“Is that right?” I asked, keeping my voice light.

“Yes. Hearing you talk about your conquests when I’m in a state of post-coital bliss isn’t going to earn you round two.”

“Huh, so I can’t earn round two—does that mean I can pay for it instead?”

She slapped my ass, hard. Hot.

“You couldn’t afford me,” she snarked back.

“You sure about that, baby? What’s your price?”

“What have you got to offer, Sebastian?”

I used my hips to pin her down, my chest hovering over her breasts. “An orgasm?” I suggested.

“That’s just quid pro quo.”

“Fuck, I love it when you talk dirty. What about two orgasms?”

“Two? Beginning to sound interesting, but do you think you’re up to the job?”

I brushed my fingers against her clit and she gasped. “Maybe I’ll let you answer that question,” I said, as I slid down the bed, lowering my face between her thighs.

Over an hour later, we were collapsed on the bathroom floor, flushed and breathless.

“I’d forgotten you had a thing for bathrooms,” she gasped.

I kissed the back of her neck as I tugged her against my chest. “I like the mirrors.”

“You know, that’s a bit kinky, Sebastian.”

“You think? I’d like to get kinky with you, Caro,” I said, nipping her earlobe and running my fingers over her hipbone.

“What did you have in mind?” she asked curiously.

How long had we got?

I decided to start with the basics. “You could tie me up again: that was hot.”

She giggled.

“Hmm, well, I could talk to one of the MPs at Leatherneck—maybe I’ll see if I can borrow a pair of handcuffs, Sebastian.”

I swallowed several times, my mind very much enjoying the thought of fucking Caro while she was cuffed, of her riding my dick while I was cuffed. Fuck me!

I guess Caro was still waiting for my answer, because she nudged me in the ribs with her elbow.

“Yeah, if you like, Caro,” I said, my voice hoarse.

Her eyebrows shot up.

“If I like? What do you like?”

I hesitated, wondering if she’d go along with some of the scenes I imagined when I was jerking off. “There’s some stuff we could try,” I began.

“Such as?” she asked, her expression curious rather than appalled, which was a good start.

But then there was a soft tap at the door and I heard the Brit’s voice.

“Oh, hell,” Caro muttered, sounding disappointed and irritated. “You’d better get dressed, Sebastian, unless a three-way with Liz was one of your fantasies?”

I shuddered. “Fuck, Caro! I’m going to have that image in my head now.”

She grinned and tossed my uniform onto the bed. “Better get your pants on then, Marine.”

I dressed quickly, cursing the number of buttons involved wearing the Blues. I was still sitting on the bed tying my shoelaces when Caro opened the door.

“Lee, I … oh, is he still here?”

“He’s just leaving, Liz.”

The Ashton woman marched into the room, and I winced at the sight of her enormous tits moving independently of each other, reminding me of a camel’s ass.

“There’s a curfew on, Hunter,” she said, crossing her arms and staring at me hard.

“Thanks,” I said coolly.

I already knew about the curfew, but it had probably been brought forward a couple of hours because of the device going off earlier.

“You must have heard the car bomb,” she snapped. “Three dead, multiple injured. Bastards packed the bomb with nails.”

“So evil,” murmured Caro, shaking her head.

The Brit nodded silently, and for the first time I saw the same compassion that drove Caro to report from war zones. I wouldn’t say I liked the Ashton woman, but I could respect the job she did. Although it was pretty clear that it wasn’t mutual; I knew what she thought of me. A week ago it would have been true.

I stood up and fastened the buckle on my white web belt, then pulled Caro into a tight hug, ignoring the Brit’s noisy huffing.

“Remember what I said, Sebastian,” whispered Caro, running the tips of her fingers down my cheek.

“I’ll try, baby. And you remember what I said, what I’m thinking about when I look at you.”

I kissed her softly, unwilling to let her go, hating that I had to, desperate to know that she’d be safe, hating that she wasn’t.

“Never take my ring off, Caro,” I said.

“Ti amo tanto, Sebastian.”

I smiled painfully. “Sempre e per sempre.”

I glanced briefly at the Brit, and then quietly left.

At least I knew I’d see Caro tomorrow.

We were heading to Camp Leatherneck, 350 miles away along the Kabul–Kandahar Highway, one of the most dangerous roads in the world.

The Russians, the Taliban, and now us—it all added up to three decades of war and neglect, leaving the road that connected Afghanistan’s two main cities in ruins. Uncle Sam had funded the rebuilding of three-quarters of the route, with Japan chipping in another chunk of cash. It was currently in slightly better repair than it had been, but it had become a favorite target of the Taliban again—ambushes and IEDs were common.

The guys on point were heavily armed and supported by Explosive Ordnance Disposal Techs whose job was to spot devices before one of our Armored Personnel Carriers rolled over them. Metal detectors weren’t as much use as you’d think because the Taliban used as few metal parts as possible. But tell-tale signs included depressions in the road where a hole had recently been dug and had sunk when it was recovered, or any wires sticking out that might lead to pressure plates.

Being in the middle of the convoy was no picnic either: if a device functioned, we’d be pinned down, prey to ambush. We also had to make it through checkpoints manned by ANA, keeping a covert eye open in case they weren’t as onside with US or International Security Assistance Force as they were supposed to be. Green-on-blue attacks were escalating to the point where each ISAF unit had appointed at least one soldier as a ‘guardian angel’ to act as a lookout—to keep an eye on our Afghan allies. I hoped like hell we made it in one piece.

I saw Caro briefly from a distance, flashing her a quick smile until I remembered that I was supposed to ignore her. But she smiled back briefly before she turned away.

It was comforting and scary as fuck to think that she was just a few vehicles back. I had to force myself to forget that she was there or I wouldn’t be able to do my job—but it was hard. I wasn’t needed on point because the regular terps were being used; instead I had a lot of hours to get to know the guys in my team: the five Afghan interpreters who’d be my responsibility.

As soon as I walked towards them, I knew there was tension in the air. It didn’t take a genius to work out the problem.

“As-salaamu’ alaykum.”

I introduced myself, noting their shock when I spoke their language. It took only a couple of minutes to work out that two of them were Shiite and the other three were Sunni. Both groups prayed to Allah, but that was about all they had in common. Oh yeah, and they both hated Sufis.

Well, this was going to make my job that much harder. I’d have to keep them apart whenever possible. Grant was not going to like it. And I had a feeling it would end up being my fault—definitely my problem.

Aabadar and Fazel were brothers, and very insistent on telling me that their father was Mujahadeen and fought the Russians. Jee-zus—two or even three generations of Afghans who’d known nothing but war.

The noise when we were seated inside the APC made it almost impossible to talk much, which was something of a relief. I separated my guys, distributing them among the leathernecks riding with us. I got some shit for that, but it was all muttered because I could pull rank any time I wanted. Didn’t mean I would, but these bootnecks didn’t know me, so they were ready to show who was boss. Fine by me. I’d come up through the ranks and I knew every trick in the book, and then some.