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She smiled up at him, her eyelids heavy. “I already told myself that exact thing. You’ll be here for a couple of months. What’s wrong with having a friend for that time?”
“Just a friend?” He lowered to her lips and licked them. She sighed and opened for him. Holy hell. Was it possible to fucking know the woman would taste like this? He did. God, he knew she would be so fucking sweet. He felt her arms go around his neck, and his cock had woken the fuck up. Yeah, it so wasn’t the time or place for what they were doing. He lifted and glanced at the tent flap. “Not here and not now.” Shit, was that his voice? He sounded like he’d eaten fucking gravel.
She blinked and then glanced at the flap, too. “Shit.” She licked her lips and dropped to her heels. “I’m … wow. I’m not sorry, but …”
“Yeah.” He ran his hands through his hair and drew a shaky breath. “My fault.” He drew a deep breath and put some space between him and the sexual accelerant next to him. The chemistry between them was uncontrolled at the moment.
“It takes two.” She lifted her hand to her lips. “Wow.”
“You said that.” He walked back to where he’d put his helmet.
“Yeah, but it bears repeating.” She plopped back down on her chair.
“I’m going to …” He nodded toward the exit flap.
She stood up. “Are you upset?”
Upset? Try harder than a diamond and ready to drill. He chuckled. “No, not upset. Dinner tonight?”
She nodded. “I’d like that.”
He winked at her and ducked out of the tent. As he put his helmet on, he drew a deep breath. Fuck, that was … exceptional. He rolled his shoulders and headed to their camp. He was sure there was something he could be doing, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what. Maybe that was because every fluid ounce of his blood was occupied elsewhere and not currently in his brain.
CHAPTER 8
Fleur walked into the daily debrief and sat in the rear of the tent. Miller mandated the debriefs for the staff so they could talk about their day and raise any concerns they’d encountered during their shift.
“Who’s first?” Miller asked.
“I have an issue.” Tammara Boyle raised her hand. “I lost my interpreter over a month ago, and I need help in the group sessions. My Arabic is at a toddler’s level.”
Fleur scrunched her face. Tammara was exaggerating a bit. She could keep up, but someone should be available to translate if Tammara missed something in such emotional situations. She raised her hand. Miller pointed to her. “Fleur?”
“Rana could translate. I can spare her from registration for the group therapy hours. But I’d want to ask her if she would first since she’s a volunteer resident.” Since she was no longer coordinating convoys, she could manage the check-in tent's registration table. Her Arabic was passable and, over the years, had gotten better.
“Would that work for you, Tammara?”
“Thank you.” The woman stood up. “Thanks, Fleur. I know I’m missing things I could be helping with.”
“Not a problem. I’ll ask her tonight.” She smiled at the psychologist. Rana was always willing to help, but she’d ask first.
She leaned back and listened to the sanitation crew’s issues. Then, the internal affairs group brought a new problem to light. They monitored sheltering and food dispersal. Civil engineering reported a new hole in the fence line adjacent to the medical tent. The links had been cut, not bent up, so it was probably smugglers. Miller turned and pointed at her. “You’ll let Guardian know?”
“Yes, sir. Was it repaired?”
Todd Floyd, the man in charge of the engineers, stood up and looked back at her. “Patched.” Heshrugged. “If they have cutters, nothing we do will stop them.”
She nodded. “Does Shelly and the crew over there know?”
He nodded. “Told her right after we found it, and she did an inventory. Nothing there was gone. I wouldn’t doubt we have a few turn up missing. There were a lot of tracks to and from that hole.”
“Damn it.” Fleur sighed. The woman next to her, who she didn’t know but by sight, nodded in agreement.
The meeting lasted longer than it needed to, but it always did. People needed to be able to raise concerns and have them acknowledged. Tammara also invited anyone who needed to talk to her to come to her work tent to see her. She was available for camp staff from five to seven every night. There were small groups for the staff on Wednesday nights so they could come to grips with the suffering they witnessed daily. Overall, the camp was structured like every other IDP camp, but as they drew down and staff were reassigned, they became closer. The nightly debrief was mandatory, and most of the staff attended regularly.
When the meeting was over, she walked over tothe hospital tent. “Knock, knock, Shelly. Are you here?”
“Yep. In the back,” Shelly called out to her. Fleur headed back to the small portion of the tent that was tarped off, which was where Shelly slept. “Girl, you had a hole in the fence not far from here.”