Page 84 of Mr. Charming

Oh well. I can handle him.

*

Well over an hour later, someone knocked on my door.

“Hold on,” I said, standing up.

I crossed the room and stopped.

Be strong, I told myself as I took a deep breath.

After opening the door, I saw Max dressed in camo pants and a tight green tee-shirt, all standard issue. He grinned and stepped forward. I had no other choice but to step back and allow him in.

“You made it,” I said.

“I keep my word.”

As he shut the door behind him, a sense of dread rushed through my body.

“Have a seat, and I’ll pull up my list of questions,” I said, walking to the desk.

He stepped over and closed the laptop lid while looking into my eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“We can do the interview after.”

“After what?”

I narrowly avoided his kiss as he lurched forward.

“Whoa. Hold on a minute,” I said, stepping back toward my bed.

“The hard-to-get act is getting old,” he said, his voice thick.

“Are you drunk?”

He laughed.

“Alcohol isn’t allowed on the base. How would I get some?”

“Smuggling,” I said, staring into his eyes, wishing I could read his thoughts.

“What do you know about smuggling?” he asked as he stepped toward me.

I took a step sideways, toward the door.

“It’s happened during wars throughout history.”

“Yeah? Well, Afghanistan ain’t no war. It’s a hell-hole all the time.”

As he spoke, I continued sliding toward the door.

“Where are you going?” he asked. “You afraid of me or something?”

Or something, I thought but said nothing. What have I gotten myself into now?

“Come on,” he begged. “You want this hot body.”