She was so glad to see him that she couldn’t tolerate the feeling. It was too big and—
Her eyes landed on the injured that Barry was tending.
“Go!” She pushed again at Xavier, who was hovering over her as if she couldn’t protect herself. “End this! I have work to do.”
Xavier nodded once, then again.
“I’m fine.”
At that he finally turned and hunkered down behind the low wall, resting his weapon on the top of it, and began firing. Like his tactics with the Minigun, he didn’t just rip out a magazine. He fired one or two shots at a time and she’d bet that every one counted. His reloads looked strangely awkward, but she didn’t have time to think about that.
She rolled to her knees to face the first patient and every muscle complained.
If this was “fine,” she’d take a pass on being actually hurt.
Her armored vest had protected her shoulders and her helmet had made sure that she was only rattled rather than concussed or dead. Her ass had been less well defended and when she tried to sit on her heels, the pain was enough to make her vision blur for a moment.
“So don’t sit on your heels,” she told herself.
The wounded soldier looked up at her strangely. He was holding a blood-soaked compress to one arm with a hand from the other. That meant Barry was on triage and she was on treatment.
Noreen introduced herself.
When the soldier didn’t answer right away, she pulled out a penlight to check his eyes for shock. Then he whispered, “The Angel of Death.” Surprise, not shock.
“At your service,” a quick once-over revealed no other obvious wounds and no pool of blood in the dirt beneath him. She began bandaging his arm and kept him talking. Like with so many of the guys she treated, it was mostly a one-sided conversation, but he responded enough to show he was okay.
When she had the bleeding stopped and the arm in a sling—three bullets had broken the bone, but no artery—he grabbed the load-out D-ring at the center of her armored vest with his good hand.
Some didn’t want her to leave them because they were afraid of death in that moment. Some thought that because she patched them up, their future was destined.
“Thanks,” was all he said before he let her go.
And people asked why she loved this job.
Chapter 5
Xavier lay back against the sloped rear hatch of a Chinook MH-47G helicopter. The cargo bay was crammed with forty-five Special Operations soldiers as well as the six people from his Black Hawk. The Chinook was such a beast that in addition to all the personnel, it had latched a couple of hundred-foot cables onto their downed bird and was bringing home the wounded machine as well as the warriors.
He watched Noreen and Barry as they worked through the crowd. The cargo bay was six-six high (in boots and helmet, he was always banging the ceiling), eight wide and thirty long. In a Black Hawk, there was only four-six and that he always remembered to duck for.
Half of the soldiers were slouched in the fold-down jump seats along either side. Some chatting about the battle or girlfriends, some crashed into a nap because that’s what you did on a flight. The rest were sprawled on the main deck. Most were sitting on their packs so that the truly injured could lie down in the crowded space.
No corpses though, at least no American ones.
Even though the hostages had been rescued in the first ten minutes and stashed in a corner of the triage area, the battle had raged for over an hour up and down the length of the village before they could arrange a clean extraction.
Vince had sprained an ankle during the rollover but was otherwise okay. The four of them had stood guard duty over the medical team, the hostages, and the attractive target of the downed Black Hawk. Mason had managed to resurrect his own Minigun—after that, keeping the area defended at least to one side had been much easier.
Aboard the Chinook with the rear ramp closed, the ramp gunner had nothing to do. So he too leaned back against the inclined ramp. Shooting the shit with him about the differences between Mobile and the Cleveland suburb where Ray had grown up helped pass the time and distracted Xavier from his shoulder.
That and watching Noreen. As he watched her, he noticed that she wasn’t moving in her normal style. Every motion was considered. Rising when she’d been squatting over someone for any length of time was a slow process.
By the time Noreen reached the back of the helo, Ray the gunner had clearly decided that the conversation was too one-sided and he’d fallen asleep.
“Hey, Guardian.”
“Hey, beautiful,” she responded as she knelt down beside him.
“Still gonna take some getting used to that.” But if that’s what she wanted to call him, he wasn’t going to complain.
She looked ready to collapse into the narrow space on his left. Ray was snoring quietly to his right.
He tried to raise his arm so that she could tuck in against his shoulder, but it caused him to hiss with pain. For a moment he’d forgotten about it.
“What’s with you?”
“Mason thinks I dislocated my left shoulder during the crash,” he shrugged, then wished to hell he hadn’t done that either.
“Mason?” But she was already in action—poking, prodding, testing.
“Easy there,” the warning was instinctive even though she was actually causing little pain. Her fine hands moved in a choreographed dance as she whipped out a triangular bandage and fashioned him a sling. She eased it on so smoothly that he barely felt anything. In moments, his pain had eased because the arm was better supported.
“Do you want a shot for the pain?”
“Nah, I’m good,” he shrugged again. Shit, he had to stop doing that.
“It’ll need an x-ray to make sure nothing’s broken before a doc can reset it.”
Xavier slid to the left, opening a space between himself and the ramp gunner. He held out his right arm and Noreen slid into it, laying her head on his shoulder. Still bulked up in their armored vests, it was awkward, but it was worth it.
