A slight smile – part nerves, part excitement – spreads over her lips and her hands grip tighter to her camera bag, and it’s a silly thought but I love that I get to share her first embed mission with her. I’m about to say something else to her when Sarge’s voice from the right of me, loud and booming above the other sounds, fills my ears.

“So we have five units moving in. Different approaches. We’re hitting a small town where we believe one of the couriers lives. He’s delivering messages between the top officials to the midlevel. We find him, we get one step closer to knowing when and where the big meet is going to happen,” he says, confirming my hunch as to why the mission is occurring.

“When we get there, you two will stay with Rosco over there,” he says, pointing to the guy next to Beaux. “He’ll be your babysitter.” He chuckles before carrying on about what is to be expected when we reach our destination.

“The military officials aren’t really saying, Bob. The only information we are allowed to report at this time is that the mission was considered successful. What exactly we’re looking at for measure of success is currently unknown, but they do believe the commanders have acquired the information they were looking for. Beyond that, details are slim,” I report to the lead anchor as I juggle my notes since we finished in perfect timing to hit the tail end of the evening news.

The rush from being part of the military raid only intensifies since I know that my report is not only live on Worldwide News right now but since I’m the only journalist here, it’s probably going to be picked up by other stations. Take that, I say silently to Rafe and the higher-ups questioning whether I could still do my job properly.

“Tanner, do we know if there were any casualties on the ground? Were any soldiers hurt?”

My eyes flicker ever so briefly over the top of my laptop screen from my Skype feed to where Beaux stands beside Sarge. They’re both watching me, and it’s ironic that millions of people could possibly be tuning in to my live feed and yet her eyes on me cause my stomach to somersault.

Rein it in, Thomas. Start showing that shit and the brass will definitely know your head’s messed up.

The funny thing is, it would be over someone completely different than they think.

“Not that we’ve learned at this time, but as I said in my initial report, there appear to be a lot of moving parts to this mission, so that’s not to say there aren’t any injured at another location.”

“Thank you. Tanner Thomas reporting live tonight. We’ll have more on this exclusive story plus pictures on the late-night broadcast…,” the news anchor drones on, segueing into the next story before the Skype connection cuts off. My posture relaxes immediately as I disconnect my Globalstar satellite wireless Internet feed from my laptop and begin to pack it all up, making mental notes as I go about what I need to include in my written story that I’ll turn in when we get back to the hotel.

“Great report.” Beaux stands before me, camera held close to her face as she scans through the images on her Canon’s LCD monitor. “I got some good shots to go with your filed report.”

“Can’t wait to see them,” I say as I glance up toward her. All I can see is my own reflection in her aviator sunglasses, but the way her body is moving tells me she has as much nervous energy as I do right now after being bystander to that action-packed raid. It was most definitely the most intense embed mission I’d been on, but everything was so scheduled out, a testament to the military’s skill level, that at no point did I have that uneasy feeling. I found myself more in awe of the sheer bravery of the soldiers kicking down doors and clearing houses in rapid speed, having to make judgment calls on the fly, so that adrenaline was my ruling emotion. “For your first embed, that was a pretty incredible one to be a part of.”

“You’re telling me. I’m still shaking from the rush,” she says, holding her hands out so that I can see them.

While we talk, I watch a few soldiers speaking to a local across the street from us before I turn my attention back to her. “I call it the buzz. That rush is what keeps us coming back time and again.” She snaps a quick picture of me before I can turn away. I give her a look behind my shades that I know she can’t see but can feel.

“BJ?” Rosco interrupts. “I might be able to sneak you over to get the pictures you asked for. The area appears secure, but let’s get in and get out.”

At hearing his words, I’m feeling the same shock that flickers over Beaux’s features, but she hikes her camera bag over her shoulder. “You’re on!”

“Beaux.” Her name comes out in a warning tone so that she has to know I’m not thrilled with the idea, especially considering our discussion on the way to the base when I informed her I didn’t want her out of my sight once we were beyond the city’s limits. That rule fell right after the one telling her she must remain in arm’s reach by my side.

“C’mon, Pulitzer. Share the glory with someone else, will ya?”

I know she’s joking, but I also think a little part of her means it. All I know is that I want to tell her to wait up, to not go without me.

“If we’re going to do it, it’s got to be now before we move out,” Rosco reiterates over her shoulder.

She flashes me a huge grin, excitement lighting up her face before she shrugs in my direction in an insincere apology and hustles after him while I’m left to finish packing up my equipment.

Sarge never willingly offers a chance to get pictures of a scene, so I know his bosses want this successful mission documented for propaganda. And shit, whatever the purpose, Worldwide News is the only news outlet here, so that’s a huge positive.

It still doesn’t mean I like having her out of my sight.

A few minutes pass as I finish packing my stuff up before a flurry of gunfire rings out through the silence of the village. Shots volley back from our position as soldiers scramble for cover.

For a split second I freeze. Memories collide with the present, and I swear to God I’m taken back to the frenzy of trying to find Stella. Sounds and smells and sights that don’t exist fill my head, fuck me up, until another spurt of gunfire followed by men shouting breaks through the hold the memories have over me.

