Another round of mortars popped off. Nike could hear the hollow ring fired somewhere out in the night. To her shock, the mortars went toward the control tower, right where she was. With a strangled sound, Nike dove for the ground when she stopped hearing the whistle of a mortar screaming overhead. She hit the ground with a thud, the air knocked out of her. Rolling into a ball, her hands over her neck and head, she didn’t have long to wait. The air-control tower was a two-story-tall brick building. The mortar landed on the side and about thirty feet from where Nike had burrowed into the ground. The next thing she knew, she felt a whoosh of hot air. In seconds, she was flying through the air, arms and legs akimbo.
When she struck earth once again, Nike yelled out in pain. She hit her shoulder and heard something pop. Barely conscious, she held her left arm tightly to her body, pain arcing up through her shoulder. Had she broken a collarbone? Worse, had she dislocated her shoulder? Groaning, Nike sat up, shaking her head. She spat out the mud and tried to reorient. People were running around like rats out of a drowning ship. Nothing seemed organized.
Holding her elbow tightly against her, Nike knew she had to get medical help. Dammit, anyway! Somehow she managed to get to her feet and fought to regain her balance.
The medical building was in high gear when Nike arrived. She saw men with torn pants or blown-off shirts. Some were burned, others dazed and bloody. Hesitating at the door, Nike knew she wasn’t as seriously injured. Someone pushed her through the opened door.
“Get in there,” a man ordered her in a gruff, no-nonsense tone.
Turning, Nike noted the white-haired doctor in a blood-spattered lab coat.
“Over there,” he ordered her, pointing to an area where there were cubicles, each with a gurney.
Not hesitating, Nike headed to the dark-haired army medic with a stethoscope around her neck. Red-hot pain shot from her shoulder into her neck and the next thing Nike knew, she collapsed to her knees while still holding her left arm against her.
Gavin couldn’t find Nike anywhere. Panic ate at him. In the grayness of dawn, he saw the black, smoking wreckage of three transport helicopters. He wondered if Nike’s CH-47 was among the carnage. As he stood near the air-control tower that had missed several mortar rounds, he noticed how the ground around it was hollowed out in craters.
Where was Nike? He’d been over to the women’s BOQ but hadn’t found her. Nor was she waiting for him at his BOQ. Worriedly, he searched the red line of the dawn on the flat plain. Firefighting crews were putting out the final flames and smoldering fires around the helicopters. A number of other smaller buildings around the airstrip had been hit, as well. Rubbing his jaw, Gavin tried to search through the hundreds of crews working to reclaim what the Taliban just destroyed.
His heart ached with fear. Had Nike been hurt? Gavin turned on the heel of his boot and headed toward the medical area. Long ago he’d traded in his civilian clothes for a set of green fatigues, his combat boots, body armor and helmet. Normally, Bagram was never hit, but sometimes the Taliban took it upon themselves to get close enough to remind the Americans that no place in Afghanistan was safe from their strikes.
The air smelled of metal, smoke and burning wood. Panic started to curl up from his heart and he felt as though he was choking on fear. What if Nike was wounded? Dead? Blinking, Gavin refused to go there, though he knew that she’d tried to make it across the base to her barracks without any protective gear on. That made her vulnerable.
“Damn,” he muttered, halting at the opened doors to the medical building. It looked like measured chaos inside. If the Taliban had struck to take out people, they’d succeeded. The wounded and bleeding sat everywhere on the floor, with medics and doctors working among them with quiet efficiency in triage mode. Peering inside the brightly lit area, Gavin scanned it for Nike. He did not spot her.
His gut told him to keep going, keep looking. He pushed through the entrance, winding his way through the medical teams and the nurses’ station. He found an officer, an army nurse, and asked, “Have you admitted a Captain Nike Alexander?”
She looked up. “I don’t have a clue, Captain. We haven’t exactly had time to sit down and type all these people into our computer yet.”
Nodding, Gavin said, “Mind if I look for her?”
“Go for it. Good luck.”
