Degree of Risk

by Lindsay McKenna

  “We never announce when we’re coming,” Hunter growled. He was dressed in SEAL cammies, a SIG Sauer pistol in a drop holster on his right thigh. He was six feet three inches in height and filled the small, cramped office. In his left hand, he carried a file.

  Donaldson eyed him nervously. Ops was busy midafternoon. The helos were winding up outside, some Apache combat helos and some Chinooks. “What do you need?” he snapped, uneasy. The last time this SEAL pushed his weight around, it was because of that bitch, Sarah Benson. He’d never wanted her in his squadron because she was a risk taker, and he had a budget to keep. The Black Hawk she flew inevitably had bullet-hole damage or worse when she returned from a mission. She always cost him money.

  Just because Benson was engaged to a SEAL, the master chief who ran the platoon had made it his business to lean on Donaldson. A month ago, the master chief had come to see him, closed the door and they’d had a little heart-to-heart chat. Donaldson knew Hunter was friends with Army Colonel Koch, his immediate superior. And Hunter told him to order his male pilots to stop harassing Benson. Or else. So, he ordered them to stop. But that didn’t mean Donaldson wasn’t going to get even with her.

  Hunter turned and closed the door and then sat down in front of Donaldson’s desk. “I’m busy, dammit. What the hell do you want?” Donaldson saw the man’s green eyes glitter. Hunter reminded him of a wolf stalking his victim. Him.

  “First,” Hunter murmured, keeping his voice pleasant, “I want to thank you for seeing that the harassment of Chief Warrant Officer Benson stopped.”

  “Then why the hell are you here?”

  “Just a little thing,” Hunter murmured. He handed the papers to Donaldson from the file he carried. “Something doesn’t make sense to me, Major, and I was hoping you could help me understand it.” He pointed to the August flight schedule for the medevac pilots. “Chief Benson is getting more flights and more standby duty than any other pilot.” Hunter looked up and held Donaldson’s startled gaze. “Is there a reason for this?”

  Glaring at Hunter, Donaldson said, “I didn’t notice that.”

  “I did.”

  The silence thickened in the office. Donaldson ground his teeth, staring at the August schedule. Dammit! He’d done the scheduling on purpose. “It’s just a minor mistake,” he muttered defiantly, throwing the papers on his desk, leaning back in his chair, a smug look on his face.

  “Then fix it.”

  The growl in Hunter’s voice left nothing to translate. Donaldson stared at him.

  “You’re not going to tell me how to schedule,” he snarled. Hunter shrugged in response. Damn him!

  “It might be good to revise the last week of that August schedule, Major.” Hunter gestured lazily toward the papers on his desk. “I think Chief Benson deserves two days off. Don’t you? To somewhat balance out the unfairness of her schedule the previous three weeks?”

  Nostrils flaring, breathing unevenly, Donaldson took in the iciness in the master chief’s expression. His voice was neutral, nonthreatening, but by God, he could see the rage burning in his eyes. Donaldson gripped the arms of his chair. “I don’t suppose you have the dates of those two days in mind?”

  Hunter’s mouth crooked. “I think Wednesday and Thursday of next week would be just fine if it works for you?”

  “Done,” Donaldson snapped. “Now get the hell out of my office!”

  Hunter rose slowly, unwinding like a snake, his face hard and unreadable. “Thank you, Major.” He turned, opened the door and left as quietly as he’d come.

  *

  When Sarah didn’t have duty, she always stayed in the small room the SEALs had painted and set up for her. They’d found her a real bed to sleep in, not a cot. Even better, there was air conditioning. At her tent, she, like everyone else, bunked in the heat of the night, making for miserable sleeping conditions. As she sat up and rubbed her eyes, she noticed a white envelope beneath the door. A soft smile came to her face. Ethan had written her a poem! Her heart expanded with fierce love for him. When she’d first met him, there would be a card on the plywood floor, just inside the flaps of her tent.

  Standing, she picked it up. Her heart suffused with love for Ethan’s thoughtfulness. All her life, she’d had nothing but heartbreak when it came to men. Now, with him walking into her life, she was discovering for the first time what it was like to fall in love and be loved in return.

