Operation Desert Rose

Mark watched Toni’s tent from the chow line, wondering if she would follow his twenty-minute ultimatum. She fascinated him completely, changing with lightening speed from a sleeping beauty to an avenging angel. He had to admit that everything she said had made sense. She was a good M.P., but she was not trained in Special Ops. It was more than the Army should ask of her, and he had been unable to rebuke her anger. He couldn’t blame her for it. He was a bit angry at the whole thing, too. As her commander, he couldn’t stay away from her as he’d planned. He’d have to be on guard against his own instincts every moment. And that bit about someone to live for had hit him right in the gut. He hated the reminder that his angel was forbidden, that she belonged to someone else. He blinked deliberately, inhaling and exhaling deeply. One small murderous thought intruded, but he shoved it aside. Even if she wasn’t already attached to someone else, it would never work between the two of them anyway. He forced himself to remember his promise. She doesn’t share the faith. He had never had so much trouble controlling his personal desires. This mission would test him to the limit. He glanced at his watch. It had been fifteen minutes. He finished his meal and topped it off with a coveted piece of fresh fruit. This was the point of no return. If she came out of the tent, gear packed, within the next five to seven minutes, the mission was a go. Instinct told him that whatever she committed herself to do, she would do. If she defied the order, if she tried to drag Jack Simmons into it, he would radio the Colonel and scratch the job. He refused to begin any mission with an unwilling co-worker. That would be setting out to fail, and certain death.