“So, maybe I’m not a freak?”
“Not!” This time Michelle and Isobel spoke in unison and then laughed at their common answer. A sentiment that Jesse echoed as well.
He backed his statement up with a hard squeeze of her thigh under the table. It was intimate, thoughtful, and appreciated. The fact that she wasn’t broken, at least not in that way, would be a huge relief if she could just believe it.
Hannah still couldn’t shake the feeling that she was a freak in this world no matter what they said. She was a woman in the Army, which awarded her Freak Level One. An operator in Delta Force, which took her up to about Level Twenty. A female operator in Delta Force, Level Nine Kajillion right there. She’d rung the nine-kajillion bell—which had always been her personal highest measure—all before she’d started projecting mass audio hallucinations, or whatever they were.
“Even if I don’t believe you, I’m glad I’m not alone in this.”
“Yeah, finding others is a good thing,” Anton spoke up as he returned with two big platters of ribs for himself and Michelle.
“Maybe,” Michelle scowled at Ricardo.
“A couple years back,” Ricardo was apparently scowl-proof. “I got captured by a psycho Honduran death-squad dude. Guess I finally cursed loud enough to break through some barrier so loud that Missy heard me.”
“You do not have ‘Missy’ privileges, asshole.” She punched his arm hard. Hannah could see the autonomic flinch that said it had hurt, but all he did was grin.
“I get this freaked call out to my ship from her. She told me how to see where he was and I ran an extraction team in,” Anton explained. “Someone had to haul your sorry ass from the jaws of death. Bastard still hasn’t thanked me.”
Ricardo shrugged. He clearly hadn’t liked needing to be saved.
“Only good thing about that was reconnecting with Isobel,” Michelle nearly purred with delight. “Isobel and I were roommates in college. Ricardo was already long-gone Army, so I never had to suffer through meeting him until Anton rescued him.”
“I’ve said I was sorry,” Isobel remarked dryly. “He’s my brother. I can’t do a thing with him.” Her accompanying laugh was very un-movie-star-like.
Hannah liked meeting her with her “hair down” so to speak. It was kind of touching, because it didn’t seem like the sort of thing a major actress would do much in public.
Michelle shrugged a yes then refocused on Hannah making her want to squirm. “We thought the gift always ran in a family, even in weird one’s like ours. You two not related?”
“Duh!” Isobel answered the question for her. “Not with the way it’s radiating off both of them. Don’t have to be an empath to see that.”
Hannah still needed time to think about that, so she sidetracked the conversation back to Jesse to get it off herself, “Why do you need a Night Stalker?”
Isobel and Michelle weren’t fooled for a second, but Ricardo and Anton walked straight into the trap and began questioning Jesse.
Jesse did an admirable job of avoiding their inquiries, because Night Stalkers wasn’t something you talked about with civilians. But between Ricardo being a former Delta operator who apparently knew a couple of Jesse’s fellow pilots and Anton’s worship of Night Stalkers pilots in general, they were wearing him down fast.
She focused on her pork ribs. It surprised her that she could actually taste anything in her present state. The flavors were Texas strong, deeply smoky, with a tang as fresh as an ocean wind after too long in the deep jungle. She wished she’d been awake for the extraction from the jungle—that transition was always her favorite moment to mark the end of a mission.
In a way, she’d had that on her arrival at Jesse’s ranch.
Jesse’s ranch.
She felt a pang that a big swallow of Dr Pepper did nothing to wash away. To be there, to see it, to meet his father…and then to have it ripped away by the meeting with Isobel and Ricardo. Why should it feel like that? As if she’d had to leave a small piece of herself behind on the prairie. She hadn’t even been there long enough to poke around the ranch house a little or even see what Jesse’s bedroom looked like.
There was no way that he had become so important to her so fast. His home felt like…home. Something she’d lost the day Pa had walked away.
Then she remembered Jesse’s two kisses in the jungle and the one in the car.
