"How far to the U.S. border?"
"Another twenty minutes or so. Why?"
"We've got company. Six o'clock and closing fast."
Jack twisted around and squinted at the aircraft.
"Could they be part of the gang who kidnapped you?" Dani asked her sister urgently.
"They could. I heard them talking about a plane they kept at that airport north of the caves." Her lip curled. "They bragged about buying another one with my ransom money. Supposedly, they equipped it with more armament than a Sherman tank."
Dani relayed the information to Jack, who absorbed it with a tight jaw. He eyed the horizon ahead and made an instant decision.
"Hang on. We'll cut into those clouds and alter our course to see if they follow."
They did.
The Stearman emerged from the billowing white mist and dropped so low it almost skimmed the foothills.
A moment later, the small turboprop swooped out of the clouds and dived after them. Small bursts of red shot from its wing. Tracers cut through the sky not fifty yards behind the biplane.
"Damn! They're firing on us."
Jack jerked the stick, sent the bright yellow Canary into a steep climb, and flew back into the cloud bank. While he coaxed the Stearman to every ounce of speed she had in her, Dani reached for the radio switches.
It was time to call in the cavalry. Or in this instance, the United States Air Force.
A quick flick of the switches dialed up a special frequency that broadcast to all Air Force bases within radio range. The closest, she knew, was Laughlin, just a few miles across the Rio Grande.
"Laughlin tower, this is Charlie-echo-mike-three-two-two. Do you read me?"
Her heart hammering, she waited for confirmation. Static crackled through the headset for what seemed like forever. Finally, the calm voice of the controller cut through the screechy noise.
"This is Laughlin tower, three-two-two. We read you loud and clear. How did you obtain this frequency? "
Dani ignored the sharp query and cut right to her message. "This is Captain Danielle Flynn, United States Air Force, transmitting a code forty-five. Do you copy, Laughlin? Code forty-five."
There was a short, startled silence. She could imagine the reaction in the tower. Only agents assigned to the Office of Special Operations could transmit a code forty-five, and then only in the most dire emergencies.
"We copy. Code forty-five. Stand by while we verify."
Swiping the condensation from her eyes with her forearm, she threw a look over her shoulder and saw only a reassuring wall of gray mist.
"What's the nature of your emergency, three-two-two?"
"We have a bandit on our tail, firing at us."
"State your present location, altitude and speed."
Jack supplied the information, which Dani relayed to the tower. They were still over Mexican airspace, but closing on the border fast. Laughlin tower confirmed their position.
"Be advised we have two F-16s from Cannon transiting our airspace. We've received authority to divert them to perform an intercept. They'll meet you at the border."
"If we make it that far," she muttered, switching to intercom mode.
The murmured comment broke through Jack's fierce concentration. He'd put himself in the place he'd learned to go during aerial operations, a small, enclosed capsule where his mind received input from dozens of different sources, processed the data with the speed of light and directed instant action. Wrenching himself out of the capsule, he took a deep breath and keyed the mike.
"We'll make it, green-eyes. This baby's got some tricks left in her that will surprise you. So do I, for that matter. I intend to demonstrate a few when we get down."
His reward for that bit of outrageous bravado was a choking laugh. "Thanks for the warning, flyboy."
"Just trying to stick to my end of our bargain and keep you apprised of my plans," he drawled. "You two strapped in good and tight back there?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Looks like the cloud bank is thinning up ahead. It's show time, ladies."
Dani aged at least two lifetimes in the ten minutes or so before the F-16s swooped down out of the clouds.
In those heart-stopping, eye-popping moments, Jack performed every aerobatic maneuver in the book and, she was convinced, invented a few new ones. He put the Stearman on its tail, on its nose, on all four wing-tips. He rolled it, banked it, looped it, stalled it and somehow managed to keep it out of their pursuer's gun sights.
