“When my mother, who I still don’t know to this day, gave me up, a couple of winos found me tossed into a garbage Dumpster. They called nine-one-one, and I was taken to a hospital.” Ethan’s brows immediately drew down into a scowl. And there was actual sympathy in his eyes for her. “And please don’t feel sorry for me, okay?”
Ethan nodded. “No pity,” he promised, his voice strained. His heart ached over her statement. He tried to imagine how he would feel in her shoes. “Did you get placed into the children’s protective services, then?”
“Yes, but I don’t remember much until I was about six,” she muttered. Another peel dropped from the orange; her eyes were on it, not him. Sarah did not want Ethan to feel sorry for her. “I guess I was a sick baby and went through a series of foster homes until I landed in the one at six.” Sarah shrugged. “I was a pain in the ass for families that took me in. Who wanted a kid that was always sick? Always crying?”
Drawing in a deep breath, Ethan could see the injury in her right now from that time in her life. “Well,” he murmured, “you couldn’t help being sick or needing attention. Even as a baby, you knew you’d been abandoned by your mother. Tears of grief…”
Sarah peeled off more skin of the orange. The scent helped steady her slowly unwrapping emotions. The memories from her past made her feel vulnerable. Somehow, the tenor of Ethan’s voice, that sincere concern in his eyes, allowed her to go on. “At six I landed in a snake pit. The foster parents, Marge and Bill Caldwell, were both alcoholics.” Her voice turned derisive. “The social workers did not thoroughly vet them. The state child protective services didn’t do their job.” Anger rose in her. Her voice became colder. “I learned not to cry, not to want anything from them. I didn’t speak a word until I was five years old, so the state said I was mentally challenged. When I lived in their home, I became very scared. I tried to run away all the time, which got me into a whole lot more hot water. Marge and Bill wanted me because I was money in the bank for them every month so they could buy their bottles of whiskey.”
Ethan saw how she averted her gaze. Sarah was staring at the orange in her hands as if it could somehow take away the pain he heard in her low voice. He wanted to reach out to comfort her, but he didn’t dare. The gesture would be misinterpreted by those around him. And even worse, she would misinterpret it. He watched Sarah fighting back tears, her lashes lowered so he couldn’t look into her blue eyes. His heart wrenched in his chest. Mouth quirking, he said softly, “I can’t imagine how you felt as a little girl.”
His words had a calming effect on her roiling feelings. Sarah lost her appetite and placed the orange on the tray. Clasping her hands in front of her, she lifted her gaze and met his. Ethan’s face was utterly open to her. The man and the SEAL were two entirely different creatures. His gray eyes burned with compassion, not pity, for her. Every line in his sun-darkened face was readable. Sarah saw no judgment in his eyes.
“I was too young to understand anything,” she went on, her voice hoarse. “I hated them. And they hated me. I knew if I ran away, the social worker would come. And every time I wanted her to take me out of there, but she was blind, deaf and dumb to what was going on.”
Ethan wanted to protect Sarah as he saw moisture in her eyes. “Did you have to stay with them until you got to Hank and Mary Benson?”
Sarah straightened, rolling her shoulders, wanting to throw off the weight and haunting memories from the past she still carried. “I don’t want to say much more, Ethan. I— It’s just too personal and…” Her voice trailed off. She was ashamed to say it. No one came to the rescue of a terrified six-year-old girl. Maybe that’s why she was so passionate about rescuing wounded men and women who were in a wartime situation. And she was damn well not going to abandon them as she had been abandoned. No one had come to rescue her.
“That’s okay,” Ethan rasped, giving her a tender look. “I didn’t mean to open up a can of worms.”
“Some people just have sad lives and that’s the end of it, Ethan.” Sarah frowned and gave him a hard look. “But that doesn’t mean we let our past define us, either.”
“You’re a damn good medevac pilot,” Ethan said, meaning it.
“I know I am. I’ll fight to save a life no matter how hot the LZ gets.”
Ethan believed her. “So, you mentioned your CO? Major Donaldson? He sounds more conservative about how he’s running your squadron than you’d like.”