There was absolutely no way that she was going soft on a guy merely because he kissed like he meant it. Like it was about her. Somehow—in ways that she didn’t understand—Jesse saw a Hannah Tucker she’d never met herself.
Down the table, Michelle stood up, picked up her Coke glass, then held it out of sight by her thigh. With her free hand, she tugged at Ricardo’s sleeve.
“What?”
“Could you fetch a gal a Coke?”
Ricardo looked up at her strangely, then over at the soda fountain ten steps away. With a shrug, he slid out of the booth and headed over, muttering about what was up with the women these days.
Michelle slid in next to Isobel and set down the full Coke glass that she’d kept out of Ricardo’s view. Then she switched plates and napkins. When he returned with a fresh Coke, he didn’t even look puzzled. He simply sat down, took a sip of what was now his own Coke, and rejoined the conversation that Anton and Jesse were having about past military missions.
“Aren’t men just the sweetest thing?” Michelle said to Hannah as she patted Ricardo on the shoulder. He didn’t appear to notice.
Now, Isobel and Michelle were sitting side-by-side facing her.
“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Michelle asked while picking up her next beef rib and waving it at her like an accusing finger.
Hannah decided that the Delta practice of not speaking would serve her well at the moment.
“We aren’t supposed to fall so fast, are we?” Michelle didn’t even have the decency to whisper it.
“Wouldn’t know,” Isobel replied. “But I remember you falling hard for a whole string of disasters freshman year.”
“They weren’t all disasters.”
“Name one!” Isobel arched an eyebrow at her and Michelle just flounced her lustrous red hair at her and ignored the challenge.
“We were roomies all through college,” Michelle explained, then said with pure tease to Isobel. “Lucky for poor Isobel to have such a pretty roommate or no boys would have come around at all. Besides, that’s all they were, just…boys.” Then the two women exchanged a look. Michelle grew sadder and Isobel rested a hand on her arm sympathetically.
“Except the one,” Isobel whispered softly.
Michelle was apparently unable to speak, so her friend explained for her.
“There was this Marine. Amazing guy. Went down in a training accident. She totally fell for him just walking down the hallway.”
“It was on a beach and he was so beautiful.”
“Took her about twelve seconds to fall head over heels for him,” Isobel smirked.
“Did not!”
“Did, too,” Isobel clearly knew every detail of Michelle’s past.
“Don’t believe her. It took me at least thirty seconds.”
“How long did it take you?” And they both turned their attention on Hannah.
“To what?”
“To fall for the cowboy, of course.”
“Is that what I’ve done? No, I haven’t done that.” Unless of course she had? “Can we change the topic?”
“Would you rather talk about how you’re going to be using sound projection in our new company once we figure out what to call it? We tried Lady Warriors, but the guys weren’t into it.”
“Maybe we should try again now that we’ve got one of our own,” Michelle beamed over at Hannah.
“You do? Oh no,” her brain was being a little slow, but not that slow. “Nope. Not me. Nuh Uh!”
“We’ll have to work on her.”
Isobel resumed her list with all the poise appropriate to her station by completely
ignoring both of them and continuing. “We considered PSI Corps, but that got ruined by the PSI Corps in that science fiction series, Babylon 5 which was so successful. And we thought up a hundred cool acronyms that no one would ever remember.”
She’d never heard of the show herself.
“You only have the two choices: joining our team or the cowboy,” Michelle made a smooth, happy sound. “Personally, I’d rather hear about the cowboy first, but we’ll get both stories out of you, you know.”
“Fire-hot tongs and electroshock?” Hannah was made of tougher stuff than these two women.
“Wine and chocolate,” Isobel replied.
“And as you’re just back from a mission, we would toss in bubble bath,” Michelle agreed. “With the handsome cowboy, of course.”
“You two play dirty!”
Both women smiled at her.
“Regrettably,” Michelle took a long drink from her Coke. “We’re wheels-up on a mission in thirty minutes. We’ll have to bribe you later.”