When the F-16s appeared, the bandit tucked tail and ran like hell. Patricia whooped and wrapped her sister in another stranglehold. Jack did pretty much the same when they finally glided onto the runway at Laughlin.
Dani exited the cockpit in a graceless stagger and fell off the wing into Buchanan's arms. Oil spray coated her face. No self-respecting rat would have nested in her tangled, wind-whipped hair. Yet the gleam in Jack's eyes made her feel like she'd just come up with the winning Power Ball ticket.
"You make one helluva combination copilot, flight engineer and tail gunner, Flynn. Your old man would have been proud of you."
"He would have been proud of you, too," she said softly. "Consider any and all debts paid in full."
Dragging his head down, she closed the account with a long, lip-locking kiss. When Jack raised his head again, his eyes had deepened to molten gold.
"Funny," he growled. "I have a feeling the tab's just starting to run up."
Before she could probe that interesting comment, he set her on her feet and reached up to help Patricia. Her sister's knees wobbled, but she managed a shaky grin.
"Thanks. There were a few moments back there when I wasn't sure if you knew what you were doing."
"Well..."
"Stop! Don't shatter the illusion! Let's just agree you're one fine pilot."
The F-16 pilots echoed Patricia's sentiments when they touched down some time later. They climbed out of their jets and strode across the concrete, their parachutes flapping at the backs of their knees.
"That was the damnedest aerial maneuvering I've ever seen," a tall, tanned major exclaimed. "Where did you learn to fly like that?"
"Same place you did."
"You're Air Force?"
"Former Air Force. I strapped on an F-117 for a few years before I traded it in for an open cockpit."
"Hell, man. You ought to think about going back into fighters. We're training a whole new generation of pilots. You could sure teach them a thing or two."
Dani agreed. So much so that she left Jack in a borrowed shirt, surrounded by representatives from the CIA, the Border Patrol and the State Department, and slipped away to make a private, very personal phone call.
It was late afternoon before the government agencies had finished with them. Early evening when Patricia finished wolfing down her first full meal in weeks, pleaded an urgent need for a bubble bath, and retreated to a suite in the luxurious hotel where she insisted her company put them all up. With what the company had saved in ransom, she declared, they could also supply her and her rescuers with a new wardrobe.
Ever efficient, she even called a local department store and arranged for a selection of designer sportswear to be delivered first thing in the morning. That done, she retreated to a mound of scented bubbles.
Dani opted for a steamy, bone-melting shower instead of a soak. Wrapped in the hotel's thick terry robe, she knocked on the door to the connecting suite.
"It's open."
She pushed through and smiled at the sight that greeted her. Jack lay sprawled on the king-size bed, his hands laced behind his head. Showered and shaved, he wore only a strategically placed towel.
"I've been waiting for you."
Her glance grazed the interesting bulge under the towel. "So I see."
He waggled his brows. "Care to try your hand on the stick?"
Groaning, she shucked her robe. "That has to be the sorriest pun I've ever heard."
"Give me time," he said with smug con
fidence, rolling her naked body under his. "I can do worse."
He could.
And he did.
Laughing helplessly at his completely outrageous, incredibly erotic aeronautical metaphors, Dani rolled, banked and performed a series of aerobatic feats that left her limp, sweaty and exhausted.
Boneless and replete, she sprawled across his chest while his fingers lazily combed the dark red hair spilling over her shoulders.
"Jack."
"Mmm?"
"I made a call this afternoon. To my boss."
"I bet he wasn't real happy with you for going into Mexico without authorization."
That qualified as the understatement of the millennium. Dani had hung up the phone feeling remarkably akin to pancaked roadkill.
"He did have a rather strong opinion on the matter," she admitted. "Once he calmed down, though, he agreed to pull a few strings."
"Is that right?"
His voice held only lazy curiosity. Suspecting that was about to change, Dani raised her head.
"He's got friends in high places, Jack. He's going to get them working a special review board to see if you qualify to return to active duty."
