by Linda Style
A proposal no girl could refuse!
Marriage? This must be a joke! Natalia Sokoloff has nerves of steel, but when David “Mac” MacAllister proposes marriage, she breaks into a cold sweat. A wife is Mac’s best chance at adopting the son he fathered while on active duty in Iraq. And Natalia is his buddy. Besides, she owes him for saving her life during combat.
So how can she refuse? Especially if this is temporary—they’d only need to play house until the adoption is final. Except even that’s far too long and too intimate for Natalia. Because there are some things a girl doesn’t want even her best friend to know!
Mac got down on one knee. “Will you marry me, Natalia?”
Natalia’s hand flew to her chest as if she was having a coronary. “What the—”
“Just smile and say yes. Nick’s watching.”
Slowly she registered what he’d said, and did as instructed.
“Good girl,” he said as he got up and hugged her again, lingering this time. For Nick’s sake. Still hugging her, he whispered in her ear, “If you hug me back, everyone will believe we’re for real.”
“How fortuitous.” She did as he asked, albeit distantly.
Neither of them was going to win any acting awards, but he looked at her as affectionately as he could. “Now kiss me.”
Seeing she wasn’t about to do it, he said through his smile, “People kiss when they get engaged. You can wash your mouth out later.” Then he kissed her.
The way someone who’d just heard a “yes” from his fiancée might kiss.
Dear Reader,
Welcome to Spirit Creek, Arizona. I’m delighted to revisit the small fictional town in the red rock mountains of central Arizona and the lives of three women who are the best of friends. Two told their stories in my last books, The Mistake She Made and The Promise He Made. But one story has not yet been told.
A Soldier’s Secret is Natalia Sokoloff’s story, and it comes last because it was the most emotionally difficult for me to write. Natalia, an Iraq veteran with two tours as a search-and-rescue helicopter pilot under her belt, is one of many who come home from Iraq with scars no one can see.
David MacAllister saved Natalia’s life in Iraq and now works with her as a medic on the Mountain Air Search and Rescue team where she’s the pilot. Working together, it was only natural for the two to become best friends. When David (Mac) has a problem and needs Natalia’s help, she’s hard-pressed to refuse. But she has a secret that, if revealed, will put everything at risk.
You would think taking a risk would be easy for someone who’s risked her life for her country. Not so for Natalia.
At its heart, this is a true love story, but it’s also about some very real problems facing many of our veterans every day. I’ve enjoyed spending time with all the people in Spirit Creek again, but I’ve especially enjoyed Natalia and Mac, my two brave veteran heroes. I hope you do, too, and let’s never forget those who protect and keep our country safe.
I love hearing from readers. Please contact me through my website at www.LindaStyle.com.
All the best,
Linda Style
Linda Style
A Soldier’s Secret
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Linda Style grew up in Minnesota, where she spent many long, cold winters making up stories in her head. She attended the University of Minnesota, studying behavioral science, married and had four sons. But the dream of writing persisted, and after moving to Arizona, she earned a degree in journalism from the Walter Cronkite School of Jouralism at Arizona State University. She’s worked in a number of jobs from social services to magazine editor, and currently teaches novel writing at Bootcamp for Novelists Online. Since her first sale to Harlequin in 1999, her novels have won several contests and awards, including the prestigious Daphne du Maurier Award. When not writing or teaching, Linda indulges her passions for travel, photography, hiking in the Arizona mountains and enjoying her family. Visit Linda’s website and read an excerpt at www.LindaStyle.com.
Books by Linda Style
HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE
923—HER SISTER’S SECRET
977—DADDY IN THE HOUSE
1062—SLOW DANCE WITH A COWBOY
1084—THE MAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
1155—WHAT MADELINE WANTS
1243—THE WITNESS
1281—HIS CASE, HER CHILD*
1323—AND JUSTICE FOR ALL*
1361—HUSBAND AND WIFE REUNION*
1443—THE MAN FROM TEXAS
1458—GOING FOR BROKE
1557—THE MISTAKE SHE MADE
1581—THE PROMISE HE MADE
*Cold Cases: L.A.
Other titles by this author available in ebook.
To my own real-life heroes: Timothy, Theresa, Todd, Courtney, Connor, Barry, Jason, Kelly, Kylie, Luke, Jack and Kayce and Charles S. Jones, U.S. Air Force veteran—welcome to my world
And to the men and women of our military forces, past and present, for the many sacrifices they and their families have made to protect us. You are all my heroes.
Acknowledgments
My deep appreciation to the Sedona, Arizona, Chamber of Commerce, the Central Arizona Mountain Rescue Association (CAMRA), the Maricopa County Search and Rescue Group (MCSARG), and all the wonderful volunteers who answered so many questions.
Thanks also to Charles S. Jones, veteran, U.S. Air Force, who happily answered my many military and flight command questions.
Since this is a work of fiction, I’ve taken liberties where necessary. Any errors are mine.
Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
PROLOGUE
Iraq, 2003
THREE BOMB BLASTS IN succession rocked the helo—to the right, the left, then the right again.
