Danger Close (Shadow Warriors)

by Lindsay McKenna

  “Neither of us wants bad press, Major. The R & R will be uneventful. That, I promise.”

  “She’s a combat soldier, Captain. I’d want your assurance that she’d get plenty of field and patrol work.”

  “How about a company-size sweep later on this month?”

  “Only if she’s point. That’s what Fremont’s best at.”

  Jim struggled to contain his shock over her request and the sudden venom that leaked through in Lane’s tone. “Normally, I rotate all my men at point because it’s such a dangerous position, Major.”

  “Either you keep her on as permanent point, or I won’t agree to this, Captain. Do I make myself perfectly clear? Fremont’s our best. I want her out front where she can shine for us in the media. We’re proud of her abilities and I want the press to be aware of the responsibility and danger on her shoulders while she works with you.” She smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. “After all, she’s the Valkyrie.”

  Jim saw the glitter in Ingram’s eyes and it sickened him. He was getting a firsthand taste of how little Cathy Fremont actually meant to them. Point was dangerous no matter who took it. The only other position that was almost as dangerous was carrying the radio on a patrol. Point men often drew fire to pull the LA out of ambush. Points were the first to step into a minefield, trip a mine wire or get killed by snipers. Drawing in a controlling breath, Jim forced himself to nod.

  “All right, point.” It was a lie and he’d deal with the ramifications of it later.

  Lane smiled brightly. “You won’t regret it, Captain. Fremont has the instincts of a good hunting dog. She’s saved far more lives than your companies have lost. Your men will be safer as a result.”

  Jim felt his stomach turn.

  “I want weekly reports on Fremont’s participation, Captain. I want to be able to show off her performance record with you to the press. It must also be understood that any press gained by your company because of Fremont must be run through me first and I’ll handle it.”

  “Do whatever you want.” That’s all she cared about, Boland realized. The WLF was a means to an end. What her end was, Boland wasn’t sure of, yet. Maybe Cathy could shed some light on that subject. He felt a lessening of tension, relaxing slightly. Good, at least Cathy would be safe with Alpha. She’d have time to recover fully before rotating back into Delta. Just the thought of having her come back to this viper pit made his skin crawl. The two women staring at him reminded him of vultures waiting for a prey to drop dead. He saw it in their eyes and the set of their mouths. Ingram looked positively joyous. Lane, on the other hand, displayed a poker face. She wrote in the agreed stipulations on the orders before signing them, handing one copy to him and retaining the other.

  Holding out her hand, Lane got up. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Captain Boland.”

  He stood, offering his hand. Her grip was firm. “And I with you, Major,” he lied smoothly. And then he asked, “Can you tell me how Sergeant Thatcher is?”

  Louise scowled. “She died in Bangkok, Captain. A casualty of the last firefight.”

  Boland was glad as hell to get out of Delta’s CP. Taking several deep breaths, he worked his way back to Alpha. When he arrived, he made a call to Mackey. Captain Greer was with him, so all the ends to the operation had been explained neatly and tied up. As he went to his office, Boland took a handful of messages from a clerk and rapidly perused them. According to Dr. York, Cathy Fremont was awake and was asking questions.

  Grabbing his cap, he found an available Humvee and headed toward the rear, unsure of how to tell Cathy she was officially with Alpha and not Delta. Would she be relieved? Angry? Suspicious? Jim wiped away a rivulet of sweat that followed the line of his clenched jaw. Dammit, deceit wasn’t a good foundation to build trust on.

  JIM FOUND Cathy sitting up in the cot, the sheet and light blue bedspread draped around her waist, although one remaining IV was still in her right arm. Young was talking to her, a syringe in his hand. Jim slowed to a stop at the entrance of the area and watched without being discovered. He tried to ignore a powerful wave of emotion that swept through him as he drank in Cathy Fremont’s wan face. Her shoulder-length hair was an unruly mass that needed to be tamed. She looked better, Jim thought, a little pluckier around the edges. On his way through the sprawling medical facility, he had located the supply tent and conned a sergeant out of a small bottle of surgical hand lotion. Her skin, laid bare to the unrelenting Thai sun, was badly burned and peeling. The lotion was just what she needed and Jim felt good about being able to do something for her when so many people either didn’t care or had ulterior motives behind their actions.

  “Come on, Young,” Cathy pleaded, her voice still not very strong, “why can’t you give me the B12 tablets instead of a shot? Those things sting like hell. You don’t want to give me more pain, do you?”

  Young rolled his eyes. “Aw, come on, Corporal Fremont, don’t do this to me. Doc York said you gotta have the shot. It’ll get into your system faster. You’re plumb anemic, in case you forgot.”

  Cathy sat back, resting on the extra pillows Young had brought to her earlier. She wrinkled her nose. “Please?”

  Young groaned. “Corporal…believe me, I don’t want to hurt you. This is gonna help you! Don’t you want to feel better in a hurry?”

