Midnight Trust

by M. L. Buchman

  Damn but she looked good in a full kit. His kind of lethal.

  She’d hung onto her Uzi during the river canyon fall as well, but he’d loaned her his second sniper rifle—an HK MSG90 that he’d always liked. Lately he’d carried it less and less in favor of a Mk 21 PSR—precision sniper rifle. It didn’t hurt his ego that his PSR also threw the bigger .338 Lapua round that could reach out and touch someone at almost twice the distance of the MSG’s 7.62 mm rounds.

  They had been on a Chinook just two days ago…briefly.

  He checked the loadmaster. Seriously cute redhead. Same bird ruling the roost meant they were on the same bird. Man, they’d gotten this bolted back together fast.

  “Yeah,” Chad looked around as if mildly surprised. “We were just here. At least I was until you ran me over.”

  “And I was until you dragged me out of the helo teakettle over ass.”

  “Other way around, sweetheart.”

  She thumped him in the kidneys with the butt of her rifle hard enough to hurt even through his vest. “Not your sweetheart. And I did not drag you out, you dragged me out when I tried to save you. Stop trying to change the truth.”

  “No. I—Never mind.” Maybe things would go better if he stopped pointing out Tanya’s idiomatic peculiarities. He checked in with the redhead, partly to find out how the wounded gunner was doing and partly to irritate Tanya. The Brit was out of surgery and the prognosis was good—a chunk of his arm would be titanium from now on, but full recovery. They traded fist-to-shoulder thumps and the woman headed off to take care of other things.

  Which left him to face Tanya again. The rest of the team were already involved in other things. Sofia, Richie, and Kyle on the action plan. Carla, Melissa, and Duane going over their weapons and restocking from supplies the Chinook had brought along. Tanya was sitting in one of the jump seats by herself and staring blankly into space.

  “Hey,” he dropped down next to her. He considered stripping his rifle for something to do. Not that it needed it, he’d only taken the one shot with it last night to bring down Tanya’s bike.

  He’d forgotten about that during the long slow day of kinda snoozing and sunburning the crap out of his shins.

  Chad popped the magazine, fished inside a pouch, and restocked the missing round so he’d have a full mag.

  “Go to hell, Chad.”

  “Look, I’m sorry about your shoulder and shooting your bike out from under you.”

  “You shot me twice?” Tanya didn’t look at him, instead she looked at the cargo bay’s ceiling and muttered, “Putz.”

  “Well, you once and your bike once.” Right, he’d shot the bike with his rifle, but he’d grazed her shoulder with his Glock handgun. Better top off that mag as well.

  “But you were aiming for me.”

  “Moving target and all…” Maybe it was time to keep his mouth shut. Should have said he was aiming for the bike, but he hadn’t been. In the half second of travel time for the round, the trail she’d been on must have gotten abruptly steeper, lifting her the crucial half meter out of danger.

  “Where were you?”

  “That hump in the trail just past where you and la Capitana circled opposite sides of a monster ceiba. Dumped the bike and did a dive and roll. One-knee shot. Call it four-hundred-plus meters and you were upslope.”

  “Nice,” was all she said after a moment’s silent consideration. “I took a shot like that once standing in the rear of a Range Rover in the hills above Valencia. Driver was doing seventy down one of those laughable dirt stretches the Venezuelans call a road. I was actually bounced into the air and took the shot while floating—far steadier than being in the Rover. Only three hundred meters though.”

  “Get him?”

  “Closer than you. Chest, not head—off-center to his right side so he was still breathing. Took care of that when we got closer.”

  “When were you in Valencia?”

  “Last October.”

  “Shit! We were in Caracas then, could have met up.”

  “Caracas.” Tanya was staring at the ceiling again.

  The line of her neck against the last of the sunset filling the sky beyond the open rear ramp teased him to nibble on it, but some survival instinct told him better not to. The jungle was now racing by below them as the crew flew south.

