Chapter 15
Nike’s pulse raced after she landed the CH-47 at Kechelay. Her copilot, Jeff Perkins, was a green lieutenant and this was his first flight after arriving in Afghanistan. She hooked her thumb across her shoulder.
“Jeff, help our load master with off-loading the cargo. Get it out of here ASAP. I don’t want to stay on the ground any longer than we have to.”
Jeff bobbed his blond head. “Yes, ma’am, pronto.” He released his harness and squeezed between the seats.
Nike sat tensely in her seat, her helmet still on. She unharnessed, feeling uneasy. This was her first flight after being taken off medical waiver. After convincing her CO that her shoulder was healed enough at four weeks, Nike was back on line.
The village of Kechelay had a population of about one hundred. Several starving mangy dogs ran through the recently fallen mid-September snow. It was about three inches deep and the sky above threatened another round of snow showers. The cold air leaked into the helo as the ramp was lowered. Dividing her attention between the three villagers gathering about two hundred feet from the helicopter and her hardworking crew, Nike remained alert.
Somewhere across the valley were Gavin and his hunter-killer team. It was ironic that two days before he was due to be rotated back to the base, she was sent out to the very village where he and his men had been based. Missing him terribly, Nike wished for the hundredth time she’d told Gavin she loved him. Worse, every waking thought was of him. Their kisses in her tent…She wasn’t sure what ached more: her heart or her body that wanted to love him and hold him—forever. Miserable, she looked out across the first snow upon the landscape, the tall mountains on the other side coated in white once more. Somewhere over there, Gavin and his men were probably hunkered down and sleeping in the daytime. His work was a nighttime affair and she didn’t envy him. It was cold at eight thousand feet and she wondered how successful Gavin’s team had been. Judging from the dark looks of those villagers, the fight with the Taliban was fierce in this area. Where were the rest of the villagers? Usually, when a supply copter came in, every able-bodied man was there to help off-load the boxes. Why only these three who had hatred in their faces here? Worse, the demand for Apaches at other firefights had left her without any protection on this mission.
Oh, how Nike wanted to see Gavin! Her arm was still sore and she realized she might have been released back to duty too early. Her pleading to the base doctor had convinced him to authorize her to go back and fly. Nike had passed all the tests he’d given, but she’d paid dearly for it later with aching pain. At least now, she could use her arm, and more than anything she wanted to throw it around Gavin’s shoulders and kiss him breathless.
“Look out!”
The scream of warning came from Lieutenant Perkins. As Nike jerked around, she heard shots fired at close range. To her horror, the load master, Goldman, slammed to the ground, his head blown open. Jerking the .45 out of the holster, Nike leaped out of the seat and saw Lieutenant Perkins pulling out his .45 and backing up the helo’s ramp.
Too late! Several Afghans, Taliban she realized too late, rushed the ramp, firing wildly. Bullets screamed into the CH-47, ricocheting around or exploding out of the thin metal skin.
Nike was lifting her .45 to aim at the leader, a man in a red turban with a black beard and equally black, angry-looking eyes, when she was struck. A bullet ricocheted off the inside of the helicopter and struck the side of her helmet, knocking her unconscious.
Pain throbbed through Nike’s head. She groaned as she slowly regained consciousness. The first thing she realized was that her hands were tied together in front of her. Secondly, that it was cold and dark. Sitting up, she blinked through the pain. The left side of her face felt frozen. Reaching up with cold, trembling fingers, she felt dried blood all along her left cheekbone and jaw.
She looked around, gauging she’d been put into a small barn. The bleating of several sheep and goats confirmed this. And then, the memory of the attack on her men and her helicopter rushed back to Nike. She sat up, back against the wall of the rickety barn, remembering everything. Were both Jeff and Terry, the load master, dead? Nike knew the Taliban had initiated the attack. Those three men were not villagers, that was why she hadn’t seen the able-bodied men from Kechelay there to help off-load the boxes. Why hadn’t she picked up on that clue?
The door opened. Slats of light shot in and momentarily blinded her. Hearing the sheep bleat in terror, Nike squinted her eyes. Two of the Taliban appeared, armed and glaring down at her. “Get up!” one of them growled in stilted English.