Sarah pulled a wedge of orange free and said, “He’s a bean counter. Afraid to have his conservative budget he made up a year ago get destroyed by our helos being shot up or lost in combat,” she said, chuckling.
Ethan watched her pop the wedge of orange into her mouth. He couldn’t help but be turned on by it, by those lips glistening with the juice, wondering what it would be like to kiss this courageous woman. His body hardened, and he groaned inwardly. Ethan was discovering he had absolutely no defense against Sarah. “Do you think he’s going to be upset with today’s mission?”
“Count on it. I’m sure I’ll get called in on his infamous red carpet tomorrow morning and he’s going to try and take me apart, piece by piece.” In some ways, Donaldson, rightly or wrongly, reminded her of Bill Caldwell. He had the same close-set small eyes, and it sent off a vibration of terror through her every time her CO looked at her. She hated being around the major. It just dragged up so many feelings of being trapped, unable to escape Bill’s hands, his mouth on hers, touching her private parts, that she wanted to vomit. Though she knew Donaldson wasn’t Bill, her body and her memory didn’t make that same delineation. Only her mind did, and she had no control of how her body violently reacted when the major was pissed off at her. Which was often.
Sarah was always standing up to the nitpicky major when the other pilots wouldn’t. And in that snake pit foster home of hers, Sarah had fought Bill and Marge just as much as she fought Donaldson. Here, she didn’t run away as she had as a frightened, terrorized child. She was twenty-nine, mature far beyond her years, and Sarah ran toward any fight she considered worthy of her passion. And her heart, her wounded but fiercely ardent heart, would easily enter the fray on the behalf of a wounded man or woman on the battlefield in a heartbeat.
Donaldson was frustrated with her, didn’t understand her commitment as a medevac pilot to go through literal hell to save a wounded person’s life. All he saw was his budget being ripped to shreds because a helicopter required maintenance, a new Plexiglas cockpit window installed, a new engine or whatever. He lived in a cold world of numbers, not human values and lives. She lived in the world of the heart, making damn sure rescue would come for those men and women when she was given the mission. No one was going to be left behind. No one, like herself, was going to be left sitting in a closet after Bill sexually molested her, crying and wishing for a rescue that would never come.
“Do you ever get some time off?” Ethan wondered, seeing the anger and frustration in her blue eyes. He felt bad, knowing his curiosity had dredged up a very unhappy childhood for Sarah.
“We’re two pilots short. We’re all working every day.”
“At least you got four days of rest,” he murmured, searching her closed expression.
“Yeah, I should thank that bastard for that. At least I got four days of solid, deep sleep.”
Hearing the derision in her husky tone, he said, “I was wondering because I work with an NGO run by an Afghan Apache pilot. Captain Khalid Shaheen is the first Afghan to be trained to fly an Apache for the Army. His wife, Emma, an American who used to be an Apache pilot, helps him with their charity along the border villages. They bring in educational supplies, desks, books and teachers. Plus, they bring in donated American clothing to the children. I work with them off and on, when I can. We’re always on patrols or missions in a lot of these border village areas, and I see the poverty. In one village the kids were barefoot. Every one of them. I contacted Khalid, and he has gathered about a hundred pair of children’s shoes at his villa outside Kabul a
nd he’s waiting for me to arrange a pickup and distribution for them.”
Deeply touched, Sarah said, “That’s very nice of you to do that.”
“I hate to see these kids suffer so much,” Ethan admitted. “I grew up in a happy family with two other brothers and a sister. After my dad retired from the Navy, he bought a small ranch in Texas. Looking back on my childhood, I never wanted for anything.”
“You were lucky,” Sarah said. She could see it in the strength of his face, his calm demeanor. Ethan wasn’t like her: reactive, getting angry very quickly over situations where weaker human beings were being taken advantage of by higher ups. Or disempowered, as she had been. “Listen, I’ll see what I can do. We’ve got extra Black Hawks here, just no pilots to fly them. Maybe my CO will let me fly a humanitarian mission for you. I can try. No guarantees.”
