“Fifteen feet, keep coming…”
The winds across the base were always around. A gust hit the bird.
“Too fast!” Bail yelled.
Gulping, Rachel tried to recover from the gust. Suddenly, she heard the load master give a yelp.
“Ascend!” Hamilton ordered.
Instantly, Rachel applied power.
“Hover at one hundred feet and hold,” he ordered her.
What had happened? Rachel saw Hamilton craning his neck over the seat and looking into the cargo hold.
“Ma’am,” the load master said, his voice tight, “you just destroyed the pole. The bottom of the helo nearly got impaled on it.”
“Roger that,” Rachel said, feeling ashamed.
She looked over at Hamilton, expecting him to scream at her. Instead, to her shock, he appeared calm. “Is there another pole?”
“Yes, we have plenty of them.” One corner of his mouth pulled upward. “Not to worry. We destroy plenty of them in this exercise.”
Rachel winced. “If that had been a man under there…”
“He’d be dead,” Hamilton finished, becoming somber.
“It was the wind.”
“It’s always going to be wind and air currents,” he told her. “That’s your biggest enemy in this exercise.”
Nodding, Rachel looked out the right window. Below, she could see two crewmen taking the broken pole out from the sandbags and replacing it with another one. She gave Hamilton a quick glance, feeling on her guard. He wasn’t screaming. No curses. Instead, a quiet kind of instruction. Rachel inhaled deeply. “Sergeant, tell me when that pole is up.”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s up and we’re ready to try again.”
“Okay, I’m coming in. Begin direction, Sergeant.”
Ty said nothing. He saw the tension in Rachel’s beautifully shaped mouth. A mouth he had a damned hard time not watching like a lovesick puppy. Why hadn’t he been aware of her beauty back in flight school? Giving an internal shake of his head, Ty concentrated on her skills. She was obviously nervous and wanting to do it right. He’d learned the hard way that yelling at a student didn’t bring out their best. All it did was increase tension and cause more errors in flying.
Rachel listened to the sergeant as he talked her down. This time, even though the wind was inconstant and trying to push the helo around, she held it steady. It was so different from the nimble, super-powered Apache.
“Stop and hover!” the sergeant called, his voice rising.
Instantly, Rachel held the hover. They must have been directly over the pole. She heard the load master breathing hard. It took a lot of pure muscle to get those hooks removed.
“Continue hover,” Bail called.
“Roger,” she murmured, praying that the wind would hit them.
And it did. One moment, Rachel was static. The next, the gust of wind hit the helo and they started to slide.
“Up! Up!” Bail yelled.
She cursed softly under her breath, her feet and hands moving at incredible speed. The Chinook was thrown sideways and started to skid. The ground was only twenty feet away, and she saw it come up fast. Instantly, she powered the helo and rose. Her heart pounded in her chest like it would jump out. Not a word from Hamilton.
As she brought the Chinook into a hover at a hundred feet, Rachel cast a quick glance in his direction. His face was unreadable, but his blue eyes were narrowed. Licking her lips, she felt shaky inside, as if she were a new pilot, not the veteran that she was.
“Nice recovery,” Hamilton told her. “Take it easy. Everyone is going to do exactly what you’re doing. This isn’t a case of trying to look good, Captain Trayhern. It’s learning the ropes. You’re going to make a lot of mistakes today, so get over it.”
Trembling inwardly, Rachel felt her gut twist into a literal knot. She had always wanted to do things perfectly, without messing up. But she was doing it big time this morning. What did her friends, her sister pilots, think of her screwups? Ashamed, Rachel focused even harder on the task.
“Okay,” Ty said, “let’s try again. You’re getting better every time you do it. That’s as good as it gets.” He saw the pain and shame in the way her mouth twisted. The shield was down over her eyes, so he couldn’t see them. Didn’t matter. He knew from a lot of experience that every pilot made the same mistakes. Even he did.
The sun was setting as Rachel made her way to the Ops room to fill out her report. The other female pilots had followed her off the tarmac to their individual rooms. Once inside, Rachel closed her eyes and scrubbed her face.
