he’d have to find a sitter so they could go out at times.

He was grateful though that she didn’t seem to mind doing things with the girls. In fact, she seemed to enjoy spending time with all of them, and going out to do things like a family would. He felt fortunate that she didn’t have the desire to go out to clubs and parties all of the time.

So instead of going clubbing they went to her place for a home cooked dinner.

She made some American food upon his request, and Zaida discovered a love for macaroni and cheese while Olaya gained a fondness for mashed potatoes. She also made turkey for a meat.

Seeing her in a domestic role made it hard for him to believe that she was ever in the army, but he’d seen the picture of her in a uniform, holding a loaded weapon. On her night stand he’d seen the medal that had nearly cost her life – the Medal of Honor. She had meekly waved it aside, but he knew it carried a lot of importance. She’d even been to the inauguration of the President after receiving it, and he was certain that was a big deal.

But here she was, unassuming (if one could call someone as attractive as she was unassuming).

Zaida bounded up to her as she washed the dishes, and held up a spoon they’d missed earlier. “Here mommy!” she said, beaming up at the older woman. The plate she’d been washing slipped from her hands, landing back in the soapy water, luckily not breaking. Her wide eyes turned to meet his, begging him on how to respond.

He too was stunned. He knew that Zaida looked up to Nina tremendously, but he didn’t realize it was in that frame. He had hoped at best she would see her as a cool female figure to look up to. But as a mother…?

“Thanks nena,” she said, taking the spoon and setting it with the other dirty utensils on the counter, her hands visibly shaking.

Zaida was clueless though, and gave a toothy grin, “De nada!” She then bounded out of the room to watch television in the living room.

Nina returned to the dishes, more involved that before. With some hesitation, David stood, and walked over. He wrapped his arms around her waist.

“How do I respond to that?” she asked weakly, “I’m not her mother, and it’s not my place to pretend I am.”

“As far as I’m concerned, Patricia walked out of their lives, and is no longer their mother. I was worried you wouldn’t want that responsibility,” David said decisively. “I was worried you’d think I was trying to replace her,” she mumbled, setting down the bowl she’d been drying.

He smiled against the soft skin of her neck, “No, cariña. I know you aren’t.”


~~

Adela was exhausted after dancing into the early hours with Carles as they headed back to his home. She hadn’t officially moved in yet, but a good amount of her things had been moved over after he took the responsibility of caring for her.

Her skin felt sticky from dancing in the hot, humid club with other bodies moving around them. The dress she was wearing clung to her curves from the moisture, and she was anxious to get it off.

After a short car ride, they were at Carles’ house – fancy, but not in-your-face wealth. It was modest in its own right, like him. She had grown to feel comfortable in his place. She no longer felt self-conscious about using his shower or kitchen. In fact, she loved to cook for him.

“I had a good time tonight, thank you,” she said as she set down her things in the foyer. He smiled at her, “I did too, especially the part where you scared away your boss.”

Her cheeks burned, “Was I too forward?”

“No. Like I said, I thoroughly enjoyed it. By far the best part of the evening,” he replied. She was sure he was joking, but that honest edge was back in his voice, not allowing her to doubt him by the amount of sincerity it displayed.

With a burst of confidence from his honesty, she pulled him down for a kiss, tilting her head to allow him complete access, hoping to reach the same intensity as before. He responded eagerly to the second kiss she initiated, quickly taking control.

With him in charge, Adela took the opportunity to let her hands wander down his chest, and over his abs, the muscles prominent even under his shirt.

He too did not let his hands idle, one resting on the back of her neck, the other brushing along her shoulder. They were moving before either realized it, Carles moving to the sofa several feet away. He landed on it, Adela on top, not breaking apart even once.
Instead, the kiss intensified as his hand smoothed down the curve of her back, and over her rear, and then down her thigh until he reached exposed flesh. His fingers gently dug down, pulling her leg up so she was straddling his lap.

Too enraptured to be embarrassed, she moaned softly, breathily as his lips moved down her jaw, and down to her neck. He nipped and kissed his way down until he found a sensitive spot at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. His tongue swirled around a bite he’d made; leaving a mark that he was unashamed of making, he made another not far away.

She felt like the room was unbearably hot, like her very body was on fire.

His touch was scorching, leaving flames coursing through her veins. She wanted it to stop and continue at the same time. She knew she was aching for his touch, but it was driving her insane.

Breathless, she watched him pull back, their eyes meeting.

She knew in that moment, fleeting as it was, that she never wanted to be parted from this man. Even if he moved to a different club across the world, she would follow him. She would be there for him as long as he would have her. She gently leaned in, resting her forehead on his, their eyes still locked.

“I love you,” she said. She didn’t regret it. It was the most sure thing in her life at that moment. No shyness or insecurity could suppress the overwhelming nature of it as it bubbled up inside her, wanting to burst out.

“I love you too,” he said.

The feeling swelled. Her heart raced. Her pulse quickened. Her breath shortened. Her vision sharpened. Her fingers and toes curled. Everything about him made her react. Her very soul seemed to shudder at his words.

She slowly slid off his lap, and grasped his hand, pulling him after her.

She was incredibly hot. The air seemed to warp around her from heat, and the feeling of his warm hand only intensified it. She led him to his bedroom, opening the door unreservedly. He followed without a word, just watching her intently.

She reached back, pulling down the zipper of the dress, letting it fall, exposing her more to him. As his eyes took her in hungrily, she moved forward, fingers lifting to the hem of his shirt. He helped her tug it over, allowing her to drink in the muscled contours of his body. Together they found each other.

Ecstasy rushed through her – hands wandering, groping; flesh against flesh; bed sheets tangling; panting, moans, gasps. It was hot, so unbearably hot. But she’d never felt so alive.