He should have killed her. His first reaction was to do just that. His squad, Red Troop One, had been making their way nervously through the almost impenetrable woods, just outside Armagh. Suddenly, they'd come under fire. No one was injured and their assailants had quickly vanished into the woods.
'Charley?'
'Sarge.'
'This looks as if it's been used as an arms cache. Take the rest of the men, spread out and move northwards. Carefully now. But I think those bastards are long gone now.' Momentarily, he found himself alone. He move forward slowly. There was a large hole in the ground and his guess about an arms cache looked about right.
He heard the sound of a twig breaking. He whirled around and brought his M16 up. He saw something move behind a tree. 'Come out now, before I shoot you.' He ground out.
A young girl moved out in front of him. This was the moment he should have killed her. Standing orders dictated it. The do-gooders at home in England might not have liked it, but it saved a lot of time in the long run.
She was young and she stared, wide eyed at him with fear in her eyes. She lifted her chin proudly, hands clasped in front of her. 'Are you going to kill me?'
Staring into those beautiful chocolate brown eyes and juicy lips, one of which was quivering with a fear that couldn't be hidden, he wondered how he possibly could kill her. 'That depends. Put your hands on the trunk of that tree and spread your legs.'
She did as he said. She wore a short skirt and sweater. She was almost as tall as him and her dark, wavy hair tumbled carelessly down her back. He pushed his weapon against her back and moved his hand under her sweater. She wore no bra and he could feel the firmness of her breasts under his fingers, and her nipples immediately sprang to attention under the rough skin of his hand. This almost made him forget what he was doing. But not completely. That way led to death. He put his hand under her skirt and felt the softness of her buttocks through the silk of her panties. The area between her legs was warm and he wished they were sharing a hotel room instead of a forest.
'Ok. Turn around. Now, what are you doing here?'
'I was a lookout.'
'What's your name?'
'Riona Mcluskey.'
'Well Riona, if you tell me who was here, I won't shoot you.'
'Well in that case, you're going to have to shoot me.'
'Be sensible girl. Do you want to die?'
'That's a daft question.'
'You're very brave.'
'No. I'm not. I'm scared.'
He noticed for the first time that tears were coursing down her cheeks.
'Run.'
'What?' She asked, in surprise, brushing away her tears.
'Run as fast as those beautiful legs will carry you.'
There was a almost a smile on her face now as she said 'If I ever get the chance, these legs of mine will open in willing surrender to you. I'm from Dungannon.' She brushed his cheeks softly, and was soon lost in the dense woodland.
He heard more twigs cracking as his troop returned.
'Anything?' he asked Charley.
'Nothing Sarge. They could hide in that undergrowth forever.'
'Ok. We'll get back to the rendezvous point and, hopefully back to base.
They hid, just off the side of the road, and soon heard the noise of the helicopter. As soon as it had landed, they all scrambled aboard. Chatter broke out immediately among them. It's always a relief when a patrol is finished and you're on the way back to base, particularly when you've made contact with the enemy without loss.
Peter didn't join in. His thoughts were still on the girl. He should have shot her, or at least taken her in. If he had taken her in, it would have been the end of her youth. Months in the Crumlin Road Gaol under suspiciously hard interrogation, and then years in prison. Why didn't he? He'd been with many women in his life and there wasn't one that he would've taken the same risk for.
Lust had certainly been a part of it. He could still feel her erect nipple under his thumb. The feel of her bottom through the silk of her panties. She'd stared at him so bravely. Ready to die in order to save her companions. And then the tears rolled down her cheeks when she thought she was about to die. But it was much more than that. He was tired of the killing. He'd done his share and now he was going home. Home was his father's estate, Treloske Meadows, Denbury, in deepest Devon.
He was due a long leave and this time he was going to take it. His SAS unit had taken part in too many operations in Ulster. Now, they were being stood down, for a well-earned break.
The helicopter landed and they made their way noisily to the de-briefing room. Sgt.Walker went to a room on his own. He saluted Col.Rollander and took the proffered chair.
'Well Sgt, anything new to report?'
'Just the exhausted arms dump that I mentioned sir. They opened fire on us, but they were running away at the time. I sent the rest of the troop after them, but in that sort of terrain, it's hopeless. You'd have to fall over them to find them. And it's bloody dangerous.'
'Right, well I believe you're off for a well-earned spot of leave now. Have fun and good luck.'
Every time he came home to Treloske, it took his breath away. It's forests and meadows rolling away in the distance. The prize herds in their own field, protected with an electrified fence. It was so English and he'd spend ages, just walking around it.
From the electronically controlled gate, it took him twenty minutes in his Mercedes to reach the first sign of the house. It was a magnificent old building, so different from their house on the Dingle Peninsular. Peter had spent the first fifteen years of his life in Eire and the next fifteen here. And he loved both places.
His mother and father stood at the open door, waiting for him. Because of his job, reunions were always fraught with emotion. They never knew when they might get the dreaded message from Ulster. They both hugged him, his mother with tears running down her cheeks. Eveline was in her early fifties and she could easily pass for a woman ten years younger. His father, John, was showing some signs of grey in his hair, but was in remarkably good health for his age.
They had drinks on the patio and his parents filled him in on all the latest gossip, before he surprised them with a shock announcement.
'I'm thinking of quitting the army.'
'Oh my God. Is it true? That would be the nicest Christmas present anybody ever gave me,' his mother said, with unrestrained joy.
'What's brought this on?' his father asked.
'John!' his wife said, sharply. Don't you dare try to stop him. You know what I've been through all these years. Never knowing from one moment to the next what's happening to him.'
'I know my love,' he said, kissing her, 'all I asked was what brought it on.'