Текст книги "Semper Fi"

Автор книги: Jane Harvey-Berrick

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

I’d spent a lot of years with women like that. You might say they’d become my specialty. I could see her unashamedly running her eyes over my ass, and then she licked her lips and prowled toward me.

She was wearing a purple halter top that just about restrained her fake tits, and long silver-gray pants that showed off her tiny waist, and skin that was orange from too many sun-beds.

“Ciao!” she purred, leaning next to me on the bar so I could have a look at her tits. I couldn’t help glancing over when they were on display like that, but they weren’t anywhere near as good as Caro’s. No competition. But she’d seen me look, and that was enough.

“Hi,” I said in English, hoping that she’d leave me alone.

“Ah, Inglese? Americano?”

“American.”

“Oh, you are movie actor?”

I laughed and shook my head, subtly taking half a step away from her. But she didn’t take the hint, leaning in closer.

“Are you staying at Il Saraceno?”

I nodded and took another long drink of my beer. “With my fiancée,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

It didn’t slow her down for a second and she laid her hand on my arm in a seemingly friendly gesture, although I knew it wasn’t innocent.

“Congratulazioni,” she said, the smile failing to meet her eyes or move her forehead.

I turned slightly, so she was forced to drop her hand, but then I glanced up the stairs and saw Caro. My breath caught in my throat. So fucking beautiful.

She was always hot, but seeing her dressed up was every fantasy come to life. She gave me a small smile then carefully made her way down the wide staircase, clinging onto the handrail as the silky-blue dress made soft shushing noises by her ankles. I wondered if I could get her to practice walking around our bedroom in high heels. I licked my lips.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, I walked toward her, took her hand and kissed the back of it softly.

“You look beautiful, Caro.”

“Thank you, kind sir.”

I held out my arm, grinning at her teasing tone. Yeah, yeah. I could be a fucking gentleman. “May I escort you in to dinner, ma’am?”

“Why, yes you may.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw the woman at the bar scowl, then shrug her shoulders, moving onto the bartender who looked worried.

Sorry, buddy, you’re on your own.

I led Caro to our table, waving away the waiter and seating her myself, brushing a lingering kiss over her bare shoulder.

“I can’t wait to get you out of that dress,” I murmured, running my index finger from her earlobe to the base of her neck.

A soft sigh escaped her, and her eyes were only just drifting open when I sat across the table from her, grinning like an idiot.

“Every man in this room wants you, Caro. I’m so fucking proud, I can’t stop smiling.”

“Hmm, well I think you may be a little biased,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “I thought I was going to need a crowbar to pry that woman off you. Is it just me, or had she overdone the fake tan, because I haven’t seen that shade of orange outside of a drag review.”

Was she jealous?

“My girl’s got grit: I like it.”

“I felt like swinging her around by her hair extensions,” Caro admitted, the heat in her eyes making a lie of her mild tone. “Maybe some of your Marine training is rubbing off on me.”

“That comes after the main course.”

“Thank you for today, Sebastian,” she said, her voice becoming serious. “It’s been … perfect. Thank you.”

“It’s been a long time coming, Caro, but it was worth the wait.”

She held up her left hand, examining the ring, turning it so the diamond sparkled in the setting sun.

“Where did you get this beautiful ring? Because I didn’t see any shops in Salerno that…”

“I didn’t get it in Salerno,” I interrupted softly.

Her mouth popped open in surprise. “Then where?”

“Geneva,” I said, grinning at her amazement. “You know I was supposed to be at that fucking dull hostile environment briefing—which they’d given me as part of my ‘rehabilitation’ after Paris…” I raised an eyebrow, “but after I’d seen you … I couldn’t face going back. I was just wandering around trying to get my head together, and I saw it in a jeweler’s shop.”

“But … you still hated me then!”

I shook my head. “I never hated you, Caro, although I tried; I really fucking tried. But I just couldn’t do it.” I sighed and looked away. “That ring has been burning a hole in my pocket ever since. I was just waiting for the right time to give it to you.”

She blinked rapidly, and I really hoped that I hadn’t spoiled things and made her cry again.

“You’ve always been so sure,” she whispered, “I don’t understand why.”

My heart lurched sickeningly. She doesn’t feel the same.

“I told you, Caro. It’s only ever been you.”

She stretched out her hand, focusing on the diamond glinting in the candlelight. “Thank you for giving it to me.”

I caught her fingers and kissed the ring. “Thank you for wearing it.”