  Sitting on the bed, Sarah opened the envelope. The blue parchment nearly matched the color of her eyes. She opened it up, her heart beating with anticipation. Ethan was teaching her there were many ways to love her. His poems always touched her heart. Her soul.

  Do your attentions transform other fossils, causing them to flower

  And swell from the desert where they were imprisoned far too long

  Under increasingly desperate isolations of deceptive skin

  Covering the swollen bloats of emotions which trapped the murderous melancholy of joy

  In the soul’s bone and rheumatism of a frayed and staid body?

  I assure you that my love is committed and constant

  Love you,

  Ethan

  P.S. Breakfast at chow hall? 0700?

  Smiling sleepily, Sarah sighed, pressing the poem against her heart. How did she ever get so lucky as to meet Ethan? His poetry was so beautiful to her, lifting her out of the stench of combat and hurling her into a world of light, hope and happiness. Sarah stood and pulled open the dresser drawer, setting it with the other envelopes.

  Looking at her watch, Sarah realized she’d be going back on the schedule at 0800. It was now 0600. Good. She had time to get over to the women’s showers, pull on a clean flight suit and, best of all, meet Ethan for breakfast. So often, he was out on patrol, so this was a treat in itself.

  As Sarah left her room, her shower articles in a bag, Trace Fulton, one of the SEAL combat medics, called to her from down the hall. “Hey, Sarah?”

  “Morning, Trace,” she murmured, turning and smiling at him. Trace was one of Ethan’s best friends.

  “Hey, Master Chief Hunter said to tell you, if I saw you before you left for duty, that he wanted five minutes of your time.” Trace hooked his finger over his broad shoulder. “He’s over at the espresso machine.”

  Sarah nodded, turning on her booted foot and heading down to the big room. “Sure, no problem.” Worry automatically inserted itself into her world when it came to Gil Hunter. He was the head honcho of this SEAL platoon, ran it smoothly and quietly, but she was always aware of the mantle of power the man wore. Something had to be wrong.

  As Sarah walked toward him, he was just getting his morning espresso in his large ceramic mug. “Morning, Sarah,” Hunter greeted her.

  “Morning, Master Chief.”

  “Walk with me?” he asked, heading toward his office. Sarah felt small beside Hunter. He was tall and powerfully built. She followed him into his cramped office.

  “Shut the door?” he asked as he sat down behind his desk. Sarah closed it and stood, waiting. “Have a seat,” Hunter invited, gesturing to one of the two chairs in front of his desk. “You look like you think I’m going to bite you.” He grinned a little.

  Sarah smiled sheepishly and sat down, placing her towel, washcloth and soap in her lap. “I guess I’m gun-shy, Master Chief. No insult meant to you.”

  Hunter grunted, leaning back in his black leather chair. “None taken,” he quietly assured her. He picked up the August flight schedule and handed it to her. “I noticed some discrepancies in Major Donaldson’s August schedule for you, Sarah.”

  Sh
e snorted and rolled her eyes. “So did I.”

  “Why didn’t you say something to me after you saw it?” Hunter asked softly.

  “Well…er…you’re not my CO. You’re a SEAL. I’m in a medevac squadron.” Flustered, she could see a glint in Hunter’s green eyes. He was so stoically SEAL: you never knew what they were thinking unless they wanted you to.

  “Mmm, rightly so,” Hunter murmured, moving his index finger across his upper lip. “You’re getting scheduled for flight twenty percent more often than the rest of the pilots each month. Seeing that, wouldn’t you take that discrepancy up with Major Donaldson?”

  Coloring fiercely, Sarah couldn’t hold his warm gaze. Nervously, she picked at a thread on the towel in her lap. “I’m tired of fighting him, if you want the truth, Master Chief.”

  “Look,” he murmured, keeping his voice neutral, “what he’s done isn’t correct. We both know that.”

  Sarah shrugged. “Yes, I know that.” She lifted her chin and held his stare. “I love what I do, Master Chief. Maybe if I didn’t want to save lives so badly, I would have taken it up with him.”

