Chapter 5
Commander Anders sat behind his battered desk, a mug of black coffee cupped in one hand, casually flipping through an after action report with the other.
“Sir,” Ghost said.
“Come in. Sit.” CDR Anders flipped a page, eyes skimming the line before he finally gave Ghost his attention.
Ghost dropped into the chair opposite him, shoulders locked, face unreadable.
“I’ll get straight to it,” Anders said, closing the folder. “The embed is confirmed. Effective immediately.”
Ghost’s posture tightened. “Understood.”
“No argument?” CDR Anders asked.
“Not one that will change anything.” Ghost kept his tone even. “Rachel Parker. Four prior embeds. No classified clearance. Limited mission access.”
“Minimal friction,” CDR Anders repeated.
“That’s the note.” Ghost frowned. “Doesn’t make it smart.”
“She’s experienced, not some rookie with a press kit.”
“She’s not one of mine,” Ghost said quietly. “She doesn’t know our pace or how we communicate. Out there, that gap gets people hurt.”
CDR Anders pushed the folder a little closer. “She’s cleared Ghost. Treat her like classified material, keep her secure and intact.”
Ghost didn’t touch the file. “She adds risk.”
“You follow orders,” CDR Anders said. His tone stayed flat, but his eyes pinned Ghost to the spot. “Her placement came from high up. She’s not here to write feel-good pieces. Someone wants a window into the work you boys do.”
Ghost blew out a slow breath through his nose. “So we are gambling on a photojournalist.”
“No.” CDR Anders leaned back. “I’m betting on you.” Then his voice softened by a fraction. “She’s already on base.”
Ghost’s attention shifted to the door. Pieces clicked into place. The folder. The early briefing. The way CDR Anders was braced, it was clear this wasn’t a discussion. He was being positioned.
At that moment of realization, the door creaked open.
The door opened. Brown boots, broken in at the heel.
Cargo pants that rode low on her hips and fit loose through the legs, until she stepped forward and the fabric pulled across her ass.
Ghost tracked the movement before he could stop himself.
His focus should've been on the briefing.
His thoughts wandering to her ass irritated him.
A white linen shirt sat under her bullet proof vest, sleeves rolled to her elbows. A camera bag hung over her shoulder, the strap snug against her collarbone.
Ghost’s breath caught before he could stop it.
Hazel eyes, flecked with warm gold, cut toward him.
They were sharp, alert, and unflinching.
As her hazel eyes scanned the room, it was clear she was reading it.
Her eyes landed on Ghost, scanning and reading him next.
Tracking details like a trained observer.
She moved closer, the light catching the loose strands of brown hair around her cheekbones.
Her skin held a sun-worn glow, olive-toned and marked by the field, but there was something controlled beneath it. Resilient.
Ghost felt his spine straighten on instinct and his pulse pulsate in his throat.
Something in the way she held herself made him take a second look.
He noticed everything in a breath. The faint burn scar along her forearm.
The fullness of her lips. The flicker of a dimple on her left cheek when her mouth tightened, just once, before she wiped it away.
Rachel Parker.
He had done his research and saw the photographs she produced, the ones that didn’t make the nightly news because they were too intense. He respected the work, but none of it had prepared him for how quickly she caught his attention.
She was keeping something locked down, vulnerability she didn't want on display. Ghost felt the draw toward her before he could stop it. An old instinct, one that spelled trouble.
He shut it down. Whatever this was, it wasn’t going anywhere.
CDR Anders broke the moment. “Lieutenant Logan Hayes, meet Rachel Parker. Parker, this is your commanding officer for the duration.”
Ghost stood, slow and controlled, noticing how she only came up to his shoulder, throwing her eye line at his chest. He didn’t extend his hand.
Her eyes slid down to his hands, clearly noticing the lack of welcome.
Her gaze snapped back to his, causing her head to tilt back in order to reach his eyes.
Her eyes were lit, an unmistakable challenge in the tilt of her chin, a message he understood instantly.
She wasn’t here to be handled. She was here to hold her own.
CDR Anders continued. “Her clearance is active. Her experience is real. She knows the line. She stays behind it. You treat her like an operational asset.”