Instinct takes over immediately. The need to survive, overcome, and live fuels my movements. I duck down and run for cover on the other side of the Stryker parked behind me, while thoughts of Beaux commingled with frantic panic fill my head.

The need to find her consumes me. An eerie silence falls over the village, dust particles dancing in the air, and my ears ring. My heart pounds in my ears and my blood feels like it’s mixed with jet fuel as it races through my body, causing my hands to shake, muscles to vibrate with fear-laced adrenaline.

Beaux.

I need to get to her.

She’s my only thought, my only motivation. It feels like minutes, but it’s probably only a few seconds of silence before I start to leave the cover of the vehicle to go and find her. As I step around the rear of the personnel carrier, I’m yanked backward by my vest and pushed through the open back doors of the Stryker at the same time the air around us erupts with more gunfire.

I scramble to get up and scurry back off, but Sarge is in my face, guys piling in around us. “Rosco’s got her,” he shouts, pushing me farther into the transport to make room.

And yeah, I believe him, but at the same time it’s pure chaos out there. How do I know that Rosco really has her? How do I know she’s not hurt and injured? My mind screams at me to shove the soldiers out of the way, get to her somehow, whatever it takes to make sure that she’s okay. Before the doors are even shut, though, the Stryker is on the move, and my chance is gone.

I strain to hear Sarge on the radio. The words unstable, insurgents, too open, are being shouted, and with each bump over the rough terrain, the doubt lodges further into my psyche about whether Beaux is really okay. But I’ve got no way to interrupt him, to ask him to call Rosco and make sure he has her. Sarge is in charge of getting his unit of men to safety, and right now he’s got no spare attention to pay to a reporter who signed on for the risk.

Each jar, each bump, and each mile stretches into what feels like an eternity as my mind races and my cell phone shows no signal, its eerie silence making me want to stomp it beneath my boots in frustration. My watch is not my friend either because each minute that ticks past, each mile that we put between us and the village, is more time and space from wherever the fuck Beaux is with her curiosity to take more damn pictures.

When my phone alerts a text, all of my panic and worry reach a boiling point as I glance down to see who’s sent it. I sag against the side of the carrier in momentary relief before all of the tumultuous emotions inside me morph into anger.

Are you okay? I’m worried. I’m with Rosco. We were under heavy fire.

Yes. I’m okay.

I hit Send on my reply, but my signal fails again and I have no way of knowing whether it was delivered.

“She good?” Sarge shouts in my ear when he sees me looking at my phone. I nod, before resting my head back in exhaustion, the adrenaline still coursing through me, but at least I know she’s safe.

For now.

I swear I’m going to wear a hole in the goddamn floor as I pace back and forth waiting for Beaux to get back. Not only were we separated during the flare up at the village, but then the convoy she was riding in had some mechanical issues. So now we’re going on over an hour that I’ve been back safe and sound while she’s out there. Alone. Without me being able to protect her.

And I’m not stupid enough to think that I could save her from all of the shit that can happen out there, but at the same time, the not knowing is killing me.

Pauly watches me from afar. Poor bastard was the first to greet me and congratulate me for the exclusive on the big mission. It also meant he was the first in line for me to rip into since I had no one else to take out my worry and frustration on. And thank fuck we’ve been friends so long he knows something’s wrong, can assume what’s bothering me given my history and that I came back without Beaux, and won’t hold it against me. Shit. I know I’ll feel bad later and I’ll buy him a few rounds to apologize, but right now it’s the farthest thing from my mind. Beaux is front and center.

Every time the doors to the lobby open, I look up, then curse when it’s not her. I’ve been running the gamut of emotions, hating this feeling of unease that riots within me, knowing I won’t settle down internally until I set eyes on her.

And then there’s the anger I hold out like a shield around me. Of course she doesn’t deserve it; deep down I know that, but I can’t bring myself to care because if she hadn’t asked to take more pictures, she would have been with me when shit went south, and she’d be beside me right now.

“Tanner.”

I whip around at the sound of Beaux’s voice saying my name. And of course she’s standing there in the lobby, looking no worse for wear, with her camera bag strap slung from one shoulder to opposite hip with her hair disheveled. In fact her cheeks are flushed with color and her eyes alive from the adrenaline rush. Even I can see it across the distance of fake marble floors between us.

Still, my feet are rooted in place as relief floods me, and the proverbial breath I never realized I was holding whooshes out. Neither one of us moves; our eyes lock and say so many things and nothing all at the same time. We’re both guarded because there’s no denying that what just happened made whatever that fucking stirring is deep down I have for her ten times stronger. And I think she feels it too.

“Knee-deep in chaos!” Pauly says, his enthusiastic voice booming through the room so that all of the other journalists take notice of Beaux standing there looking exhilarated and beguiling all at once. “Are you hooked now, BJ?” he asks as he approaches her and pats her on the back in welcome. “A goddamn rush, isn’t it?”

Beaux smiles warmly, but all the while her eyes keep flickering to mine, and yet all I can see is Pauly touching her when I want it to be me. I let her have her few moments of rookie glory: being in the thick of an engagement, learning firsthand the rush that some of these journalists can only dream of experiencing. And I’m happy for her, but I experience the next moments as if I were an alcoholic in a liquor store; the craving to take what I can’t have so bad it rules your every thought, your every breath, your everything.