by Tracy Brody
When Mack bragged about one of his daughters, she snuck a peek in his direction. His face glowed with pride and love.
When the operator’s attention shifted to the bar, she glanced over her shoulder. Ray stood at the counter. Finally. Time to get his assessment.
“How’re you doing?” Ray asked when she reached his side.
She shrugged. “You tell me. You seemed pretty pissed off in my aircraft.”
“Not much went down the way we planned. Been pissed off most of the day, but not at you.”
Was he just saying that? “If I’d stayed inside, we wouldn’t have left—”
“That’s not on you. You were out there covering our asses. My men are sitting over there because of you. If I hadn’t insisted on our own air support instead of relying on the Colombians, there’s no telling how things would’ve turned out, how many casualties we might’ve racked up if you hadn’t shown courage under fire. It was your Colombian buddy who took off before we could communicate we needed fire support and that he needed to stick around.”
“Thanks.”
“Sorry we had to use the training assignment cover rather than bring you in. Need-to-know basis. If word got out to Herrera, it would’ve blown the op. Brass wouldn’t even use our regular aviation unit.”
“I get that.”
“Anything new with you?”
“I’m planning to transfer to a MEDEVAC position.”
“We have those at Bragg,” he hinted.
“I’ve heard.”
“I can put in a word for you.”
While she had family in North Carolina, Fort Bragg wasn’t her first choice of locations. But with two MEDEVAC units recently selecting other pilots for open slots, her options were limited. She didn’t want to get into that with Ray now. “I should hear something soon.”
The cashier handed Ray a tray with a plate of steaming pork, rice, and beans. He stepped aside. “You ordering or coming back to the table?”
Rejoining her teammates and the operators would only stir up more memories. “No. I’m going to hit the rack.” The mojito had given her a slight buzz, hopefully enough to slow her racing brain and let her sleep. “If you can, tell Stephanie you saw me, and I said hi.”
“You should come up to Bragg. She and Alexis would love to see you.”
“Why don’t you bring them to Savannah and the beach instead?”
“I’ll suggest it to Steph.”
“Good. I hope to see you again soon on a social level—rather than another meetup like today.” She winked at her friend.
A sly smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “No promises.”
Four
“Everything okay?” Mack asked Ray once he took a seat beside him at the table.
“Everything other than the after-action report being a bitch to write. Checked on Hunter, and Vincenti, too. He was in his room, sleeping off whatever they gave him. Got ahold of Colonel Mahinis and gave him the rundown for him to talk to Hunter’s wife.”
Mack let him finish rather than interrupt the Chief’s narrative of what the rest of the team wanted to know. “I was referring to your friend and the way she ambushed you when you walked in.”
“That? She wanted to apologize for nearly leaving you behind.” Ray took a long pull of his beer. “She was concerned I might be pissed. Couldn’t talk earlier with the Colombian pilot around.”
“She friends with Stephanie? Old neighbors, or …?”
“Family Readiness Group. Her husband was one of my squad leaders in Second Battalion back when I was at Lewis,” Ray continued as if aware Mack was digging for information. “We’ve stayed in touch, though the last time we saw her was at her husband’s funeral.”
Mack winced. He’d noticed she wasn’t wearing a wedding band, but he hadn’t expected that to be why. “Was he your commanding officer?”
“No. Staff sergeant on my team. They were married before Kristie went to Warrant Officer Candidate School and through flight training,” Ray explained. “Eric planned to go through Selection for Special Operations. He wanted to do a second deployment first. KIA halfway though, so he never got the chance. Damn shame. He’d have been a good fit. Her, too.”
Not many women had what it took to be the wife of an operator—he’d learned that reality the hard way—but Ray’s endorsement of Kristie said a lot about her. Maybe he’d find someone like that around Fort Bragg. Unfortunately, the single women who hung out at bars frequented by operators weren’t the type he wanted to introduce to his daughters. Dominguez and Vincenti might enjoy picking up women this way, but to Mack, it was only a little more fun than digging a foxhole.
Dominguez wiggled fingers in Mack’s face. “You still with us?”
Pulled back to reality, Mack knocked Dominguez’s hand away. “Thinking about how today could’ve turned out differently on a lot of levels.” No point in wondering about the pilot with distance and rank working against them. Too bad, since she was the first woman since his divorce who pressed all the right buttons.
The banter continued for a while, helping them all decompress. However, after a few long days and nights in the jungle with short stretches of sleep, tonight was not the time to close down the cantina. They’d had a couple of drinks when Ray pushed to his feet, and the rest of the Bad Karma team followed suit.
Outside, gravel crunched under Mack’s feet as the cantina’s music gave way to the call of tree frogs and insects. The bright sliver of the moon lit the way as the men walked the short distance to the housing building.
Mack eyed the building like it was a four-star hotel. A room to himself. A bed. No wild animals on the roam. Hopefully, little or no bugs. No worries about Herrera’s gunmen on the base.
Inside the cinder-block structure, fluorescent lights buzzed. The men’s footsteps echoed in the stairway, half the team peeling off on the second floor. At the third-floor landing, Mack followed AJ Rozanski and Kyle Lin down the dimly lit hall. The media lounge was dark, but light from the television screen flickered as they passed by.