“We could always take her with us,” Isobel looked at her friend.
“That could be fun,” Michelle was clearly all for it.
Apparently Hannah no longer had to speak to be in this conversation, which was just fine with her.
“Sure way to welcome the newest member to our PSI-chicks.”
“So not PSI-chicks. Get a grip.” Isobel looked disgusted. “Think about it Hannah. Our group needs a good name.”
“Whoa!” Definitely time to rejoin the conversation. “There’s no ‘our.’ I do my walk for US Special Operations.”
“Phfft!” Michelle waved a hand at her. “Don’t bother us with details. Ricardo. Time.”
Ricardo checked his own watch, then said, “Time to finish it up,” as if Michelle hadn’t spoken.
“How he survived before I came along, I have no idea.” Michelle smiled. And Hannah was left to wonder if maybe she wasn’t the only one whose heart had gone wandering around without her. Not that Ricardo appeared to notice. For a moment she wondered if even Michelle realized it. Isobel’s tiny headshake said that Michelle hadn’t. And, Hannah supposed, if anyone knew, it would be an empath.
An empath? That was just crazy talk. Forty-eight hours ago she’d been a Delta operator hiding in the Colombian jungle waiting for a Night Stalker heliborne extraction. And now she was a sound-generating, psychic freak, who was half gone on a San Antonio cowboy and was talking to an empath and a telepath. This was wrong on so many levels that she felt as if she was flying once again.
Everyone slid out of the booth.
Jesse offered her a helping hand that she didn’t need. But when she took it, and rose to her feet, it seemed the most natural act in the world to step into his arms and kiss him.
She’d intended just a small peck of thanks for being such a staunch supporter. But there was no military vest and firearms separating them this time. No pair of seatbelts keeping them confined to their separate corners as they kissed.
For the first time, they lay their bodies together separated by no more than her t-shirt and his button-down denim cowboy shirt. He smelled of his beloved prairie, fresh and rich as the soil. He tasted like BBQ and brilliant sunshine. And he felt…
Oh, how he felt. If she’d been thinking about jumping him on that motorboat on the Colombian river, it was nothing compared to right now. She’d take him in the booth if there weren’t other people around.
His kiss settled right down into her and burned hot. Not a fast burn, but the long slow heat of a winter’s night.
Her sigh, when he stood up straight and broke the kiss, was plenty audible.
It was enough time for Jesse to look at her with that question on his face, the same one as before that had her thinking about jumping him in the car.
Again Hannah answered him with a tiny shake of her head, though this time she was sorrier to do so. Michelle and Isobel were absolutely right—she was more than half gone for a cowboy.
She still wasn’t sure how it happened, though she suspected Michelle and Isobel of conspiring. The way they had talked about men as something special—as if they were treats dangled for a kitten.
Hannah somehow ended up in one of the trucks with the two women, which left Ricardo and Anton to follow in the other car…and Jesse with no choice except to follow her in the rental. Without her even noticing, Michelle and Isobel had just kidnapped her. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but she’d always admired tricky women.
A mile away, they pulled into a small airport. There were a dozen small planes tied down and a short line of hangars. The last hangar in the row was different from the others. It looked fresh-built and she could spot the security on it easily. Security high-end enough that she knew two things. First, there would be a whole second layer of security that would be much harder to detect. Second, she wouldn’t like to be the one responsible for infiltrating this particular building undetected.
Jesse followed the two big black trucks, feeling like a sad-sack city boy in his white Camry rental. Anton drove a Ford F-350 King Ranch with rear duallies that looked big enough to actually haul around a ranch.
Hannah’s comment about Jesse not living at the ranch was worrying at him. Daddy had never given any hint that he was anything but proud of Jesse’s service. And maybe it was true. But Jesse could feel the noose of the lariat looped about his waist and tugging him back toward home. It had always been there, but after a decade in the service it was tightening, and he’d have to do some thinking about that.
