Scavenger's Mission (The SkyRyders Book 1)

by Liza O'Connor

  She received three hip-hip-hoorahs and enough back-pats to last a lifetime. “Anyone seen my squad?” she yelled over the noise.

  Tucker pushed his way forward. “We have a table in the center, Captain.” Taking her arm, he helped to part the crowd with warnings of, “Back off…let Captain Kane through.”

  Despite her fatigue, she walked around the table and shook hands with each member of First Squad and congratulated them on a good job. She smiled when she saw an empty seat across from Ginnie and Jersey and nothing to prevent her from taking it. “Where’s Washington?” she asked, concerned when she didn’t see him.

  “He just got back. I made him go take a shower. He was raining sand on me,” Jersey complained.

  “How’d the bag-and-tag go?” Alisha asked, knowing Washington had to hate missing out on the main battle.

  “He kicked ass. The colonel had him lead the squad because these clowns don’t know the first thing about cleaning up. He bagged fourteen stragglers with no injury to his crew.”

  Alisha laughed. “Broadtown Squad rocks!”

  Jersey and Ginnie toasted with their beers in agreement.

  “Hey,” Jersey said with a laugh, “you should hear the rumors about you and the colonel.”

  Alisha’s smile disappeared. “I thought with DC in the brig that shit would stop!”

  “Not that colonel. I’m talking about Captain America,” Jersey corrected her.

  “We should probably call him Colonel America,” Ginnie piped in.

  “There’s nothing going on between me and Colonel Sparkes either,” Alisha assured them. While the rumor still pissed her off, it was better than one about her and Colonel Logan. She couldn’t possibly worsen Jack’s reputation.

  Jersey laughed. “That’s not what these guys say. They say Colonel Sparkes is smitten with you. Normally he plays it real cool, barely talking to the women he seduces.”

  “That sounds romantic,” Alisha replied sarcastically.

  “Until you came along. Now he’s running after you just like a dog in heat!”

  Ginnie objected. “You make everything so coarse. It’s not like that at all!”

  “Thank you, Ginnie,” Alisha said. At least someone was being reasonable.

  “He’s being so attentive because he fell in love at first sight. He knows you’ll never fall for the ‘I call you when I want it’ routine, nor does he want you to. No, this is the real thing—the whole nine yards—courtship, marriage, and maybe even a baby.”

  Both Alisha and Jersey looked at Ginnie as if she’d lost her mind.

  Jersey shook her head. “Damn, girl! How can anyone grow to be twenty-one and still believe in fairy tales?” She turned to Alisha. “But he definitely wants to bone you more than once.”

  “Well, I think it’s love,” Ginnie insisted.

  Jersey rolled her eyes and looked at Alisha. “Either way, it’s put you off-limits to all the guys here. They don’t want to get on the colonel’s bad side. He’s their only hope. He frequently intervenes on behalf of flyers when the general decides to strip ’em back down to private.”

  “The general can’t do that. Only MAC can raise or lower your rank,” Alisha said.

  “So the regs say. MAC makes those decisions based on what’s written up about you. The general records every mistake you ever make, and the second you piss him off, boom! Off goes the list to MAC, and thirty minutes later, you’re a buck private.”

  “For example…” Jersey leaned across the table and spoke softly. “See the one at the end of our table, looking like he just destroyed his favorite catcher?”

  “Mason, right?” Alisha asked.

  “Yeah. He had target six, and I’m told best case, he’ll be a private by tomorrow; worst case, he’s out of the Corps.

  Ginnie scowled. “I told him he should ask to transfer to Broadtown, but he doesn’t think you’d want him any more than his squad does.”

  “Is that why he’s by himself?” Alisha asked, feeling very sorry for the poor fellow.

  Ginnie frowned. “No. He was talking to us, but the guys made him move right before you came.”

  “Then tell him to bring his chair back over,” Alisha insisted.

  Ginnie jumped up to retrieve him.

  Jersey smiled. “I think she likes him.”

  Alisha had to agree with that assessment when Ginnie brought the sad young man back to the table.

