by Aliyah Burke
“Mom, huh? We’ll see how motherly you find it when I’m kickin’ your ass.”
Jasira laughed again. “Picking on a poor defenseless woman. Shame on you.”
That got everyone in the humvee to burst out with laughter.
“Poor defenseless woman?” Gunnery Sergeant Warwick interrupted glancing at her. “That’s a good one coming from a woman sitting there looking all cozy with her M-16 equipped with an M-209 grenade launcher. Please, Lingo. You killed off that impression about five minutes after you got here.” The man laughed again and turned back around. “Poor defenseless woman, oh, that’s a good one.”
She smiled and stroked her weapon before meeting the gazes around her and shrugging with as much innocence as she could pull off.
“Gunny’s right, Lingo. You may be Navy and you may be a woman, but deep down, you’re all Marine,” Trent informed her.
“Ooh-rah!” the others grunted out.
Jasira was saved from having to respond by the vehicle slowing and pulling off the road. Which was good, since their unanimous support was making her a bit teary. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m getting sentimental. Way too sentimental.
Gunny looked back at her and said, “There’s a house up here and we need you to listen to the radio that’s there. Do a bit of translating for us.” He opened the door. “Lock it down, ladies.”
Pacing Warwick and Locker, Jasira moved carefully into the darkened interior of the dirt house. Once they were sure the area was secure, she headed over to the radio in the corner.
“Why isn’t this back at base?” she asked, turning it on.
“They wanted it left here. We have eyes on it at all times,” Warwick said.
Static and angry masculine voices shattered the silence. She narrowed her eyes as she adjusted the knob just a bit. A pat on her ass got her to lower it and she sat down on an overturned crate.
“Well?”
“It’s Farsi. They’re talking about a shipment that’s coming in.”
She waved her hand and focused her attention on the words flowing from the beat-up transistor radio. Jasira dug in her pocket for a memo pad and a pen as well as pulling out a mini recorder. She jotted stuff down while she listened. In the back of her mind, she heard the hushed conversation of the marines standing guard. When the radio only delivered static she turned to find Warwick waiting for her.
“Well?”
“More about this shipment coming in. Nothing on what it contained, but it’s coming through Fallujah in two days.”
Gunny frowned but before he could say a word more voices cracked along the radio. Jasira snapped her head around and listened. That’s odd.
“It’s the convoy. They’re going after the convoy,” she uttered.
She heard Warwick holler for the radio, but focused back on the men still talking. Jasira furrowed her brows and leaned closer to the increased static, straining to hear the fading voices. It doesn’t make sense. And what the hell is the two-six-three they keep repeating? Better yet, who is this two-six-three they need to have confirmation from?
“We’re about to have company, Gunny!”
“We gotta go, Lingo,” Warwick commanded. Jasira didn’t get up, in fact she waved him off and leaned closer. “That wasn’t a suggestion, Lingo. That was an order. Move it now, Marine!”
The use of Marine snapped her attention and she jumped up, shut off the radio, and headed for the door with the others stuffing her things in her pocket as she moved.
Locker bent down and muttered, “See, told you. Marine at heart.” He winked one baby blue eye briefly and she grinned in return.
All the way back to their base she kept running it over and over in her head. Two-six-three. After dismounting, Jasira went to the main tent and knocked.
“Enter.”
She stepped into the command center and skimmed over the hustle and bustle going on inside.
“Excuse me, Major,” she said.
A man standing over a small table covered by a map, lifted his head and met her gaze. He was big. Dark skin, brown eyes which saw more than most believed, short black hair, and a scowl upon his face. Major Charles Stormsby.
“Whaddya need, Graham?”
“Sir, I was wondering if I could use a computer and check up on something we heard over the radio.”
The tent seemed to quiet. Jasira felt more and more eyes upon her. She didn’t cower, she stood there, fully dressed, still holding her weapon.
“And you felt that important enough to come here carrying your gun?”
