“What did you bring for me to wear?” she asked, breathless.
He produced the box and flipped it open with one hand. Sadie had helped him choose the ring.
“What?” she said eyes wide and disbelieving.
“I know it’s sudden, and I won’t want us to rush into anything. But I want you in my life forever. And I don’t want you to ever think that I won’t come back for you. But if you wear this, it also means that you have to come back to me too. We’re both going to be traveling a lot with our jobs, and this is my promise to you that when you’re ready, we’ll put down roots somewhere and spend the rest of our lives together. Will you wear it?”
Tears spilled from her eyes. “Yes. Yes of course. And you better always come for me. And you better not leave me for a year.” She narrowed her watery eyes at him.
“No more than a week or so, ever again.” He slipped the ring on her finger and as it reached its resting place, he said, “maybe no more than a few days.” He stroked her thigh. “Maybe no more than a few hours.”
She leaned in. “That sounds about right.” Her lips touched his, and he lost himself in her once again.
Please turn the page for a look at the first book in Emmy Curtis’s sinfully sexy military romance Alpha Ops series, OVER THE LINE.
Chapter One
Khost Province, Afghanistan
Alone at last,” Walker whispered as he crouched next to Beth. Dust flew up as the crack of a bullet hitting the ground ricocheted around the valley. He flattened himself next to her.
“You are shit at taking orders,” she hissed back.
He ignored her as he tried to figure out where the shots were coming from. If he could just neutralize the immediate threat, he could patch her up and get her to safety. His blood had flashed ice-cold when she radioed that she’d been hit. And she’d still been laying down covering fire for the guys when he’d found her. If she was the first taste of females in combat, bring it on.
A pool of dark blood glistened in the hazy moonlight, expanding and trickling across the sand as he watched.
Crap.
Their simple mission of relieving another patrol group had gone to hell in a handbasket. Another shot echoed around them, and this time Walker was ready to identify the telltale muzzle flash. As soon as he saw it, he swung his gun and sent a shot downrange toward the insurgent.
Silence. He took that as a good sign.
“Okay, Sergeant. Turn over so I can look at that leg.”
Beth grunted but complied, biting back a moan as she did.
Walker’s heart dropped when he saw that her BDU pants were completely soaked with blood. A lot of it. Shit. Maybe the bullet had nicked an artery. He grabbed his knife and cut away the pant leg to expose the wound. It was about two inches below her panty line. And blood was still pumping out in rhythm with her heartbeat.
He undid her belt and pulled it off. No way was he going to let her die in this crappy valley, in the middle of Shithole City, Bumfuck. No fucking way.
As he slid the belt around the top of her thigh, trying not to touch anything that could get him court-martialed, one of the Strike Eagles he had called for screamed overhead. He threw himself over Beth, and waited for the bombs to drop.
They exploded with precision, of course. Walker had been the one to give them the coordinates. That was his job. The only air force guy on the team, he was the one who communicated with the aircraft patrolling the skies above the war zone. The only one who could give the bombers precise targets. The valley lit up with orange fire as they detonated. Rocks and scree sprinkled them, sounding like heavy rain, feeling like stones.
That should keep the Taliban out of his hair for a bit. He made to get up and realized how close to Beth’s face his was. He hesitated for a split second. A bad, bad second. He’d been deployed with her unit for a couple of months and had spent most of the time dreaming about her at night, and trying to ignore those dreams by day.
He swallowed, and went back to business. “I have to tourniquet your leg. It’s going to hurt like a fucker,” he said as he fastened the belt as high on her thigh as he could manage. “Just think, all this time I wanted to see your panties, and finally…”
Beth opened her mouth, probably to give him hell, and he used the distraction to pull the belt tight.
“You bastard,” she ground out between gritted teeth.
The wound stopped pumping blood and he silently thanked whoever was looking out for them upstairs. He grabbed the first-aid kit from his pack and took out gauze and dark green bandages. A shot sounded again, and sand flew up just inches away from his foot.
Shit.
Walker threw himself down again, this time lying between her legs, face about five inches from her wound. Which meant it was seven inches from her…
“Well, this is awkward,” he murmured. It worked, and in relief he heard her gasp a laugh.
“Next time… buy me dinner… first, all right?” she said between pants of Lamaze-type breathing.
He laughed quietly. “I’ve got to get you out of here first. Then I promise I will.” He loosened the tourniquet, and watched to see if the blood flow had stopped. It hadn’t, but it wasn’t pumping out as it had been before. He tightened it and vowed not to check again.
“Walker,” she ground out. “I have a letter. It’s in my pants pocket.” She groaned as if she was trying to get control over the pain. “Take it out before it gets soaked in blood. Make sure my sister gets it if I… don’t make it.”
He didn’t waste time placating her; he stuffed his hand into her thigh pocket and grabbed the papers in there. He found the letter and stuffed it in his own pocket, before replacing the notebook and loose papers back in hers. “Got it. I’ll look after it. But I’m going to do everything I can to get you home to her, okay?”
“Look!” Beth grimaced as she propped herself up on one elbow and pointed up the valley where they had left their truck. A huge cloud of sand was making its way toward them, seemingly in slow motion. She made as if to get up, but fell back down with a moan as soon as she tried her leg.
The impending sandstorm made up his mind. They couldn’t get stuck in it—Beth would die in all likelihood. If they didn’t move now, the storm would be on them, and no rescue would be able to get to them until it dissipated. No time for second-guessing.
A cloud passed in front of the moon, and Walker instinctively jumped up. “Put your weight on your good leg.” He held her opposite hand as if they were about to shake hands, and he pulled her up. “Come on, Garcia. Walk it off.”
She breathed a laugh as he bent his knees and gently slid her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, so her good leg bore the brunt of pressure against his shoulder. She wriggled pretty weakly in protest.
“What the fuck? Put me down. I can walk,” she said, her words not reflected by the strain in her voice.
Yeah, not so much. “Sure you can, sweetheart… I mean Sergeant. But we need to run. Are you going to stay with me?”
“I’ve got your six,” she whispered.
He launched his pack on his other shoulder and took off, away from the sandstorm. He knew he could outrun it—it was slow-moving—but the quicker he could get her to a reasonable landing zone, the quicker the helicopters would land and get her to a hospital.
The cloud passed the moon and in the sudden light they were sitting ducks. Another shot rang out, whizzing past so close he could feel it rip the air next to his face. Beth’s stomach tensed muscles against his shoulder and she pulled herself up. One hell of a soldier. One hell of a woman.