An Honorable Woman

by Lindsay McKenna

  Disheartened, Cam sat there in silence. That meant Maya and her husband, Dane, would not only be handling their immense responsibilities at the squadron, they’d take on twenty-four-hour flight duty as well. That was an awful strain and Cam knew it.

  “I thought you’d say that.”

  “That’s the way the cookie crumbles, Cam. Sometimes you bite the bullet and just do it. No one said life was always easy, did they?”

  “No,” Cam grumped, “just damned unfair.”

  “The way I see it, your two rich boys need a boot in the butt. You’ve selected two of the best pilots to ensure they’re going to be living in hell from now on, once they get up there and start working with them.”

  “Yeah,” Cam laughed, “Snake and Wild Woman won’t take any crap from either one of them.”

  “That’s right, they’ll be in their faces. And what you need to do is stand out of the way. So does your X.O. You let the ladies handle their immature charges. You back them and support them and keep the two Mexican pilots on a real short leash. No liberty unless they produce. No smoking unless on liberty. These two boys are gonna find out in a helluva hurry that playtime is over and it’s nose to the grindstone time instead.”

  “I’m feeling better, Maya…thanks so much! I know what kind of effort you’re putting into this to help me.”

  “Listen, that’s what this is all about—teamwork and support. You have a mission to complete. You’re going to need help we didn’t think of at first, because of the players you’re stuck with and can’t get rid of. So, in essence, we’re callin’ in the calvalry—Snake, Wild Woman and a third Apache. I’ll get it done for you, so don’t worry. You need to tell your X.O. what’s going to happen, though. He needs to know and then support you a hundred percent when the crap hits the fan.”

  “I know Gus will,” Cam said. “He’s supported me from the beginning.”

  Maya laughed lightly. “Do you realize that every time you mention that dude’s name, your voice goes soft and mushy, Anderson? You like him or what?”

  Shocked, Cam sat up straight. Her heart pounded briefly as she considered her C.O.’s words. “What? Er…no. Why…no, of course not. I mean, he’s a likable guy, Maya. Real easygoing compared to the other two jerks. But like him?”

  “Whoa!” Maya chortled. “Rein in your horse, lady, I was just wonderin’ out loud, was all. Your energy changes when you talk about him. Your voice changes.”

  “Well,” Cam sputtered, “probably because he’s my only safe port in this storm!”

  “I see. Okay, gimme a couple of days to put plan B in motion for you. I’ll give you a call at midnight, your time, in forty-eight hours.”

  “Thanks, Maya…as usual, you’re magical, the way you pull rabbits out of hats to save my butt.”

  “Your butt’s worth protectin’, Cam. Relax. You’re doin’ things right and to the best of your abilities. No one can ask more of you. Now, I’d be hunting down my X.O. and lettin’ him know ASAP about plan B. I actually feel sorry for Zaragoza and Dominguez. You need to decide which one gets assigned to Snake and which to Wild Woman.” She chuckled darkly. “I wish I could be there to see their faces when my women pilots get into their faces. It oughta be a Kodak moment.”

  Laughter spilled from Cam’s lips. She loved the black humor that was so much a part of BJS. “Maya, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were going to enjoy this.”

  “Damn straight. I don’t put up with crap like that from a green pilot, man or woman. They’re in the military and they’re damn well gonna respond accordingly or else.”

  Relief flooded Cam and she rested her elbow on her knee, the phone in her hand. “Maya, thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Same here, Cam. We miss you down here. Our mother hen is gone. The women miss your nurturing, the chicken soup, the chocolate chip cookies you bake for them when they have pilot duty.” She chuckled. “Get some sleep, Tree Trimmer. Tomorrow’s another day. A better one, I promise.”

  Gus sat with Cam in the darkness of the grove on the picnic table that had become their ritual meeting place. He had his guitar in hand, his arm resting over it as he listened to plan B. Overhead, the stars were bright in the blackness of the night.

  He liked Cam’s husky, soft voice. He liked the way she used her hands to gesture as she spoke. Did she realize how beautiful her hands were? “Flight hands” was what they called them in the military. Good pilots had a certain look in their eyes, and hands that were long, graceful and lean—all hallmarks of a good flyer. She was certainly that—and more—but Gus refused to go there no matter what the cost to him personally.