Nike tried to get to her feet, but dizziness swept over her and she fell back onto the cold, hard ground. Hearing expletives in Pashto, Nike felt one of the men grab her by the right arm and yank her upward. She bit back a cry and wobbled unsteadily to her feet. But before she could regain her balance, her legs crumbled. There was nothing she could do about it. In the next second, blackness fell like a veil before her and she remembered nothing more.
Gavin was awakened by the GPS radio buzzing at his side, tearing him from badly needed sleep. He fumbled for the device in his pocket. He and his team were hiding in a cave near the valley floor. As he opened his eyes, he noticed it was snowing outside—again. More cold and poor visibility. To add to their troubles, the late-afternoon light was weak.
Gavin punched in a code and lifted the phone to his ear.
“Bluebird One. Over.”
“Bluebird, this is Sand Hill Crane.”
“Roger, Sand Hill Crane.” Gavin rubbed his eyes. Why the hell was ops ringing him when they had at least two more hours of sleep before moving again? “What’s going on?” he demanded, his voice thick with sleep.
“Bluebird, we have a situation at Kechelay. The CH-47 transport is overdue. We had a satellite over the area and the bird has been destroyed. We have a three-person crew missing. Over.”
The fatigue vanished instantly. “We didn’t hear anything, but we’re across the valley and sleeping. Over.”
“Roger that. You have orders to get over to Kechelay and try to locate our missing crew members. There are two men and one woman. Over.”
“Names?” Gavin’s heart raced. But then, he told himself it couldn’t be Nike because she was still on medical leave.
“Captain Nike Alexander, Lieutenant Jeff Perkins and Sergeant Terry Goldman. Over.”
Disbelief exploded through Gavin. “Are you sure?” His voice was urgent. Desperate. How in the hell had Nike managed to get off medical leave? The adrenaline rushed through his veins.
“Positive, Bluebird. We need you in there ASAP. Once you are in position, contact us. We have two Apaches and a CH-47 standing by if you need them. Over.”
Son of a bitch! Gavin almost said it out loud. His other men were stirring now at the sound of his voice. Most of them were sitting up, yawning and throwing off the blankets. “Roger that, Sand Hill Crane. Out.”
Gavin sat for a moment, GPS in hand, his mind tumbling with possibilities. The Taliban hated women in the military. Nike was in more trouble than the men. She would be tortured. Set up as an example in the village to stop women from even thinking about their independence. He pushed the GPS back into the pocket of his long brown wool coat and turned to his men. They had to move now. Every minute could mean the lives of Nike and her crew.
“Tell us everything!”
Nike tried to prepare herself for the coming blow. She sat in a chair, her arms bound behind her, her legs trussed. The side of her head exploded with bright light. Then the pain. Blood flowed out of her nose and into the corners of her mouth. It felt as if the man’s hand had ripped off her head.
“Enough, Rasheed!”
Ears ringing, Nike spat out the blood flowing into her mouth and looked up. The left side of her face ached like fire. Rasheed, the one with the black beard, had been using his thick, opened hand to slap her into revealing military information. Two other Taliban remained nearby. Already, she could feel her left
eye closing due to swelling. Thinking that her jaw had been broken, Nike breathed raggedly through her split lower lip. Fear ate through her pain. They’d dragged her out of the barn half-conscious. Her knees had taken the worst of it as one man on each side had grabbed her uniform by a shoulder and hauled her between them. Nike remembered, vaguely, many children and women behind burkas staring at them. Fear was etched on the children’s faces—fear for her. Nike knew that when the Taliban entered a village receiving U.S. aid, they killed innocent people. Right now, Nike was sure villagers hid behind closed and locked doors. She didn’t blame them. They had suffered brutality at the hands of the Taliban too many times.
For a moment, there was a hot argument between Black Beard and Brown Beard. Nike wished she knew more Pashto. Blinking, her eyesight blurred, she wondered if she’d sustained a concussion. Had the bullet to her helmet done more damage? Nike couldn’t stand as the dizziness was severe.
