Nike frowned. “I’m so sorry. Who planted those mines?”
With a grimace, Jameela whispered, “The Afghan army did, to stop the Taliban.”
Surprised, Nike blurted, “Why?”
“They hid them along the edges of our fields where we plow. They didn’t want Talibans coming in here.”
The whole conflict and mind-set of the Taliban didn’t make sense. As soldiers, they could only do their part and hope families would be saved. Nike had to get to work pronto. Getting up, she shrugged on her coat and put the red scarf in place around her head. It was 0700 and dawn crawled up on the horizon. A mechanic team would arrive this morning to try and assess what was wrong with her CH-47. Every minute on the ground kept the helo a target of the Taliban. She had to get out and relieve her load master so he could come to Abbas’s house and get breakfast.
“I’ll come back later,” Nike promised the woman. “Right now, I have to check my helicopter and relieve my sergeant.”
Jameela stood and nodded. “Of course.”
In the freezing cold of the spring morning, Nike hurried down the muddy, rutted street. The men were already busy. A donkey hauled a wooden cart filled with wood brought from the slopes of the nearby mountains. She saw no one from Gavin’s team, which was just as well. Right now, Nike couldn’t bear to see him. She was too confused about what happened between them, that part of her wanted it to happen again…
Andy was delighted to see her and climbed out of the CH-47. He rubbed his gloved hands to warm them up. Even though Nike had provided heavy bedding for him, she knew it was no fun to sleep in a helo in freezing weather. After motioning for him to hightail it to the awakening village for breakfast, Nike took over watch of the helicopter. He handed her the binoculars.
Around her, the valley awakened. The brownish-red haze above the village came from the many wood fires prodded to life to feed a family in each of the mud-brick and stone dwellings. Above, the sky was a pale blue and she could see the tips of the mountains illuminated as the sun peeked above them. When the first rays slanted over the narrow valley, Nike could feel the warmth caressing her.
Dogs barked off and on. It seemed as if everyone had a dog or two. She never saw any cats and wondered why. Her breath was white as she exhaled. This was a very cold place even in the spring. But then, they were at eight thousand feet, so what did she expect? Moving around the helicopter, which sat out on a flat, muddy area, Nike looked for movement below. There didn’t seem to be any, but she didn’t trust the naked eye. The binoculars around her neck were a better way to search for the enemy.
Standing behind the helo for protection against sniping, she scanned the slopes below her. Nike noted small herds of sheep and goats being prodded out of the village center and down to the green grass below. It was a tranquil scene. The sun’s emergence had already upped the temperature by several degrees. Several dogs herded the animals farther down into the flat of the valley floor. It all looked so peaceful.
By the time Andy had gotten back to resume his duties, Nike was more than eager to go back to Jameela’s home and grab another hot cup of the delicious and spicy chai tea. The woman had shared her secret recipe with Nike. Chai was individual to every family and Jameela’s was legendary among the villagers. With some gentle persuasion, Nike got Jameela to divulge her recipe. Chai consisted of strongly boiled tea with goat milk, a pinch of brown sugar, cardamom and nutmeg. Her mouth watered just thinking about it.
She gave Andy a welcoming smile. He grinned as he walked up to her.
“Nothing?” he asked.
“No.” Nike handed him the binoculars. “Keep watch. Captain Jackson was saying that the Taliban come through the northern end of this valley at the new moon, which is next week.”
“Under cover of darkness,” Andy said, placing the binoculars around his neck.
“Most likely, but you never know.”
“I wouldn’t know a Taliban from a villager. They all dress alike.”
Grimly Nike said, “The villagers know they cannot approach this helo. So, if someone does, you draw your pistol and assume it’s the enemy.”
“Yes, ma’am. I just hope no one approaches,” Andy said unhappily.
“I’ll ask one of Captain Jackson’s men to relieve you once an hour,” Nike responded with understanding.
“Thanks.” Andy looked up at the helo. “I’ll sure be glad to get out of here and back to base. I didn’t sleep hardly at all last night.”
“Neither did I.” Nike smiled a little. Looking at her watch she said, “The team’s supposed to arrive at 0800. That’s not long from now.”