“What a sucky day,” she muttered, walking over to the table and sitting down. The room was quiet. A report had to be filed. Right now, all she wanted was a stiff jolt of tequila, her favorite drink when she could get it. Her gut was still tight, especially knowing that Hamilton was making his way through the four rooms. She was sure he’d be here sooner or later. Rachel ran her fingers through her loose hair and pulled the pen out of the upper-arm pocket of her flight suit.
Rachel was almost done with her report when the door opened. Hamilton stepped in, carrying two mugs of coffee. Shutting the door with his boot, he turned and said, “I figured you’d need a stiff cup of coffee about right now.”
Rachel straightened. She wasn’t sure how to contain her surprise. Without thinking, she took the cup from him. The instant their fingertips met, she felt the tingle. Unable to jerk her hand away, she took the cup and said, “You’re right about that.”
Ty walked around the table and sat down opposite her. He made sure his knees didn’t touch hers. There was wariness in her face as always. “The other pilots finished their reports. I brought them coffee, too, because I know how nerve-racking this training is.”
Rachel took a sip of the hot brew. “I don’t know why I didn’t think to get some coffee earlier. My nerves are shot.”
“Understandable.”
“That’s some of the toughest, most demanding flying I’ve ever done,” she admitted, signing off on the report.
“I know. And flying an Apache you have to be a multitasker, but this is different.”
Rachel nodded. She wrapped her hands around the mug as he picked up her printed report and read it. Inspector pilots and flight instructors had to sign off on their students’ reports. Rachel stared at Hamilton’s face as he read. It gave her a moment to simply study him. Again, she wished he wasn’t so damned handsome. He had a strong nose and chin, his cheekbones high. As her gaze settled on his mouth, Rachel suddenly felt heat in her lower body. She scowled. She shouldn’t have any reaction to this man.
Ty looked up and caught her staring at him. Rachel suddenly glanced away. For a brief second, he’d seen something else in her golden eyes. Always, there was wariness and distrust in them when he was around. But not this time. What did he see? It was so quick, he didn’t have time to register it. Rachel appeared very uncomfortable, squirming around on the bench. Why? He was doing his level best not to be a torment to her as he’d been before. He wanted her to know that he had no wish to take on the Trayherns again. Burned by past experience, Ty wanted the rest of his career to go without rancor.
“Good report,” he congratulated her.
Rachel smiled uneasily as she placed the mug on the table. “Brutally frank as always.”
“Well,” Ty murmured, adding some sentences to the bottom of it, “you’re too hard on yourself.”
“I should have gotten the swing of things sooner,” she muttered.
“You got it faster than the other three pilots. That should make you feel good.”
Hamilton’s voice was soothing and unperturbed. It was such a diametric difference from her last experience with him at flight school. “I guess,” she said.
“I wish I could erase that look in your eyes,” Ty said, frowning.
Rachel sat up a little more. “What look?”
Ty sighed and signed off on the report and handed it back to her. “Distrust.”
Shocked, she glared at him. “Well, given our past, Captain Hamilton, do you blame me?”
Her voice was gritty. Scathing. Ty felt his shoulders tense. His heart beat a little harder over her sudden combativeness. Holding up his hands, he said, “Look, I know we have a bad past history.”
“That’s not the half of it,” Rachel growled.
“I understand,” he said, trying to speak softly so as to defuse the animosity in the room.
Rising, Rachel stared down at him, feeling all her fear and tension unwinding within her. “No, you don’t. I had you screaming in my face, cursing me and threatening me for twelve weeks solid. No one would ever forget that, Captain Hamilton.” She put the mug down on the table a little too roughly, some of the coffee spilling out of it. “I’ll never forget what you did to me. And frankly, I’m just waiting for that mask of yours to come off and you to go after me again.” Her cheeks grew hot as she hurled those words at him. He appeared positively thunderstruck.
Ty sat there for a moment, digesting the cold rage in her voice. She had her hands on her hips, leaning forward like the aggressive Apache combat pilot she was. But there was fear in the depths of her narrowed eyes—of him. She still feared him. There was no trust.
