Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
“And?” I shrugged and forced a fake smile. “You can still go to the Maldives. Just assign me to someone else.” It sounded empty and fake because it was. It didn’t matter how pissed I was at Nate, how wrong things had gone the last time we’d been in the same room; I couldn’t bear the thought of him walking away. Not again. Not like this.
“Yeah, okay.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh and sent me a pointed stare. “Because it’s that easy.”
My heart stumbled through its next few beats. The air thickened and charged as we stood there, our eyes locked on each other across the small, mine-laden distance between us. One wrong step and we’d both bleed out.
“I know,” I admitted softly. “It’s not easy. Never has been.”
He nodded curtly and looked away, breaking the spell.
I sucked in a breath.
“I don’t get it. You’re about to spend two weeks in some of the most inhospitable areas known to man, hopping province to province, all so you can what? Feel better about how not stable this country is and label it fact-finding?”
My spine jerked ramrod stiff. “We’re here to write down our observations about how the drawdown is going, and you know it.”
“And you won’t go home?” His eyes met mine, the plea blatant.
“No.” I swallowed back the truth on the tip of my tongue. If he knew why I was really here, would he help? Or throw me out faster? “I’ll do the tour Senator Lauren requested and then meet her when she arrives next week. And no one is supposed to know—”
“You’re here. Yeah, I get that a lot.” He raked his hand over his thick, dark hair and blew out a slow breath.
I felt his sigh in every bone of my body, until it became my own.
“Fine. Then this is how it’s going to go.” He pushed off the door and chucked the bottle into the trash with excellent aim. “I’m Sergeant Green to you. Not Nate. You can never call me Nate. Not out there. Not in here. Not anywhere. Got it?”
“If you insist.” I had to tilt my head back to keep eye contact as he came closer—whether it was the fact that I was barefoot and he was in boots, or just being apart for three years, the guy felt huge next to me.
“I insist. Anonymity is a requirement in this line of work. In here, you can be as belligerent and . . .” He struggled for a word. “Izzy as you want, but out there”—he pointed to the door—“out there you listen to what I say, and do what I ask when I ask it.”
“Nate—” I cringed. Shit, I was never going to get this right.
He arched a single brow at me. “As. Soon. As. I. Say. It.”
“Have you always been a pain in the ass?” I fired back.
“That’s pretty funny, coming from you.”
I rolled my eyes and folded my arms across my chest.
He glanced down and winced, jerking his focus to a spot over my head as he took another deep breath. “I’ll be at all your meetings, your meals, and the one who stands outside the door when you pee.”
“That’s graphic.”
“If you need me, I will be across the hall tonight and every other night that you’re in Afghanistan. If your life is at risk, press this button.” He pushed a remote the size of my thumb into my hand and let its black nylon necklace hang loose. “And I will appear.”
I looked down at the device and huffed a sarcastic laugh. “So this is what it takes to get your phone number? A girl has to haul herself into a war zone?”
“Izzy,” he whispered, stepping back and putting a few feet of distance between us.
“Oh no.” I pocketed the magic-button remote. “If I can’t call you Nate, then you don’t get to call me Izzy. Fair is fair.”
“Well, I’m not calling you Isa, that’s for damn sure,” he shot back. “I’m not your father.”
My father. Because he knew that had been Dad’s pet name for me. He knew all sorts of things he shouldn’t because he was Nate and I was Izzy, and as screwed up as this place was, facts were facts. History was history.
“Then Ms. Astor will be just fine.”
“Then have a great evening, Ms. Astor.” He gave me a mock salute and headed for the door. “I’ll be here bright and early to fetch you for our first destination.”
After all this time, this was where we were? Not quite strangers or enemies, but . . . bitter what? Acquaintances?
“So you’re staying on my detail?” My voice hitched, and he heard it, pausing midstep before turning to face me.
“You won’t leave, which means neither can I. Simple physics.” His gaze narrowed. “But you weren’t supposed to be here, either, were you? Greg Newcastle is supposed to be in this room.”