“Can’t be too soon. I’m spoiled,” Andy said with a grin. “What I’d give for some bacon and eggs now. Not that the hot grain cereal wasn’t good. It was.”
Chuckling, Nike lifted her hand and walked back toward the village. Her heart thumped hard when suddenly she saw Gavin walking down the street, his rifle over his shoulder, looking as though he was hunting for someone. When he noticed her, his mouth lifted in a smile. He was the last person Nike wanted to see, but she couldn’t turn around and avoid him.
“Good morning,” Gavin called, catching the wariness in Nike’s narrowed gold eyes. Those lips he’d caressed yesterday were pursed with tension. Over their kiss? He wasn’t sure. Maybe she was upset over something else?
They met near the last mud-brick home. Both were aware that they might become targets and stepped into the alleyway between two homes for more protection. “I had sweet dreams,” he told her.
“I didn’t.”
The flatness of her voice startled him. “Sorry to hear that. Everything okay?” He hooked a thumb toward her helo. Maybe Nike was discouraged over the fact her bird was down.
Nothing was okay, but she couldn’t stand here discussing her personal stuff. Instead, she said, “You’ve seen Atefa? Abbas and Jameela’s little girl who lost a leg to a land mine?”
“Yes.”
“What are the chances of flying her and her mother out to Kabul to get some medical help with a prosthesis?”
Shrugging, Gavin said, “I could make some calls and find out.”
“I’d appreciate that. That kid lost her leg to a land mine. She needs some type of medical help. Why can’t the U.S. supply her with a prosthetic limb?”
Assuming Nike’s worries were over the little girl, Gavin relaxed. Several black curls peeked out the sides of the red scarf she wore around her head. Nike looked even more vibrant and breathtaking to him. “There’s no reason we can’t. I’ve already radioed Kabul to tell them to get a medical doctor out here in the next two weeks.”
“What about dental? A lot of people here have tooth problems,” Nike said. She was relieved to be talking business with Gavin.
“Good idea. I hadn’t gone that far with my plans for this village. Usually, it takes us a good three to four days to assess their health needs. Then I create a report and suggest a plan of action. After that, other medical or health teams are flown in to supplement the initial work we’re doing right now.”
“I see.” Nike wasn’t familiar with the tactics, but it sounded like a logical approach. “I think if you can help Atefa that it will go a long way to lessen Abbas’s distrust toward us.”
“Yeah, the old codger is definitely questioning everything we’re doing,” Gavin agreed quietly. “I’ll give a call this morning to the medical people in Kabul. Several American programs help children who have lost limbs to land mines.”
Warming to his concern, Nike tried not to look at his mouth. Memory of the kiss came back hot and sweet. Frowning, she said abruptly, “Look, what happened yesterday is in the past, Gavin. I don’t have time for any type of a relationship right now.”
Gavin heard the desperation in her husky tone and trod carefully. “It was a shock for me, too,” he admitted. “I came out of a relationship with a woman helicopter pilot about a year ago. I swore off military women.” He gave her an uneven grin. “Until you came along.”
<
br /> Nike held up her hands. “Listen, I’m stopping this before it starts. I do not have room in my life.” His blue eyes became assessing and furrows gathered on his brow. He took the Afghan cap off, pushed fingers through his short, dark hair and settled the cap back down on his head.
“It’s not that easy, Nike. You know that.”
“It is that easy.” Feeling frantic, she couldn’t face the stubborn glint in his eyes. “One kiss doesn’t give you access to me or my life.”
“That’s true,” he murmured. Gavin knew if he could just bring her back into his arms, capture her mouth, he’d persuade her differently. That time would come. But now, she was too scared, too prone to push him away. He had to let her go…a little bit. “I’m a patient person. Let’s just take this a day at a time?”
“No.” Giving him a hard look, Nike said, “It’s over, Gavin. I’m sorry but I am not going to lose someone I love to a bullet. My heart just can’t handle it. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I do,” he answered honestly, feeling bereft. In his heart he knew that whatever they had would be long-term. Looking into Nike’s eyes, however, he saw the fear and grief entwined. There was nothing he could do. Time to give up. “Wrong time and place.”
