Why the hell did she wear all black in the desert? Oh right, because she looked damn good in black. And given she was currently surrounded by six of the sexiest the Army, Navy, Air Force and Marines had to offer.
Wait, since when did the Department of Defense put together mixed teams of SEALs, Recon, Green Berets, Commandos, and Rangers? Unless she missed her guess, and she never did, there was one of each, except the two Commandos. How odd.
“Does the Air Force need two of you to make just one soldier, Marine or sailor?”
She really hadn’t meant to say it out loud and honestly didn’t realize she did until the jarhead let loose a deep belly laugh and both SEALs almost cracked a smile. The Ranger and the Green Beret smirked. Dicks.
“What sect are you from?”
Charley turned her attention to the pasty faced information contractor who was questioning her in very bad Arabic. Sect?
“Dumb ass, do I look Iraqi to you?” she responded in the same language, only better, sending the jarhead into another fit of laughter.
Well wasn’t he the jolly one?
“What did she say?” the non-military idiot demanded in the general direction of the silent seven. Mostly silently anyway, with the exception of Mr. Funny Bone.
“She called you a dumb ass,” the SEAL answered helpfully and with a straight face. Impressive. Given she had answered in the formal, classic Arabic, the kind not spoken by anyone but mullahs with impressive educations.
“Who sent you? Where did you hide your explosives?” Pasty boy was all excited, his face turning molten red. Tiny drops of spittle escaped from the corners of his mouth. Charley didn’t bother to hide her revulsion, turning up her nose and frowning as she looked away. That was just gross.
“Bitch!”
With the scream that sounded a little like a females, the pudgy bastard backhanded her, right across the cheek. Her natural inclination was to kick him dead in the nads, but unfortunately her legs were handcuffed to the chair. To her surprise, before the little bastard could lower his raised hand, he was dropped by the Marine, whose booted foot was caressing dude’s neck, and the SEAL had a very impressive five inch Bowie knife pressing into dude’s groin.
“She is not Iraqi idiot!” the Marine growled.
“And even she was,” the SEAL added, “we don’t hit women.”
Now Charley was really impressed. Especially looking at Mr. Jarhead all up close and personal. There was no doubt she was going to kill dude lying in a fresh puddle of piss in the dirt floor, but for the moment she let herself be distracted by the male beauty in front of her. Damn Mr. Jarhead was big. He had to be at least seven feet, which was perfect because she was pushing six-one. And big! Plenty of nicely developed, bulging muscles strained that puke green military t-shirt. Very nice indeed. It would be no hardship to bullshit her way out of this one. A little sweet talk, with her inner sex kitten turned to high, she would be out of here in no time, with the Babylonian headdress. Now she knew who was guarding the ancient treasure, she knew how to go about stealing it.
