Love and Romance, etc.
A Free Newsletter for romance novel lovers
By Bonnie Williams
Episode 10
Out of the Frontlines
“Yo, Connie. Message for you.”
Conroy Kinsey lifted his head from between the ample breasts of the sassy brunette reporter, and growled. The pounding on the door to his hotel room was enough, but the loud booming voice of the guy on the opposite side could rouse a deaf man from sleep. He gave each luscious nipple a suckling-kiss before he got up to put on his rumbled black boxer shorts. “Sorry, baby. I gotta see what this is about.”
“Ah, Connie,” she pouted as she got up onto her knees, then wrapped her sinuous body around him. “Can’t you tell that nasty man to come back later?” She tried to convince him with her hands in such a way that Conroy was nearly convinced.
He peeled her hands away. “Sorry, babe,” he said as he patted her naked behind. “It might be important.” He heard her huff as he walked to the door, not bothering to tell her to get dressed in case the annoyance on the other end might barge in.
The pounding continued. “Connie, I know you’re in there, man.”
“Christ almighty, where’s the fire,” he said as he opened the door. It was Michael Gomez, the only person Conroy could call a friend during this godforsaken war on terrorism. “Gomez. What couldn’t wait until I got some rest?” He’d been on the frontlines with the 101st Army Division for the better part of the year until he was flown out. He was dead-tired and brain-weary.
It was odd, being here in this plush Americanized Radisson Hotel, though he was still in Turkey. Stranger still, he thought, with all the plush burgundy carpet, polished brass light fixtures, and cozy bedding in his room, it was hard to believe a war was still raging just a few hundred miles away. He wouldn’t even be here had he not been put on a respite from his original assignment. And he about to be shipped out on another one—unless he decided to call uncle.
He wasn’t a coward, by any means. He was just tired. Conroy was cherry-picked by the military from the pool of fellow journalists. Since he ate, fought, shit, and slept along side the troops, they considered him an “embedded” reporter. But now he was done with it. He was worn out and disillusioned from teetering on that fine line between reporting for the public, and letting the government control what he reported. And Conroy decided he didn’t want to be controlled by the Pentagon another day.
“Geez, sorry, Connie, but an urgent message just arrived from The States. I thought you’d want to know.”
“Well, why the hell didn’t the hotel just transfer the call to my room?”
“They tried. You haven’t been answering the phone.”
“Oh, that’s right!” Conroy mocked as he smacked his forehead with his palm.
Michael ignored the gesture and handed him the message, then quickly sprinted down the hallway.
Conroy closed the door, then unfolded the paper in his hand. The message, though unspecific, made his palms sweat. It simply said “Call Home.” Conroy muttered to himself, ignoring the questioning-look of his female champion. Home.
He’d intended to go home several months ago. And yet, he was still here—in Turkey, dragging his feet. Several of his fellow war correspondent reports were here in the same hotel with him. Though Conroy was the only one from News Corporation, CNN, NBC and several reporters from the UK were all bunking in the same hotel as he was.
“Connie?”
Pulled from his thoughts, he was more annoyed then aroused now. His mind was weighing heavy with apprehension and guilt. “Honey, we’re going to have to do this another time.”
“Conroy, you promised!” What she really meant was he was keeping her from pumping him for information. Conroy had no misconceptions about how she really felt about him. They were competitors for the same information. Hers just came in a more tantalizing package.
“Fine. But I have to make a phone call.” He turned to give her a hard look. “In private.” She really hadn’t earned his reproach, but he suddenly just wanted to be alone with his thoughts.
She grabbed for her robe, then left mumbling something about the guy from Fox News. But Conroy didn’t care. And the reason for his indifference was the very same reason for his delay in going home—memories of the past that gnawed at his conscience. Memories that kept his cock hard at night, and his heart aching in the morning.
“Damn,” he whispered to himself as he held the receiver in his hand. Every time he thought he’d erased her from his mind she’d crept right back in—when he was most vulnerable. Quickly, before he had time to think, he dialed home.
In rang four times before the machine picked—then, “Yeah—hello?”
“Hey, Dill.”
“Connie? Hey, bro it’s good to hear from you. Blake’s been trying to find you, man.”
“Yeah. I got the message.” Dillion didn’t sound frantic. What could be so damn urgent? “Dillion, it’s…” He glanced at the alarm clock on the side table, “…one o’clock in the morning. What’s so urgent?”
“It’s noon here.”
Right. “What’s wrong, then? The house burn down? Vinn get his ass stuck in a sling?”
Dillion let out a dopey laugh. “Well, I don’t know about the ‘sling’ part, but…we kinda need you home. We know you were planning on coming home soon anyway, and I guess Blake was counting on you maybe, you know, coming home a little early.”
Shit. He knew it. Conroy was toying with the idea of staying in Europe for a while. Maybe hang out in a Parisian café or visit the castles of Ireland.
“So I guess the Iraqis haven’t killed you yet, huh Con-man?” Dillion asked.
“Very nearly, but you of all people should know I’m not an easy target.” Being a war correspondent had lost its appeal—and he’d escaped from certain death more times than the number of women he’d had—which was saying a lot. The adrenaline could keep you going only so far.
“Ask him about Dad,” Conroy heard Vinn say on the other end.
“Oh, yeah. Connie, before Dad left, did he ever mention anything about Granddad and the National Register of Historical—something-or-other?”
“No.”
“Oh, well. Do you have an idea where Dad is?”
“What’s this about, Dill?” He wasn’t in the mood to rehash the mystery of their disappearing dad. He’d turned into a shadow after their mom died. The hard truth was, green alien bitches with three tits could’ve abducted his dad and Conroy would’ve never known the difference.
“Eaton said something about losing the house if we can’t find Dad.”
“Dillion, when will Blake be home?” Prying direct information from Dillion was like getting a straight answer from a politician.
“He’s working a double shift, so around midnight, I guess. When can you come home?”
“I’ll see if I can get the next flight out. I’ll call you when I land in Dulles.”
“Great! Blake will be relieved.”
“Oh, and Dill? Ask Vinn if he’s gotten laid yet?”
“Ha!” Conroy heard Dillion question Vinn. “Connie wants to know if you got laid.”
There was a loud grumbling on the other side of the phone. “Give me the phone, you idiot!”
Conroy chuckled to himself when he heard a muffled sound. He assumed Vinn had grabbed the phone from his brother.
“Geez, Connie, I’m a senior in college,” Vinn said. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re a pussy who’s afraid of girls.”
“Wait until you get home. I’ll kick your ass.”
Conroy laughed as he hung up the phone. Lord, he missed those guys.
And he missed her.
He’d be turning forty years old soon. It was time to reassess his life.
And his past was waiting for him—and, quite possibly, so was his future.
THE LONELY GUYS
Copyright© 2004 By Bonnie Williams
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