“Yes, sir.”
Major Stormsby glanced over to a computer and jerked his head. “Have at it.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Jasira hurried over and sat down before it. She removed her helmet, rubbed her hands together, and put her fingers on the keyboard. Moments later, she stopped and muttered under her breath. This isn’t good. With a quick press of a button the screen went blank. She stood and turned to find Captain Adams watching her.
“Everything okay, Petty Officer?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. Everything is fine.”
He moved closer. “What were you looking for?”
“I thought I heard something in Kurdish and was trying to translate it but ends up it was just a name.” How the hell did that lie slip so smoothly from my lips?
“Excuse me, Captain. I need to steal Graham,” Gunnery Sergeant Warwick said.
“Of course. Good work today, Graham. The convoy’s been alerted.”
“Thank you, sir.” She stepped to the side and followed Gunny out into the heat, slapping the helmet back on again, and straight through to her team’s tent.
“What the fuck is going on, Lingo?” Gunny demanded.
“Sir?” she asked, noticing how the rest of the guys stared at them.
Warwick narrowed his brown eyes and snarled low, “Don’t you sir me, Lingo. You stood there and lied point blank to the captain. I want to know why.”
She licked her lips and nodded.
“That last bit that came across the wire, right before we left. It was spoken by a man who spoke Farsi as a second language, not his first. He had an American accent to his speech. He kept mentioning something about waiting for a signal from two-six-three. So when we got back I checked the computer to see about other radio traffic and the possible significance of those numbers.”
Jasira unbuckled her helmet and flipped it in her hand, grateful to have it off her head once more. Tucking it under her armpit she continued, “I went through the order of vehicles in the convoy to anything else I could think of off the top of my head.” She cleared her throat and scuffed her toe. “What I found was—”
The men she faced jerked to their feet and stood at attention. She clamped her mouth shut. The room fell silent as in strode Captain Adams. He glared at them all before fixating on her.
“Petty Officer Graham.”
“Sir!” she said staring at him.
“What were you looking for?”
“Sir?”
“You pulled up stuff dealing with two, six, and three. What for?”
“I told you already, sir.”
“You were digging.”
Jasira lifted her chin and held his gaze. “I was doing my job, Captain. What I was brought out here to do. I’m a CTI. I look for codes and translate.”
Adams narrowed his eyes at her, but Gunny stepped forward. “Is there a problem with one of my team’s performance, Captain?”
Jasira noticed the proprietary quality to Warwick’s tone and fought back a grin. That was one thing about the gunny. He protected his men. And she had earned her spot as one of them. It was almost like Adams had forgotten there were others in there. His expression smoothed out and he snapped his gaze to where Gunnery Sergeant Warwick stood.
“No. It’s fine. You will be going to Fallujah to meet the convoy and join the escort. You leave after chow.” Just like that the captain was gone.
Jasira sighed heavily and i
t was a sound echoed by the others around her.
“Wow, what the hell did you do to the captain, Lingo?” someone asked. It sounded like Lighter, but she couldn’t be sure and she wasn’t about to turn her head and see. Somehow she didn’t believe she was totally out of the woods yet, no matter how much she may wish to be.
“Nothing,” Gunny interrupted. “Go grab your chow. We’re leaving soon.” Closing her eyes briefly, Jasira turned but froze at the feel of a hand around her upper arm. “Not you, Lingo.”
Damn! She walked to her cot and sat down on it. Dropping her head, she rubbed the back of her neck. A shower would be so nice. So would my bed.
“All right. What’s going on?”
Lifting her head, Jasira saw him sitting on the cot beside hers. “I’m not sure, Gunny. But two-six-three is a part of it.” His look told her to hurry it along. “Two-six-three was mentioned before the other attacks as well. It is also the number of Captain Adams’ class. According to the log I brought up, he was not in the tent when that call we overheard was placed. I’m not saying he’s in this. But…the stuff I scanned, his name is the only repeating one.”