It was warm in the room. At least she had that. Nike looked out the window and saw that darkness had fallen. White snowflakes, thick and big, twirled against the window. Fear engulfed her. She knew these men would kill her. Tears jammed into her eyes and she shut them, gulping heavily. She would never get to tell Gavin that she loved him. Oh, God, please, let me live to tell him that. Just that…In that moment, Nike felt the fear of the past dissolve. And with it, a bright burst of light through her heart—for Gavin. He’d loved her unerringly. He’d never wavered. He’d always been there for her, even though she’d been running away from him. The hot tears burned her cheeks and ran into her lips. The stinging pain intensified as they connected with her split lower lip. Unable to stop the tears, Nike surrendered to them—and to her love for Gavin. She would never see him again. That alone savaged her more than any beating at the hands of the Taliban. She would never be able to tell him she loved him. Oh God, forgive me….
Just as Rasheed reached forward to grab her by her hair once more, the door burst open.
Several men in white gear emerged, their rifles raised and firing. Rasheed had no time to reach for his weapon. He screamed and fell backward against the wall, blood gushing out of his throat. The other two men screamed as they were killed.
Gasping, Nike saw one of the invaders slam the door shut. The weapons all had silencers. The other three men surrounded her. The leader, heavily hidden in his white gear, pulled the hood away from his bearded face.
“Gavin!” she cried.
“Don’t move,” he ordered her hoarsely, handing his weapon to another team member. Unsheathing his knife, he quickly cut the ropes that bound her.
With a groan, Nike leaned forward. If not for Gavin catching her, she’d have nose-dived into the hard-packed dirt floor.
“Cap’n!” the man at the door whispered. “We gotta get outta here! I saw a light go on four doors down. There could be more Taliban staying here that we don’t know about.”
Gavin gripped her shoulders. “Nike, where’re Goldman and Perkins?”
“Dead, I think,” she rasped. Lifting her hand, she tried to wipe the blood flowing across her lips. “They died at the helo. We got attacked by Taliban while they were off-loading cargo.”
Gavin grimly looked across his shoulder. “Chances are they burned the bodies when they blew up the helo.”
There was terse agreement among the men. Nike tried not to cry.
“Okay, we’re getting you out of here. Can you stand?”
“N-no.” Nike touched her scalp where her helmet had been. She felt a deep wound in her scalp with blood still oozing. “I took a bullet to my helmet. I got knocked unconscious. I can’t stand or I’ll fall over.”
“Okay, hang on,” he urged her. In one smooth motion, he lifted Nike up and across his shoulders. He had her in a fireman’s carry with the help of one of his men.
“Comfy?” he grunted to her. Nike hung like a big fur collar around his shoulders, her face near his. One of his team helped him put on his night goggles.
“I’m fine. Let’s just get out of here.”
Gavin nodded. They doused the lights and quickly stepped through the opened door.
Outside, Nike felt the soothing cold against her heated, throbbing face. Gavin moved quickly, as if she wasn’t even around his shoulders. The team was silent. They swiftly moved outside the village, the light snow creating soundproofing as they went. In the dark, with night goggles on, they made their way toward the blackened remains of the helicopter.
Nike hung around Gavin’s shoulders as his men quickly searched the smoldering wreckage of the CH-47. In no time, they found the half-burned bodies of the two men. Nike wanted to scream with grief. Her eyes burned as more tears began to fall. She heard Gavin curse softly.
“What now?” she asked thickly.
“We’re meeting a CH-47 five clicks from here,” he told her gruffly. “We’ll put them in body bags and take them with us. How are you doing?”
“I’ll live.”
“Hang on….”
Gavin stood protectively by Nike as the doctor at the base examined her swollen face and blackened eyes. His team was brought in and a standby A team took over their mission. It took everything he had not to show his rage over her torture by the Taliban soldiers.
“Well,” Dr. Greenwood said in a teasing tone to Nike, “This is going to get you two weeks’ R & R at Bagram, Captain Alexander.” He took gauze and continued to wipe away the dried blood from her jaw. “The X-rays came back. You got slapped around but good, though nothing is broken. That’s the good news.”