  Eyeing the needle and knowing it was going to go into her hip, Cathy shook her head. “I’m a year away from being an R.N., Young, and I know how miserable a B12 shot is on a patient.”

  “I’m sorry, but orders is orders, Corporal. Now come on, you just roll over on your side. I promise you, I’m the best medic here for givin’ shots that don’t hurt!”

  With a groan, Cathy succumbed, knowing Young wasn’t going to detour from York’s explicit orders. She was extremely weak and that frustrated her more than anything as she obediently lay on her side and modestly pushed the gown aside, exposing only the necessary target area. She steeled herself for the inevitable shot.

  “This is gonna make you feel like a million dollars, Corporal,” Young said in his deep, placating voice. “A pretty gal like you needs to bring some pink back to your cheeks.”

  Cathy tried not to tense up because that would make it all the worse. “You’re going to bruise the hell out of my right cheek, Young! And I don’t care about how pink or white my face looks.” She shut her eyes tightly, wincing. When it was all over with, Young had been as good as his word; the actual shot had been smooth and professional. But the sting afterward started and Cathy lay there on her side afterward, fighting back the tears. Why did she have to be so damn sensitive to physical pain? Or any pain, for that matter?

  Young came around the cot, peering down at her, his big, brown eyes wide with concern. “You okay, Corporal?”

  She managed a grimace. “Yeah, fine…fine…”

  “If you gently massage the area—”

  “Don’t touch me, Young!”

  He grinned bashfully and made sure the covers were drawn up to her waist. “The sting will go away in a few minutes. Feel like somethin’ to eat?”

  Cathy pried one eye open. Young should have been a Globetrotter for all of his lanky height. But he was a good medic and she appreciated his mothering. “If I eat, will you take out the last IV?”

  “Now, Corporal.” He rolled his eyes again. “There you go again. I swear, you’re my worst patient.”

  Cathy managed a tight grin. “Didn’t you know? Medical people are lousy patients? Going to let me get rid of the IV?” She knew how to remove it, but then knew Dr. York would probably have a hissy fit if she did.

  Young shook his head dolefully. “Doc York is comin’ on rounds in about an hour, Corporal. You ask him then. You want some chow?”

  She wasn’t hungry. Not really. But Cathy knew if she was eating solid food again, York would probably let her off the IV and she could feel like a person again instead of a walking medical miracle of tubes.

  “I smelled chicken soup being made in the galley a
s I passed it,” a male voice volunteered.

  Cathy’s eyes widened. She saw Jim Boland ambling down the aisle toward them. The smile on his mouth made her feel warm. And good. He had a kind face when he smiled, she thought. And a hard face when he did not. Boland was a genuine enigma, Cathy conceded. And she had a lot of questions to ask him.

  “Young, if it’s good chicken soup, I’ll have a bowl. All right?”

  The medic nodded deferentially to the approaching officer and then grinned widely at Cathy. “Sure ’nuf, Corporal! I’ll be right back,” and he politely excused himself.

  Cathy watched Boland take the folding chair from the wall and bring it up to her cot. For no explainable reason, he lifted her spirits. He sat down, his gray eyes warm with welcome.

  “You look a hundred percent better,” he said, meaning it.

  “Except for my rear,” she muttered. “I suppose you saw that whole drama.”

  His smile grew. “Can’t lie, I did. Actually, I was betting that you were going to talk him out of giving you the shot.”

  Cathy laughed. God, it actually felt good to laugh again. How long had it been? No one laughed over at Delta. She sobered, holding his gaze. “Young said you’re a paramedic, Captain. He also told me that you saved my life and for that I want to thank you.” She managed a weak smile. “Lately, not that many people want to see me alive, but it’s nice to know someone cared when the chips were really down.”

  He felt a warm flush crawling up his neck into his face. Jim cleared his throat. “I’d do it for anyone.” And then he amended it with a crooked smile of his own. “The fact you were pretty didn’t hurt, either.”

  Her, pretty? Cathy blinked once. She was at best an ugly duckling. Before she could say anything, she saw him dig out a small plastic bottle of hand lotion from his back pocket.

  “Here, this is for you. Don’t let Young see it or he’ll think you walked down to Supply and swiped it.”

  Shyly, Cathy held the bottle in her one hand. “Hand lotion. I can’t believe it. Lane would never let us have any. I don’t know what to say, Captain.” And then her face grew scarlet. “I’m not used to so many people doing so many nice things for me. Thank you….”

  Jim was moved by her sudden shyness and the fact that she clutched the bottle to her as if it were a treasure.

  “You deserve it” was all he could muster, elated by her response.

  Cathy lifted her head, a smile crossing her lips. “This is like Christmas. First, the hand lotion and then I get some hot food.” She slowly brought herself into a sitting position, wincing as she sat on the still-tender cheek. Running her hands in a caressing motion along the plastic bottle, she cast a suspicious look over at Boland. “Captain, what’s going on here? Why am I here in the rear when I should be over at Delta? And why isn’t Ingram here instead of you? I don’t understand.”

