At the Slightest Sound

by M. L. Buchman

  Jesse hadn’t found many officers who could deliver a threat and make it sound real. Drill sergeants had whupped that out of him back in Basic Training.

  “Yes, sir,” he answered carefully. He didn’t salute, because the colonel’s question had nothing to do with the military.

  And he didn’t doubt the unspoken threat for a single instant.

  Chapter 6

  “Tell me what I’m doing here again?”

  “Beats me. Either it’s because of your colonel’s orders or because you’re crazy about me.”

  “Must be the colonel’s orders,” because Hannah wasn’t going to admit that she could be getting crazy about a tall cowboy, who flew Special Ops helicopters for a living, after less than two days.

  She stared out the rental car’s window. They’d left behind the congested area around San Antonio International Airport, heading northeast into the countryside. She missed the thick green forests of home, though not enough to ever go back. Even the NERC-infested jungle was more familiar than the open Texas prairie. Though this did look to be much more peaceful.

  The view out the window was as perplexing as the man taking her there. The man-made skyscraper landscape of downtown San Antonio had given way to suburbs and then a softly rolling terrain that invited the eye to drift and left her wondering what nestled down in each little holler. Trees dotted the broad grasslands, only occasionally clumping together into a copse. No forests here, but it was welcoming nonetheless. The grasslands were divided by barbed wire fences, with some split-rail and plank fences near the homes. Horses and cattle grazed in lush pastures near low wooden barns and single-level ranch houses.

  She turned to the view inside the car.

  Looking at his profile, there was no imagining the warrior that experience had taught her lived there. He was the handsome blond-haired, blue-eyed sidekick, the boy next door—not the Night Stalker pilot who shot a man dead for wearing his hat, which was now tucked gently between the dashboard and the windshield. On the boat in which they’d made their escape, he had helped her finish off the guerrillas and dumped their bodies over the side without a moment’s hesitation while she was figuring out how to drive the thing.

  There was also no sign of the man who had decided it was his duty to take care of her. Though that was a little easier to imagine. He’d woken her in time for their flight off the aircraft carrier, even left enough time for her to shower. While she slept, he’d scared up a kit for her, one that included a heaven-sent fresh change of clothes that more or less fit—just how petite did he think she was?

  Seven hours’ sleep on the carrier and six more on the flight hadn’t been enough to make up for her multi-day deficit. Even so, he’d made sure she was as comfortable as possible on the flight from the carrier, through Bogota, and on to Texas.

  A considerate man. A careful man as well—she’d even seen him discreetly slipping some protection out of his duffle and into his pocket, just in case.

  She had never wanted any one man particularly. They could be fun. And sex was a very pleasant way to pass the time on occasion. She imagined it with Jesse and decided that maybe it could be more than that—much more.

  How insane was it that now she’d found a man she wanted, she didn’t dare touch him. She noted her body position, glued up against the passenger door. She’d always thought that a Toyota Camry was a bigger car, but now it felt so claustrophobic that it was making it difficult to breathe.

  “I’m not toxic,” Jesse’s voice was as gentle as if he was talking to a skittery horse. And far too insightful for a guy.

  “Are you sure? The last time we touched I generated a sonic boom and knocked myself out cold.”

  It earned her that low laugh that a woman wanted to wrap around her shoulders at night.

  “I’m not exactly willing to trust that not happening again.” There was some strange synergy that happened when they touched—in both good and really terrifying ways. As a Delta Force operator, she didn’t appreciate that something could scare her—especially not when it was part of herself.

  “No, I suspect not,” Jesse sounded sad when she’d expected angry or frustrated. He turned onto a one-lane road that she soon realized was a long driveway.

  The fences were weathered-to-gray split rail, but they were in immaculate condition. A mile in, she spotted a barn, one of the biggest she’d seen, also neat and tidy. The ranch house was hidden in a small orchard of apple trees.

  Jesse slowed the car to a stop and rolled down the windows. He breathed in deep and sighed happily. “Smells like home.”

  “It smells,” she sniffed carefully, “horsey.” It was so dry in comparison to the jungle where she’d spent the last three weeks that it almost hurt her nose. Once she was past that, she could smell the freshness of mown grass and the hint of apple blossoms, which were dusting the small orchard with a bright pink. In the jungle, she’d forgotten that it was spring.

  “It does smell horsey. Thank the Lord that some things never change. Care to try a little experiment, Hannah?”

  “No. What?”

  “I have a theory.”

  “As long as you keep your hands to yourself, I’m listening.”

  “My theory,” he turned to face her and she felt suddenly trapped by those blue eyes, “is that you won’t…ah…create a sound less’n you be wantin’ to.”

  Hannah considered the idea.

  “I haven’t heard a peep—outside of you,” his broad wink had her considering what physical mayhem she’d unload on him if she dared to touch him, “since we left the jungle.” Her “ghosts”, as he’d called them, were something she couldn’t hear but had apparently helped protect her from discovery throughout her military career.

  “You’re thinking that my…curse only works in the jungle?”

  “No, ma’am. I’m thinking your gift is more in your control than you’re thinking. Go on. Give her a try.”