At that moment, the Sommelier arrived with a bottle of Prosecco, pouring us a glass each, then stepping away before I had to tell him to fuck off. All I wanted was my woman with me.

I stared into her eyes.

“Thank God for you, Caro.”

“And you, Sebastian, semper fidelis.”

The food arrived, but I couldn’t tell you what we ate. I knew it was good, because Caro was moaning and groaning and licking her lips in a way that no red-blooded man could be immune to. I spent the whole damn meal uncomfortably hard. I was desperate to rush her back to bed, but I could see that she was enjoying herself. And I think we needed this—a moment of calm in the middle of all the crazy … whatever the next few days and weeks would bring. She said we’d have the rest of our lives. I just hoped that she was right.

When we’d finished eating, we walked back up the grand staircase hand in hand. I’d arranged for two glasses of an Italian liqueur to be left on the balcony along with a candle and a rose—romantic shit that I would only ever do for Caro.

I handed her one glass and took the other for myself.

And then I couldn’t wait any longer.

I could hear the surf breaking on the cliffs below and a low buzz of conversation carrying across the air from the restaurant, but neither of us spoke. I tipped the burning liquor down my throat and replaced the glass on the table, before cupping her face with my hands and kissing her slowly and deeply until the room spun around us.

I turned her gently, unzipping her dress, stroking the bare flesh I found underneath. The dress fell to the ground with a soft rustle and she stepped away from it. She looked amazing, wearing only the silver bra and panties that I’d bought her, the candlelight throwing deep shadows across her breasts and stomach. I reached out to touch her, but she shook her head.

Instead, she slid my jacket off my shoulders, tossing it onto a chair, then loosened my bow tie and undid the top button of my shirt while I watched every move.

I leaned forward to kiss her neck and I felt tremors of desire skitter through her body. I scooped her into my arms and placed her carefully onto the bed.

Her deep brown eyes were molten as she gazed up at me, almost unblinking. Only her parted lips and rapid breathing showed that she was as turned on as I was. I unfastened the cufflinks, pulled open the shirt and shrugged it off. Her eyes fastened on my dog tags and an image leapt to the front of my mind: Caro naked except for my dog tags, on all fours.

Shaking my head, I bent down to untie my shoes and remove my socks. I was about to lose the pants, too, when Caro hooked her finger into the waistband and pulled me toward her.

Moving slowly, she slid the button free and lowered the zipper.

The pants joined my jacket on the back of the chair, and my boxer briefs followed. I stood in front of her as her eyes trailed up my body, and I felt the burn of her eyes on my legs, my dick, my stomach, my chest, until they came to rest on my face.

Her fingers followed her eyes, stroking softly over my skin, and my eyes fluttered closed as she dropped a soft kiss onto the head of my dick.

She reached for a condom, tore the packet open and slowly rolled it down. I sat next to her on the bed and carefully pulled out the hairpins she’d used to pile her long hair onto her head. As each curl of hair fell down, I kissed it, tangling it around my fingers, then gently angling her head back so I could kiss the soft skin of her throat.

This wasn’t like me—or not like the guy I’d been for the last six years. While I wouldn’t say I was ‘wham bam, thank you, ma’am’, when I was on a mission, I liked to go in hard. But now … even though we’d been together for four days, each time felt like new, like I was new. It was fucking terrifying, but amazing, too.

My hands traveled slowly across her body, pausing to unhook her bra, sliding the straps over her shoulders, before leaning down to kiss her full tits, running my tongue around her nipples, teasing them into rigid points.

She stretched out on the bed, her hands above her head, and I raised myself up on my arms so I hovered over her, my dick begging to sink inside that hot, sweet pussy. I moved lower, running my tongue along the edge of her panties, rubbing my chin over her mound.

Then I pulled her panties down quickly and tossed them over my shoulder.

Her knees lifted, bracketing my hips, running her hands over my arms, tracing my tat with one finger.

My dog tags jingled against her chest, and Caro’s eyes locked on mine as I pushed inside her.

She groaned, lifting her hips so I could slide in even deeper.

I started to move, building up a rhythm, focusing on every emotion that passed across her expressive face. I leaned down to kiss her deeply and I felt her clench around me as I rolled my hips, a growl erupting from my throat. She moaned softly, and I felt her pussy shiver, the first warning flares of an orgasm about to hit.

I started to move faster, and when she dug her heels into my ass, the breath hissed out through my teeth. She whimpered, crying out and digging her nails into my shoulders, clamping her thighs around my waist. My spine flexed and I could feel the small electric shocks spark and race up from my balls to my dick. Then she screamed and her pussy contracted around me hard, forcing an intense orgasm that had me riding her wildly, until a hoarse sound left my throat and my body went rigid, briefly crushing her into the bed.