He smiled a little. “Somehow, Sarah, I think you get your way when you want it.”
“I don’t take the word no very well, Ethan. But maybe you’ve noticed that already.”
Chapter 8
Sarah felt her heart beat a little more strongly when she saw the white envelope waiting for her when she woke up at 0500. No longer did she try and tell herself it was a trick. Soon, she would ask Ethan and confront him about being the poet. She opened it, anxious to read what he’d penned to her this time.
And it is yet possible that even you could not glimpse the full spectrum of your mellifluous self,
Since you are a multilayered being
Of unrestrained rapture and passion.
(to be continued as poet can find time)
Warmth flowed through her, opening her heart once more. Sarah felt the words reverberate sweetly through her. Ethan saw deeply into her. She sighed. His words were beautiful. Accurate. She was a passionate person on a mission. Her whole existence was predicated on saving lives. It was almost an obsession, driving her. Sarah felt she had survived her past to turn around and rescue those who were vulnerable and unable to defend themselves.
The words this morning felt so right to Sarah. She knew she was going into the lion’s den when ordered over to Major Donaldson’s office at 0800 when her shift ended. Her passion to protect and defend life was her armor. Her reason for being. And she was damned if this man, her CO, was going to strip her of it.
*
“At ease, Chief Benson,” Major Donaldson said. He scowled up at her.
Sarah was in a clean flight uniform; she took an at-ease position in front of his desk, keeping her face unreadable. He drummed his fingers on the desk, staring hard at her. Her gaze settled on something above his head, looking at the wall behind him. Sarah knew that infuriated him. He preferred eye contact.
“I gave you a direct order yesterday on the way to that medevac mission to stop and wait.”
“I didn’t hear your order, sir.” Sarah kept her voice even, noncombative, although every cell in her body was on guard and ready to go into battle with this officer. Her heart rate picked up because she saw the anger in Donaldson’s close-set eyes. It turned her stomach. She saw Bill Caldwell’s thin, unshaven face instead.
“You said there was faulty communication? It was fine on my end, Chief Benson.”
“Wasn’t on mine, sir. I don’t know if you heard me request for you to repeat your message?” She refused to look into his eyes, feeling her entire body begin to shrink inside her flight uniform. It always happened when she felt a predatory male presence.
“Dammit, I ordered you to stand down on that flight!”
Coolly, Sarah lowered her gaze and stared hard at him. “Sir, I had authorization from the Marine lieutenant on the ground. Marine Corps HQ at Bagram. I had authorization from SEAL HQ here at Camp Bravo, and you gave me authorization. I followed procedures. All military branches involved in the medevac mission were contacted, brought up to speed on the nature of the mission and I received the order to proceed.” She lowered her voice. “It was the call of the men on that hill to make and it was left up to me, as the pilot commander on that mission, to make the decision to go or no go.” Her nostrils flared. “I decided to go.”
“Yes,” Donaldson growled. “And now I have to spend budget money I don’t have in order to replace the Plexiglas cockpit windshield on your helicopter. Not to mention the four bullet holes that have torn up the fuselage cabin of that helicopter. That costs money, Chief Benson, in case you forgot.”
Her anger spiraled, and she glared across the desk at the hard-set major’s face. “Sir, with all due respect, I had authorization. I did not disobey any direct order. I can’t help it if our digital radio went on the fritz. It’s computers and software. We were in a lot of turbulence flying to that rescue. Everything was being bounced around. You know yourself that computers can’t always take a beating.”
He studied her in the silence.
Sarah knew she was right. She’d been in the military too long not to know how to play the game. He could play games, too.
“You’re a risk taker, Chief Benson. And that’s a problem. You’re like a pit bull when it comes to a mission, never using common sense when it’s required. That hill was being overrun. You should have backed off and waited until it was secured.”
Eyes blazing, Sarah bit out, “Sir, I’m a medevac pilot for a reason. Men’s lives depend upon me and my crew getting there as fast as possible. I couldn’t care less how much lead is coming our way. As long as I judge the situation as safe enough, that my crew isn’t in jeopardy, I’m going in.” Her voice turned steely. “I won’t ever leave a person to bleed out when me and my crew can make the difference, sir.”