  “The SEBIN takedown?” Tanya didn’t turn to face him. “That was your team? I should have known. It was too damn perfect.”

  “That was just the distraction. We tapped their secret police’s entire communications network so that it’s beamed straight to us. Sofia’s first major op with us—she likes her data. It was really her doing.”

  Tanya looked toward Sofia for a moment as if reassessing her based on the news. She still hadn’t looked at him.

  “Look. Tanya. I—”

  “I’m here for the fight, Chad. That’s all.” Tanya needed to make that perfectly clear. To him. To herself.

  “What did I do so wrong?”

  “Other than shooting me? Twice?”

  “Right. Other than that.”

  She clamped her mouth shut. Other than that, he hadn’t done anything wrong.

  Except for being himself.

  “Leave me alone.”

  She could feel him squinting at her in the fading light. Knew what would happen if she turned to him, and she wasn’t ready for that. Then, very quietly, he rose to his feet and took a step over to join the others. A step like he had his tail between his legs. Ninety kilos and more than one-eighty centimeters of sad-puppy warrior.

  She waited until he lifted his other foot, which would place him slightly off balance. Then she snagged the back of his belt and gave it a yank. He landed back in the seat beside her with something of a crash. She ignored the looks from the rest of the team.

  “Stop being such a pain in the ass, Chad.”

  “Thought I was being nice. Leaving you alone when you asked.”

  “You were. So cut it out.”

  “You’re not makin’ a whole lotta sense there, Zimmer.”

  Tell her about it. “Just sit there and be quiet for a minute.”

  “I can do that.” And just to irritate her even more, that’s what he did.

  “Asshole,” she muttered.

  “Takes one to know one.” He began cleaning his rifle as if he had nothing better to do. As if reloading the rounds he’d shot her with hadn’t been enough of a slap. He just had to make a point about where he thought the power lay in their relationship—no matter how misguided that view was.

  The jungle had now disappeared into the darkness. The dull red of the night-operations light now filled the helo’s cargo bay with ghoulish shadows.

  Their relationship? They didn’t have a relationship. All they had was this twisted…thing between them. Next they’d be stripping down right here on the cargo deck and comparing battle scars. Of course it would have to be only the recent ones, as they’d done exactly that three years ago. Why the hell had that been a turn on? Surely she was a collection of more than her battle injuries…wasn’t she?

  Of course if she was, then he must be too. Wasn’t he?

  Her thoughts were looping and there was no way out of it.

  “Say something.”

  Rather than speak, he traced a finger down the scar that ran the length of her biceps.

  A shiver slid up her spine.

  “Tell me that, before you killed him, you tortured the bastard who did this to you.”

  And there he was again, both meeting and completely confusing her expectations.

  “Look—” he had to swallow hard to stop the “babe” that most women seemed to think was sweet, but Tanya certainly didn’t. “—Lady Sniper. You’re the sexiest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen on two legs.”

  “Got a thing for four-legged critters?” she shot right back at him.

  “Not what I meant. And no. What I’ve got is a thing for a gorgeous woman who shoots almost as well as I do.”

  She s
cowled at him just as he’d intended and he couldn’t keep back the laugh. That earned him a grimace of acknowledgement that she’d fallen for his trap.

  “But Tanya, if you think I’ve got any idea what’s going on here, you got another guess coming.”

  “We’re going on a takedown mission to cut off a cocaine export route running out through Ecuador.”

  “No, I meant…” And now he’d fallen for her straight line. He rested his fingers on her thigh. When he went to rub a thumb along the side, he ended up stroking the sheath for her Ari B’Lilah tactical knife. If nothing else defined her as Israeli elite Specials Operations, that custom knife certainly did. “You ever want to work out a trade, I’ve got a nice Strider SMF blade from the Marine Corps.”

  “Stripping dead bodies?” Tanya teased him.

  “Wish I had a better story about it. Wild poker. Sex with a hot lieutenant. Something. But no, I did a training mission with Marine Corps Detachment One—me and Richie training them. Trust me, it wasn’t the other way round. Gave us each a blade as thanks.”