  “Sit down and join us, Mason,” Alisha insisted, sensing the young man was ready to bolt. She glanced over at the other end of the table and saw why. If a group of angry flyers had been giving her such dark glares, she might have run as well.

  Tucker approached. “Is this private bothering you, sir?”

  “Private? I believe Mason’s a sergeant.”

  “That was before he missed target six, sir,” Tucker replied.

  “I did not miss my target!” Mason declared through clenched teeth.

  Alisha sighed and looked up at Tucker. “Captain Tucker, I’m dead beat and thirsty as hell. Would you be so good as to get me a beer?”

  Mason sat down beside Ginnie. “I’d get it for you, sir, but they’d probably spit in it, thinking it was for me.”

  Tucker laughed. “I’ll get you something safe to drink, sir. How about you ladies? Want another round?”

  “Sounds good,” Jersey said, tilting her head slightly to one side. “Allow me to come with you and help carry.” She headed off with Tucker, giving him her sexiest smile.

  “I didn’t miss, sir,” Mason said, leaning across the table. “I’m absolutely positive I hit my target right between his shoulder blades.”

  Alisha nodded. “If you’re that sure, then I expect you did. He might have had a comm unit on his back.”

  Mason splayed his hands on the table. “Is that likely?”

  “Well, it would have been early, but if he had a cautious nature, it’s possible he’d have been willing to lie for hours with a twenty-pound box on his back. My Gramps was with the first Ryders, and back then, they all wore them because, even though they might be as heavy as hell, the truth is they’re great protection from sniper fire.”

  “Then you think this guy might have done that?” Mason asked again, now clearly excited.

  “By two this afternoon, everyone would have been wearing them. Target six might have been a cautious guy who armored up early. Mason, you did your best, and we won the battle. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of.”

  Mason looked at Ginnie, who had the cutest I-told-you-so look on her face, and smiled. “I was wondering, Captain, if you might be looking for another flyer for your squad.”

  Alisha was about to tell him yes when she remembered the colonel’s stern new rules. “You know the regs, Lieutenant. I can’t solicit a Ryder from another squad. However, if MAC were to assign you to my squad, I’d be very pleased.”

  Mason smiled at Alisha, then gave an even bigger smile to Ginnie.

  When Tucker and Jersey returned with the beers, Mason was quick to repeat Alisha’s theory of what might have happened when he shot target six. Alisha could tell Tucker didn’t buy it for a minute, but he didn’t make an issue of it.

  “We’ll all know tomorrow. Just drink your uncontaminated beer and enjoy your evening.”

  Poor Mason fell back into despair.

  “What happens tomorrow?” Alisha asked.

  “Post-mortem,” Tucker said. “Except for Mason. For him it’ll just be ‘mortem’. The general will have him transferred out by noon. He won’t be alone, either. There’ll probably be five or six other soldiers shipped out as well. Hell, I could be one of them. You don’t remember doing the shit that ends up getting you in trouble. I’ve been bucked down to private twice now on things that I would have sworn on a Bible never happened, but there I am on tape, so I can’t really argue the point.”

  Mason gave a bitter laugh. “Yeah, sometimes I think there must be these two parallel universes going on, and we’re just popping back and forth between them. Like
today. I know I hit my target! But clearly the target wasn’t disabled.”

  Tucker laughed in agreement. “Yeah, and remember the time I only latched one buckle on the freight catcher? I swear to God I remember securing both. I mean, bullets were flying everywhere, and it was total chaos, but I remember latching them, yet there I am on the video ducking for cover as a hand bomb goes off five feet from where I stood, and the next thing I’m doing is launching the catcher.”

  “What was in the crate?” Jersey asked.

  “Five hundred kilos of bootleg rum,” Tucker replied.

  Jersey grimaced. “That must have made a mess when it fell out.”

  “It didn’t fall out. I made it back with the crate, but I still lost my stripes over the mistake. Had it actually opened, I wouldn’t be in the Ryders anymore.”