Sarah understood that Donaldson couldn’t bring her up on charges. He had given her initial authorization to fly into that hill situation. And if he tried to hang her on the second order to stand down and wait, she’d get a lawyer, go to trial against him and have Bagram’s authorization to trump the major’s second order that she’d disobeyed. And then his ass would be on the line and he could kiss his colonel’s leaves goodbye.
“Well, Chief Benson, besides being on the flight rotation, your day off that was coming due tomorrow is canceled. You are going to be available as a free-floating pilot that someone else here on base might need tomorrow. You’re on standby.”
Sarah almost smiled. She had just such a flight in mind. “Yes, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
*
Ethan was surprised when he saw Sarah show up at SEAL HQ at 0900. She’d wandered into the compound and asked for him. Beau, one of the SEAL shooters, had brought her to where he was, inside working on another mission in the big room.
“Hey,” he said, standing when he saw Sarah, obviously distressed. Ethan pulled out a stool from beneath the planning desk and gestured for her to sit down. He noticed Beau grinning. Let him think what he wanted.
“Hi,” Sarah said. She took off her green baseball cap and stuffed it in her large thigh pocket. “I didn’t know how to call you guys, so I hope it’s okay that I just ambled over here for a face-to-face?”
“Sure, no problem. Would you like some coffee?” He gestured to the small table in the corner with a pot on a hot plate.
“No, thanks.” Sarah pushed her fingers through the loose hair that fell around her shoulders. “Never been in SEALdom,” she said, looking around the huge room. Sarah saw an older man come out of his office and give her a quick perusal. And then he turned and went back into his office.
“Yeah, this is Grand Central Station,” Ethan joked, sitting down and facing her. “How did the talk with the major go this morning?” Ethan had been concerned for her sake, having seen her in action. He was sure some COs would tear their hair out over Sarah’s boldness.
“Well.” She sighed, resting her hands on her thighs. “It’s good news for you.”
“Oh?”
“My CO is pissed off at me, so he’s taking my day off tomorrow and assigning me to standby flight status. That means as a pilot, me and my Black Hawk are at anyone’s disposal.” T
hat same tug-of-war went on inside her. She wanted to be with Ethan. And yet Donaldson had just given her a warning. She had to keep her head in the game. “Do you have tomorrow free so we can take those shoes to the kids in that village? If you do, I need to write up a flight plan so the major can sign off on it and then get it over to Ops, so I can be assigned a bird.”
Surprised, Ethan considered her request. Sarah’s eyes were clear, and he could see the feistiness was back in them. She didn’t look any worse for wear after confronting the major. A slow smile tipped the corners of his mouth. “So, the major is punishing you for doing the right thing?”
“It’s in his DNA,” Sarah muttered defiantly. “Oh, and more good news. I called Bagram earlier and those two Marines survived. Both are being transferred to Landstuhl Medical Center in Germany shortly.”
He couldn’t help but grin. “That makes my day.” And it did. Two families who were on tenterhooks, knowing their loved ones had been wounded, would now be informed they were not only going to live, but make recovery.
“Yeah, did mine, too.” Sarah pushed her hair away from her cheek, holding his gaze. Just being around Ethan lifted her spirits. “So? I’m offering you me and my helo. Are you going to take advantage of it or not?”
Ethan grimaced. “I don’t know. I’ll have to talk to our chief. He runs the platoon and only he can give me orders to take a day off. I’ll ask him a little later.”
He pointed to the papers beneath his elbow. “Right now, I’m in the middle of planning an op for an upcoming mission and the chief’s expecting it yesterday.”
She raised one brow and nodded. “It’s the same everywhere, isn’t it?”
Ethan gave her a half smile. “Yeah, I guess it is.” He looked at his Rolex. “How about I meet you at noon over at the chow hall? I should know what’s up the master chief’s sleeve by then and I can let you know his decision.”
Risk Taker Page 8