  He liked to bring dessert out to the grove and share it with Cam during their nightly chats. It was the only time she seemed to have free to discuss his X.O. duties. If Cam wasn’t flying six hours a day and trying to bring the two Mexican pilots up to par in flight skills, she was at her office plowing through a mountain of paperwork. Some of it Gus had been able to talk her out of, and do himself. Little by little, they were learning what a C.O. and X.O. did to help one another and balance the workload.

  Looking down at the opened box of chocolate chip cookies he’d bought in town Gus saw that half of them were gone. He looked up at Cam, sitting two feet away from him on the table, waving a fifth cookie in her hand as she talked. Smiling to himself, he felt his heart growing warm as he studied her profile.

  “So, that’s what is gonna happen,” she told Gus, turning and looking at him. She watched as he picked up another cookie and bit into it. “What do you think?”

  Raising one eyebrow, he murmured, “I’d invoke the loss of privileges after the third Apache and the two IPs arrive. I wouldn’t try it now.”

  Nodding, Cam said, “Okay.”

  “That way, you’re hitting those two with maximum firepower all at once. What you’re trying to do is jolt them out of the cozy little world they’ve established here under your command. When you have three IPs around, they’re less likely to buck you, I think. It’s a matter of numbers. It’s a matter of overwhelming them with equal or greater firepower.” He grinned.

  “That sounds right,” Cam murmured. “Good advice.”

  Heart thudding as Gus gave her that wicked little-boy smile, Cam eagerly drank in the look in his darkened eyes. Oh, how she looked forward to these nightly talks. Of course, Cam said it was business—serious business—and he’d agreed. However, tonight of all nights, Gus had brought her her favorite cookies. She’d casually mentioned it a week ago, when their talk had strayed into the personal realm, and he’d asked her what her favorite dessert was.

  Finishing the cookie, Gus wiped his hand on his jeans and then stroked a few chords on the guitar. The music filled the grove and he saw Cam’s face relax. When the little things he did for her made her happy, his heart soared. He knew the pressures Cam was under. Yet she had a quiet strength, a steely quality that wasn’t revealed outwardly. Cam had a kind-looking face, but she was tough when she had to be. Maybe there was a difference in how a woman commanded, Gus mused. It was an interesting fishbowl experiment, as far as he was concerned. He knew a man could sometimes be aggressive and in-your-face as a C.O. But Cam’s quiet firmness worked for him. Not on his two cohorts, however.

  Strumming the guitar more loudly, Gus played another melody. Cam smiled and his heart melted. Her eyes grew dreamy, as she sat with her arms wrapped around herself, elbows on her thighs. Smiling back, Gus lost himself in the tune.

  For ten minutes he played, and Cam was able to surrender to the gentle, healing melodies that Gus coaxed from his old, beat-up guitar. For the first time today, Cam utterly relaxed. It was him, she decided—Gus was quiet, yet so perceptive of her needs. It was as if he could read her mind and see inside her heart. Cam had never met a man who had that ability or effect on her.

  When he ended the tune, she turned to him. “That was beautiful. What was it?”

  “It’s a lullaby of the Yaqui people,” he murmured, his
fingers brushing the guitar lovingly. “My mother used to sing it to me. I grew up listening to it.”

  “It’s lovely. I’m glad you bring your guitar out here when we meet.”

  “Yeah?” Gus grinned a little. Her eyes lightened.

  “Yeah. It makes a good ending to a tough day.” And Cam frowned.

  “Well,” he murmured, “your bad days are comin’ to an end. Your C.O. said the Apache will be here tomorrow and so will the two IPs. Then those bad days will land on Zaragoza and Dominguez.” Chuckling, Gus added, “And it couldn’t happen to two nicer dudes, in my opinion.”

  Heartened, Cam gave him a weak smile. “I’m glad your dad taught you about the life of an X.O. I’m almost jealous. I wish I had better skills, more education in management.”

  Reaching out unthinkingly, Gus slid his hand over her slumped shoulder. His fingers grazed her denim jacket and he felt the strength of her beneath the rough material. The look in her soulful eyes at his unexpected touch affected him deeply. For a moment, just a brief moment, Cam had leaned into his hand, as if starved for a human touch. A little care. It was then that Gus realized—too late—that his gesture was personal and intimate. Certainly not military.