I tried to catch my breath as I rolled off of her and onto my back, resting one hand across her stomach, needing to keep that contact.

No words had been spoken; there was nothing that needed to be said.

For the rest of that night, we slept, woke briefly, made love and slept again, until dawn and first light turned the ocean from black to silver.

“I love you, Sebastian,” she said as the sun began to rise. “Thank you for giving yourself to me. Thank you for trusting me. Just promise me that you’ll come back safely. Promise me!”

I wanted to. I wanted to promise that everything would be fine, that it was just a walk in the park, but the works died in my throat. I couldn’t lie to her.

“I love you more than air, Caro. Always. Sempre. And I’ll do everything I can to come home to you. I promise you that.”

Sighing, she laid her head on my chest and we slept.

It was late when we woke for the last time, so I ordered an enormous brunch, the kind of pig-out that Caro loved but would never admit to wanting. We sat on the balcony in our bathrobes enjoying the food and the view, both of us ignoring the fact that we had less than 24 hours together before I shipped out.

I don’t know how good of a job we were doing, but we were both trying. We stared at the sea and I held her hand, kissing it softly.

She sighed and glanced at her wristwatch.

“As much as I hate to say it, tesoro, I think we should get going. We’ve got a hell of a long drive ahead of us, or rather you have, and you didn’t get much sleep last night.”

I smiled at the memory. “Yeah, but it was worth it. Anyway, don’t worry, Caro, we’re not taking the bike; we’re flying back from Naples. Our flight is at sixteen-hundred; we’ve got plenty of time.”

“Flying? But what about your bike?”

“Sold it, baby. I can’t take it with me, and they won’t send me back to Geneva after this tour.”

She looked surprised. “When did you organize all this?”

“When we were in Salerno; I didn’t think you’d mind.” I was puzzled by her sharp tone.

“I don’t,” she insisted. “It’s your bike, but I wish you’d told me—it would have been one less thing to worry about.”

Shit. Relationship—sharing—right. “Sorry, baby. I guess I’m just used to doing stuff on my own.”

She frowned and glanced away. “Yes. Me, too. I suppose we’ll just have to practice the whole sharing and communicating thing.” Then her eyes flicked to mine. “I’ll write to you every day, tesoro.”

“Really? That would be cool. I never get mail. Well, Shirley always sends me a birthday card, but that’s about it. Ches is shit at staying in touch. So am I.”

“Well, I will expect an effort from you, Sebastian. Will you be able to email me?”

I pulled a face. “Maybe, I’m not sure. For a few days, but then … I’ll be out of range. Caro, don’t worry if you don’t hear from me regularly.” I paused, watching her expression tighten. “The places they send me, I can be away from the main Base for days, sometimes weeks, in shithole villages, trying to persuade the locals to work with us. Nonmilitary comms is limited. Your letters will catch up with me eventually, but emails … probably not that often.”

“I understand,” she said, her voice calm, overlaying a strong current of emotion. “But in an emergency, what’s the procedure for contacting you?”

Giving her my CO’s number breached about fifty protocols, but if it would reassure her…

“I’ll give you a number you can call but only in a real, fucking emergency, Caro: I’m not supposed to give it out.”

“Okay,” she said softly, then paused. “If … if anything happens that I need to know about, how will anyone know to contact me?”

Shit, I hated talking about this.

“Same as you, Caro. We have to do a call-list—the Emergency Contact Form—who to notify. I’ve been wondering how, I mean, I can’t put you down as ‘Lee Venzi’ or even ‘Caro Venzi’ because they’ll recognize the name; they’ll start in asking questions, and you could be in deep shit.”

Not that it would bother me if people knew about us. Hell, I’d shout it from the fucking rooftops if she’d let me, but she wanted to keep our relationship on the down-low for her career’s sake. I was okay with that, but it sure made things less straightforward.

“What about Carolina Hunter?” she suggested, glancing across as she put the emergency number in her cell. “They’ll just assume I’m a cousin or something; in fact, why don’t you do that? Put me down as a relative.”

I really, really liked that idea.

“Yeah, that would work.” And the sooner she had that name, the better.

She took a shuddering breath and her eyes began to fill with tears. She swiped at them angrily. My girl hated showing weakness, if that’s what it was.

