Way of the Warrior

by Suzanne Brockmann

  She took a deep breath, dropped her hands on the controls, and let the breath out slowly. Then a nod to, “Bring it on.” She didn’t trust herself to speak.

  NSDQ. NSDQ. Night Stalkers Don’t Quit. NSD—

  Unholy hell was breaking out all around her. Her helmet’s tactical display reported a dozen sources of gunfire. The covering fire from the DAP Hawk circling above them wouldn’t be enough for much longer.

  A technical came around the far side of the crashed Little Bird, clearing a boulder in a four-wheel slide that was the only reason the gunner couldn’t get a bead on her fast enough. She could see in her night vision the big twin barrels of a Russian ZU-23 anti-aircraft gun mounted on the truck’s bed slowly swinging to aim at her cockpit. It fired one-inch shells that would punch through the Hawk’s armor as if it wasn’t even there.

  Even as she cried out his name and the direction, Hi-Gear took it out, gunner, gun, and then the vehicle. The fireball was blinding through the windscreen, the night-vision gear temporarily overloaded.

  “Ten,” one of the medics called out from the Little Bird.

  Still blinking hard, she couldn’t see anything yet, she began counting down the seconds. At five, she pulled the collective up to get a low hover. It would also raise the blade tips almost two feet, making the medic’s passage beneath the spinning disk that much safer.

  At zero, everyone was aboard and at plus-three-seconds she got the signal and she was gone.

  Punching out through her own dust cloud, her adrenaline pumping high and hot, she slammed into the first turn.

  Then she saw it.

  This time, before the warning systems, before she had in reality, Lois spotted the spark of heat from the RPG’s firing. Even if she’d seen it that early in reality, the only way to save her Black Hawk would have been to roll right and up.

  If she did, the RPG would have blown into the rear cargo bay, killing her entire crew. Next, they’d have rammed head-on into the canyon wall. Had she seen it in time, her answer would have been the same: to hold the turn.

  It played out, but she was no longer connected, no longer in control. She simply watched the chopper’s recorder play out the sequence of events.

  The hit to engine one.

  Kendall pulling the Fire Suppress T-handle at the same moment Dusty had.

  She could have belly flopped into the rocks, killed most of her crew and possibly—she looked again at the rocks—probably walked away.

  But her decision, the only real choice—at least for her—was to turn her own side of the chopper into the cliff wall and to keep her foot down on the right pedal to kick the tail and the rear cargo bay up into the air, over that deadly line of boulders. She did so again, not that it would change how the tape played out.

  Again, she watched as the chopper nosed in and tumbled. Could feel the searing pain once again in her right leg. Could remember pushing and pushing against the pain as they rolled, even after there was no longer any pedal to push against or any foot to push with.

  The video came to a stop. The chopper rocking once, twice, and then dying from the abuse.

  Dusty must have pulled the recorder cartridge during the evac.

  She’d never seen it before, hadn’t thought about it. The review board had exonerated her long before she was out of the drugs enough to care. She’d awoken to a Purple Heart and a Silver Star Medal for valor. She’d known why, she just didn’t know how anyone else knew. This probably meant her crew knew, and that’s why they stayed in such close touch. She’d saved their lives at such a cost to herself.

  “It was the only choice.” Her voice was hoarse and scratchy as she confirmed what she’d always known.

  “It was the damned bravest thing I’ve ever seen,” Jake Hamlin said gruffly from behind them. “An honor and a privilege, Captain. An honor and a privilege.” Once again, he left her alone with Kendall in the cockpit of the simulator.

  Her heart was calm. The adrenaline comedown wasn’t bad as such things went.

  “Hell of a risk there, Clark. Sending your girlfriend back on that flight.”

  “Hell of a risk,” he agreed quietly, “to do that to the woman you love.” He’d said he loved her before, but never with that roughness of honesty she couldn’t deny.

