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“Forget it,” I interrupted. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle myself.”
We stopped and turned to face each other. I stared into his blue eyes, betting many women had fallen prey to them over the years.
“Suit yourself,” he said as he pointed to the door. “I’m off to enjoy my downtime.”
“Good for you,” I said, tired of the back and forth with him.
I walked up to the door and opened it without knocking. Tony looked up from his desk with a look of terror on his face. He was a man easy to manipulate.
“The CO wanted to see me?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “Hold on.”
“I’ll go back.”
He looked at me like a frightened mouse as I walked past his desk and went into Captain Jeffries’ office. By the time he stood to stop me, I’d closed the door of the CO’s office.
“Sit down,” the grizzled commander practically growled.
“Is this about my phone call?” I asked as I walked over. “I know it’s against the rules, but I had to call my father. He’s dying.”
Captain Jeffries leveled his icy stare at me.
“If there’s one thing I hate, it’s liars.”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
“You didn’t call your father.” He glanced down at a paper on his desk. “You called someone named Laura Johnson. Who is she? Your contact? Were you speaking in code?”
I crossed my arms over my chest as I stood in front of his desk.
“You were listening to my call?”
“I said sit down.”
With a sigh like a miffed teenager, I sat down and crossed one leg over the other.
“You’re in a warzone, Ms. Hart. I know modern journalist blogger types like you don’t respect the unspoken agreements between the media and the military, but you’re not going to endanger the lives of me and my men while you’re here. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” I mumbled.
“I can’t hear you, Ms. Hart.”
I repeated the word louder.
“That’s better. If I could get you the hell out of here tonight, I would do it, but it’s not possible. The Taliban are making a move because of the firefight you caused yesterday.”
“That I caused?”
“Shut-u
p and listen,” he said. “You would be out of here tonight, but I can’t risk bringing a transport copter in to take you to the Kandahar airport. That said, you’re out of here in a few days or a week at most.”
“No,” I said, moving to the edge of my seat. “That’s not fair. The agreement said two weeks.”
“And you broke the agreement, Ms. Hart.”
The smugness in his voice told me he enjoyed the strict discipline of the military way too much.
