Page 70 of Keeping a Warrior

With a clap to Rhys’s shoulder, Matt moved on, and Rhys fished thick gloves from the pocket of his ruck, sighing in relief as he donned them. Much more comfortable now, he put his head back against the pallet, thoughts of Devon on a sunny beach sneaking up on him again.

Rhys let out a tiny groan and squirmed, unable to stop wondering what it would’ve been like to take such an uninhibited, sexually confident woman to bed.

Well, he’d never know. The chance had passed, and now they were heading into a war zone, a place where Devon was seeking to lay her demons to rest. What she needed was to be surrounded by friends who had her best interests at heart, not yet another dude lusting after her.

But gah, that kiss...

Rhys’s lips tingled, and he brushed his fingertips over them. No matter what happened, he’d never forget the first sight of her smiling at him while wearing that form-fitting dress, or the sound of her voice singing with Matt, or the feel of her beautiful body pressed to his.

They were his memories to cherish in the face of an uncertain future, and he refused to feel guilty about it.

Because now they had a different war to fight. Guilt would have to wait.

Afghanistan was just how she remembered it.

Devon could already feel the dust seeping into her pores as the sweat pooled. No matter that it was early November, the heat lingered almost palpably in the air. Snowcapped mountains loomed in the distance, the sky above them an icy, crystal blue.

Four years and nothing had changed.

Except her.

Everyone stood with their individual gear piled around their feet, waiting for Lieutenant Bradley to arrange their helo flight out to the small combat outpost that’d be their home for the next few months.

“Okay, we’re set,” he announced. “Flight out tomorrow morning at 0600. Rest of our shit will be flown out in shifts as aircraft scheduling allows, so make sure you have your essentials.”

Devon and the others nodded wearily before heading to the base’s transient quarters. Hurry up and wait, reality in a war zone.

When Devon unlocked the door to her assigned room, she was surprised to see another woman already in it.

“Hey, I’m Ella.”

Devon stuck out her hand as they introduced themselves.

“What do you do, Devon?”

When Devon told her, Ella’s eyes opened wide. “You’re deployed with a SEAL team? That’s pretty cool.”

“It can be. How about you?”

“I’m in Military Intelligence.” She held up her hands as if warding Devon off. “Yeah, yeah, I know the jokes. ‘It’s an oxymoron,’ blah, blah, blah.”

Devon laughed. “I wasn’t going to make a joke. You a linguist?”

“Yep, Arabic.” Ella perched on the end of her narrow twin bed. “What do you bring to the SEAL team?”

By the time they decided to walk to the chow hall together, Devon and Ella were on their way to becoming fast friends.

As they strolled along the boardwalk, they endured stares, whistles and catcalls from young Army grunts and Marines who acted like they’d never seen a woman before.

It was like running a gauntlet of eyes.

They got into the chow line, and Ella waved her hand at all the hungry male faces turned in their direction. “Want one? You can take your pick.”

“No, thanks.” Devon paused. “Is it always like this? Like being an animal in a zoo? I mostly stayed on the special operations compound last time.”

Not that that was any safer.

She gave an almost imperceptible flinch, which the sharp-eyed Ella noticed. “It’s always like this, yeah. What’s it like with the SEALs?”