  “Why? I mean we had a good thing going. Why risk it? Trying to cure me of my nightmares?” And she did love him back. But that didn’t mean she could say it.

  “No. Trying to cure you of your stupid-ass idea of leaving the service. Your heart would die without it. Look at how much you have to give. Just because you can’t fly combat, doesn’t mean you can’t train others to make those hard choices when they have to.”

  She kept her silence. It was a big idea. A huge one, and it would take a bit of getting used to.

  He filled the silence that she couldn’t. “I’ve been flying training missions in this box and through the Pacific Northwest for five years now. Maybe one in fifty could have done that maneuver even if they tried. Maybe one in a thousand would have made that choice. You saved your entire crew and all three casualties, Lois. Every one of them. You really are Superwoman, and you’ve got to know that’s worth teaching.”

  Lois began shutting down the flight controls, resetting the simulator so that it was no longer a crashed chopper on a field of boulders half a world away.

  Kendall was right. She was going to have to sit down with Clara and get her foot in the door with AW2, so to speak.

  “You really love me enough to risk losing me? For my own good?”

  “I do.”

  Lois pulled off her helmet and rested it on the joystick of the cyclic, brushing at the scuffs and scratches across the Superwoman logo. She turned to look at Kendall for the first time since she’d entered the simulator. Saw that, as Superman always would, he spoke absolute truth.

  “Of course, I had an ace in the hole.” His deep voice was a caress.

  “What was that?”

  He tapped her helmet. Not the logo, but the heavy block letters she’d had painted beneath it.

  How could she help but be madly in love with a man who understood her better than she understood herself? Well, if he’d risk that much for her, she could do no less for him.

  Lois now knew that Kendall deserved only one answer. An answer that she would give gladly, now and on the altar.

  It was a promise to last them a lifetime.

  “NSDQ.”

  Order M.L. Buchman’s next book

  in the Night Stalkers series

  Bring on the Dusk

  On sale now

  This story is dedicated to “CNN Top 10 Hero of 2013” Dale Beatty and his battle buddy John Gallina. After volunteers built a home for double-amputee Dale, they cofounded Purple Heart Homes—a nonprofit organization that has built or remodeled dozens of homes for disabled veterans. More information at: www.purplehearthomesusa.org

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  M.L. Buchman has over thirty novels in print. His military romantic suspense books have been named among the “Top 5 of the Year” for Barnes & Noble and NPR and “Top 10 of the Year” for Booklist. In addition to romance, he also writes thrillers, fantasy, and science fiction.

  In among his career as a corporate project manager, he has rebuilt and single-handed a fifty-foot sailboat, both flown and jumped out of airplanes, designed and built two houses, and bicycled solo around the world. He is now making his living as a full-time writer on the Oregon Coast with his beloved wife. He is constantly amazed at what you can do with a degree in geophysics. You may keep up with his writing by subscribing to his newsletter at www.mlbuchman.com.

  SEALED WITH PASSION

  ANNE ELIZABETH

  CHAPTER 1

  His index finger flexed like it needed to pull a trigger. He took a slow deep breath and forced himself to relax. It was hard to calm that reflex after months on
the job.

  The drive up to Julian from Coronado, California, was a long meandering one, full of twists and turns and no passing zones. After months of driving in a hot desert where there were no roads or rules, only crazy drivers with junker cars and way too many enemies with guns perched in odd places, it felt good to be back in the U.S.A. His mind and body needed the break. Tough to stay on alert for extended periods of time, the tension wreaked havoc on…everything.

  Navy SEAL LT CMDR Jonah Melo scratched his chin, grateful to be free of the whiskers that had plagued him. Nothing felt better than smooth-shaven skin. Being part of a SEAL Team meant he had to go native at times. Since he had been home, he’d shaved twice and already showered four times, and his boots had only been on the ground for two days. It was relaxing to be in a place where water was bountiful and the heat didn’t fry his genitals when he had to take a leak.