  Hannah didn’t want to, but she had to understand what was happening to her. She still couldn’t look away from Jesse’s blue eyes—they were awfully nice ones—so she imagined a loud gunshot outside his window.

  Jesse just smiled.

  A large brown horse standing nearby raised its head—not in alarm, but rather in curiosity.

  She threw her psyche into a colossal racket.

  The horse stepped forward and sniffed at the air near where she’d intended the sound to be. Then it returned to its grazing.

  “Now,” Jesse held out his hand, palm up. “Take my hand, but don’t think about projecting a sound.” In the jungle, his touch had acted like a powerful amplifier to the sounds that she couldn’t even hear as she, or even they, made them.

  Hannah had been trained to tackle her fears so that they didn’t control her. If she hadn’t, she’d have begged off. Made an excuse. Worn Kevlar plating the rest of her life. Committed to solo recon in a big way—which she already had. It was a rare mission these last few years where she was on a team bigger than one. But avoiding fearful situations wasn’t how the Army selected or trained its Delta operators.

  So she reached out and rested her palm on his.

  Jesse felt as if he was the one who wanted to shout out and create a thunderclap. The contact shock of Hannah’s palm resting lightly against his was more powerful than bedding some women. There was a rightness to it that went beyond anything in his experience. Hannah Tucker wasn’t merely female when he touched her, she exuded it as if she was the very essence of the definition. Like working with an Arabian told a man just what a horse could really be, even if it took some extra nerve to ride.

  Ever so slowly, she curled her fingers until they were laced in his as tight as the braid on a horse’s mane all dandified for the state fair. Her hand felt good in his. Delta strong, but her fingers were still fine. Her hand felt feminine, despite the calluses. Or maybe it felt so good because of the calluses. It felt like no other woman’s hand he’d ever held—as unique as the woman it belonged to. And if he got much sappi
er about it, they were going to have to put him out to pasture or put him down.

  “Nothing?” her voice little more than a whisper.

  Nothing? He didn’t know what he was feeling, but it was definitely something. Oh! She means the sounds, Jesse. “Nary a peep big enough to spook a housefly.”

  Her grip tightened convulsively on his and he gained a new appreciation for the meaning of Delta strong.

  “Before you crush my fingers to dust with relief—”

  Hannah eased up instantly and tried to pull away, but he held on to her.

  “—try making a slightly bigger sound than the one before. Just don’t be making it Texas-sized.”

  It sounded as if someone dropped a steel pot on a concrete floor just outside his car window.

  It was followed by a sharp whinny of surprise and the sound of Brownie cantering off. “Well, she’ll definitely have a story to tell when she gets back to the barn tonight.”

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think about—”

  “Don’t you be apologizing. Brownie is gettin’ old and set in her ways. Do her good to run around a bit.”

  “Brownie?” He could feel her laughing at him.

  “I didn’t name her,” but Hannah’s smile didn’t let him off the hook. “Okay, maybe I let a girl in junior high who I was trying to impress do it.”

  “You going to let me name one of your horses?”

  “We’ll see. Hav’ta try another experiment first.”

  “What?” Hannah froze up again.

  Rather than answering, he leaned in and kissed her.

  She made a brief gurgle of surprise, but then gave in to it. He’d been right about her taste—fresher than a stretch of spring prairie. But the feel of her was different. They were both still buckled in, held apart by their tightly clenched hands. But he knew her now. At least a little, and that knowledge spread between them like the kinetic flow when pilot and helicopter combined to make a single whole. When a change in attitude was no longer happening to one or the other of them, but both at the same time.

  Jesse could feel the flow between them grow as if they were each other’s amplifiers until he wondered if they’d overload without some release.

  They finally parted, not with a harsh slap of change, but rather it was a fullness that was so big it didn’t fit on the prairie or underneath the blue Texas sky. They ended the kiss, still buckled into their seats, with their noses and foreheads touching.

  “That was something,” her whisper was pure surprise.

  “Right nice, what with no one shooting at us.”

  “That too.”

  “And no, I didn’t hear anything. Though I was a mite distracted.”

  “Too distracted to come along up to the house,” his father’s voice sounded from just outside the car window.

  “Daddy!” Jesse leapt out of the car like he’d been launched by a James Bond ejection seat, again leaving her sitting cold at the end of an impossibly hot kiss. He was not supposed to be causing ground-shaking changes to her sex life yet never following through on even one of them.

  And Hannah would never get used to a culture where grown men called their parent “Daddy.”

  She unbuckled and got out the other side of the car like a normal person while the two men embraced and thumped each other on the back. Another impossible action for a child and parent, at least in her world.

  They were cut from the same cloth. Jesse’s father was a little shorter, more wrinkled and sun-worn, but still from a hale-and-hearty breed that left no doubts as to their manly virility.

  He wore a white cowboy hat to Jesse’s black one. The horse he’d ridden up on was mostly white as well, with a silver-gray mane. Would Jesse’s horse be black like his hat? “Daddy” tipped his hat politely to greet her as she came around the car, while Jesse hung back just long enough to retrieve his own from the dashboard.