“Exactly.” Taking a step back, Nike said, “You’re a nice guy, Gavin. Maybe if we’d met a few years earlier…Oh, who knows? Just be safe, okay?”
As he watched Nike walk away, Gavin scowled. It felt as if someone had grabbed his heart and torn it out of his chest. Rubbing that sensitive area, he wondered how this beautiful Greek woman had captured him so easily. Gavin decided it was her personality. Nike had compassion for others, which his ex had lacked. Laurie had been out for herself and to hell with the rest of the world. By contrast, Gavin had seen Nike’s care for others, whether it was concern for her load master, the people of this village or even his team.
“Well, hell,” he muttered. Stepping out from between the homes, Gavin thought of the long day ahead. He was especially edgy because, according to headquarters, tonight was when the Taliban would start coming through the valley, and his mission would be to stop them dead in their tracks. Had the Taliban heard of their landing here, and were they coming in early instead? Ten men against a hundred of the enemy was not good odds. Gavin would not make the village a target. No, his team would take the fight with the Taliban elsewhere. He was glad of one thing: Nike would be out of here and safe. Her helo would be fixed and she’d be gone. That was important to Gavin.
Nike wanted to whoop for joy. She was sitting in the right-hand seat, her CH-47 idling along, both engines working once more. The mechanic team had arrived via Chinook and by noon, the damage to the front turbine was fixed. Andy, who was sitting in the copilot’s seat, grinned like an idiot, but she understood why.
With her helmet on, she spoke into the microphone set close to her lips. “Okay, we’re good to go. Did you contact Captain Jackson and let him know we were taking off?”
“Yes, ma’am, I did. He said for you to have a safe trip back to base.”
Relieved, Nike gave him a thumbs-up. To her right, the first Chinook was taking off. Above them, an Apache circled to ensure no enemy was close to the U.S. Army helicopters. It felt good to have that firepower and she could hardly wait to get back to civilization. Andy left the seat and walked to the rear. Once she took the helo skyward, the ramp would be lowered and he’d be sitting out on the hip with the machine gun, watching for possible Taliban attacks from below.
Even though the helo shook and shuddered around her, Nike loved the sensations. Strapping in and tightening her harness, she radioed to the other helos. Within a minute, the rotors were at takeoff speed. Just feeling the Chinook unstick from the surface made Nike feel good. She saw a number of women and children at the village’s edge watching in wonder. It was impossible to lift a hand and wave goodbye to them. One of her hands was on the cyclic, the other on the collective. Together, these kept the helicopter in stable, forward movement.
Most of all, Nike was relieved to leave Gavin behind. She felt guilty, but pushed all that aside. As the helo moved out over the green, narrow valley below, she followed the other Chinook at a safe distance. Within a minute, they’d begin their nap-of-the-earth flying, one hundred feet over the terrain in order to avoid being brought down by their enemy. Pursing her lips, Nike focused on the business at hand. For at least an hour, she wouldn’t have to think about Gavin. Or about his kiss that had rocked her world.
“Any word from that A team in Zor Barawul?” Nike asked the communications tech in the ops building. It was nearly midnight and Nike couldn’t sleep. She was worried about Gavin and his team interdicting the Taliban in the valley.
The woman shook her head. “Nothing—yet.”
“Okay, thanks,” Nike muttered. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her trousers and walked out of the small building. Above, the stars twinkled brightly, looking so close Nike could almost reach out and touch them. There wasn’t much light around the camp, which helped keep it hidden from the enemy. She had a small flashlight and used it to get to her tent.
Just being back on the roster and assigned an Apache helicopter made Nike feel better. At least she was off the workhorse helicopter list. Despite this, worry tinged her happiness. Five minutes didn’t go by without her thinking of Gavin or remembering the heated kiss they’d shared.
“Dammit,” she breathed softly. Why, oh why couldn’t she just let that kiss go? Stop remembering the strength of his arms around her? The pressure of his mouth caressing her lips as if she were some priceless object to be cherished?