The stutter of whirring steel muffled the sound of the bombs, but not the reality. Adrenaline pumped through Captain Natalia Sokoloff’s veins. Her nerves burned like fire under her skin as she tightened her grip on the stick to bring down the Medevac HH-60H in the middle of the smoldering destruction.
“Where are they?” Her copilot’s eyes glistened as he stared at what was left of the village.
They scrambled out the door and hunched down next to the helo. Eyes darting, Natalia nodded toward the remains of a building thirty yards across the street, the place where the two injured soldiers had holed up, and where her EMT crew had disappeared, going in after them.
Nothing moved—nothing except the shimmer of heat rising from the street, like harem dancers waving silvery, translucent veils.
The setting sun cast a fluorescent orange hue over the jagged rubble. Chunks of concrete littered the street, buildings smoldered and a charred truck stood on end in the middle of the road—structures, shapes and forms that vaguely resembled what they had been. The scene was surreal, as if they’d stepped into a Picasso abstract.
“They should be out by now,” her copilot said from close behind her. The tremor in his voice gave away his fear.
The soldiers had been missing for several days when they’d finally made contact with their platoon commander and given their location. Natalia and her team were to arrive after the ground support recon guys had gone in to assist. In and out, that was her mission. She’d followed orders explicit
ly, dropped her crew and come back. But now, surveying the scene, she saw no one.
Steadying her hand, she reached for her weapon.
“What’re you doin’?”
“What does it look like?”
“You can’t. That’s not our jo—”
“Shut up, Boze. If you were in there, would you want me to sit out here and do nothing?”
Teddy Bozeman, a farm kid who’d never been away from home before he’d enlisted, was wound so tight she wasn’t sure what he might do—or not do. But there was no time to talk him down.
The building wasn’t more than half a football field away. The charred truck would make good cover. She squinted, scanned for movement. Nothing. She readied her rifle. “Cover me, Lieutenant.”
He grumbled, but raised his weapon.
As she tipped her head to signal Boze, a flash of movement stopped her cold. A baby crawled out from around the back of the truck. Behind the toddler, in the shadows of a doorway, was an insurgent, gun at the ready.
“Stop!” Natalia screamed, drawing his attention. As he glanced up, she pumped a rapid-fire burst of gunshots into him, then ran out, snatched the kid and kept running.
Reaching the building, she ducked behind a crumbling half wall, baby dangling under one arm, rifle in the other. Blood pounded in her ears. Her heart battered her ribs and her chest heaved. She did a quick one-eighty. Empty—as far as she could see. But she couldn’t do a building check with a kid in tow.
She gulped air. She’d shot a man. But she’d had no choice. The terrorists killed at will, anything and anyone in their way. Children included. No one was safe.
She had to get the child back to the chopper. Natalia hauled in a breath, dropped to one knee and peered around the wall’s edge. She’d hit the guy—but was he down for good?
Dressed in black, the enemy leaned against the truck’s mangled tailgate, blood gushing from his neck like a geyser. He raised his head, turned to look directly at her.
Natalia gasped. A boy. Oh, God! He was just a boy. Ten or eleven years old. He lifted a limp hand, his dark eyes pleading for help. Bombs exploded like rolling thunder in the background. Gunshots cracked and popped like distant fireworks. The child screamed and flailed his arms, his face wet and dirty with snot and tears, and suddenly the bombs seemed to be exploding inside Natalia’s head.
She and the boy stared at each other for a long, stretched out moment, one frozen in time, until he dropped to his knees, wavered for a second, then fell face first into the dirt.
She jerked back. “Oh, God! Oh, God.”
Another bomb blast cracked the air. The baby sobbed uncontrollably, his tired, limp body slipping down her leg. She tightened her grip and hoisted the child high on her hip. Resting her cheek against his, she rocked from side to side. “Shh. Shh. It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”
“On your ten!” Boze’s voice. “Get down!”
She glanced to her left, saw the black pineapple hurtling toward her.
Coiling both arms around the child, she dived for cover…and the world exploded around her.
VOICES… SOMEWHERE, SOMEONE talking. There was something in her eyes. Fog. She couldn’t see through the fog…and she couldn’t move.
“Natalia.”
A man’s voice. Soft, deep.
“Natalia.”
She wanted to see him. Couldn’t. Eyes…stuck. Was she dreaming? Dead? Stabbing pain like a knife in her brain. Not dead. Can’t be. She wouldn’t feel as if her head was going to burst.
More voices, distant and hushed, then louder. Rustling noises. Moaning.
“Natalia, I know you can hear me. C’mon. You have to wake up.”
Wake up? Yes. A dream. But her legs wouldn’t move. Her arms wouldn’t, either. All black. Everything black. Why couldn’t she see?
Something cold. Wet on her forehead. Then warm flesh against her cheek. A hand. A man’s hand. Gentle.
“She’s coming around.”
A woman’s voice.
“I’ll get Dr. Carter.”
Hurts. Bad. Searing white light burned in her head. The baby…the gun…the boy. All dark. Night. She was cold and shivering, then burning up. Stop! Stop! She jerked her head.