The idle movement of his fingers stilled. The sleepy satisfaction in his eyes evaporated. Dani had anticipated surprise, maybe even anger that she'd taken the initiative without consulting him. What she didn't expect was the sardonic twist to his lips.
"You're definitely your father's daughter."
Stung, she jerked her head back. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means the colonel only understood one way of life, too. For all his heart and courage under fire, he could be as narrow as you are in that regard."
"Come on, Buchanan!" Pushing upright, she gathered the tangled sheet around her. "I know you said you like being your own boss and jockeying around whenever and wherever you please, but..."
"What's the matter, Flynn? A crop duster's good enough to sleep with, but not take out in public, is that it?"
"No, of course not! But you could do more!"
"And maybe I'm doing exactly what I want to do."
His stubborn refusal to admit he was wasting his talents infuriated her.
"Fine! You're doing just what you want to do. So where does that leave us?"
Disengaging, she rolled to the side of the bed and yanked on the terry-cloth robe. Her fists clenched around the ends of the tie belt. She waited, willing him to say something. Anything! When he didn't, hurt piled on top of her anger.
"Sorry we got our signals crossed, Buchanan. I thought we might actually have something going here."
Spinning on her heel, she marched to the open connecting door, sailed through and slammed it shut with enough force to rattle her bedroom windows.
♥ Scanned by Coral ♥
Chapter 6
Buchanan departed the hotel at the crack of dawn the next morning.
Patricia brought Dani the news. Eager to catch up on world events, she'd gone down to the newsstand in the lobby to grab a copy of every news magazine and paper on the racks.
"When I walked out of the newsstand, Jack was climbing into a cab," she informed her sister.
Dumping her armload of goodies, she plopped into one of the chairs set around a square table littered with the remains of a room-service breakfast.
"He didn't look happy," Patricia related. "Neither do you, for that matter. What gives? After the interesting sounds I heard coming through the wall last night, I figured you two would be sleeping in this morning."
"Things didn't work out."
"Things? What things?"
Shrugging, Dani sloshed more coffee into her cup and shoved the carafe toward her sister.
"We have different goals. And different opinions about Buchanan's current occupation."
"Just what does he do? When he's not ferrying undercover agents down to Mexico to rescue their sisters, that is."
"He's a crop duster. He also contracts for some oil spill cleanup and ice-melt."
"And that's bad because...?"
"Because he could probably get a waiver to go back on active duty, but refuses to consider it." Scowling, Dani planted her elbows on the table. "Dad once told me Jack Buchanan was one of the best pilots he'd ever flown with."
"Uh-oh. No wonder the poor man decamped at first light. I would, too, if I had both you and the colonel coming down on me."
Patricia grinned at Dani's offended expression. "I loved Dad as much as you did," she added. "More, maybe, because I wasn't his natural daughter, but he took me straight into his heart, warts and all. I wasn't blind to his faults, though, any more than he was to mine."
"Which specific fault are you referring to?" Dani asked stiffly.
"Dad lived, breathed and slept Air Force. So do you, kiddo. There is life outside the military, you know."
"Oh, that's great coming from the woman who left her fiancé literally standing at the altar. Let's see, what was the crisis that time? Oh, yes. I remember. You had to zip over to China and work an emergency fix to the power grid supplied by the Yellow River Dam."
"Okay, okay. I'll admit that wasn't exactly my finest hour. What does it prove, except that we both need to reassess our priorities? "
"Maybe."
"Maybe, my left foot." Reaching into a wicker basket, Patricia helped herself to a cherry Danish. "Think about it. How many chances does a woman get to have a man like Buchanan teach her aerial maneuvers?"
Not many.
It took Dani several weeks to acknowledge that fact. She spent her nights tossing and turning and generally being hacked at Buchanan Her days she spent at OSI headquarters, pushing paperwork. Her boss had decreed that every field agent had to serve at least one sentence at headquarters, so they'd appreciate their freedom in the field.