Those realizations hit him hard. Ty tried to find the right words. But who could under the circumstances? “Look, I know I screwed up with you. I’ve paid a fair price for it, and I accept my demotion and the fact I’ll never be let into the Apache club again. I’ve been trying to show you that I won’t be like that now. I’ve learned my lesson, Captain Trayhern.”
Anger roared through her bloodstream. Rachel felt herself trembling with the long-held rage. “The last place I ever want to be is in your company. I might have to put up with you for six months, but that’s it. Am I dismissed, Captain Hamilton?”
Actual physical pain moved through Ty’s heart. He slowly stood, staring across the table at Rachel. She was so incredibly beautiful, her brown hair shining around her and emphasizing her gold eyes. He hesitated. There was so much he wanted to say, but she wouldn’t hear or believe it. Finally, he rasped, “Dismissed, Captain Trayhern. I’ll see you here for a flight at 0600 tomorrow.”
Turning on her heel, Rachel fairly ran out of the room. Ran and got the hell away from Hamilton. Boots thunking across the wooden floor, Rachel jerked the door open, slammed it shut and took off.
The room fell silent. Ty looked around it, the report still on the table in front of him. His conscience ate at him. Now, he was seeing what his hatred of women five years earlier had done to Rachel. Shaking his head, he scooped up the report. Her disgust of him was clearly written in her eyes. As he walked to the door and opened it, Hamilton couldn’t blame her. He’d been a real bastard back then. Prejudicial, stupid, backward and letting his own childhood color his perception of women in general. Well, now he had another war to fight. With Rachel Trayhern. As he walked toward the Ops desk, the place busy as always, Ty felt depressed. He’d wounded a beautiful, smart, courageous woman who had no connection with his earlier life. And yet, he’d taken it all out on her. How could he get her to trust him?
Chapter 7
Rachel woke up in a very bad mood. On her way over to Ops to meet Hamilton, she barely acknowledged the pink sky flooding the eastern horizon before the sun peeked over the mountain range. Gripping her helmet bag, she moved through the streams of people coming and going to morning duties. How could she have dreamed of kissing Hamilton? Of all things! And it had been so real Rachel had awakened in the early morning hours feeling an ache in her lower body.
Oh, she knew that ache. Why wasn’t Garrett in her dream instead? She’d loved him with her life until he’d died in an attack on the Apache base Camp Alpha in Helmand Province a year earlier. But to be kissing Hamilton? Rolling her eyes, Rachel tried to shove that heated dream down into the basement of her memory. She had to focus on the coming helo mission with Hamilton.
As she entered Ops, the familiar rush and buzz of Apache pilots was in high gear. As soon as it was light enough, the transport squadron would become active. Unlike the Apache pilots, the CH-47 had no nighttime flight capability. It was a basic, utilitarian helo that flew only during the day and in good weather conditions. Apaches had the state-of-the-art gear for flying day and night and under any conditions. How badly Rachel missed flying her gunship.
She went to her cubbyhole and dragged out the mission orders for the day. She didn’t see Hamilton and was glad for that small blessing.
“Hey, Captain Trayhern,” the Ops sergeant called, “you’ve got goats today.” He grinned.
Walking up to the balding sergeant, Rachel set the helmet bag at her feet and opened the orders. “Goats?”
“Yes, ma’am. They just flew in a cargo hold full of goats just a few minutes ago from Bagram. You and Captain Hamilton are taking them to Samarigam, a village real close to the Pakistan border.”
As she read the orders, Rachel managed a wry smile. “Goats. Of all things.”
“Ever transport them?” he asked, handing her a pen.
Shaking her head, Rachel laughed and said, “No, I haven’t.”
“Not something an Apache pilot has to deal with,” he joked.
Rachel signed off on the orders and couldn’t stop herself from smiling. Goats.
“Your bird is to the left of the doors. Crews are moving the crates of goats into it right now. Have fun!”
Lifting her hand, Rachel said, “Right.”