“That’s it. Keep trying, Natalia. I know you can do it.”
Blood everywhere. A boy. So many boys…and babies crying. Swirling fire everywhere, sucking her down into a bloody vortex. Burning. Drowning. So much blood. Drowning in blood. A scream ripped through the air, wrenching her from darkness to light—and the deep blue eyes of a stranger.
“Whew. I was getting worried, Natalia. You had me wondering, that’s all I can say.”
A nice face. Handsome. He looked like someone she knew, but she couldn’t seem to put any thoughts together. Where am I? She blinked, only vaguely aware that the words hadn’t actually left her lips.
The man leaned down, close enough that she could see a scar high on his left cheek. “You’re at the field hospital near Fallujah,” he said softly.
“The baby?” This time the words did come out, in a hoarse whisper. “Where’s the baby?”
He raised a hand and rubbed first one eye and then the other, as if he might be very tired, and for one odd moment she found herself focusing on the fact that his eyebrows were dark—a different color than his sandy-brown hair. When he finished rubbing and looked at her again, he frowned. Then a soft, slow smile parted his lips. “You don’t need to worry about anything but yourself right now.”
He took her hand in his. “You’re going home, Captain Sokoloff. You’re going home.”
CHAPTER ONE
Arizona, nine years later
“THERE AT THE BOTTOM of the canyon, to the left.”
From her pilot’s seat in the search and rescue helo, Natalia glanced toward the deep part of the canyon where Mac pointed, but she couldn’t see anyone.
Her tactical flight officer and rescue paramedic, David MacAllister, lowered his binoculars and held up four fingers. “Two adults and two children,” he said into the mic attached to his helmet.
“Geez. What were they thinking?”
“I doubt they expected an avalanche.” Mac glanced at her, then took a swig of coffee from his thermal cup.
“I meant what were they thinking bringing little kids to a place like this? Parents should know better.”
“Is that the voice of experience talking?”
“It doesn’t take experience as much as common sense.”
“Like yours.”
Natalia grinned. “Exactly.” Mac knew her well. After five years working SAR together, two in Iraq and three with Mountain Air, they weren’t just a team, they were best friends, like brother and sister. She doubted she could work so closely with anyone else.
Mac had his flaws, but he was caring and honest to a fault. If he said he was going to do something, he did it. His word was his bond and that meant everything to her. His best asset as a friend was that he knew when she needed space, and gave it to her.
“Yeah. Taking kids into a place you know is dangerous isn’t just stupid, it could be considered child abuse,” Mac said through thinned lips.
She did a double take. She’d never heard him voice his opinion so emphatically. And even stranger than that, he’d actually agreed with her. “Calling it child abuse might be a little much.”
The area could be dangerous, though, and many hikers failed to do their research beforehand. Flash floods were common in the canyons during the monsoons, and though the rain had stopped now, foreboding gray sky and thunderheads the color of gunpowder threatened to unleash more. No one was out of danger, hikers or rescuers.
Invariably, apprehension chipped away at the certainty she needed to feel to complete a successful rescue. Natalia said a quick prayer that they’d reach the victims in time. She knew better than anyone that anything could happen—at any time. The weather was as unpredictable as people.
It wasn’t that long ago that a Phoenix news chopper had gone down, killing
all inside. No matter how safe the aircraft, or how easy the job seemed, there was always risk involved. One little mistake, one blip of the weather, or even a bird sucked into the chopper blades, could mean disaster.
Earlier this morning, the search and rescue ground team had come in to rappel down the canyon, but with sheer cliffs and boulders in the way, they hadn’t been able to reach the family. Now it was up to Natalia and her crew to airlift them out.
Normally, she carried a three-man crew: tactical flight officer, rescue paramedic and herself, the pilot. Today, because it was only a pickup, it was just her and Mac.
“Over there.” He gestured again. She spotted the ground guys, and then, making a pass directly over the narrow box canyon, saw the family, trapped by an avalanche of rocks and boulders.
Natalia had flown these canyons hundreds of times, but every rescue was different. As usual, she made a couple of orbits to get a visual on the best place to go in.
“I need to get married,” Mac said during the next flyover.
She jerked her head sideways. “Excuse me?”
“I’m serious. I need a wife.”
“For what? Did you run out of women to sleep with in the greater Sedona area?” As Natalia came around again, focusing on the ground crew, Mac opened his door to watch for the signal.
“I don’t sleep around.”
“Yeah, and I’m Captain Kirk. Now pay attention. We have people in need here.”
For years Mac had spouted off about wanting to be free of responsibility because he’d had to step up and be the man of the house for his mom and four sisters after his dad died.
He had to be joking about the wife.
“There…” Natalia nodded to her right. “I can hover to lower the hoist. Ground said no injuries, so all we need to do is get them up. Their crew will take it from there.”
“Great. We’ll be in and out, and then maybe you’ll find a few minutes to talk to me.”
“We’re trying to save lives here, MacAllister. Get with the program.”