“Don’t breathe a word of this, Lingo. Not to anyone.”
There was nothing but dead seriousness in his gaze. “Yes, sir.”
“Let’s grab some chow.” He stood and strode off.
Jasira followed a bit slower. Why would he tell her to keep it quiet? She shook her head. Get a grip, Jas. Not everything is a conspiracy theory.
She grabbed her tray and sat down to eat. Making short work of the meal, Jasira merely nodded to people whose gaze she met. Afterward she headed back to the tent. Bag on her rack, she quickly made sure it was properly stocked. Movement at the entrance brought her head up, then made her stand at attention.
Captain Adams stood there.
“At ease,” he said.
“What can I do for you, sir?”
“I just want to make sure you’re well aware of what a false accusation could do to your career.”
Her protective instincts rose swiftly and dangerously. Threats now, Captain? “Is there an accusation against me I need to be made aware of, Captain Adams?”
“I meant were you to make one against someone else.”
“Thank you for the advice, sir, but I’ve never made an accusation I couldn’t back up. And I have no intention of doing so now.”
“Ready to go, Lingo. We’re…oh, excuse me sir, I didn’t know you were here.” Trent’s Southern voice reached her.
“No problem, I was just on my way out. Carry on, we’ll continue this discussion when you get back, Petty Officer.”
He left without looking back. Trent stared at her and lifted a brown brow. “What the hell was that, Lingo?”
“I don’t know. I guess I did something to piss him off. Not everyone is happy I’m here, you know. Especially being a woman and Navy. Even you were less than pleased when I hit the ground.”
“I can’t argue that. But I’ve changed. I’m most happy you’re a woman. Makes the fact I dream about you all the better. And as far as the Navy part, we already covered that. You’re a Marine at heart.”
She shouldered her pack and rolled her eyes. “Should it worry me you’re dreaming about me?”
He leaned down and used his shoulder to stop her. “Doesn’t have to be just a dream.”
“If only I’d met you first, Trent.”
“You love him then?”
“With every breath in my body.”
“Damn. You are like the ultimate woman. Devoted, kickass, and gorgeous. You know where I am if you change your mind.”
“You’re going to make some woman very happy, Trent.”
“You two done kissing? We’ve got a ride to catch.” Sergeant Harris’ voice filled the tent.
“She wishes I’d kiss her,” Trent said. “I was telling her she should leave the makeup behind then maybe her bag wouldn’t be so heavy.”
Holding Trent’s blue gaze, she said, “And like I keep telling you. It’s not makeup. It’s all my toys.”
Both men laughed, and she smiled as she walked back out into the hot evening. She stowed her gear and jumped up by the .50cal mounted up on the humvee. As her unit pulled out of the base, she stood there, eyes alert for any signs of trouble. In her peripheral vision, she caught sight of Captain Adams and Major Stormsby watching as they left. To her, it felt like their gazes were upon her and a sliver of warning skated up her spine. Dragging her attention from them, she focused on her job. Keep them safe as they moved along towards Fallujah.
Chapter Nine
Stone rode Tate across his land. The black stallion moved at a good clip despite the snow covering the ground. It was February and he’d not heard a single thing from Jasira since the call when he’d blown up at her for choosing to go over there.
I learn to calm down and I don’t know if I’ll have the opportunity to tell her. He hated how he’d left things between them. She had every right to follow her passion. His sister had been dead on about that. Stone paid attention to the news and panicked each time he heard of another American casualty. But not knowing her unit or where she was specifically, all he could do was worry. It didn’t matter how long she’d been gone from his life. She was the last thing he thought about at night before sleep and the first on his mind in the morning when he woke.
Tate snorted and slowed, grabbing his attention from the memory of Jasira. He saw a figure stumbling across the snow-covered landscape. With barely any touch he redirected Tate to intercept whoever it was. He frowned the closer he got and he recognized the person.