  “Sorry ’bout my boy, what with him not knowing that, when on a ranch, you’re supposed to kiss a woman on a horse, not in a car.” His handshake was as firm as his son’s, a man who definitely worked with his hands. “Terry Johnson, pleased to meet you, ma’am.” It was clear where Jesse had inherited his manners as well.

  “Hannah Tucker.”

  He held her hand for a moment longer, turning it up to look at it. Even ran a thumb over her shooting callus—a thick pad on the webbing between thumb and forefinger that marked her as Delta.

  “Are you in the same line of work as my boy?”

  “Similar, yes, sir.”

  “I’m not a sir. I worked for a living. Though can’t say as I understood the Air Force’s thinking about putting a Texas rancher on a chow line for two years at Elmendorf up in Alaska, but we worked hard and had a good time. Name’s Terry.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He smiled at her pert answer. “You keeping him safe?” There was a lot of weight and worry behind the question, though he was clearly trying not to let it show.

  “Him?”

  Jesse strode up beside his father, his daddy. Two damned handsome cowboys. And one too sure of himself by far.

  “I don’t know, sir. Do you really think he’s worth the trouble?”

  Terry unleashed a bark of laughter that startled the poor returning Brownie into running away once again.

  She noticed that the big silver-gray that Terry had ridden up on, without either her or Jesse noticing, grazed patiently, clearly used to his master’s sharp laugh.

  He slapped his son hard on the shoulder. “Well, Hannah. You be sure to let me know if you find out that Jesse is worth it. Been trying to solve that one for all his natural-born life. Boy always was a handful. See y’all up to the house.” Terry climbed on his horse and in moments was trotting away over the pasture.

  Jesse leaned back against the hood of the car and simply waited, as if he had nothing better to do in the world than sit out beneath the warm Texas sunshine.

  “You belong here, don’t you?”

  “S’pose I do,” he nodded. “I’m happy on the ranch.”

  “What’s your ma like?” Rather than feeling worried, Hannah was curious to see what of his mother had ended up in the man.

  “Don’t rightly know,” Jesse’s hat brim hid his face as he looked down at the dirt and scuffed it with his boot. “Momma died the day I was born. Daddy speaks well of her. Never remarried despite more than a few offers.”

  “But,” she looked at the intricate beading of his hat band—all she could see of his expression. He’d said his mother had made it for him. That meant she’d made it for the man before he was even born. No wonder he’d killed the NERC who dared to wear his hat.

  Jesse looked up and saw where her attention had gone. “The only gift I ever got from my momma other than the gift of life.”

  “Then why are you in the service rather than helping with the ranch? You know it worries your pa.”

  “It does?” His look of surprise didn’t appear to be feigned.

  Could someone please explain men to her? Though she’d bet even small words and simple sentences wouldn’t unravel the puzzle for her.

  “I serve because Daddy said that every man should do his duty, though I come home whenever I get leave. Seems like the right thing to do. Got in and discovered I liked it.”

  “But?” She hadn’t expected to hear a ‘but’ in that statement. Night Stalkers pilots were like Delta operators, career soldiers.

  Jesse took off his hat and toyed with the hat band for a moment. She could see his touching it was what let him think hardest.

  He finally tucked his hat back on, snugging it down sharply before answering.

  “How many missions have you prepped for but never been sent on? Or sent on, but the ROE kept you from doing what really needed to be done?”

  “Rules of Engagement are there for a reason, Jesse. You want to go rogue or vigilante or something?” Though she definitely knew what he was talking about. Those NERC guerrillas in the Colombian jungle would gladly have kidnapp
ed and raped her, only then considering whether to ransom her or feed her to the crocs. Whereas she was only allowed to kill in self-defense. She’d even been stretching the rules when she’d fired upon the men in the clearing, because they hadn’t shot at her first. However, they’d shot Jesse and her ride home out of the sky and she’d taken that as sufficient offense. Thankfully, so had the JAG officer monitoring her debriefing.

  “No. Not really. But I wish we were doing more. Don’t you?” And again those blue eyes wouldn’t let her look away.

  “Personally, I’d be happy if I could just keep up with what was happening.” Because the overwhelm of her situation wasn’t easing up even a little. Learning that she had some control over the sounds she made was encouraging. But any comfort in that part of her life was being rapidly offset by her growing attraction to one particular cowboy.

  His slow smile came back. “All of a sudden-like, I suspect we’re not talking about the military anymore, are we?”

  She sighed. It seemed they weren’t.

  “Come along,” Jesse pushed to his feet and opened the passenger door for her. “Your colonel said we should call some people about this gift you’ve got.”

  “Not just me, cowboy.”

  “Can’t say as I like that thought much myself. Anyway, let’s call ’em right off. You won’t rest easy until we do. At least I think that’s what he was referring to. He was more than a little cagey.”

  “I still can’t believe Colonel Gibson said even that to you.”

  “I dunno,” Jesse closed the door and circled back to his own side, “Seemed like a smart guy to me.”

  “He is.”

  “I do have a question for you, though. Does he threaten every man who wants to date you?”

  “He threatened you? I knew there was a reason I liked Colonel Gibson.”

  Jesse just groaned and drove them up to the house.

  Chapter 7