  He wasn’t complaining. Hell, he loved his job and would never trade it in. But being in Africa had been tough, the overall mission fraught with complications. His Team had come at their objective from five different angles and still couldn’t get the results they wanted. At that point, Command had rolled up shop and shipped them all home. There had been more injuries in his group on this deployment than had been counted for the entire year for all the Teams combined.

  Sometimes, shit just went down that way. No matter what anyone did, it was determined to go sideways. A better approach would present itself, and then they’d get another chance or someone else would.

  Damn, I hope it’s me. I’ve got an ax to grind with those bastards. He slapped the steering wheel.

  His eyes strayed to the chicken farm he sped by on his left. With his car windows open, he could smell the stink, and it was oddly comforting. This was one of his favorite routes up the mountain, and he had driven it at least a thousand times over the years.

  He took a slow, deep breath of the acrid stench. His olfactory sense might have objected, but his body released the tension by at least a few more degrees.

  Command had been adamant about the entire Team taking time off. Spending time with their roots, they’d called it. He’d rather be getting his feet wet on the next available operation, but this frogman was going to follow orders.

  R&R for him meant working, so he was on his way up to Julian to find out the progress of his best friend’s—Kevin Toms—house, which happened to be a part of the Wounded Warrior Project in conjunction with the Wounded Warrior Housing Project. He’d contributed sweat to many of their building projects, but this one was particularly special. It was for a man who had been his buddy for a long, long time. If Kevin were up there, his arrival would be a surprise. Even his family didn’t know he was going to be in town.

  Cows stood in the front pastures chewing the long grass, and from the looks of things, he could tell that it had rained recently. This area wasn’t known for its rainfall, but the wetness would keep the dreaded wildfires away.

  A mile down the road, the camel farm came into sight. He smiled briefly at the child pointing to the large animal and jumping up and down with excitement. They sold camel milk and cheese there. Having been forced to ingest it upon occasion, he was happy to stick with cow or goat if circumstances allowed a preference.

  His mind went into overdrive as a camper pulled over to allow him to pass, and he drove the rest of the way up the mountain. When he pulled his old Ford truck onto the curb in front of the Tomses’ house, his eyes assessed the vision before him. This was indeed a brand-new home that was complete on the outside and, by the looks of the paint cans stacked outside, nearly done on the inside.

  Putting the truck in park, he turned off the engine and got out of Big Berta. The vehicle had been in his family for years and pretty much lived on the Naval Amphibious Base in Coronado. He preferred this beauty to any speedster on the road when he was on the West Coast. Nothing beat the dependability, although she could probably use some paint where the salt air had been tough on her.

  He grabbed his toolbox and closed the truck door quietly, a matter of habit, and took his time admiring the house.

  Walking up the recently laid front path, he waved to a few of the guys he knew. This spot was special to him. They had all bought it together after graduate school and whoever married first was going to be the happy recipient. Jonah had made sure it was Kevin. The man’s life had been rough, and he wanted the best for him.

  Spotting his buddy’s van in the dirt driveway, he grinned to himself. His showing up here was going to be one helluva surprise.

  Placing his hand on the knob, he turned it and walked inside where his enthusiasm fizzled out like a warm beer on a hot day.

  Nothing prepared him for the sight that greeted him as he stood in the open doorway. Seeing her was like driving a Ka-Bar straight into his heart—voluntarily! Since that wasn’t something he would normally do, Jonah realized that he probably should have checked to see if the devastatingly gorgeous Alisha Winters, Interior Decorator Extraordinaire, was going to be at the Tomses’ new home.

  “In or out!” yelled a frustrated voice.

  He cringed. Not a chance he was standing on ceremony. He knew that sound all too well. Alisha was Julie’s best friend, and Julie was the wife of his buddy Kevin. Alisha was also the, ah, maid of honor he had slept with once and hadn’t seen in over five years. If he’d been thinking, it wouldn’t have surprised him that Alisha would be here.

