“I’d probably drink,” Jenny said wryly. “I admire what you pilots do. It’s dangerous work.”
“Thanks. It’s nice to get a compliment from the outside. Not many know about us, or what we do,” the woman agreed good-naturedly. She looked around the spare office. “But it’s home and we love it here. We’re good at what we do and we know it.” She flashed a huge smile. “I like being in trench warfare. It’s where the action is, and I was born for action.”
Smiling, Jenny typed in the pilot’s name into her laptop. She liked Akiva Redtail immensely. There was such warmth and joviality in her shining golden eyes, which missed nothing. Opening her personnel file, Jenny studied it for a moment and then looked up at her.
“I’m going to hang myself out on a limb here and tell you I’m completely ignorant of Native American people. Could you help me understand where you’ve come from? Your background? That way, I’ll have a better idea of how you might fit into this upcoming mission with Perseus.”
“Absolutely. What do you want to know? I’m an open book,” Akiva said, and she laughed heartily.
“I hope you don’t think I’m insulting you,” Jenny said, “but you have a beautiful name. May I call you Akiva? And can you tell me about the name? How you got it? As well as your background.”
Raising her thick, arched brows, Akiva nodded. “Sure, no problem. I’m half Charicauha Apache and half Santee Lakota. On my mother’s side, the Apache side, my great-great-grandmother rode with Geronimo. She was one of his women warriors.”
“A woman warrior?” Jenny gasped. “Really? I didn’t know Apaches allowed women to fight.”
Chuckling indulgently, Akiva gave her a wry look. “My dear, Apaches are a matriarchal society. If a woman has what it takes to be a warrior, then she becomes one. Warrior blood runs in my veins. And my great-great-grandmother rode for years with Geronimo, until they were suckered into a trap by the U.S. Army and she was shot in the back, paralyzed, and eventually died, months afterward. She was his greatest warrior and he relied heavily on her. After that attack, Geronimo fled back to Mexico.”
Akiva pointed to the ax and the knife in her belt. “See these weapons? They belonged to my great-great-grandmother. She used them, too. And they’ve been passed down through our family. My mother gave them to me when I entered the U.S. Army. Just before I joined, I became an Apache warrior. It involves a long, tough endurance test.” She pointed to the braid on her head. “See this? This is what is known as the third braid of the warrior. Only an Apache man or woman can wear it, after they’ve passed many, many grueling, life-and-death tests to earn it. I earned my third braid at age seventeen.”
“Wow!” Jenny whispered, caught up in Akiva’s story. “What a wonderful family background. Women warriors…and look at you now.”
“Yeah, instead of a horse, I ride a Boeing Apache Longbow around instead. Extreme, dude, isn’t it?” She chuckled. “But I love it. I just have a horse of a different color, is all. I’m still doing what I do best, which is to fight for right and light.”
“And your name? Does it mean something?”
“Native American names always mean something, Ms. Wright. Akiva is from my Apache side. When we do ceremony, we create a kiva, or a place where the sacred ceremony can be held. My grandmother and mother were both medicine women. They had jaguar medicine. You know, back in their day, jaguars roamed the Southwest freely. Each of my relations confronted and traded spirits with their jaguars.” Akiva smiled lethally. “And I got ’em now, myself. Can you feel them around me?”
Jenny sat back, amazed. “Jaguar medicine?”
“Sure. My grandmother gave me her jaguar spirit guide when she died. My mother recently passed over and gave me hers. Now I have two, and believe me, I use ’em all the time in my business. Their eyes and ears alert me to Russian Kamov helicopters that are out there lurkin’ around and wanting to shoot us out of the sky. They warn me. Sorta like a strong gut intuition, you know?”
Fascinated, Jenny absorbed Akiva’s intensity and fell captive to her narrowed golden eyes. She could easily fantasize that Akiva was more jaguar than woman, and Jenny almost swore for a fleeting moment that she saw the face of a jaguar superimposed over Akiva’s own features. Blinking, Jenny laughed awkwardly and chided herself for her overactive imagination. “There’s no doubt, I sure feel power around you. Now I know why.”