Nike grunted. She closed her eyes because each swipe of the gauze hurt like hell.
Gavin didn’t care what the doctor thought so he reached out and held her hand. She sat on a gurney with her legs dangling over the side. Dr. Greenwood looked up but said nothing about their intimacy.
“What I’d recommend is pain pills for the next four days,” the doctor said. “By then, the worst of the bruising and swelling will be over.”
“Fine,” Nike muttered impatiently. “All I want is a long, hot shower.”
Chuckling, Dr. Greenwood nodded. “Just a few more minutes, Captain Alexander.”
Gavin felt Nike squeeze his fingers in return. How badly he simply wanted to haul her into his arms, hold her and protect her. It wouldn’t be long now.
“Your next stop before your shower is ops,” the doctor told her, finishing up. “You have to give a preliminary report on your capture to your CO. You’re not that injured that you can’t do it.”
“I understand,” Nike said, touching her aching jaw. It wasn’t broken, but several of her back teeth were loose. The doctor assured her they’d tighten up in a few days on their own.
“I’ll escort you over there,” Gavin told her as the doctor wrote a prescription.
“My office will issue you orders to Bagram for two weeks, Captain. Just drop by tomorrow anytime after 0900 to pick them up,” the doctor said.
Gavin helped her off the gurney. She was still unsteady and clung to his arm.
“A wheelchair is in order,” the doctor said, frowning. “The X-ray didn’t show a problem, but you’ve got all the earmarks of a concussion, Captain. The dizziness should abate a lot by tomorrow morning. Get someone in your unit to check on you every couple of hours. If the dizziness doesn’t lessen, come back and see me.”
A medic brought over a wheelchair, and Nike gratefully sat down in it. Gavin leaned over and flipped over the foot panels so she could rest her boots. “If I’m still unable to walk straight tomorrow morning, you’ll see me, Doc.”
“Good night, Captain. Try to get some sleep,” Dr. Greenwood said.
Gavin wheeled her out of the ward and into the lobby. He stopped and walked around and knelt down beside her. “Are you sure you feel like giving ops a report?” Searching her puffy, bruised face, he wanted to rage over what had been done to her.
“Positive. I want this behind me, Gavin. Tomorrow morning when I wake up, all I want to know I have to do is board a CH-47
and fly to Bagram.”
Gavin gently touched some of her curly black hair near her temple. “I’ll take you over to ops and hang out until you’re done. Then—” and his voice lowered “—you’re coming back to my tent and sleeping with me. I’m not leaving you alone tonight. Do you hear me?”
Nike gave him a blank look. “But I can’t even kiss you…”
The wobble in her voice tore at him and tears gathered in her swollen eyes. “Babe, you don’t have to do anything except let me hold you all night.”
That sounded incredibly good to Nike. She sniffed, tried to wipe the tears off her swollen cheeks. She touched her lips and whispered in an off-key voice, “I want to kiss you….”
“I’m a patient man. Right now, you need a safe place to unwind and let down. You went through a helluva lot.”
Nodding, she managed, “I could have died.”
Holding her fear-laden gaze, Gavin nodded. “But you didn’t. You’re here and you’re alive.”
“I’m a mess.”
“Anyone would be after the beating you took,” Gavin told her quietly. He slid his hand into hers. “Nike, you’re in shock. Heavy shock. I know the symptoms when I see them. I’ll be there for you. I promise.”
Chapter 16
“This all seems like a nightmare,” Nike told Gavin as they stood on the tarmac of Bagram Air Base. The September sky above was a combination of low-hanging gray, scudding clouds and bright blue sky peppered with slats of sunshine. However, it was sixty-three degrees Fahrenheit, and she was wrapped in her summer gear as they went toward ops.
Gavin walked close but kept his hands to himself. “It’s over, Nike,” he told her. “And you got some good out of it. Major Klein personally told you she was adding you back to the Apache roster. Your days of banishment are over.” He saw her swollen face and lips lighten momentarily.
His Woman in Command Page 17