“Hey, baby, nothing’s going to happen to me: I can take care of myself. I’m more worried about you. Reporters get … hurt all the time.”

“I know, Sebastian,” she said harshly, “but I’ll be embedded with a Marine unit from Leatherneck; safest place to be.” Then she gave me a watery smile. “I heard US Marines are tough, and I know for a fact they’re hot. In fact the word ‘embedded’ has me thinking all sorts of interesting things.”

“You stay away from those bootnecks, Caro. They’re a bunch of horny bastards.”

“I’ve noticed! But really, don’t worry about that. I’ve learned to say ‘no’ in even more languages than you.”

We were both trying so hard not to give into the darkness that hovered around us. I took her hand, idly playing with her engagement ring.

“Well, at least they’ll know you’re taken when they see this.” She didn’t reply. “How long do you think you’ll be in Afghanistan?”

“Assuming my papers arrive,” she said, throwing me a knowing look, “maybe a month, six weeks. Certainly no more. I’ll have a couple of days in Kabul, maybe in Kandahar, too—meeting some of your top brass. Then I’m hoping I’ll be able to hitch a ride out to Leatherneck. I’ll just have to see how it goes. Maybe I’ll see you out there?”

I frowned. “I want you home safe, Caro.”

“Likewise, Sebastian.”

We stared at each other, neither one of us prepared to give in. I shook my head and changed the subject.

“Do you want to take a swim?” I suggested. “I’ll be God knows how many miles from the nearest pool out there, and hundreds of fucking miles from the ocean.”

“Sure,” she smiled. “And I get to see you in those ridiculously loud boardshorts again.”

“And you’ll wear the bikini?”

“Only if you promise not to punch anyone who looks at me.”

“Can’t promise that, baby,” I answered honestly.

Time passed too quickly, and it felt like moments later that we were sitting in the back of a cab taking us to Naples airport.

We were both quiet, lost in thought, when Caro suddenly spoke.

“Sebastian, when do you think you’ll tell Ches about us?”

I shrugged.

“I don’t know. Why?”

She hesitated. “Well, I just thought I could get all your belongings sent over from the west coast, but it’s going to make it tricky to organize if Ches doesn’t know about me.” She stammered out the words, then hurried on. “And there are some beautiful places in upstate New York that we could ride out to on your other bike … if you want.”

God, she was amazing. How the fuck did I get to be so lucky?

“You’d do that?”

She seemed puzzled by my question. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I? You’ll need your things when you come home.”

Home. Fuck, I was going to have a home! She didn’t understand how much her words meant to me—she couldn’t.

“Okay,” I agreed quickly. “I’ll email him tonight. He’ll be pretty fucking surprised.”

She laughed, but it wasn’t a very happy sound. “Yes, that probably about sums it up—to say the least.”

I pulled her into my arms, kissing her with a raw hunger, not caring that our driver had a grandstand view in the mirror. I wanted the whole world to know this woman was mine. She had to know that I didn’t give a shit. If Ches or his bitch of a wife had a problem with us being together again, fuck ‘em—I didn’t need them in my life. Not that I thought Ches would be like that. He was my friend—we were solid.

“What was that for?” she asked breathlessly.

“Caro, all that matters … all that matters is you and me. Nothing else is important. We lost ten fucking years because of other people. I’m not going there again. I won’t let us. Understand? Nothing and no one will ever come between us again.”

She sighed, curling her body against mine, holding on too tight, because she didn’t believe me either.

The cab driver dropped us at departures, but we got separated by security. I was taken to one side, questioned and patted down. They definitely weren’t happy with the €6,000 in large denomination notes I was carrying. Once I showed them the receipt and forced my US Marine ID in front of them, they reluctantly let me through.

Caro’s anxious expression immediately eased as I strolled over to join her.

“Guess I’ve got a criminal face or something.”

“I could have told you that,” she laughed. “I’m just glad they didn’t get one of the female security guards or you’d never have gotten away.”

There was only one way to answer that, so I rolled my eyes as she snickered quietly.

The flight was short, less than two hours and we were back in Geneva, carless, bikeless and sunless. It was cooler, too, but I didn’t mind that, not when I knew Kabul would be in the high nineties and more.

We took a taxi back to the apartment and I threw open the shutters, letting in what was left of the daylight. I saw Caro studying my room, a frown on her face. I guess it did look pretty basic next to the luxury of Il Saraceno.

“We can check into a hotel, Caro.”

“No, this is fine. It’s not the room…”

Oh.

“Don’t say it, Caro,” I begged. “Please, baby. I can’t bear it when you look at me like that.”