  Unhappy with himself, Gus pulled his hand away and muttered, “You’re making the best of a bad situation, Cam. I think you’re doing a good job.”

  Skin tingling where Gus had briefly and unexpectedly touched her, Cam stared at his profile. His mouth was set in an unhappy line; his dark brows were knitted. She had never expected him to touch her—ever. But he had. And that instant had been a wonderful, healing gift. His hand had slid across her shoulder in such a gentle, caressing gesture that Cam had automatically, without thinking, leaned closer, starved for his touch. Really starved for him to embrace her and hold her.

  The whole brief moment was so shocking to Cam that she straightened up, her hands clenched on her thighs. Somewhere in her colliding thoughts, she realized a huge part of her had wanted desperately to walk into his arms and be held. Gus gave her that—a sense of safety and protection in a world where she felt continually exposed and vulnerable, especially in the presence of the other two pilots. With Gus around, Cam relaxed. She felt safe with him. They always laughed and joked in the cockpit, even though they were in training. It was fun. Being alone with him was something she looked forward to daily.

  Swallowing hard, Cam whispered, “I think we’d better go. I gotta get up early tomorrow….” And she slid off the table and dusted off the rear of her jeans. Cam saw the sober look on Gus’s face. He seemed unhappy about his action toward her. She tried not to take it personally, but she did anyway.

  Her heart cried out in protest as they began the trek back to the barracks. Cam made sure there was plenty of space between her and Gus as they walked so there’d be no possibility of their hands brushing.

  Floundering around for a safe topic, because she felt so awkward and unsure of herself, Cam said, “You must have a wonderful woman waiting for you stateside, right?”

  Moving the guitar strap to his left shoulder so that the instrument was between them, Gus felt his heart contract. He slowed for a moment, then resumed his usual stride. “No,” he said, more abruptly than he’d meant to. “There’s no one.” He looked over at her, his face in shadows. “What about you? You said the BJS is primarily all women, with a few support men. Is there someone special down there waiting for you to come back?”

  Cam shook her head. “No…” She chewed on her lip. “I…I don’t have a good track record with men. I swore off them for a while because of it. The last three years have been wonderful in some ways without men in my life.”

  “Yeah, relationships are hard,” Gus muttered. Then why did his heart soar when he heard Cam admit she had no man in her life?

  “And right now,” Cam added, her voice growing strong with conviction, “I’m more focused on my career than a personal life.”

  “Makes two of us,” Gus said fervently, meaning it. Or did he?

  Chapter 7

  Gus knew things were going to explode the moment the two BJS women pilots confidently sauntered into their small classroom the next morning. Gus and the two pilots were sitting at their respective desks, facing a green chalkboard, where Cam stood, briefing them on the day’s flight mission. Only he had been taking serious notes on the upcoming maneuvers. Luis and Antonio, upon hearing the door open behind them, turned. Gus, who was sitting on one side of the room, his desk positioned so he could see them all, lifted his head.

  The two women pilots who walked in were in typical U.S. Army flight uniforms. What wasn’t typical was the blond woman; she had a red streak dyed in her hair. The other one, taller and leaner, followed her in like a cat on a prowl for its quarry. Shifting his gaze, Gus saw Cam smile slightly at them in welcome. By the gleam in her eyes Gus knew she was glad to see her sisters from her old base in Peru.

  “Come in,” Cam invited them, “and stand up here. Let me make the introductions.”

  Gus saw the mischievous glint in both pilots’ eyes as they walked toward the front of the room. They each wore the patch of the Black Jaguar Squadron on their left shoulder and an American flag on the right. The black leather patch above their left breast pocket had their pilot handle or nickname, their real name and their rank.

  As Wild Woman, the shorter of the two, started to walk past Zaragoza, he gave a low wolf whistle of appreciation.

  Instantly, she turned around. The expression on her face changed from one of innocence to a snarling grimace. She grabbed the collar of Antonio’s flight suit, pinned him against the chair and put her face an inch from his own, their noses nearly touching.