After the nurse hurriedly left, Gavin turned and scanned the area. There were several curtained cubicles on the opposite side of the room. The people on the gurneys were all men. He searched every face in the entrance area and no Nike. Okay, if she wasn’t here, maybe on the second floor, which was the surgical floor. Gavin picked his way to the stairs at the back of the room and quickly ascended them.
The surgical floor was also mayhem. Gurneys were filled with soldiers and airmen who had been wounded in the mortar attack. Blood dripped from one gurney, creating a large pool on the white tile floor. Medics hurried from one gurney to another checking stats, talking to the waiting patients lined up to go into the next available surgical theater.
None of them were Nike. Gavin couldn’t still his anxiety. He knew in his heart he was falling in love with her. And now, she could be dead. God, no, please don’t let that happen, he prayed as he made his way to the nurses’ station.
“Excuse me,” he called to a nurse who was updating records. “I’m looking for a woman, Captain Nike Alexander. She may have been wounded in this attack. Can you tell me if she’s here?”
The nurse gave him a harried look and stopped writing. She went to a large book on the desk and perused the list. “Sorry, Captain, no one here by that name,” she said.
The only place left was the morgue. Gavin stared at her. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she said firmly, “I’m sorry, she’s not here.”
Oh God. He stood and numbly watched the nurse return to her work. How could this be? One moment, Nike was walking with him to his BOQ. They were going to spend the night together. She’d been able to scale her fear of loss enough to be with him just once. But Gavin knew Nike wasn’t like that. No matter what she said, he understood on a deeper level that she was reaching out to him. To love him. It was going to be a helluva lot more than sex. She cared about him, and he loved her.
He stood at the desk, his mind tumbling in shock and disbelief. He didn’t want to go to the morgue. He didn’t want to ask about her there. Tears burned in his eyes and Gavin blinked them back. His throat went tight with a forming lump. In that awful moment, Gavin realized that even though his bad relationship with Laurie had stung him, he was ready to try again. And Nike, in her own way, seemed to be working to trust once more, too. Why the hell did this attack have to come now? Gavin knew the answer: war was unpredictable. Death was a breath away. Nothing was stable and nothing could be counted on.
It has to be done. Mouth tasting of bitterness, Gavin worked his way out of the medical building. Last year, two of his men had been killed in a firefight and he’d had to identify them at the morgue here. He’d hated it then. He hated it now.
Dawn was pushing the night away, the red ribbon on the horizon turning pink and revealing a light blue sky in the wake of the cape of retreating night. The whole base felt tense and edgy. Grief ate away at Gavin. He remembered Nike’s wish never to fall in love with a military man again for fear he would be ripped away from her. That her heart could not take a second shock like that. Well, now he was in her shoes. Making his way between large vehicles, the smell of diesel in the air, Gavin saw the morgue ahead. It was a single-story building painted the color of the desert. The doors were open. He saw several gurneys lined up with body bags on them. Was Nike in one of them?
Unable to look, he passed them and hurried inside to the desk. A young man of about eighteen looked up.
“Yes, sir?”
Swallowing hard, his voice barely a rasp, Gavin asked, “Do you have a female officer in here? Captain Nike Alexander?” He stood, not breathing, waiting, praying hard that he wouldn’t hear the word yes.
>
The man scowled and looked through a sheaf of papers. “No, sir. No one by the name of Alexander, male or female.”
Relief tunneled through Gavin. He felt faint for a moment. He’d been handed a reprieve. Releasing his held breath, he nodded. “Thanks,” he muttered, and left.
Nike was just coming out of the BOQ when she spotted Gavin. He looked hard and upset, his eyes thundercloud-black. Worry was evident on his features. She gave him a wan smile and lifted her right hand.
“Gavin. Are you okay? I’ve been looking all over this base for you.”
He saw her left arm in a sling. Halting, he said, “Are you all right? What happened?”
Grimacing, Nike told him the details. “As soon as they took X-rays, the doctor said I’d dislocated a ligament here on my shoulder out of what they call the AC joint. He got the ligament back in, thank God, but I’ve got orders to stand down for a lousy six weeks.” She frowned at her left shoulder. “I can’t lift my arm above my chest. That means no flying. I’m stuck behind a desk, dammit.”