Nodding as if pleased with herself, Akiva said, “Extreme. That’s me. If you’re looking for someone to carry out an impossible mission, then you’ve got to think of me first.”
“No doubt,” Jenny said. “If Akiva comes from your Apache side of the family, is your last name, Redtail, from your Lakota side?”
She crossed her legs and leaned forward. “Yes, it is. My father’s family are Santee Lakota and live in Nebraska. Redtail is his family name. They took the name when the U.S. Army made them come up with a first and last name. The red-tailed hawk is our family totem.” She grinned and pointed to her eyes. “I have hawk eyes, too. I can see things a lot of other pilots can’t. I don’t miss anything.”
“And so you have hawk medicine, as well.” Jenny guessed.
“You got it.” Akiva smiled hugely. “I think Major Stevenson ought to keep you around, Ms. Wright. You got the right stuff. You’re fast on your feet and you fit right in with us rebels with a cause.”
Jenny felt heat flood her face at the pilot’s sincere praise. The look in Akiva’s eyes reminded her of a hawk measuring its competitors. It was clear the pilot desperately wanted this mission. And at the same time, Akiva had the good grace to admire Jenny herself, for what she brought to the interview. Feeling a flood of confidence flowing into her at Akiva’s words, she glanced to her right to look at Matt, to see his expression. He was gauging Akiva as he had all the others—with his poker face intact.
Jenny looked back at the pilot. “Tell me why you’d want this mission, Akiva?”
Getting up, she smoothed out her uniform. “I’m good at what I do. I understand there’re three positions open. I want to be considered only for the undercover assignment. I don’t care about the one on the border, and training those guys how to fly at night and pick up drug planes comin’ to the U.S.” She waved her hand and shook her head. “I want the undercover assignment. I speak five languages besides English. Spanish comes easy to me.” She pointed to her skin and grinned. “I look Mexican, don’t you think? I pass for a South American all the time. I understand that mission will be based in Mexico, although I know little else about it. I feel that, with my keen intuition and my ability to think on my feet, I could successfully fulfill that mission’s requirements.”
“And going undercover doesn’t scare you?”
Shrugging dramatically, Akiva said, “I’m scared all the time, Ms. Wright. I live scared. The difference between me and most people is that I can think through my fear and know what to do to get the job done. That is what separates me from most others.”
Admiring her strength, her beauty and confidence, Jenny said, “You make good points, Akiva.”
“I always do.”
Jenny smiled. How she wished she could have just a cup of Akiva’s confidence, which radiated from her like rays of sunlight! Not only was Akiva empowered as a woman who fully embraced who and what she was, she thrived on her power, as well. Jenny couldn’t fault her for having a healthy ego. Under the circumstances, with the danger these women faced daily, one needed a strong ego and a boatload of confidence, to boot. Akiva was honest about herself and her skills, but she could also reach out and praise others.
“Do you prefer to work alone or with a partner?”
Akiva moved around the room, her hands on her hips as she hung her head in thought. Walking slowly in a circle, she came to a halt in front of the desk and looked at Jenny.
“It would depend upon the circumstance. As a woman, I’m naturally inclined toward teamwork. But there’s a side of me that is perfectly happy running the gauntlet alone, too. Maybe it’s my Apa
che blood.” And she flashed her a white, even smile of pride. “I’m easy either way, Ms. Wright.”
“What if the mission required you to work on your own? You wouldn’t have a partner. No backup. No help if things turned bad.”
Akiva lifted her strong chin and looked around. “Sounds like my life around here.” She chuckled derisively, then became serious. “We’re always on the slats because we can’t ID the Russian Kamov attack helicopter radar signature on our equipment. If things turn bad out there, then it’s them against us. There’s no U.S. Cavalry arriving. Just Perseus and Morgan Trayhern.” She smiled thinly. “Isn’t this a hoot? Two generations later, I’m a part of the very U.S. Army that chased down and killed my great-great grandmother. How’s that for karma?”
“It is,” Jenny agreed, quickly typing in her answer. “So, it wouldn’t bother you to live alone, on alert every day in a remote site in the jungle, with no help at all?”