The guys hadn’t pushed when he’d refused to speak about being a Night Stalker. But it was nice to be able to talk to guys who really understood the perks and the shortcomings of working for Joint Special Operation Command. Anton had actually been regular forces but was good enough that command often tapped him when the Night Stalkers were at full capacity.
Inside the hangar was the crispest Black Hawk he’d ever seen. It didn’t have a midair refueling probe or side-mounted weapon pods and machine guns, but it was still a mean, black, fighting machine in factory cherry condition.
“Could you get her prepped for me?” Anton handed Jesse the pre-flight list and walked away before he could answer.
Jesse was standing there holding the checklist as the two men walked over to a massive gun safe and opened the combination lock. Inside was a collection of weapons that made Jesse’s eyes bug out a little. Not just FN-SCAR and M4A1 combat rifles, but Glock handguns (complete with harnesses) and Barrett .50 cal sniper rifles good out to two kilometers in the right hands...and a former Delta Force operator’s hands were definitely the right ones. That was only the beginning of a vast array of gear.
Hannah sidled up beside him as the other two women went over to the cabinet to select Glocks in shoulder harnesses and a pair of night-vision goggles. “Even though they were never soldiers, neither one goes in unprepared,” she explained to him in a whisper.
“What are we doing here, Hannah?”
“That was going to be my question.”
They stood side-by-side and watched the four strangers gearing up—even if they didn’t feel like strangers.
He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close. He buried his face in her shining hair just because he could never get enough of that.
“We gotta find a bed, cowboy. Real soon now.”
“As soon as they’re gone.”
“Uh.”
“What?”
Hannah shook her head. “They’re expecting us to go with them.”
“Say what?” Maybe Jesse needed his hearing checked. Or maybe her brain had been addled by all the barbecue.
“Apparently it’s some sort of a test or invitation or something.”
“We’re US government military personnel. We can’t do this.”
“We’re both on leave.”
“Hannah! I try to be respectful, but have you lost your marbles, ma’am?”
She nodded. “I think so. These women know things—and not ju
st about crazy psi stuff. There’s something really impressive about them.”
“Which means you’d fit right in.”
She leaned into his sideways hug in a way that he could only interpret as pleased and made his thoughts about a bed all that much higher a priority.
“What about the men?” Hannah asked him.
“Well,” Jesse sighed. He suspected that bed wasn’t happening anytime soon. “I don’t believe in snap judgements, but if I had to make one…yep, I’d feel good if I had to go into battle with those two.”
She turned fully into his arms. “Kiss me, then finish your pre-flight.”
He spent a lot of time tending to her first command. Even if it meant he had to hurry on the second.
Chapter 8
Jesse watched Hannah select a McMillan TAC-50 sniper rifle (with the scope optics he knew had not been released for civilian sale) and an FN-SCAR combat assault rifle.
“At least they don’t have the Delta-designed HK416,” she whispered. “I like that some things are sacrosanct.”
“Same with the Black Hawk. Topflight, but none of the Night Stalker customizations.”
They both took a pair of Glock 19s, night-vision goggles, extra batteries, extra ammo, a radio—and a spare—and extra batteries for those as well. He grabbed her before she could turn from the supply cabinet and handed her a couple of energy bars and a water bottle. From his pocket, he fished out a Tootsie Pop, unwrapped it, and stuffed it in her mouth.
It earned him a second kiss, sloppier and shorter than the first, but raspberry-flavored and filled with sizzle. She was altering his view of sexy by the moment—this fully-armed warrior woman was stirring up places he didn’t even know he had to be stirred up. She did it much more and his heart was going to be joining in and then all hope for him was lost. Actually, he suspected that might already be the case, but there wasn’t time to think about it.
In minutes they were airborne. Anton gave him the righthand pilot-in-command seat and left him to it, acting the perfect copilot. Not Night Stalker trained, but every motion and status report proved the man was definitely skilled.
At the Slightest Sound Page 8