Did he see who he thought on the screen?
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Mack told them, hanging back to investigate. On the television, Captain Benjamin “Hawkeye” Pierce wore an olive-green Army uniform and talked with a Korean woman.
Mack stepped into the room. Curled up and nearly hidden by the high back of the well-worn sectional sofa, Kristie watched M*A*S*H. Sleep could wait. He leaned over to make her aware of his presence. “What are you doing up?”
She glanced up at him. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“So, you decided to watch M*A*S*H?” He came around the corner of the sofa.
“One of the few options in English.” She gave a sheepish shrug.
He could see shooting someone weighed on her. He understood trying to counter those feelings with something positive. “Which episode is this?”
“It just started, but Colonel Potter sent Hawkeye to care for a Korean villager and looks like he’s falling for the daughter.”
“I don’t remember this one. Can I join you?”
“Sure.” Kristie shifted as he took a seat near her on the couch, but her attention remained glued to the television.
It’d be too much to hope she set this up for them to hang out. It wasn’t like she knew what floor he was on. He could make the most of the opportunity, though. “Trapper John or BJ Honeycutt?” he asked when the Spanish-language commercial came on.
She lowered the volume. “What?”
“Your favorite—Trapper or BJ?”
“Hmmm.” She waggled her head and avoided direct eye contact as she debated. “As a girl, I had a crush on Trapper, but as a woman, I like BJ because he didn’t cheat on his wife. Colonel Potter or Colonel Blake?” She hit the ball back into his court.
“I’d have to go with Colonel Potter. He knew when to break the rules but maintained discipline and respect. Frank Burns or Charles Emerson Winchester the Third?”
She chuckled at his att
empt to add a refined Boston accent to the latter. “Neither. Frank Burns was a whiny cheater, and Winchester was a pompous, self-centered ass.”
“Don’t hold back,” Mack teased, though he agreed with her. “Hate some characters, but you love the show?”
“Drama and comedy make for good TV. Don’t get me started on Hot Lips. All Miss Uptight about the rules but is involved with a married man, then does a total turnaround when she gets engaged.”
Everything that came out of this woman’s mouth made her even more attractive. Maybe she wasn’t a hundred-percent-by-the-book type.
“Radar or Klinger as company clerk?” she asked.
“Easy. Radar. He knew things before they happened. I’d want him on my team. He may have had a teddy bear and drank grape Nehi, but he never shirked his duty, whereas Klinger tried to get discharged by wearing a dress.” He liked that she nodded in response to his reasoning.
The commercials ended, but they continued to make comments during the rest of the show. He hadn’t felt this at ease with a woman since, hell, he couldn’t remember. Maybe back in the early days with Rochelle. The last few years had been such hard work trying to make her happy that he’d forgotten it could be like this. Should be like this.
He angled his head to study Kristie discreetly. She was the kind of woman you could put on an Army recruiting poster. Not the fussy, glamorous type, but an alluring face with high cheekbones and lush lips. Long lashes set off captivating blue eyes. Her straight brown hair was tucked behind her ears and hung just past her shoulders.
She’d changed clothes since the cantina. Even in dark-blue sleep pants with a small star print and V-neck tee, she had a figure that would appeal to any man. Her looks were enough to attract attention, but the fact she served and supported a husband who’d been in Special Forces appealed to him even more.
It was tempting to brush his hand over hers. They were two thousand miles from home. No one would know if something happened between them. Better not to risk anything that could be construed as harassment, though.
“Should probably get to bed.” He took a chance when the show ended and waited for her response. It was a struggle to keep his face impassive when she met his gaze. To not lean in.
She sighed. “You’re probably right.” She clicked off the TV and got to her feet. “You guys fly home tomorrow?”
“In the morning. Hunter’ll have to stay a couple more days.” He stood, too, right in her path to the door. She stared into his eyes with—what? Hope? Desire? Damn, he wished he could tell.
She broke eye contact and dipped her head. “Give your girls a big hug when you get home. And stay safe—for them.” She tapped her finger to the drawing on his arm. “Good night.”
She gave him a slight smile, but nothing else. Not the “good night” he’d begun to hope for, but somehow the past hour made up for it.
He couldn’t let her slip away yet. Before she could maneuver around him, he laid a hand on her arm. She was close enough for her citrusy scent to tempt him; he breathed it in. “Thanks again for not leaving me behind.
“Of course. ‘No man left behind,’” she spouted the Ranger motto, her voice cracking on the last word.
This time when she met his eyes, sadness clouded the other emotions, and he did know what she was thinking. About another man.
He lifted his hand from her arm. “Fly safe.”
Too damn bad he wouldn’t see her again.
Five
Kristie padded down the hall to her room. As she unlocked the door, she refused to check which room Mack went into. She didn’t need the temptation.
Inside, she flicked on the light and closed the door behind her. She took a deep breath and looked over the sparsely furnished room.
