Page 29 of Duty Bound

Relax? Was he crazy?

They were trekking through an Afghan valley pursued by angry men with guns. How could she relax?

Shooting daggers at his back, she trudged on.

After another half a mile had passed, Lily asked, “Do you remember the first time we met?”

He shot her a blank look.

Clearly she hadn’t made the same kind of impression on him as he’d made on her.

“It was family day at the base. I was there with Joe and his father. Joe introduced us.” She had this image of him casually leaning against the wall, a lazy, knowing smirk playing on his lips. He’d pushed away, shook Pat’s hand, then nodded to her and said hello.

Actually, it’s wasn’t as polite as that.

He’d glanced at her—so self-assured, so confident—smiled that cocky smile, then dismissed her almost immediately by turning back to the others. She’d been intimidated by his blatant, physical masculinity. It had radiated off him like heat from a blazing fire, undeniable and potent. It was easy to see why the girls living around the base had fawned over him.

Not her though.

Raised, for the most part, by a single mother, her upbringing had been fairly sheltered. No brothers to jostle with, no father to show her what men ought to be like. Joe had been her first and only love.

When her mother died, Joe’s family took her in. She’d been sixteen at the time, and Joe had been her lifesaver. She'd been lost and he'd rescued her. Then she'd met his army buddies—in particular Blade, with his sexy grin and cocksure attitude—and she'd recoiled. Determined not to like him, and terrified his cavalier attitude would rub off on Joe, she'd made up her mind about him before she'd even had a chance to get to know him.

Cocky, arrogant womanizer. That's how she'd pegged him. And for ten years, she'd believed it to be true.

Looking at him now, however, focused and vigilant, still turning to check on her every few minutes, she realized she might have got it wrong.

Sure, he was all those things, or had been, but he was also considerate, thoughtful, and passionate. Traits she had never attributed to him before.

Boy, was he passionate.

Not going there.

She forced her attention back to the terrain but couldn’t help a little shiver passing through her.

Tearing her thoughts back to the present, she shook her head and muttered, “Never mind. You probably don’t remember.”

On they walked, mile after mile, not speaking. The silence unnerved her, especially in the dark. But she didn’t want to put her foot in her mouth again.

Finally, Blade called a stop. “Do you need a break?” The eye without the night vision scope settled on her.

“Yeah, please.” Her legs felt like lead, and her neck and shoulders ached from the unfamiliar weight of the backpack. “I just need a few moments to recover.”

Annoyingly, Blade wasn’t sweating. Wasn’t winded. Wasn’t tired. This was like a Sunday stroll to him, and he seemed totally relaxed. She, on the other hand, was a hot, sweaty mess—and not in a good way.

“If you pop open those buckles, I'll help you take it off,” he offered. “Give your shoulders a break.”

Lily popped, then the straps burst apart over her chest. Standing behind her, he lowered the backpack to the ground. She sank down after it with a groan, resting against the lumpy bulk.

“Don't get too comfortable.” He didn’t remove his pack. “We’re not stopping for long.”

“How far until we reach the road?” She’d lost track of how far they’d walked.

“We’re about halfway there.”

God. How was she ever going to manage this? She took a woeful sip from her water flask then leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

Blade patrolled the area around her, weaving in and out of the trees, pausing only once to consult the map. The moments ticked by.

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