Upon reaching her tent, she pulled the flap aside and then closed it. The warmth from the electric heater made all the difference in the world. Each of the twenty women Apache pilots got a small tent with a heater and a ply-board floor. The cot wasn’t much, but it was a helluva lot better than what she’d had at the village.
Because she was on duty for the next twenty-four hours, Nike remained in her clothes. She took off her armor and boots and laid them at the foot of her cot. She had to sleep, but how? She worried about Gavin and his team. Had they discovered the Taliban coming across the valley yet? Lying down, she brought her arm across her eyes. And then, in minutes, she fell asleep—a small blessing.
Chapter 6
“This week, you’re assigned to the CH-47,” Emma Trayhern-Cantrell, the XO, told Nike as they sat together at an ops table. “You’re going to be bringing in supplies to several boundary villages. And we’re short on copilots, so you’re flying without one.”
Thanks,” she told her XO. Nike nodded and tried to hide her disappointment. For a week, she’d flown the aggressive Apache and done her fair share of firing off rockets and rounds to protect A teams up in the mountains hunting Taliban. Because she loved the adrenaline rush, it was tough to be relegated to a lumbering workhorse instead.
Her XO handed her the list of villages along with the supplies to go to them and the times of delivery. Emma Trayhern was all business. She had the red hair of a Valkyrie with large gray eyes and a soft mouth. She had her uncle Morgan Trayhern’s eyes. However, Nike already knew that this Trayhern child was no pushover even if her face spoke of openness and compassion. Emma was an Apache pilot and as tough as they came.
“I know you’re bummed. CH’s don’t rock.” Emma tried to smile. “There’s always dirty work along with the rockin’ Apache. You’re just lucky enough to have skills in the CH-47.”
“Yeah,” Nike said grumpily, folding up the orders. “I wish they’d give us another Apache or two.”
Shaking her head, Emma said, “They’re stretched to the max over in Iraq. We get the leftovers. It sucks, but it is what it is.”
“I’m not so philosophical,” Nike said, rising. It was near dawn, a red ribbon on the eastern horizon outside the ops hut. Already, the air base was in full swing and with plenty of action.
“You hear anything about your guy? Captain Jackson?”
Giving Emma a f
rown, Nike said, “He’s not my guy. How did that rumor get started?”
Grinning, Emma folded up the huge map and left it on the ops table. “Blame your load master, Andy.”
“Blabbermouth,” Nike muttered.
“We were expecting the Taliban to go down through that valley near Zor Barawul, but they didn’t. I told Dallas that I thought someone from the village probably sneaked off to tell them the A team was in town, so they took another trail into the country.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Nike said. She put the paper into the thigh pocket of her dark green flight suit. “When I was there overnight, there was a lot of wariness toward Americans.”
“Well,” Emma said, “you’ll be delivering the last load of the day to them. If you get a chance, stay on the ground for an hour and find out what’s going on. I like to get eyes and ears out there on those villages. Dallas wants to keep a check on them and whether they get slammed by the Taliban.”
“Good idea.” Nike wasn’t too sure she wanted to spend an hour on the ground to visit with Gavin. She saw the curiosity in Emma’s eyes. “I’ll do my best.”
“Do it at each stop, Nike. We want you to talk to the leader of each team and get their latest assessment.”
It wasn’t a bad idea, Nike thought as she put on her black BJS baseball cap. “Okay, will do,” she promised. “This is going to be more like a milk run.”
Emma walked her to the door. “I hope you’re right. But be careful. Those four villages are not on our side. Yet.”
“Getting food, medical personnel and medicine in to them on a regular basis will help,” Nike said, opening the door. The crisp air was barely above freezing. Nike would be glad when June came. Everyone said it got warmer at the beginning of that month. In the mountains at eight thousand feet, a local gardener told her that there was less than a ninety-day growing period. This made gardening tough, which was why most people had goats, chickens, sheep and few vegetables. Certainly, fruit was scarce, too.
Clapping her on the shoulder, Emma reminded her, “Be careful out there. Dallas does not want to lose any of her pilots.”
His Woman in Command Page 7