“I should have checked on you sooner.”
“You were taking care of guys who needed it. This sucks, but that’s all. Though, I’m guessing tonight is out of the question?”
“Tonight?”
“The USO.” Their planned tryst. He’d been looking forward to that all night. He rested his cheek on her hair.
“You touch my ass and I’d have to kill you.”
“What? Why?”
“Point of first impact with that damned wall.”
He tried to sit up to look at her, but between one arm in a sling and her lying on his other side, that wasn’t happening.
“Nothing broken. But I’m not going to be sitting down for a week.”
That explained why she’d been moving slower and slower. Blown up, rattled, hurting—and Noreen Wallace had done her job. He didn’t know what else he expected. He’d already known that she was incredible, but now he had even more proof.
In moments she was asleep in his arms.
Noreen had woken up in a lot of strange places, but lying in Xavier’s arms was both the least and the most strange.
It felt so right, so good. She knew he was asleep and it didn’t matter. Her hand was resting on a stack of spent thirty-round magazines and his fingers were hooked behind the Velcro strap of her vest’s shoulder closure. It didn’t matter—it was such a good place to be.
Then she opened her eyes and realized that they were curled up together at the back of an overloaded Chinook. Fifty soldiers and fliers had seen them, watched them.
She never did this kind of thing in public. Never showed favoritism, even on the very few occasions when she had some. It was her job to treat these men and—never mind the regs—now they’d look at her like…like…like she was a woman, not a soldier.
Or that she was easy—or available. She’d consciously chosen her role as a female in the male-dominated Special Ops military. She wasn’t the Slut or the
Little Sister, she was the Warrior Princess. She’d studied the archetypes in college writing class and decided that the best way to take on the men was to become, in a way, their queen. That’s why all of the nicknames didn’t bother her, for who was more powerful than The Guardian of the Night or The Angel of Death?
Now, in one lapse of judgement, she’d flaunted her X-chromosome and now she’d become a girl. All that effort spent trying to fit in—wasted!
She tried to push upright, but even in sleep Xavier held her tightly. When he woke enough to free her, she sat up—
And regretted it instantly. What had been merely stiff and sore had solidified into aching concrete. And the act of sitting made her wonder if she actually had broken her butt. It hurt like hell.
She managed to make it to her knees as Xavier fell back asleep.
Warrior Princess? Hell no. Not even girl. She’d traded them all in on Old Crone. She hobbled among the men, checking on the injured one by one. She changed out an empty saline bag, peeked under a dressing, pumped in some more painkillers to the worst hit, and continued about her duties. When she reached the front of the Chinook, Barry woke up and shuffled aside to make a space for her.
Even shedding her vest and sitting on it for padding didn’t help much, but she sat.
“You okay, Noreen?” He kept his voice down to a whisper.
“Just a bit battered. Nothing that won’t heal.”
“Not what I’m asking about and you know it. Known you three years. Never seen you do that,” he didn’t even bother nodding toward the back of the helo.
Noreen looked down the length of the dimly lit cargo bay. Someone had turned down the lights for the couple-hour flight back to base.
Xavier Jones dominated everyone else. His big frame looked even bigger when she remembered how he’d rushed to protect her. Even more so now that she understood he’d been injured himself when he did so.
For a woman who never needed a protector—after all, she was a Guardian Angel by trade—she’d found a very unlikely one.
“I think I’m okay,” she told Barry. “I’ll let you know.”
Because for the first time in her life, she wasn’t sure herself.
Never, ever, tell a doc to just do it!
Xavier beat that lesson into his brain. Next time he had a shoulder reset he was gonna take the damn painkillers. Hell, just knock him the hell out.
It’ll hurt, but only for a moment. Then the doc had braced himself like a football player on the front line and even that hadn’t clued Xavier in.
Just do it!
Shithead.
But that didn’t hurt half of what came next.
“Two weeks leave?” Xavier couldn’t have heard the unit commander right. “You only grounded Vince for two days.”
“His was just a sprain. Besides, that’s what the doc said.”
“What am I supposed to do with two weeks?”
“I’m not your granny. Just keep the damn sling on for four more days and get the hell off my base.”
And now Xavier was standing in the hangar watching his crew saddle up without him. The maintenance techs had kicked ass through the day, replacing rotor blades, crumpled sheet metal, and his damaged gun mount. The Black Hawk was going to be flying sooner than he was.
Xavier had only been aboard for two weeks and this was not how he wanted to be remembered—injured and out. You couldn’t trust a guy to not do the same next time. In clean for six months or a year, guys wouldn’t think anything of you missing some action. But two weeks in, then two weeks out—when he came back they’d just be waiting for his next “excuse.”
“Shit!”
“I know! It completely sucks!” Noreen said from close beside him. Until that moment, he hadn’t noticed that the second medic wasn’t her. Barry and some new guy were trotting out to the helo for tonight’s mission.
“What are you doing here?”
“Grounded. Same as you. Seems I actually broke my tailbone when I hit the wall.”
“How can you be a guardian angel with a broken tail? Doesn’t it making flying tricky?”