She was doing better until Mack came and invaded her comfort zone. There’d been no way to politely tell him she wanted to be alone. He had no way of knowing M*A*S*H was one of the shows she and Eric watched together on their video dates when she was in flight school at Fort Rucker, and he was based at Fort Benning. After she graduated and they were stationed in Savannah, they’d watch, side by side on the couch, sharing a snack, holding hands, even making love.
Tonight, she’d hardly thought of Eric with Mack sitting beside her. She’d kept her arms crossed and hands to herself, but when he laughed, it ignited an ache in her chest and a longing for the companionship and love stolen from her. When Mack looked at her like he wanted to kiss her, she nearly made the first move. Right there where any of his team or hers could have walked in. But she couldn’t afford to do something as stupid as getting caught in a lip-lock with a non-commissioned officer.
What was she thinking? She might have gotten a step closer to flying MEDEVAC, and here she was obsessing over a guy who could get her grounded—and not in a good way. Flying was all she had left. She loved flying, and most days, it was enough. Or almost enough.
She pressed her back to the door and rapped her head against it. It didn’t help.
Get a grip, Donovan.
If she hadn’t been able to sleep earlier, the past hour wasn’t going to help. It’d been over a year and a half since Eric died. Nearly two years since they’d touched. Made love.
She couldn’t hold onto him forever. She needed to find a new normal. One that didn’t include a man who could jeopardize her career by merely going on a date. Even if he was engaging and daring and charming, and she was attracted to everything about him.
And so what if he reminded her of Eric? That was good and bad. She’d never get back what she’d shared with her husband, even with a man like him. Mack was in the same dangerous profession. With the same deadly risks. Exactly why she needed to put Mack out of her mind.
With an idea of how to do that, she pushed off the door and went to the dresser. She pulled out the single envelope, wishing she’d brought both death letters Eric left for her. But the 614 letter was back home in Savannah. Still unopened. Still waiting for the 614th day from his death. Eric counted on her being a rule follower, and she wouldn’t disobey his last order.
This letter she could reread, though. And she needed it now. To remember Eric.
Slowly, she unfolded his letter and took a deep breath, then focused on every word as if reading them for the first time.
Hey darling,
You’re not supposed to be reading this letter. We were supposed to drink champagne, burn our damn death letters, make love a few times to celebrate.
That had been a good plan. God, it had been so long … She shook the thought from her head.
You know, trying out some of the fantasies we came up with during our deployments. But if you’re reading this, that isn’t happening, and I’m sorry. So, so sorry. Because more than anything, I want to be there with you—making you smile and laugh and giving you everything you want in life.
Damn, this is hard to write, because I know if you’re reading this, I’m gone, and you’re sad, hurting, and probably even pissed off at me right now. Maybe if I hadn’t been such a freaking awesome husband, this wouldn’t be so hard for you.
A strangled laugh escaped every damn time she read that part. She touched a fingertip to the smiley face Eric had drawn after his statement. She took several breaths before continuing.
Thanks for understanding and supporting me in what I had to do. And for loving me even in the hard times. You made me a better man.
“And you made me a better woman,” she said softly. She sniffed and dabbed at the tears blurring her vision.
I don’t want you to stay mad. Kick some insurgent ass, then I want you to move on. To keep living life. Promise me you won’t give up on your dreams. You deserve to be happy and to have everything you want in life—flying, kids, a guy who gets you. It would kill me all over again if you gave up your dreams because I’m not there. Stay the strong woman I loved.
Your loving and freaking awesome husband,
Eric
She wiped away the tear that ran down her cheek. With painstaking pre
cision, she refolded the letter, placed it back in the envelope, and stashed it in the drawer.
Eric loved her as she was. Never treated her like she was one of the guys. Her desire to fly hadn’t intimidated him. He’d encouraged her to go for her dream. He’d been the right man for her. The One. Though he never believed there was only one right person. How many times had he said any guy would want her as his wife, and he was the lucky one to have landed her?
Tonight, Mack’s same respect for her career merely contributed to the emotional overload of the day. She turned off the light and climbed into bed. Pulling down a pillow, she cradled it to her chest. It was a poor substitute for being in a man’s arms.
Tomorrow, Ray’s team—including Mack—would go back to Fayetteville. Out of sight and out of mind. And now that her unit had completed its real mission, this assignment would wrap up. Soon, she’d be back in Savannah. Back to status quo and routine flying without drug lord’s thugs or insurgents shooting at her—until her next deployment. All would be good and safe in her world.
Six
Fort Bragg, NC
Twenty-four hours after dodging bullets in the jungle, Mack and the team sat in the air-conditioned comfort of the team room going through the debrief with Colonel Mahinis.
“You had no way of knowing Herrera had explosives planted on the roads leading to his compound. Guess he’s taken a page from Al-Qaeda’s playbook.”
“Any updates on Hunter?” Ray asked.
“Upgraded to fair condition. They’ll wait a few more days before transferring him stateside. It’s questionable whether he’ll be able to return to the team at all, much less when. We’ll be assigning a new medic to your team. As for Judge Vallejo, he’s thankful for the safe return of his daughter.”