  “What do you think you are doing, mister?” she snarled. “Whistling for your dog? Funny, I don’t see any dogs in here. I see a stupid jerk, though. Right in front of me. Now, you wanna do that again?” Her lips curled back from her clenched teeth.

  Zaragoza croaked. He jerked his hands into the air, not daring to touch the hissing woman pilot.

  Gus squelched his laughter. Antonio was sliding down in his seat, trying to escape the gringo woman’s unexpected response. Serves him right.

  “Well?” Wild Woman barked. “You got a dog in this room, mister?”

  “Uh…no. No, Señorita—”

  “What?” Wild Woman practically roared into his face, her hand tightening on his collar and jerking it savagely. “I don’t see any Señoritas in this room, either. What’s the appropriate military response, mister?”

  Antonio choked and coughed, his eyes growing huge. Waving his hands spastically in surrender, he tried to move, but was pinned. “I, uh…Sí, ma’am.”

  Releasing him and giving him a look of utter disgust, Wild Woman growled, “That’s better, mister. You do any more whistling and I’ll rip your lips off your face. Comprende?”

  Shocked, Zaragoza tried to sit up and straighten his flight suit. “Uh…yes, sí, ma’am, sí…” he mumbled, highly embarrassed.

  Luis, who sat beside his friend watching the whole thing with widened eyes stayed very still. Gus thought he might be in shock. The two women pilots continued their nonchalant walk to the front of the room as if nothing had happened.

  They came to attention, saluted Cam and did everything militarily correct, under the circumstances. Gus silently applauded them. Nothing like showing the “boys” in the room what was expected of them. Cam returned the salute.

  “About-face,” she ordered the two women pilots, “and stand at parade rest.”

  Instantly, the two concurred, performing the move crisply, in unison. They stood in front of the room, to Cam’s right, hands behind their backs, their booted feet slightly apart, chins high and shoulders thrown back with pride. Gus thought they were magnificent looking. He saw rock-solid confidence in every inch of their unsmiling faces, especially in their eyes, which reminded him of alert eagles, poised and ready to strike. The caliber of these women blew him away. Gus understood from talking with Cam earlier that they al
l had three years of wartime combat flying under their belt. Whoever had trained them had done so to a blade’s fine edge. They looked intimidating. Dangerous. Moving his gaze to the two male pilots, he slid his hand across his mouth to hide his burgeoning smile.

  Zaragoza was completely shaken. He’d thought he’d get away with a wolf whistle. The last thing he’d expected was for the blonde to turn and confront him on his undesired male behavior. Now he sat stiffly at his desk, hands fluttering nervously around his collar, constantly readjusting it. His skin, normally a golden-tan, was rosy and flushed.

  Luis Dominguez wasn’t smiling. He was scowling, and Gus could see him measuring up the two pilots who had just come in. Though Gus wasn’t sure about what Luis was thinking, he wasn’t about to whistle, that was for certain.

  Cam smiled benignly at the three male pilots. “Gentlemen, I want to introduce the rest of our squadron.” Lifting her hand toward the woman nearest to her, she said, “Chief Warrant Officer 2 Jessica Merrill. We call her Wild Woman.” Cam kept her face serious as she nailed the still-shaken Antonio with a look that spoke volumes. He’d just had a taste of her wild, unpredictable side.

  “And to her right is Chief Warrant Officer 2 Vickey Mabrey. Her handle is Snake.” Cam went on to quietly introduce the three student pilots. Then she went to her lectern and picked up a set of papers. Holding them out to Gus, her X.O., who stood up and approached her, she said, “Mr. Morales, please pass out this new set of orders to everyone?”

  Gus nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” And he turned and handed a set each to Luis and Antonio. Returning to his seat, he sat down with his own copy in hand. He knew what they contained, because he’d typed them up earlier that morning.

  Cam passed sets to Wild Woman and Snake. “All right, let’s go over them together, because these orders are in force as of right now.”

  Gus watched covertly as Cam read the pages in a low, authoritative tone. He saw first shock, and then rage in Luis’s and Antonio’s eyes as they found out they were ordered to stay on base—permanently—until their flight scores improved to eighty percent. Right now, their marks hovered in the thirty to forty percentile range. When Cam told them they couldn’t smoke until they were off base, their mouths dropped open.