A Wicked Persuasion: No Going Back / No Holds Barred / No One Needs to Know

“And what are you going to do about this?” Russell snapped in irritation. “In less than five minutes that girl has managed to destroy everything we’ve worked so hard to create. She’s alienated every patriotic and uniformed person in this country. Christ, there’s a public outcry to boycott her music. Even the liberals are lambasting her.”

“Keep your voice down,” Kate admonished, glancing toward the bedroom door. “I have an idea, one that will demonstrate her goodwill toward the troops.”

“It had better be good,” Russell snarled. “If she has to cancel the rest of her tour—which is looking more likely with every passing hour—this is going to get very expensive, very quickly.”

Kate pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and began scrolling through her extensive list of contacts. “I’ve been thinking about the huge Independence Day concert tour taking place in Afghanistan next month,” she said, slanting Russell a quick look. “Everyone is talking about it. In fact, I believe several of your biggest clients are participating. Let me make a few calls and see if we can squeeze Tenley into the lineup.”

“You can’t be serious,” Russell groaned. “Do you know the hoops I had to jump through to get my other clients on that tour? Even if you could pull it off, it’s too late! Tenley can’t just cancel her scheduled performances to go overseas.”

Kate arched an eyebrow. “To hear you tell it, she’ll be lucky if her remaining performances aren’t canceled due to lack of interest. But I’m not buying it. Tenley is a box-office juggernaut, and I can’t imagine that the USO won’t be thrilled to have her join the tour.”

“And what makes you think Tenley will agree to go over there?”

Kate gave a tight smile. “Are you kidding? She’ll jump at the opportunity to be in the same country as her lost love, even for just a few days. Not that there’ll be any chance of seeing him, of course. My understanding is that he was sent to one of the remote outposts in the northern part of the country.”

Russell was silent for a moment as he considered Kate’s words. “That might just work,” he mused. “Of course, the USO may not agree to finance her trip, especially at this late date, so we could have to pay for it out of pocket. That’s disappointing, but if it works …”

“I’ll make it work,” Kate promised.

Russell raised his eyebrows. “You’ve always been so protective of Tenley. Are you sure you want to send her to a combat zone?”

Kate gave him a tolerant look. “If Carrie Underwood and Faith Hill can do the tour, then so can Tenley. It’s not as if she won’t have ample protection. Besides, I’d rather send her to Afghanistan for a week than see her career crash and burn.”

Glancing toward the bedroom door, Russell lowered his voice. “I’ve always thought you were too easy on her, and I’m glad to see you finally take off the kid gloves.”

Kate looked at him in exasperation. “I’m not doing this to punish her. I’m doing it because I care about her. After all, she’s my baby sister.”

“Half sister,” he corrected.

“The point is,” Kate said carefully, “I’m all she has. Nobody else is going to look out for her, and she’s certainly not capable of looking out for herself. The fact that she ran off with the first guy she met is proof of that. She needs me.”

“Hmm,” mused Russell. “Still, it is Afghanistan.”

“This is a huge Independence Day event,” Kate said. “Trust me, if there was any danger, the USO wouldn’t allow the concert to proceed. In fact, my plan is to arrive a few days ahead of Tenley, tour the various bases where the concerts will take place, and ensure the proper security measures are set up.” She smiled at Russell. “She’ll have the entire United States Army to protect her. What could possibly go wrong?”

2 (#ulink_745bb9be-b454-5aaa-9017-e4e412988dbb)

Bagram Airfield, Afghanistan

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN we’ve been told to stand down?” Chase Rawlins growled at the uniformed man standing behind the desk.

Colonel Decker planted his hands on the surface of the desk and leaned forward. When he spoke, his voice was hard. “Major, we’ve known each other for a long time, but I’ll advise you not to forget who you’re speaking to.”

Chase stared at the other man for a long moment, trying to rein in his frustration. Compressing his lips, he straightened and stared at a point over the colonel’s shoulder. “Yes, sir.”

He and his men had been in the middle of a critical operation when the stand-down order had come through. The team of special-operations commandos had been relentlessly tracking a top Taliban leader through northern Afghanistan for nearly a year. They had finally discovered him hiding out in a heavily fortified village in the mountains, and had been preparing a nighttime raid to capture him, when they had received the order to stand down and return to Bagram Airfield.

Immediately.

He and his men had literally been positioned on the bastard’s doorstep. Chase had reluctantly acknowledged the order and signaled his team to retreat. The fact that one of his men had chosen to disregard that order and had attempted to singlehandedly storm the compound where the target was hiding was proof of the sheer frustration they all felt. Chase had managed to stop the soldier before he actually gained entry to the building, but not before their position had been compromised. The ensuing firefight was intense, but Chase’s team had escaped to the west and made their way to the extraction point, where a Black Hawk helicopter had picked them up and returned them to Bagram Airfield. Two members of his team had stayed behind to maintain surveillance on the target.