“No.” Akiva’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I have my own backup from another world, Ms. Wright. I know you Anglos in North America don’t believe in spirit guides, but we Indians do. And they are just as real as you and I. You don’t have to believe that. But I do. I’ve had it proved to me time and again that my spirit guides not only help me, but guide me, and have more than once saved my butt from a sling.” She punched the air with her finger. “I have my spirit jaguars—two extra sets of eyes, ears, noses—to keep me alive and fighting.”
The energy swirled and shifted dramatically around the room. Jenny felt it. So, obviously, did Matt. He moved uncomfortably, but said nothing. Akiva stood there, hands on her hips, defiant, self-assured, that unseen power palpable. Jenny felt as if a lightning bolt had struck the desk between them. She felt addled and confused in the wake of it.
“I believe you,” she told Akiva, faithfully typing in her answer.
Just then, the alarm bell rang. Jenny jerked her head up at the sound. She saw Akiva’s face go hard and her eyes narrow to predatory slits. In one smooth, unbroken motion, she whirled around, her black hair a swirling cape around her shoulders as she sped out the door and down the hall.
“Whew!” Jenny said as she stood up. “She is something else, Matt!”
Rising, he moved to the door and watched the flurry of action as the bell continued to ring throughout the complex. Once a drug plane or helicopter had been spotted by the base radar operator, the bell was rung and the two Apaches and supporting Blackhawk lifted off in pursuit soon after. Such a response entailed a lot of fast action on the part of the ground team, as well as the pilots.
Turning, Matt saw that Jenny’s eyes were huge with excitement. He smiled a little and leaned against the door. “You almost look like you want to run out there with Akiva and jump in that Apache and take off with her.”
“Don’t I wish!” Jenny touched her cheek, her voice filled with awe. “I wish…oh, how I wish I possessed that kind of raw courage and confidence. She is just so incredibly strong and self-assured about herself and what she can do.”
“Don’t be so quick to condemn yourself,” Matt warned her darkly as he pushed away from the door and ambled toward the desk. “Not everyone needs to be a warrior on the front lines like these women are. The support group behind them is equally important. Without them, those helos wouldn’t be serviced, fueled up—they wouldn’t go anywhere. And the office people are handling the traffic, the phone calls, the in-house operation that coordinates everything from bombs to bullets that those big rigs are outfitted with.”
Nodding, Jenny said, “You’re right.” She realized he was referring to behind-the-scene people like her—who helped Morgan keep Perseus running effectively. The look in Matt’s eyes was one of admiration for what she and others like her did, and it made her heart soar. Shutting off the laptop, Jenny sat back down. “We haven’t even had a chance to talk about last night.”
He grinned and sat on the edge of the desk. “Oh? You mean your falling asleep and not taking a shower before you hit the hay?”
Wrinkling her nose, she said, “Yes.”
“I didn’t notice any odor, if that’s what you’re gnashing your worrywart teeth over.”
She laughed at his gentle teasing. “You’re reading my mind!”
“Well, when every expression flits across that beautiful face of yours, it’s kinda hard not to know what you’re thinking or feeling.”
A delicious warmth infused her heart, and Jenny felt euphoric as he gave her that special look. She could drown, literally, in Matt’s gray eyes.
“Beautiful? Me? Hardly. Now, if you want beautiful, look at Akiva. She’s gorgeous! She’s so primal and wild-looking, a very earthy, sensual woman.”
“That’s one kind of beauty,” Matt agreed, crossing his arms and watching Jenny fiddle with her paper and pencils. He saw the look in her blue eyes and recognized how much she really wanted to believe he thought she was truly beautiful. She was beautiful. All he had to do was convince her of it. “Your beauty, on the other hand, is not so dramatic, but it’s just as moving to a man, believe me.”
“Oh?” Jenny met and held his smoldering look. Her skin prickled deliciously as his gaze slid to her mouth, lingered there and then moved down across the rest of her body. She had never felt this way about a man before—as if his gaze was a physical touch grazing her heightened, sensitive flesh. It was a wonderful feeling. One that made her ache to kiss him, to slide her hands in a ranging, exploratory motion across his powerful, darkly haired chest. Gulping unsteadily at her wild thoughts, she felt it must be Akiva’s primal presence that was making her feel like a wild woman!