“I sure could have used wings that last time I went flying. Doc agrees with you, no flying without an intact tailbone. Where are you going?”
Xavier shrugged with one shoulder; he was getting better at remembering to do that. “Off base is what they’re telling me. Kicking around Europe one-handed doesn’t sound like much fun. How about you?”
“Home.” She said it flat out with no hesitation. Simple fact.
So much for seeing if she’d hit Europe with him.
“Want to come?”
At first her suddenly soft words didn’t make sense. Did he want to go home? His only home was Joint Base Lewis-McChord in Washington State—literally half a world away. Except he had nothing there other than an old car and some clothes. The barracks would be empty because his entire company was right here in Balad, Iraq.
Come home. Not go home.
That was a whole different kinda option.
He looked down at her, but Noreen was watching the helo winding up. It sprayed hot air and dust in their direction. It was making her eyes tear up, but she wasn’t looking away.
She watched it hover, then climb aloft. Seconds later it disappeared into the darkness, trailing precisely five minutes behind the main flight. Then she turned those longing eyes on him.
No way could he say no to that.
Chapter 6
Their reception was way better than Noreen could have hoped. They found a cargo flight to the Night Stalkers’ main base at Fort Campbell, Kentucky. The last four hundred miles to home was always a pain, but her brother kept a car on base for exactly that reason.
But when she went hunting for her brother’s car, she found him instead. He was in the back corner of a massively cluttered hangar working on a Little Bird helicopter. There were four Black Hawks in different states of perfectly ordered disassembly. Three simultaneous overhauls by the look of, but with gear she didn’t recognize. She was enough her brother’s little sister to see that something different was being mounted on each one, but to what purpose she had no idea.
“John!” She squealed and threw herself at him.
“Nori!” He dropped tools that rang like happy bells when they hit the concrete, caught her, and gave her a bear hug that hurt like hell but was so totally worth it.
Her back may have been protected by the armored vest, but she’d still hit hard and every muscle complained. Plus her broken butt.
“What are you doing Stateside?”
“What about you?”
“I asked first.”
“I asked second,” she shot right back.
He laughed that big laugh she loved so much and hugged her again.
This time she couldn’t cover her groan.
“What’s up, Nori?” He was so strong that he held her up in the air to look at her like she was a little girl still.
“Bunged myself up.”
Suddenly she was on her feet and John was inspecting her carefully.
“Nothing broken but my tailbone,” she held up the stupid doughnut pillow she’d been sitting on for the long flight Stateside. “Pretty much pulled every single muscle in my body. Tip for the future: don’t get yourself blown up.”
He stopped fussing, then retrieved his tools and dropped them on a cluttered service cart before answering her. “Yeah, it sucks.”
Then he looked up over her head and she could see the shift. In that instant her favorite brother, Big John, went away and First Sergeant John Wallace towered in his place.
“John, this is Xavier. He’s a gunner on my helo. Got bunged up in the same explosion I did. He—”
And then she spotted her sister-in-law Connie.
Noreen raced over to her as she stepped down from a Black Hawk. Connie’s hug was as gentle as the woman herself, but Noreen held it like she was never letting go. She actually had to sniffle to keep the tears at bay. She might be over a decade yo
unger than her other three siblings, John, Janice, and then Larry—all with just a year between them. But John and Larry had still felt like brothers. Janice, however, despite being a year younger than John, had always acted more like an aunt that a sister. That girl was born all grown up, Mama Bee had always said.
The day John brought home Connie was the day she’d gotten a true sister.
Connie sniffled too.
Which made them both laugh. And that started the tears, at least on her side—Connie never cried. Noreen didn’t know where the tears were coming from, but since she was with Connie, it must be okay.
“I’m so glad you’re here.” It wasn’t clear who said it first and it didn’t matter one bit.
Looking at the two women together was actually more uncomfortable than the big guy glaring at him. Xavier had never been that close to anyone. Couldn’t imagine what it must feel like.
Connie was kind of a surprise. Noreen had talked a lot about her brother John and his wife, but never actually said anything about how they looked. John was Xavier’s height and build, and his skin was closer to Xavier’s darkness than Noreen’s. Connie was even shorter than Noreen, light brown hair, and Caucasian—the seriously cute white girl next door. He’d pictured Connie as some perfect black woman, long and lean the way Noreen was. Instead she was short, nicely curvy, and very white. He was being slow to adjust his mental image.
Of course he had other problems at the moment.
Five-six of little white chick wasn’t the issue. Six-four of pissed off older brother definitely was.
“Xavier.” The guy said it like a statement and meant it like a hundred questions: the biggest one being Tell me why I shouldn’t beat your ass? And he was one of the few people Xavier had ever met that just might be able to pull it off, even if Xavier didn’t have one arm in a sling.
“Yes, sir,” but he knew it was a mistake as soon as he said it.
John didn’t even bother with: I’m not a sir, I work for a living. He just leveled a scowl at Xavier that threatened to melt the flesh from his bones. This was Noreen’s beloved, gentle big brother that she couldn’t stop telling stories about?
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