  “That sucks!” Jersey exclaimed. “Remind me not to ask for a transfer here, even if I do like the ratio of men to women in these squads,” she said, and gave Tucker another winsome look.

  Alisha stifled a yawn and looked at her watch. Another thirty minutes before her tent would be ready. God, she didn’t know how she would remain awake until then.

  Jersey and Tucker soon left the table and headed outside for some air. Ginnie and Mason remained with her, but were so involved in their own budding romance that neither noticed when Alisha laid her head down on the table just to rest for a little bit…

  Chapter 48

  Gunny knocked and entered the general’s command center. “Excuse me, Colonel Sparkes, but you asked me to let you know when Captain Kane returned.”

  Sparkes smiled. “Yes, we heard, Gunny. Did you have any trouble getting her to go to the party?”

  “Not after I grounded her, sir,” Gunny replied. “But I’ve got a bit of a problem. I promised her a nice quiet tent of her own, but the supply clerk didn’t bring enough.”

  Logan sighed. “She can stay in my tent,” he said, and then seeing the look of displeasure on the general’s face, he explained himself. “I’ll fly back to Broadtown.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! You’re so damn tired you can barely stay awake sitting in a chair. Gunny, put a second cot in my tent. Jack will bunk with me, and the captain can stay in Jack’s tent—if that’s all right with you, Logan?”

  Logan really wanted to sleep in his own damn bed, but the general was right to question his ability to fly. He’d never felt so tired.

  ***

  When they finished with the review, Logan stared at his watch in confusion. It said only ten o’clock. He could have sworn it must be four or five in the morning.

  Powell sighed. “Not many mistakes to review tomorrow. I’ll be writing commendations ’til early morning, I suppose.”

  Just then the base phone rang.

  “If they want us to engage in another battle tonight, I’m going to have to refuse. Our field commander is definitely out of commission.”

  Logan heard the general’s words but was unable to make any meaningful sense out of them. He was flying back to his soft, warm bed.

  “That was the chief medic calling about your crewman, Logan,” Sparkes said.

  Sparkes’ words jarred Logan back to reality. “How is he?” he asked, and forced himself to stand up.

  “He’s doing well. They don’t think there’ll be any permanent damage, except for a slight loss of hearing in his right ear.”

  “That’s great news!” The general slammed his giant paw on Logan’s back. “That’ll help you sleep better, won’t it, Logan?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact it will,” Logan said, no longer afraid to admit to the man that he actually liked his squad. “If we’re done…”

  “We’re done. Get on to sleep.”

  Jack stared at the tent door. “I think I’ll go down and give the squad the good news about Philly.”

  “I’ll do it,” Logan said.

  “No, Logan,” the general interceded. “Let Jack go. He’s young and full of energy and didn’t spend five hours in the air. Go on to sleep. Consider that an order!”

  Logan was too damn tired to consider anything. He had enough trouble remembering which tent was his.

  As he laid his head on the flat, hard pillow, stretching out on the narrow, thin mattress, he couldn’t remember anything feeling so damn good. Just before he eased off to sleep, he realized Jack hadn’t run off to tell the squad about Philly. He’d run off to tell Alisha about Philly. He tried to push himself back up and go after the bastard, but instead he fell into black nothingness.

  Chapter 49

  Alisha awoke up to happy shouting and a familiar hand pressed lightly on the back of her neck. She forced her head off her arms and sat up, instantly bumping her head against Sparkes’ chest.

  Mason was hugging Ginnie and now turned to her. “You were right, Captain! I shot the damn comm unit on target six’s back.”

  Alisha replied with a big yawn and leaned her head back so she was looking up at Sparkes. The change of view made her suddenly woozy, and she tilted to the left. Sparkes caught her before she slid off the chair.

  “Whoa!” He laughed. “I think someone has had a bit too much beer.”

  “She’s only had one,” Ginnie said. “She’s just tired. I don’t even think she heard the good news about Philly.”

  Alisha instantly perked up. “What about Philly?”

  Sparkes leaned down, placed her arm around his neck, and pulled her up. “He’s going to be fine. The medic was very impressed that a certain captain had the good sense to sit him up and put an icepack on his head.”