Closing his eyes for a moment, Gavin felt like a man who had just been given the greatest gift in the world. He opened them and clung to her golden gaze. “I—thought you were dead,” he managed in a strangled whisper.
Nike stared at him. And then, it hit her hard and she managed a croak of despair. “I’m so sorry, Gavin.” She reached out and gripped his arm. “There was no way to get hold of you.”
“I know, I know,” he said. Gripping her hand in his, eyes burning with withheld emotion, he rasped, “Nike, I understand your fear now. About losing someone you love to a bullet.”
Shock bolted through her. Staring at Gavin, she realized he understood now as never before how she felt about Antonio being ripped out of her life. His hand was firm and warm. She’d been tense and nervous since the attack, but somehow, Gavin’s protective presence just seemed to make her feel safe in an unsafe place. “It isn’t pretty, is it?” she said in a low tone.
“No. It’s not.” He searched her eyes that held the shadows and memories of the past. “I looked everywhere for you. I—I eventually forced myself over to the morgue.”
“Oh,” Nike groaned. “I’m so sorry….”
And then, Nike knew that he really did love her. Gavin might verbally spar with her but the look in his eyes told her the truth. Gulping, Nike shoved all that knowledge down deep inside her until she could deal with what it meant to her.
“It’s not your fault. Things get crazy when a base is under attack.”
She squeezed his hand. An ache built in her heart as she saw the devastation, the terror, in his gaze. “It’s a hell of a way to understand my fear of a relationship with you. I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”
“Nike, I don’t want to live without you. I’m willing to risk everything to have some kind of a relationship with you on your terms.”
His words melted through her pounding heart and touched her. Blinking through unexpected tears, Nike pulled her hand from his. Panic ate at her. This was serious. He was serious. There was no way she wanted to hurt him, but she had to. “I’m stuck in this war zone for another eight months, Gavin. What kind of a relationship could we have?”
“Catch as catch can?” he asked hopefully, the corners of his mouth pulling upward a tiny bit.
Hearing the hope, the pleading in his voice and seeing the stark need reflected in his blue eyes, Nike felt the last of her stubbornness dissolve. “I feel scared, so scared, Gavin.” That was the truth. Nike felt terrorized by the realization he did love her. It wasn’t just a game. It was real. Could she go there again?
“I understand your being scared.” Reaching out, Gavin cupped her cheek. “Darling, we’re just going to have to learn to be scared together. The last time this happened to you, you were alone. You had no one. Well, now you have me. I grant I’ll be gone thirty days at a time in the field, but when we get back to base, we’ll be together. I promise you that.”
His eyes burned with such intensity that it seared the fright out of her. “All right,” Nike quavered, “I believe you, Gavin.”
Gavin stroked her cheek, knowing full well that fraternization was strictly prohibited. He could be in a lot of trouble. Worse, he could get Nike into more trouble than he already had. Quickly, he dropped his hand. Her cheeks burned a bright red. “We’re going to make the most of this, Nike. We can’t let fear tear us apart again. We’ll live one day at a time. It’s all anyone has.”
Nodding, she slumped against the wooden building behind her. “You’re right.” She sighed. The feeling was there and she wanted so badly to say the words I love you, too. But she couldn’t. Nike was still imprisoned by her loss as much as she felt this new love.
“I wish I was wrong,” Gavin confided, coming close to her but keeping his hands to himself. “At least I get a reprieve from worrying about you. You’re stuck back on base, which is a helluva lot safer than flying a helo.”
“Don’t remind me. I feel stifled in an office.” And then more softly, “I won’t stop thinking about you no matter what I’m doing.”
Warmth spread across Gavin’s chest. “Well,” he said with a tender smile meant only for Nike, “it looks like we’ve made the best of a bad situation here. We might not have had the night we wanted, but we’re alive and on the right page.”