“Your beauty is quiet, warm sunlight to a man’s starving, cold soul,” Matt told her quietly. “Your warmth, your spontaneity and generosity of heart would melt the hardest of hearts, darlin’.” He wanted to add, And you’ve melted my heart to the point to where all I can do is think about touching you, kissing those petal-soft lips of yours, making you mine in every possible way…. want to feel you breathe. I want to breathe with you and flow into your welcoming body and feel your arms wrap around me and heal my wounds. Heal me…. But he didn’t. He said nothing as he absorbed her gentle blue gaze, which glinted with gold in the aftermath of his warm praise of her.
Matt wondered how he was going to maintain his distance from her in bed each night. Because of the pilots’ schedules, and their sporadic and unexpected flight missions due to drug trafficking, the interviews were going to take much longer than first anticipated. That meant more nights with her. How in the hell was he going to keep his hands off her?
Chapter Seven
“I can’t sleep,” Jenny sighed as she twisted to look to her right. Matt lay with his hands behind his head. In the dull light that filtered in through the window and the glow of the night-light, she could see his rugged profile and the set of his mouth. It was nearly midnight, according to the luminous dials on her watch.
“Me neither,” he rumbled.
“I keep running those interviews over in my mind. Darn, the pilots we’ve interviewed so far are all up to handling the missions that Mike Houston designed for Perseus.”
“Especially Akiva. She’s good merc material. I know Morgan would love to steal her away from here and offer her a job at Perseus.”
“Ohh,” Jenny whispered in an admiring tone, “she is so unique! You’re right—Morgan would fall all over himself trying to get her to join us. I love her rock solid confidence. It’s so nice to see that in a woman. I mean, all the women pilots have it, but she’s really got it.”
One corner of Matt’s mouth lifted. “You have it, too, you know.”
She turned onto her side and allowed herself the complete luxury of staring at him in the gray light of their room. Jenny had come to look forward to these nights shared with Matt. She was sleeping well now. Maybe it was the night-light…or maybe it was Matt, who gave her such a sense of safety.
Jenny saw him slant her an amused look. “I feel more confident since coming here,” she admitt
ed. “I think it’s because of you, as well as how the women pilots treat me. They respect me.”
Moving onto his side, Matt propped himself up on one elbow. It took everything not to reach out and graze Jenny’s ruffled hair or slide his aching fingertips across the smooth slope of her cheek. As his gaze dropped to her parted lips, he groaned inwardly. What would she feel like beneath his mouth? How would she taste? Tearing his mind from below his waist, he murmured, “What you don’t realize is a lot of people respect you. You’re just the last to see it.” He saw her give him a funny, sad smile.
“Maybe…” With her fingertip, Jenny drew an invisible pattern on the sheet, between them. Her heart was starting to pound again, and she knew why. She wanted to reach out and touch Matt’s hard, dark jaw. Even though he shaved each morning, by this time of night his beard darkened his face once more, giving him a very dangerous, dark look that thrilled her.
“What about you, Matt? You always want to know about me. You never speak about yourself…your past…or what brought you to this point in your life.”
“Uh-oh,” he teased, “here comes twenty questions.”
Giggling, Jenny held his warm gaze and felt a luscious sheet of heat flow downward, to pool languorously in her lower body, where a throbbing ache was centered. “I know you’re a merc, and I know you value secrets. But couldn’t you share just a little bit about yourself with me? After all, I was an open book to you. I trusted you enough to tell you about my embarrassing life, thus far.”
To hell with it. He reached out and cupped Jenny’s chin and held her widening blue gaze. “Listen to me, darlin’. You have nothing to be ashamed of about your past or your childhood. You had it rough. And you’ve survived. I’m really proud of you, Jenny. You’ve come a long way. You were handed nothing but rags and yet you made a rainbow quilt with them.”
His fingers were gentle as they curved against her cheek and jaw. Closing her eyes, she trembled as she absorbed his tentative touch. When he withdrew his fingers, she slowly opened her eyes. A feeling of dizziness, of craving him, of wanting more than she deserved, gnawed through her heart and body.
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