Ghost’s voice stayed low. “She is still a civilian.”
Rachel spoke before CDR Anders could. “I can handle myself.” Her tone was calm, not defensive.
Ghost didn’t answer right away. He studied her, slow, controlled, letting the silence gather between them.
“You sure about that?” he finally asked.
“Damn sure,” she said, voice hard with certainty.
Commander Anders dragged a hand down his face, the gesture carrying the weight of someone who already regretted the entire situation. “Parker, give us a minute.”
Rachel nodded towards CDR Anders, then swept her gaze across Ghost, evaluating and dismissing all in one look. She stepped out, the door clicking shut behind her.
The moment she was gone, Ghost leaned forward. His voice dropped, edged with barely restrained anger. “This is a mistake. A dangerous one.”
“Duly noted,” CDR Anders said, not an ounce of sympathy in it. “Now get over it.”
Ghost’s jaw worked, the muscle ticking once. “She is still a liability. Clearance doesn’t make her bulletproof.”
“No,” CDR Anders replied, tone sharpening. “But it means she knows the risk. Waivers are signed. NDA is airtight. Until Command says otherwise, she falls under your protection, and you keep her breathing.”
Ghost’s fists curled against his thighs. “You are putting her in the middle of an active team.”
“And I am putting you in charge of making sure she survives that.” CDR Anders snapped the words like he was done entertaining dissent. “You want her pulled? Bring me evidence. Until then, this stands.”
Ghost felt his control slipping. He didn't salute. Just pivoted and walked out before he said something that would end his career.
The door slammed behind him. Heat hit him like a fist, sun already brutal despite the early hour. He stopped, letting his eyes adjust, and that's when he saw her.
Rachel Parker stood ten feet away, arms crossed, watching him.
Not nervous. Not backing away. Just... watching.
His jaw clenched. Of all the times for Anders to saddle him with a damn journalist.
She didn't flinch under his stare. Most people did. Most people took one look at Ghost's face and found somewhere else to be. Rachel just held his gaze, steady and assessing, like she was reading him the same way he was reading her.
Sweat beaded along her collarbone. Sunlight caught strands of brown hair escaping from where she'd tied it back. Her hazel eyes stayed locked on his, sharp and unflinching, catching details he didn't want her to catch.
Ghost's pulse kicked. His body was noticing the curve of her neck, the way her vest sat against her frame, the fact that she was looking at him like she wasn't impressed.
Nobody looked at him like that.
He stepped closer. "You follow my rules. You do exactly what I say. No wandering off. No second-guessing my orders. Clear?"
Rachel matched his energy. "You don't have to like me, Lieutenant, but I'm not leaving."
Ghost closed the distance. One more step. Close enough now that he could see the pulse beating at the base of her throat. Close enough that the heat between them wasn't just the Afghan sun.
"You're not part of this team. You're not trained for what we do. Out there, one mistake puts people in the ground."
Her chin lifted. "Then I won't be the one who makes it."
Their eyes locked. Ghost's breath stayed controlled, but his heart rate didn't. He recognized the feeling crawling up his spine, the same adrenaline rush he got before a mission, that edge-of-danger awareness that made his senses sharpen.
Dangerous. She was dangerous in ways that had nothing to do with the job.
He jerked his head toward the barracks. "Let's go. You need to meet the team."
She fell into step beside him without hesitation. Ghost kept his stride normal, not adjusting for her shorter legs. If she couldn't keep up, that wasn't his problem.
Except she did keep up. Matched his pace without complaint, without asking him to slow down.
Ghost's awareness sharpened in ways that had nothing to do with tactical assessment. Her breathing was steady and controlled. He smelled her shampoo or soap, something clean cutting through the diesel and dust. Could feel her presence beside him like a heat signature.
His hands flexed. This was a problem. He didn't need distractions, and Rachel Parker was already proving to be exactly that.
The barracks loomed ahead. Inside, his team was waiting. They'd take one look at her and know Ghost was off his game. They always knew.
He pushed the door open harder than necessary and stepped inside.