  “Well,” Tanya traced her hand down her blade and over his thumb. “Nobody gets an Ari B’Lilah that easy.” Her touch was as light as her tone. Just enough louder than the beating rotor blades to understand, but soft enough that he had to lean in to be sure of her words. She smelled of combat gear and gun oil—so damn sweet.

  “So, what do I have to do to get one? I’m guessing being a good boy isn’t enough.” Her fingers lingered on the back of his hand, sending shock waves into his system.

  “Being a bad boy isn’t going to get you there either.” Then she casually twisted his pinkie backward until he had to kneel on the steel deck to relieve the pressure, but she didn’t ease off—just as he wouldn’t have.

  “What will?” He managed to keep his voice steady despite the line of pain he could feel running right through his elbow joint.

  She let him go and he made a show of not rubbing away the pain.

  “Seriously.” It surprised him, but he really did want to know. He was careful not to put any pressure on that arm as he again sat beside her. Flexing his fingers slowly eased down the pain.

  “Seriously?” She scowled out into the darkness.

  Even the blood-red operations nightlight looked good on her. Rather than going splotchy, she looked like some sexy demoness of temptation the preachers were always going on about—her blonde hair gone deep red and her light blue eyes seeming to glow with fire. He’d sat in the back pew of enough churches during bitter Detroit winters to know the liturgy better than most of the priests. Knew their fire and brimstone as well as the seven mortal sins. Not one of the seven ever sounded half as good as Tanya looked.

  “In truth, I have less idea than one of your four-footed friends.”

  Chad regathered the parts of his cleaning kit that had scattered to the decking when she’d folded back his finger. He coiled up the BoreSnake and tucked it into a pocket along with the little squeeze bottle of oil.

  They sat in silence for a couple kilometers as the helo continued to climb. They were doing a high jump tonight.

  He wanted Tanya. That was a given. What sane man wouldn’t? Especially because he’d had a taste of that three years ago and knew just what she brought to the game.

  “Truth?” He muttered it for himself, but Tanya must have heard between one rotor beat and the next for she turned to him.

  Truth wasn’t something he spoke often to women. They didn’t want to hear that he was only there for the sex. They didn’t like that the moment he redeployed (which, being Delta, happened often and usually on zero notice), they were never going to see him again. And no way did they want to know that most of them had half the skill of the teenage whore who took his virginity on someone else’s silk sheets and that he would never think of them again.

  Except Tanya had spent three years tap dancing around the back of his thoughts. Sex with her wasn’t memorable—it was the kind of thing epic movies were written about. And he’d…

  “I missed you.”

  Tanya didn’t even blink. Instead she nodded slowly as if agreeing. Agreeing that she had missed him and that feeling didn’t fit any better in her world than it did in his.

  “I—”

  “Out of time, dude.” Carla dropped a parachute rig into his lap. “Should have kissed her while you still had the chance.” The look she gave Tanya was unreadable as she plopped a second rig in Tanya’s lap.

  Tanya stuck her tongue out at Carla, which earned her a bark of laughter and then a view of Carla’s backside as she strode up the length of the helo’s cargo bay to don her own rig. The others in the crew were at various stages of prepping their gear. No rush, but being Delta efficient.

  She straightened out the harness.

  “Um, you are jump qualified, babe?” Chad was once again being Chad. Their moment was gone, slipping back behind the curtain of the normal. That was fine with her. Truth was overrated anyway.

  With a clean flip, she slid the harness into place. Standing, she shot her hips forward then back, expertly catching the tails of the straps as they swung between her legs. Tanya snapped them onto the hip rings. Holding the half squat, she yanked the adjusters to cinch the leg straps. Four more motions latched and adjusted waist and chest straps. One more slung the long sniper rifle safely out of the way.

  Chad had stood when she did, but hadn’t moved a single muscle to put on his harness, instead just watching her as if he’d gone numb.

  Grabbing the front of his shirt, she jerked him closer and kissed him.