Pushing out the doors of Ops, she saw the CH-47 she would be flying. Sure enough, just as the Ops sergeant had promised, there was maximum activity around the opened ramp of the CH-47 that had just flown in. They had specialized equipment to lift pallets out of the helos. Only this time, as she drew near, they were lifting pallets that contained groups of goats in crates.
Rachel watched the transfer as it went smoothly from one Chinook to the other. Goats. Who knew? The two crewmen for her helo were busy as she walked up the ramp and made her way to the cockpit. Up ahead, Hamilton was in the left-hand seat, clipboard on his thigh, writing. Her smile disappeared.
“Goats?” she asked, stepping up into the cockpit.
Ty looked up and removed his legs from the aisle so she could sit in the left-hand seat. “Morning,” he murmured. Giving her a quick look, he noted there was no anxiety or anger in her eyes. She was breathtaking. “Yes,” he said as she sat down and got comfortable in the seat, “this is a special mission we’ve been handed.”
“I’ll bet,” Rachel said wryly. “The Ops sergeant told me we were hauling goats. We must be blessed by the higher-ups at the Pentagon.”
“Oh,” Ty said, finishing off his paperwork, “not just any goats. Angora goats. And this assignment did come down from the Pentagon.”
Unable to stop grinning, Rachel took her helmet out of the bag. “Angora goats? As in mohair sweaters?”
Chuckling, Hamilton warmed inwardly. It was the first time he’d seen Rachel smile. And his heart took off at a strong beat. He watched hungrily as she threaded her fingers through her shining, straight brown hair and gathered it up and tied it back with a rubber band. “Yes. The U.S. Army is working with Captain Kahlid Shaheen on this project.”
“Oh?” Rachel turned, interested. “Are Emma and Kahlid going to be up at that village?”
“Actually, yes,” he said. “We’ll be meeting them at Samarigam.”
Her whole day was turning out to be better than expected. “That’s great.”
“She’s your cousin, right?”
“Yes.” Rachel saw some anxiety in Hamilton’s blue eyes. She felt as if he were trying to make up for causing her explosion yesterday in the report room. She wouldn’t apologize for her sharp words. Still, a bit of guilt ate at Rachel because it was sorely obvious that Hamilton was doing his best to be friendly, attentive and engaged. And then she remembered that torrid dream last night and gulped hard.
“I talked to the captain who flew the goats in from Kabul. Apparently, the far
m program of Shaheen’s organization has gotten the go ahead from the Pentagon and they’re bringing in Angora goats to certain villages. And then they get the women who have been widowed to create a cooperative where they shear the goats and make sweaters from the mohair. It not only improves the village on a financial line, but widows aren’t starving and dying, either.”
“Emma had told me that Kahlid was working to get that project off the ground. It’s a great one.” Rachel was all too familiar with what happened to an Afghan wife who lost her husband to the ongoing war. Poverty was so severe in Afghanistan that when the husband died, the widow was then shunned. They were supposed to be taken in by the husband’s family, but that rarely happened. Each family was barely subsisting off the land or the goat and sheep herds they had. The widows then had to go house-to-house every day, begging for scraps of food to keep them and their children alive.
“Well,” Ty said, gloating, “we’re the first official shipment of Angora goats. Just call us the Angora Express.”
Pulling on her helmet, she grinned. “Somehow, Angora goats won’t impress anyone who reads my personnel jacket.”
Ty chuckled and pulled on his own helmet. “I hear you.” The bleating of the goats rose as more of the crates were brought in. The crew members knew how to get as many in as they could. Once the last crate arrived, he saw his load master work with the other crewmen and pull a huge, thick nylon net around all of them. That way, the crates would be strapped to the deck, and if they hit turbulence or had to take evasive action, the crates wouldn’t be flying around inside the helo.
Rachel’s mood lightened considerably. She would see Emma and Kahlid, an unexpected and pleasant surprise. It made the two hours they’d be flying less arduous. As she twisted around in her seat and looked at the thickly woolen Angora goats, she had to smile. In one crate stood three big rams with long, twisted horns. The rest of the crates contained ewes, who had much smaller horns. They weren’t terribly big in Rachel’s opinion. But what did she know about goats?
His Duty to Protect Page 7