Before Tate even stopped, Stone was off the horse and hurrying to the person.
“Dawn? Dawn! What are you doing out here?” He grabbed her and turned her toward him.
Her eyes were unfocused and there were numerous bruises and cuts on her face. Dawn shuddered and he slipped out of his coat and placed it around her slender shoulders. He looked around and could see no sign of anyone else. Wherever she walked from it was a ways and without any shoes on her feet. Scooping her up in his arms, he moved to Tate’s side where he set her in the saddle. Seconds later he settled behind her. Getting her readjusted, he held her tight and sent Tate home.
When he slid to a stop before the steps of his porch, Stone dismounted, Dawn still in his arms, and he headed inside to the warmth. Laying her on the couch, he covered her with some blankets and called for the ambulance. While he watched her shiver beneath the layers, Stone strapped on his sidearm and put his coat on. He met the paramedics at the door and when they began looking her over, he called Jack to meet her at the hospital and told him he was going back out to backtrack on her trail.
Stone was swinging up into the saddle as the ambulance pulled out. With a touch of his heels to Tate’s sides they were off again at a ground-eating lope. Before too long, he had reached the place he’d found her. Slowing Tate to a walk, Stone paced the erratic pattern of footsteps.
“At least it’s not snowing or windy,” he muttered as they continued to pick along.
A few steps later, he frowned. “Whoa.” Tate stopped and he swung down. Crouching by the print, he narrowed his gaze. The impression was much deeper and the shape was different from the next one. It was easy to see the difference. Unknown and booted prints to Dawn’s bare ones.
“She was carried to here. Then put down.”
He rose up with a groan. Back on Tate, he withdrew his rifle and laid it across his lap before they began to press on. Ten minutes later he came upon some tire tracks. None of this makes any sense. Why would someone drive all the way out here then walk for a ways carrying her only to leave her and take the time to walk backwards the entire way to keep only one set of prints?
“Come on, boy, let’s go.” Tate picked up his pace and they followed the tracks up until they hit the road. He swore when he realized there was no way to tell which direction the truck left in. Grabbing his cell off his belt, Stone called Jack. “How’s Dawn?”
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br /> “Traumatized. They’re not sure if she won’t lose a toe or two from frostbite. What the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know. I tracked her back. She was carried from a vehicle before being put on her feet. I can’t identify the truck from the tread. And I have no idea which way they went once they got to the road, which is where I am now. I’ll be there as soon as I get home and put Tate up.”
“I’ll see you soon, boss.” Jack ended the call.
Slipping the phone into the inner pocket of his coat, Stone gathered the reins in his hand and urged Tate out onto the road. Once there he nudged him onward. He took the road back home not wanting to miss something if the truck had gone this way. Back at the barn, he stripped off Tate’s tack, rubbed him down, and gave him some grain before putting him in a stall.
Entering the house long enough to put away his rifle, Stone was soon in his Jeep heading for the hospital to check on Dawn. Each mile that passed beneath him made him angrier. Who the hell would hurt her? Then take her all the way out there and leave her there, with little clothing on and no shoes. Even though he could tell death was the intended end result, it was also obvious whomever had done this wanted to inflict a slow death upon her. Freezing to death was no way to go.
He didn’t like the implications this had. Scowl on his face, hat on his head, Stone strode through the halls of the reservation’s small hospital. He slowed before the room and watched through the glass as Jack ran a hand down the side of Dawn’s face. Jack and Dawn? Really? Clearing his throat, he made no mention of how quickly Jack pulled back from her prone body.
“Any change?” he asked in a low tone.
“No. They gave her something to help her sleep. I’m still waiting to get the results from the rape kit.” Fury vibrated through his words. “There were signs of some drugs in her system. I don’t remember what he said they were, but they would make her disoriented and very slow to react.”
Anger rose swiftly. Stone placed his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Stay with her, Jack. Be here when she wakes. I’ll head back to the station and see if I can figure some of this out.”