  She’d show the bastard just exactly who was competent.

  But she could feel his smile grow as they kissed. What she’d intended as a short vengeful drive at him, opened and expanded. Kissing Chad wasn’t like kissing other men. For some, it was a control thing. For others it was some level of friendly gesture like “Thanks for the good fuck” or “Let’s fuck, soon!”

  Chad could turn a kiss into a whole sexual act of its own.

  Rather than clamping an arm around her to keep her in place, he trusted to her hold on him to take care of that. Instead, he ran his hand over her waist, down the leg strap that circled her buttock, and then brushed his fingertips along her Ari B’Lilah knife, tracing the outline of the sheath on her thigh. Acknowledging the jumper and fighter along with the woman currently devouring his lips. Her memory hadn’t failed her on what an exceptional kisser he was.

  “You jumping with us, Chad?” Carla again.

  Tanya opened one eye; she hadn’t remembered closing them. The rest of the team was fully harnessed and lining up at the helo’s lowered rear ramp. Three tough men and three lethal women. Gods but she’d missed this.

  The adrenaline kept pumping.

  Chad went to ease back, but she held him in place. Taking his lower lip between her teeth, she dared him to pull away. If the reserve chute at her belly wasn’t holding them apart, she’d have rubbed her hips against his to distract him.

  She wanted to rub her hips against him. Rub her entire body!

  “Thirty seconds,” the female crew chief called out with a laugh.

  Tanya kept him pinned for another ten seconds, but his wandering touch was gone—distracted—no longer teasing her leg to wrap around him.

  He took a sudden step back, flipped his harness over his head, and seemed to make all of the attachments and adjustments in a single smooth motion. She buddy-checked his harness, but he hadn’t missed a thing.

  This time she used the chest strap of his harness to pull him back against her. He clamped his hands around her waist and held her as tightly as she was holding him, despite the two reserve chutes now between them.

  “Ten!”

  His kiss kept heating. It asked the question of why she’d even wasted time with other lovers over the last years since they’d been together. And she answered with greedy need that wasn’t like her at all.

  “Five.”

  She groaned into the kiss.

  “Four.
”

  This shouldn’t be possible.

  “Three.”

  Jumping was always the massive adrenal charge—with a night jump topping the list. Even better than battle because generally no one was trying to kill her during a night jump.

  “Two.”

  Chad’s kiss loomed even bigger—her pulse was pounding so hard that it threatened to punch her heart out through t-shirt, camo blouse, and jump harness.

  “One.”

  She pushed away.

  “Jump! Jump! Jump!” The crew chief’s shout was only marginally louder than the ringing in Tanya’s ears.

  The rest of the team was streaming off the rear ramp.

  At the edge of the ramp, she turned back to face Chad. He still hadn’t moved.

  “Don’t forget your rifle!” Tanya shouted at him.

  He swore and turned for his weapon as she leaned backward and tumbled off the rear ramp and into the night close behind Carla.

  She’d made a sniper of Chad’s dedication completely forget about his rifle. Tanya unleashed a crow of delight that no one except the wind could hear.

  She slapped her night-vision goggles into place. Then, adjusting her arms, she let herself roll through a pair of backward somersaults. Popping her chute, she steered into her slot in the jump group.

  There were times when being a woman was the best feeling on the planet.

  10

  Chad did a full flail and twist as he hit the airstream and the crew chief’s laugh followed him down. To hell with her. He didn’t need a married Night Stalker crew chief, no matter how goddamn cute and red-headed she was. Not when Tanya Zimmer was falling through the sky ahead of him.

  He finally managed to get his rifle stowed securely enough for a drop. By the time he stabilized his flight and shifted his NVGs into place, he’d fallen an extra eight seconds and was gonna be stuck a thousand feet below the team for the rest of the flight.

  He popped his chute and grunted as the leg straps caught him sharply in the balls—not enough attention to adjusting them properly. He and his balls had been busy thinking about other things.