She was working her way through a stack of site surveillance reports when one of her fellow agents strolled into her office and hitched a hip on the corner of her desk.
"Hey, Flynn, who was that crop duster who flew you down to Mexico?"
"Buchanan. Jack Buchanan."
"Bingo! I knew I'd heard his name somewhere before."
Dani's inner alarms started pinging. Harrison headed the counterterrorism division at OSI headquarters.
"Before what?" she asked tensely.
"Before I saw the guy mentioned in this morning's operational report. The op rep just hit the In box. You might want to take a look."
"Thanks. I will."
Nodding, he sauntered out. Dani was already at the keyboard. She punched in her security code and waited impatiently while the video input device confirmed her identity. Seconds later, the latest operations report painted down her screen.
She read it through twice. Incredulously the first time. Furiously, the second.
Signing off, she stormed down the hall to her boss's office.
Chapter 7
The bar reeked of spilled beer and old grease. The odors enveloped Dani the moment she stepped inside, along with the stink of stale cigarette smoke. Ignoring the murmurs of interest she stirred among the handful of patrons in boots and jeans, she threaded a path through the tables.
The man slouched at the corner table watched her approach with no sign that he recognized her. His gaze made a slow descent, taking in her pink T-shirt and thigh-hugging jeans.
Dani stopped beside his table. "I want to talk to you."
He tipped his chair back on its rear legs. His whiskey-colored eyes were unreadable.
"That right?"
The deliberate drawl pulled at nerves already stretched wire thin.
"That's right," she snapped. "Outside, Buchanan."
His chair remained at an angle. He made a lazy circle on the table top with his beer. Dani got the message. Gritting her teeth, she ground out a single syllable.
"Please."
He followed her into the Oklahoma night. The hot wind sweeping across the Panhandle had already coated her rental car with red dust. Buchanan didn't appear unduly worr
ied about transferring the dirt to his rear as he leaned against the fender.
Dani planted herself in front of him and cut right to the chase. "Why didn't you tell me you're FBI?"
His shoulders rolled in a careless shrug. "Like you, I didn't go down to Mexico in an official capacity. Who I work for wasn't pertinent."
"It wasn't pertinent?" Her voice spiraled up a full octave. "It wasn't pertinent?"
The fury that had simmered inside her since she'd discovered Jack's real status exploded. She still couldn't believe the FBI had recruited him right out of the Air Force. Or that he used his crop duster cover to travel without the least suspicion throughout the Texas-Oklahoma region. Or that he was the agent who'd recently unraveled a terrorist plot to seed lethal biological toxins into chemicals sprayed by U.S. agricultural aviators.
"Dammit, Buchanan! You let me make a complete fool of myself."
He cocked a brow, forcing her to a grudging concession.
"Okay, okay. Maybe I did that all on my own."
She dragged in a deep breath, caught between her anger and the need that had brought her back out to this hot, dusty corner of Oklahoma.
"I guess what really torques me," she finally admitted, "is that you let me walk away from you that night in Del Rio."
"I was coming after you."
She tipped her chin, glaring at him in the dim light thrown by the single, bug-speckled light. "Oh yeah? When?"
"When I stopped fighting the inevitable and accepted that a bossy, take-charge, super-efficient undercover operative was about to turn my life upside down."
"Really?" She tapped a foot in the dust. "Are you there yet?"
His mouth curved. "Almost."
Her heart skipped. She felt that crooked grin all the way to her toes. The tension that had wrapped around her neck and shoulders eased its tight grip.
"What's it going to take to convince you?"
"Not a whole lot, green-eyes."
He reached for her then, his big hands folding around her upper arms, and drew her closer. She found a comfortable spot with her knees tucked between his and her hands splayed against his chest. Moonlight winked on the silver bracelet that banded her left wrist.
Undercover Operations Page 6