  “Hurry up! You’re ruining the light,” shouted the petite woman whose current annoyance didn’t squash her buoyant personality.

  His feet were like lead as he just stood there and stared at her. Alisha hadn’t changed one bit, except perhaps she was even more beautiful than he remembered, as if she had grown into her charms.

  “Seriously! I’m talking to you.” She looked over her shoulder. Her eyes went wide with shock and then she was tumbling off the ladder.

  He dumped the toolbox he was holding, and before the lot even hit the ground, was there to intercept what gravity was dropping into his waiting arms. Catching her weight to him, he cuddled her close. The smell of her perfume was intoxicating, much nicer than the strong paint fumes, and a memory flashed in this mind of her guiding him to her neck and asking him to follow his nose…

  A part of him responded instantly, like his instincts knew she was his. It was impossible to ignore the past; her, her presence, and the bliss of her body called to him. Not a pretty sight when a big man like him could be felled by a small thunderclap like her.

  Soft strands of her hair caressed his skin, and he barely resisted the urge to bury his nose in her beautiful long mane.

  Large eyes with thick lashes batted at him. They didn’t look happy. Peeved was probably the emotion he would have chosen to describe that look.

  His brain flipped through conversation starters. He’d never been at a loss for words. But, it was her. She was an anomaly. After several long seconds, he said, “Are you okay?”

  She turned her head to the side slightly, as if she were getting a better view of him. Her gaze softened briefly, becoming almost dewy, and he had an overwhelming urge to kiss her.

  “Alisha,” he murmured. Leaning in, he decided to give in to the wish…

  In the space of two breaths, her demeanor changed back to brittle. Her hands pushed on his chest, and she demanded, “Put me down!”

  He sighed and relinquished his hold on her. Placing the woman on her feet was a serious buzzkill.

  She shook her head and then rubbed her fingers over her clothes as if smoothing away imaginary wrinkles. When she finally looked up at him again, her eyes were bright with fire. “Jonah.”

  He struggled not to grin. She was working so hard to keep a lid on her anger, and though he had no interest in becoming the recipient of those flames, he knew the emotion was bound to burst out. “Alisha.” He paused, allowing his eyes to travel the length of her before settling on her
steely gaze. “You look well.”

  She took a tiny step closer to him, her hands settling on her hips. “You can’t show up here and pretend it was yesterday.” Her shoulders squared. The timbre of her voice dropped to a whisper. “We need to talk.”

  His left eyebrow lifted. “Oh, I’m looking forward to it.”

  A voice came from the other room. “Hey! Is that my mellow bud?”

  Jonah couldn’t resist caressing her skin with his hand as he skirted by her to greet Kevin. The frown she sent in his direction only made his smile grow. Oh yes, he was definitely going to enjoy talking to her.

  CHAPTER 2

  “You ugly SOB! Why didn’t you tell me you were back?” teased Kevin as he reached up from his wheelchair to embrace Jonah. Both of the men had large shoulders and thick necks, but what was housed above those necks was very different in Alisha’s opinion. Kevin was open, forthright, and very compassionate, and Jonah was secretive, manipulative, and too handsome for his own good.

  “Seems like the ugly parade would have alerted you to my presence considering that you’re their king,” replied Jonah with a grin.

  Alisha crossed her arms over her chest. No woman liked being ignored, but what these guys did was just short of a bromance. One more moment of the two of them giving each other another line of baloney was more than she could stand. Taking a few steps backward, she reversed course and made a great show of organizing her color-coded To Do chart that covered half a wall.

  Frowning at the list, she realized that if she stayed all night and part of the next day, the projects might be completed on time. Julie and Kevin planned an open house the next day at noon to thank everyone who had participated in the build. She wanted everything to be perfect!

  “You’re the man, Kev,” laughed Jonah as he high-fived his buddy about some asinine story regarding a launch from a submarine. Who would want to be in a torpedo tube while it was filled with water? She shivered.