  Alisha wanted to correct him and tell him it hadn’t been her, but she didn’t dare. If the Corps discovered Denny was the one who’d cared for Philly, there would be a thousand questions to answer. Evidently Philly had realized that and transferred the credit to her.

  With Sparkes’ arm wrapped around her waist, they walked out of the mess hall. Alisha frowned as they approached a tent she remembered someone pointing out as his. “Why are we here?”

  “Because you need to go to bed,” he replied as he helped her into the tent.

  Alisha looked around in concern. “Whose tent is this?”

  “It’s mine,” he replied as he sat her on the cot and kneeled beside her and attempted to remove her flight suit.

  With a little effort, she captured his hands. “Colonel, you’re a very handsome man. I mean very handsome—way too handsome—but I don’t want to have sex with you.”

  “That’s not a problem,” he assured her, and peeled the flight suit off her shoulders.

  “I know you don’t get turned down often, but believe me when I tell you, I really mean it. I’m saying no sex.” Then, concerned she might have hurt his feelings, she tried to explain herself. “It’s not you. You’re like Captain America. It’s just I already have a Captain America, except grumpier.”

  “Is that so?”

  Sparkes smiled, flipped her arms over his shoulders, and raised her off the cot for a moment to slip the flight suit down her legs. Pulling back the covers, he sat her back down, untied and removed her shoes, then pulled off the suit gathered at her ankles.

  “Colonel Sparkes, are you listening to me?” she asked as he removed her suit, leaving her wearing— What was she wearing? She stared down at herself and sighed in relief: fully clothed. She had worn stretchy insulated undergarments called polyprops beneath her flight suit.

  “I’m listening,” he said. “Are you sure you only had one drink?”

  “Yes. I don’t think I like beer,” she proclaimed as Sparkes eased her onto the bed and pulled the covers up over her.

  “You never drank alcohol before?” he asked in surprise.

  “At home we would have wine…”

  “Well, the good news is you probably won’t have a hangover, which will give you a major advantage at tomorrow’s review. Sleep well, Captain.” He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

  As he turned to leave, she called his name. “Thank you for being
so understanding. I promise not to tell anyone I turned you down.” Then she laughed. “They wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

  Sparkes shook his head and walked out of the tent. As she drifted off to sleep, she could hear the general’s low, gravelly voice asking how she was.

  “A little drunk from one beer but still able to resist my seductive charm.”

  “Must be a blow to that inflated ego of yours.”

  Whatever the response was, Alisha didn’t hear it as she fell into sweet dreams.

  ***

  Alisha enjoyed a wonderful dream in which Colonel Logan forgave her for her mistakes and proved it by making love to her. Then the smell of coffee and a familiar hand gently shaking her arm tore her from her dreams.

  “Up, sleepy head. You are way beyond your six hours of required sleep,” Jack said.

  Alisha rolled over and opened her eyes just a bit to peek out beneath her lashes.

  “It’s a good thing I didn’t sleep with you,” he said, kneeling down beside her.

  She opened her eyes. Was she repulsive in the morning? Is that why the colonel had rejected her? “Am I a fright?”

  “No. Cute as a button. Rather like a cute twelve-year-old. Waking up and finding a little girl in my arms would give me a heart attack.” Jack laughed and then stopped.

  Her distress ended his mirth. “Hey, I’m just teasing,” he said.

  Alisha found nothing amusing in his words. It only revealed what had triggered the colonel’s revulsion after their night of breathtaking passion. He’d woken up and seen her younger than she was.

  “Tell me why I look twelve,” she demanded.

  He shrugged. “You just do.” Then he grinned.

  “It’s not funny. I don’t want to look like a kid.”

  He cocked his head to one side, suddenly very serious. “Does that mean you do want to sleep with me?” he asked, with tension creeping into his voice.

  “No!” she snapped. “And stop asking me. Still, I might want to sleep with someone else, and I don’t want him thinking he’s waking up with a twelve-year-old!”