Despite the ache in her shoulder, Nike wanted to throw her one good arm around him, but that was impossible. “Six weeks…” Inwardly, she was relieved. Gavin was backing off. Maybe she needed that time at the desk to truly rethink her position with him and try to put the past to rest. To allow what she had with Gavin to blossom.
“What’s the prognosis on your shoulder?”
“I’m on a mild painkiller for now,” Nike whispered, her voice sounding off-key. “The doctor said it would take six weeks because I strained the ligament. They don’t heal fast. He gave me a bunch of papers with exercises on them. At three weeks I’m to fly back here for another examination.”
“At seven weeks I’ll be back to base,” Gavin said. “Maybe we could, you know, pick up where we left off before all hell broke loose?”
She grinned. Relief flooded her. Nike was sure she could figure this all out by then. “One way or another. I might not have the range of motion, but that’s not going to stop me.”
Gavin laughed softly. “Okay, sounds good. Where are you off to?”
“The doctor gave me orders to take the first transport back to our base. My helo was destroyed last night. My copilot will be coming back on the same flight. Once I get home, I need to go see my CO. I’m sure he’ll put me on a desk and forget about me for six weeks.”
“Wild horses don’t do well in corrals,” he teased her gently.
“Do you still get your three full weeks here?”
“Yes. They’ve asked all available personnel to help in the cleanup and I was going over to ops to get orders.”
“Wouldn’t it have been nice if the doc had told me to stay here at Bagram?”
Gavin rolled his eyes. “That would have been a miracle.”
“Well,” Nike told him, picking up her helmet bag in her right hand, “I think we’ve seen plenty of miracles for one day, don’t you?”
Gavin took her helmet bag and walked at her side as she headed for the airstrip. “You’re right. A miracle did happen—between us.”
“I’m still worried,” Nike admitted. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over the fear of losing you, Gavin.”
It hurt not to be able to reach out and touch her, hold her hand or place his arm around her just to give her a sense of protection. “You’re not going to lose me. I promise. This is my second tour and I’ve got a year of experience under my belt. That will keep me alive.”
How badly Nike wanted to believe that. The demons would resurface. Yet, the glimmer of love burning in his eyes fed her. Gave her hope. Could she really reach out and love him? Or would her fear drive him away?
Chapter 14
“Whe
n does Gavin get back to our base?” Emma asked as she sat with Nike in the chow hall. At noon it was packed, the noise high and the smell of cooked food permeating the area.
“Tonight if all goes well.”
“Tonight?” Emma shook her head. “I suppose tomorrow he and his team will be flown out somewhere for thirty days?”
Slathering butter on a hot roll, Nike nodded. Her left arm hadn’t seemed to make any progress over the last two weeks. She could lift it waist-high and then excruciating pain hit. Eating was an interesting proposition with only one and a half hands available to her. “Yes.”
Emma ate her meat loaf after cutting it up into many dainty pieces. The perfectionist in her always expressed itself in many different ways. “That’s not fair.”
Snorting, Nike said, “When is war ever fair?”
“Or life, for that matter?” Emma rejoined, grinning.
“You got that right.” Nike enjoyed the warm butter on the fragrant homemade roll. The late-August noontime was hot. A front was coming in and it was supposed to storm. Nike wasn’t looking forward to that.
“Things seem to be falling apart over at BJS,” Emma confided.
“Oh?” Nike raised her brows. “What’s the scuttlebutt?”
Emma shrugged. “The bad news is that Becky Hammerschlag is the XO and she’s terrible at it.”
“You were a good one,” Nike said.
“Everybody knows that. They keep coming to me, not Becky, with issues to resolve with Dallas.”
“I’ll bet Dallas isn’t happy about that. Or Becky.”
“No, not at all. I can’t just ignore Becky and go around her to Dallas.”
“Jumping chain-of-command is trouble for sure,” Nike said. She spooned up some of her macaroni and cheese. “What else is going on?”
“Well—” Emma brightened “—some good news. In a way…”
“I can always use that. Tell me.”
“It’s good news for BJS but not for you. And it’s good news for me, personally.”
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