  “You live to save,” Hunter agreed, giving her a kind look. “One of the responsibilities I’m charged with as the master chief is the mental and emotional health of my men, Sarah. You’re engaged to Ethan. And so, by proxy, you become my responsibility, too. You’re a part of our team now, Sarah. And you know we have your back.”

  “I know you do,” she said, suddenly emotional. “Frankly, I think you have enough to do without being concerned about me, too.”

  “Well, I want to be involved, Sarah. You’re a gutsy pilot and you aren’t afraid to put yourself on the line to do it. In SEAL eyes, you rock,” he said, smiling.

  The man couldn’t undo her past, erase the tragic memories of her younger life, but he was showing her that she could stand up for herself when injustices were done to her in the present. That was the job of a master chief, the health and welfare of the men under his wing. His support of her touched her deeply.

  “I brought this infraction to the attention of your CO,” he told her in a casual tone.

  Instantly, Sarah jerked up, her stomach cold with fear.

  “And Major Donaldson agrees that it was simply an overlooked mistake.”

  Sarah sat frozen, adrenaline leaking into her bloodstream. She knew the master chief was a man of action; that he did take care of his own. What had he done? And was Donaldson pissed off at her because of it? “Wh-what did you do?” The words came out a squeak from her, her hands gripping the toiletry items in her lap.

  “Fixed it,” Hunter said simply. “And don’t worry, the major isn’t going to blame you for this. Okay?”

  But the terror she felt was real. Sarah had reason to worry, having been under Donaldson’s command for two years. She knew he didn’t like her and took every opportunity to try to drive her out of his squadron. There were a lot of ways for a CO to do that, too.

  Wiping her brow, Sarah whispered, “Okay, if you say so.”

  “Have some faith in men who respect you, Sarah.”

  Her mouth quirked, feeling the weight of his words. “You’re right, Master Chief. I need to stand up for myself more and stop rolling over.”

  Hunter nodded. “Donaldson is giving you two days off to make up for the August scheduling error. And,” he murmured, a slight smile edging his mouth, “Ethan just happens to be ordered down to Bagram to pick up some pallet supplies for us on those two days.”

  Sarah gulped. Her heart started to flutter with excitement in her chest. Two days with Ethan! She was sure that Emma and Khalid would allow them to stay at their villa. Tears came to her eyes; the master chief’s face was very readable. He had done this for them. She felt suddenly overwhelmed and wiped the tears from her eyes. She knew she shouldn’t be crying, but she was deeply moved by Hunter’s kindness.

  “Th-thank you, Master Chief. This is an incredible gift to us.” Her husky voice turned low with raw feelings. “You have no idea how much this means to us….”

  Gil smiled a little. “I think I do, Sarah. Go get your shower. Ethan is meeting you at the chow hall at 0700. He wants to share this good news with you.” Sarah stood and so did he. As he walked around his desk, she set her shower items on the chair, turned and threw her arms around his broad shoulders, giving him a quick hug. It wasn’t military protocol in the least, but she didn’t care. Hunter patted her shoulder in a fatherly fashion. “You’re welcome,” he told her gruffly, no doubt touched by her vulnerability, the tears in her eyes. “Now, take off?”

  Embarrassed, Sarah nodded. “Yes, Master Chief.”

  Gil Hunter stood in the doorway of his office after she’d left. Rubbing his bearded jaw, he smiled to himself. He could see why Ethan was so damned in love with her. Sarah was like fragile sunlight piercing a man’s heart, gently touching his soul. He was glad Ethan had found her. Sarah was blooming beneath his care and love. And wasn’t that what real love was all about? Two people bringing out the best in one another?

  *

  Ethan could hardly sit still as Sarah found him in the chow hall, carrying her tray and sitting down opposite him. Happiness glimmered in her blue eyes. She smiled at him and he felt his heart open.

  “That was a beautiful poem you wrote for me this morning,” she said, giving him a shy look. “Thank you.”