“Sorry,” she whispered, and I could see the effort it cost her to put a small smile on her face. “So, single bed, huh? That’s going to be cozy. We’ll have to improvise.”

I smiled at her, grateful that she’d play along for a few more hours. It was going to be hard enough to say goodbye.

“I just gotta pack my shit, baby, then we’ll go find somewhere to eat, okay?”

“Sure, go ahead. I’ll write up my notes and check my messages.”

I’d gotten rid of most of my things already, in preparation for deployment. Anything I wanted to keep was already on its way to Ches’s garage. I knew Amy gave him hell for storing my stuff, but he didn’t listen to her. A few more things needed to be shipped out—I’d kept my iPod and laptop until now, but the laptop could go. I sent Ches an email that gave him the basics and told him I’d be out of touch for a while. If he had any messages he could send them to Caro.

What was left went into my sea-bag, except my Dress Blues which I shoved into a garment bag for now.

When I’d finished, Caro was still checking her messages. I realized she didn’t have a place to stay for the next few days, unless she went back to the hotel. I could tell she wasn’t comfortable in the apartment, but like she said, she’d been in worse places.

“You can stay here if you like,” I offered. “It’s paid up till the end of the month. The owner is Madame Dubois. Just leave the key with her when you go: she’s cool.”

When Caro looked up, her eyes were distant. “Thank you, I’ll do that,” she said quietly.

We were both trying to hold back the weight of the next 12 hours before it crushed us.

“Any interesting emails?” I asked, hoping to lighten the mood.

“All my girlfriends are drooling over your photograph,” she smiled, sounding more like her old self. “They can’t quite believe you’re real. Neither can I sometimes.”

I grinned and pulled her into a hug. “I could prove it to you now if you like.”

She didn’t answer, but ran her hands across the front of my jeans and squeezed, not very gently. My eyebrows shot up, and she laughed.

“Sex instead of food, Caro?”

“Yes,” she agreed, kissing my neck, “I don’t know what’s come over me—you must be a bad influence.”

Then she grabbed a hold of my t-shirt and ripped it over my head. Things were just getting interesting when my damn phone rang: my fuckin’ CO trying to cockblock me again.

Caro raised her hands in defeat, and re-tucked her shirt as I answered.

“Hunter.”

“Back in the land of cuckoo clocks?”

“Yes, sir. Just got back to Geneva.”

“Good. Slight change to your orders: a car will pick you up at oh-five-hundred hours for transfer to Ramstein. Space-A to Kabul, report to Ryan Grant at Camp Eggers. There’s a Press liaison dinner where your presence has been requested—Dress Blues. Now, somehow the ANA has got wind that we’re going after Gal Agha, which is not good news. They want to send ‘tactical support’ whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean. I’m hoping you and Grant’s team will be in Now Zad before they get their shit together. If not, skills and drills and watch your six. Clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I want your first report from Leatherneck. Good night, Hunter.”

Caro was looking at me intently. I think she could see from my face how serious the situation was. I’d be walking into an administrative nightmare between ISAF and the Afghan National Army, intel that was leaking worse than the Titanic, with so-called colleagues I couldn’t trust. Plus I’d be working on a very sensitive mission with a detachment of Marines who didn’t know me. Yeah, nothing to worry about.

“Pick up 05:00,” I said.

She wrapped her arms around my neck and clung to me.

We stood together, unmoving, needing that closeness for as long as we could.

Eventually, I leaned down to kiss her hair.

“Let’s go get some food,” I said quietly.

She nodded without speaking.

We stepped out into the gray evening light, and Caro shivered. It might have been from the cooler mountain air, or because she could sense what was coming. She gripped onto my hand as if she’d never let go. We both knew that she would—and soon.

I took her to a small, family-run bistro that I’d used ever since arriving in Geneva. I didn’t have anything more than a kettle in my room, not that I knew Jack shit about cooking anyway: I could burn some eggs and unwrap a MRE. That was about it.

Caro looked surprised when the owner nodded at me familiarly.

“I come here most days,” I admitted, although I’d never brought anyone with me before.

“Hmm, seems to me you need some cooking lessons, Sebastian,” Caro said with deliberate lightness. “When you come home—to Long Beach—we’ll have to have some fun with food.”

Home. The word pulled at my gut again. But she wanted lightness—I could give her that.

“Yeah, that would be great!” I grinned at her. “Remember that chocolate sauce you bought that time? That was amazing—and I don’t even like chocolate that much. Although it tasted damn fine on you.”