But the knowledge that they’d let Hamid Al-Azir get away pissed him off on a level so deep that he hadn’t stopped to fully consider his actions. As soon as the helicopter had touched down at Bagram, he’d stormed over to the Special Ops commander’s office to find out what the hell was going on. He hadn’t even stopped to clean himself up and still wore the dust and grime of fourteen days in the field.

“I understand your frustration, Major,” Colonel Decker said. “Vital operations have been disrupted across the theater, but the Pentagon has demanded a full investigation into the U.S. air strike that occurred outside Kandahar two days ago. Until that investigation is complete, your orders are to stand down.”

Chase hadn’t read the reports, but by all accounts the Special Ops air strike against the summer retreat of a top Taliban leader had been a complete disaster. The local population claimed that dozens of innocent civilians had been targeted, and Washington’s response was an abrupt and complete halt to all special-operations missions.

Chase blew out a hard breath and looked at Colonel Decker. “How long?”

The Colonel shrugged. “The Pentagon says at least forty-eight hours, but my guess is a week. Maybe longer.”

Chase bit back an expletive. At least with a two-man team in the region, they could still keep tabs on Al-Azir. The months spent tracking the Taliban leader wouldn’t be completely wasted, but Chase didn’t think he could relax until they had the bastard in custody.

“Sir, I’d like to rejoin my surveillance team ASAP.”

Colonel Decker picked up a folder and pinioned Chase with a hard look. “Before I let you do that, why don’t you tell me what happened after the stand-down order was issued? My report states gunfire was exchanged at the compound, and your team requested air support.”

The Colonel’s expression was grim and Chase knew it didn’t bode well for him. “Sergeant Morse was unaware of the stand-down order,” he lied, “and attempted to take the target into custody.”

“Uh-huh.” The dry tone clearly said the Colonel didn’t believe a word of Chase’s story. “And as their leader, your responsibility was to ensure your men not only heard the order, but heeded it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“In light of your inability to control your team, Major, I have a new assignment for you. Here, take a look. This should keep you busy for the next week or so. How well you perform this duty will determine whether I send you back into the field.”

Frowning, Chase took the file from his superior and opened it, quickly scanning the contents of the dossier. Along with the usual personal information, the folder contained several glossy media photos of a young woman with a guitar. She was attractive in a sexy, teenybopper way, with wild blond hair and heavy eye makeup. She wore a pair of tattered jeans and cowboy boots, paired with a red camisole top that laced up the front like a corset. Scanning the dossier, he saw her name was Tenley Miles and she was some kind of country-pop singer. And she was coming to Afghanistan.

“What is this?” he growled, but he had a sinking suspicion that he already knew.

“Your new assignment,” Colonel Decker announced cheerfully. “She’ll arrive in three days as part of the Independence Day concert tour, and you will act as her escort while she’s here.”

“Her babysitter, you mean,” Chase muttered, flipping through the photos. A quick appraisal of her personal information confirmed that she was barely eighteen years old. “Why isn’t the USO handling security? This isn’t something we do.”

While Chase and his men routinely provided protection details for VIPs and dignitaries during their visits to Afghanistan, they had never been asked to act as bodyguards to celebrities. The USO had its own contracted security personnel for that purpose.

“The USO staff is stretched thin with the other entertainers who are coming over. Besides, she’s not here on a USO ticket,” the colonel added. “She’s here on her own dime to make nice with the troops and, as I understand it, try to repair the damage she did at a recent concert when she publicly lambasted the U.S. military.”

“Christ, leave it to the celebrities,” Chase said in disgust. He pulled out a news article that provided the details of Tenley Miles’s anti-military rant. He gave a disbelieving huff of laughter as he quickly read the column. “I think I’d rather take my chances with the Taliban.”

“Are you telling me you can’t handle one girl?” The colonel arched an eyebrow.

“That depends,” Chase said absently, thumbing through the remaining documents. “Is water-boarding still allowed?” Picking up a black-and-white photo, he studied it for a moment before turning it toward the other man. “Who is this?”

“Her personal assistant.”

There was some writing on the back of the photo. “Katherine Fitzgerald,” Chase read aloud. “Publicist.” He gave a snort of disgust. “Great. Tell me I don’t have to babysit her as well.”

Turning the photo over, he studied the woman again and something fisted low in his gut. She was slender and her face boasted beautiful bone structure, although her baggy cargo pants and cardigan sweater effectively hid any curves she might have. Her hair was an indeterminate color and style, having been pulled back into a ponytail. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, and Chase let his gaze linger for a moment on her full lips and the determined set of her chin.