  The chow hall was packed, the noise high. Luckily, Ethan had found the last table next to the wall and only a few guys were sitting at the other end of it. They could talk quietly and have a real conversation without others overhearing them.

  “I wrote it for a reason,” Ethan admitted, catching her self-conscious gaze. Sarah’s hair was recently washed, the black strands still damp around her flushed features. It would dry in a hurry with the low humidity and high temperature at the FOB.

  Sarah cut into her eggs. “I know,” and she told him about the master chief calling her into his office this morning.

  Ethan grinned. “Two days, Sarah. We have two days together. I damn near fainted when Master Chief told me about it this morning.”

  She spooned the eggs into her mouth, silently absorbing the elation in Ethan’s expression. “I need to call Emma and see if they are open to us coming over.”

  “No need. I talked to Khalid already.” Ethan gave her a big grin. “He told us to come on down. He and Emma will be gone during that time, but he said we can have the run of their villa and to make ourselves at home.”

  “God,” Sarah whispered, “this is like a dream come true, Ethan.” She clung to his heated gaze, his gray eyes going stormy with need. Her body clamored to be held by him, loved by him. “When I get done with this twenty-four-hour duty, we can take off for Bagram at 0800.”

  Rubbing his hands together, he gave her a feral look. “And what do you want to do with that time?” He could hardly stand the anticipation. Sure, he wanted to make love with Sarah, but equally, he hungered for time and space with her. Ethan so badly wanted that downtime; it was a part of exploring, getting to know one another on deeper levels.

  Sarah grinned between bites. “Let’s see? Sex? Sex and more sex?”

  Ethan chuckled. “That’s a start.” Seeing the lust in her eyes was such a turn-on for him. He suspected Sarah was becoming aware that she could look at him a certain way and make him run hot. She was discovering her power as a woman and it made him ache even more for her.

  “I haven’t really given it much thought,” Sarah murmured, buttering her whole wheat toast and then slathering it with blueberry jam.

  Ethan finished up his bacon and reached for his stack of six
pieces of toast. “I wish we were in San Diego,” he murmured. “I’d take you down to walk on the beach. We’d scuba dive off the kelp beds of La Jolla. I’d find us some abalone on the ocean bottom, bring them up and we’d cook them and some corn wrapped in foil on a grate at the beach. Then we’d watch the sunset, listen to the waves and just be in one another’s arms.”

  “That sounds beautiful,” she whispered. “But no ocean here, Quinn. Just desert, mountains and rock.”

  “I’m a dreamer when I’m around you,” Ethan confided, his voice gritty as he held her warm blue gaze. “You inspire me, Sarah. Maybe, in those two days I can show you just how much.” God knew, he wanted desperately to be there for Sarah, to continue to show her a man’s positive side. He wanted to give her happiness for the rest of his life. And he still couldn’t believe that she’d agreed to marry him.

  Her body reacted to his growling, intimate words. “I’m in shock we’ll be together, Ethan.” Sarah shook her head.

  “When you got off that mission, I was upset,” he admitted. He saw her lift her chin, her brows moving down. “Dammit, Sarah, I don’t want you heaving your guts out. It hurts me. It makes me feel like I can’t protect you.”

  She heard the tightness in his voice. SEALs, she had discovered, were protectors in their own right. It was part of their ethos as warriors. They protected those they loved. Fiercely. Without apology. She’d already been on the receiving end of SEAL care via Ethan, his SEAL brothers and Master Chief Hunter. “Look,” she said, resisting the urge to reach out and touch his arm, “you can’t protect me all the time, Ethan.”

  “I can damn well try,” he said, lips thinning, unhappy.

  “I’m just overly sensitive to the smell of blood, that’s all.” Sarah shrugged. “Don’t you have something you’re sensitive about?”

  “Yes, a woman or child being hurt by a man.”

  His eyes went dark, his voice uneven. Sarah knew he was referring to her past when she was young and hadn’t been safeguarded by child protective services or the social workers. “I’ll be okay out there, Ethan.” Sarah knew how much he worried about her medevac missions. “I’ve managed nine years at this and so far, so good.”