“Don’t use language like that with me, Sebastian,” she scolded, almost serious. “Chocolate is not something I joke about.”

“Okay, I get it. How do you feel about peanut butter?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’ll buy some for you: crunchy or smooth?”

“Crunchy,” I said, raising my eyebrows suggestively.

She smiled and agreed that crunchy would be good.

Caro ordered a risotto and I ordered the ravioli, but neither of us felt like staying long. We ate without tasting, and then we were out of there. I left a larger than usual tip. I didn’t do goodbyes, so it was my way of saying I wouldn’t be around.

When we got back to the apartment, Caro was shivering.

“Cold, baby?”

“A little. Can we turn the heat on?”

I smiled at her. “No heating.”

She stared at me in amazement. “None? Not even a space heater?”

I shook my head, amused. “Don’t worry, Caro—I’ll warm you up.”

I’d chosen the room for the view and because it was in a part of town that was away from other Americans stationed here. Nothing against them, but I preferred to be by myself.

Caro disappeared into the bathroom, then reappeared dressed in one of my old khaki workout shirts. She threw herself into the bed, shivering under the covers. Jeez, it wasn’t that cold.

To make my point, I wandered around naked, although I usually wore green skivvies in case Madame Dubois walked in, which she had, soon after I moved here. I thought she’d made a mistake, but when it happened a second and then a third time, I decided the old lady had her eyeballs on my junk too often. But for Caro, I’d make an exception, although I kept the tighty whiteys for under Deltas—the khaki slacks. Man, I hated those.

I washed up and finished brushing my teeth, before I slid into the narrow bed next to Caro.

“You know, Sebastian,” she said, “while I really enjoyed the floor show, you’ll have to wear more clothes at home.”

“Why?”

“Because,” she said, as if talking to a five-year-old, “I live in a bungalow—and I have elderly neighbors. We have elderly neighbors, and I don’t want you giving them a heart attack.”

“Okay, boss,” I smirked.

I pulled her against my body and kissed her slowly and deeply, trying to show her without words how much she meant to me, how much she’d always meant to me.

My body reacted to her instantly, but I took my time, pushing away the night, pushing away the moment when we’d be apart again, touching, always touching, tasting and feeling. Her hands traced the muscles of my back, and her tongue tracked across of every ridge of my chest and stomach, dipping down to take me in her mouth, until I had to beg her to stop. Then I made sure I took to her the edge and back before she exploded against my mouth, her breath harsh in her throat. And only then I allowed myself to slide inside her, filling her inch by inch, circling my hips, so I could feel her tightening around me. I rolled onto my back, pulling her with me, and I laid my hands across her flat stomach as she arched up over me.

Then she covered my hands with her own.

“Can you feel yourself inside me?” she whispered, her voice husky.

She’d said those exact same words to me the very first time we’d made love after I’d been bruised and beaten by my father. And she’d taken care of me; she’d taken me into her arms, into her bed, and into her body. She healed my body, mended my cuts and bruises, but more than that … she healed my soul. I’d never stopped loving her.

“Yes,” I said, staring up at her, “I can.”

We loved each other all night, but it couldn’t stop the clock from ticking.

I’d set the alarm, even though neither of us had slept. I’d sleep on the transport out of Ramstein; I wasn’t going to waste a second of being with Caro.

We showered together, speaking with our hands and our bodies. And then she watched as I dressed in my desert cammies. Her face remained calm, but her eyes had already told me what she was really thinking.

She held out one hand toward me, and in her palm rested a small pebble of white quartz, shaped by the ocean into a tiny heart.

“Tesoro, go with my love, but take this with you. It’s just silly, but I always carry it with me when I leave home—I found this the first time I went to Long Beach. But now I have your ring to wear.”

I closed my eyes and leaned down to kiss her hair.

“I’ve never had something to come back to before, Caro. Don’t worry about me—just take care of yourself.”

I kissed the piece of quartz and tucked it into my pocket.

“I love you, tesoro. Stay safe for me.”

A car horn sounded in the street below us.

“Time to go, baby. Love you.”

I kissed her once more, tasting her for the last time in God knows how long. Then I scooped up my sea-bag and ran down the stairs. The car was one of the featureless black sedans that Military Intelligence used around the city.

The driver saluted.

“Your orders, sir.”

He handed me a packet of papers, then popped the trunk, stowing my bags inside.

I glanced up at the window, and smiled when I saw Caro looking down at me, then the door closed and I was heading for the airport.