  “I’m the lesser of two evils, maybe?”

  Cathy stared at the bottle, refusing to be drawn into his teasing banter. She pursed her cracked lips. “I was too sick yesterday and this morning to realize it, but something’s going on. I can feel it.”

  Jim shifted restlessly in the chair, groping for the right words. He clasped his hands between his thighs and explained the chain of events, purposely avoiding the fact that Lane had signed her over to Alpha. In his estimation, Cathy wasn’t emotionally ready to handle that information. As he finished the explanation, he saw a shadow cross her mobile features that she tried so hard to keep impassive. Did Cathy realize that he could see every fleeting nuance of feeling reflected in those emerald-colored eyes of hers?

  Cathy gnawed on her lower lip. “How long will I be here, Captain?”

  “I was going to talk to Dr. York later and find out.”

  She cast him a quick look. Boland was easygoing, as if little would ever ruffle the surface of that personality of his. And more than anything Cathy needed a confidant, someone she could talk to. “W-would you mind if some of my friends came and visited me?”

  Jim grimaced, remembering Ingram’s orders. “I’m sorry, that’s not possible.” When he saw the crushed look on her face, he added, “Captain Ingram won’t allow anyone out of Delta’s territory.” He saw the utter abandonment in her eyes until she quickly lowered her lashes so he couldn’t see how she felt.

  “Does anyone know I’m over here?” The question came out as little more than a strained whisper. She knew Lisa and Penny cared what happened to her. And the women of her squad would, too. But what lies was Ingram concocting to make her look bad?

  “I don’t know…my hands are tied on this, Cathy. If I could do something about it, I would.”

  She warmed immediately when he used her first name. Caught in a maelstrom of conflicting emotions, Cathy forgot he was an officer and she was enlisted and the two didn’t mix in the military’s eyes.

  “I know you would,” she murmured, running her slender fingers marred with many pink scars, down across the bottle of lotion. And then she forced a partial smile for his benefit. “It’s okay. I’m used to being alone. It’s no different this time. I’ll survive.”

  He kept his anger carefully closeted. “It’s the nature of your survival that interests me,” Jim told her slowly, catching her startled look.

  “Why should you care? You got roped into babysitting me. You’re not even my commanding officer.”

  “I care about all my people the same way. Just because you’re not from Alpha doesn’t make any difference.”

  “I see.” And then she took a deep breath and forced it out. “What about Sergeant Thatcher? Is she going to be all right?”

  Boland avoided her anxious gaze. “I’m sorry. Major Lane said she died at the Bangkok hospital.”

  A chill swept through Cathy. Lane would blame her for Thatcher’s death. Had her report and the fire team leader’s report differed from one another? Had she noted that Cathy had held a knife to Thatcher’s throat? It was only a matter of time, she thought in despair. Lane would make her pay for Thatcher’s death.

  Young came strolling back with a bowl of steaming soup on a tray. “Here you go, Corporal! Not only did I find that mama hen cook, I had her put some wings in for you to chew on.”

  Cathy was grateful for Young’s efforts and tried to put Thatcher’s death aside. He set the tray across her lap.

  “Hey, guess who I saw down there? Doc York. And he gave me permission to take out your IV.” He wagged his long finger in her face. “Only if you promised to eat all the soup. Will you?”

  Jim got up, moving out of the way so the cajoling medic could retrieve the IV. He watched Cathy’s expression closely. She was trying so hard to cover up her disappointment and respond to Young’s good-natured teasing.

  He finally coaxed a sad smile from her before he left. As he reached the door, Young glanced back at him.

  “Cap’n, if she needs some help…”

  “I’ve spoon-fed a few people,” Boland assured him.

  Cathy kept the tray balanced across her blanketed lap, picking up the spoon. “I’ll be fine,” she assured them both, watching Young disappear down the corridor.

  Jim sat back, watching her fingers tremble as she lifted the rich, fragrant broth from the bowl. Her weakness tore at him as she forced herself to eat. He rose, giving her a smile.

  “Look, I’ve got to get back to my outfit. I just wanted to drop over and see how you were coming along.”

  Cathy lifted her head, thinking Boland was much taller than she had first realized. “I—thanks…for everything, Captain. I know you’re busy and I appreciate your coming to check on me….”

  He pulled the cap from his rear pocket, settling it on his head, the bill pulled low across his eyes. Cathy was looking as if she had lost her last friend in the world. “This isn’t goodbye, you know. I’m going to have our scrounger, Gomez, try and scare up some reading material for you while you’re back here.” His eyes warmed as he saw Cathy’s expression relax. “Although, I can’t guarantee you what he’l
l scrounge up. Knowing him, it could be X-rated.”

  A wobbly smile touched her lips. “This is like a dream….”

  Perplexed, Jim settled his long, strong-looking hands on his narrow hips.

  “What is?”

  “You,” she whispered. “You’re so kind….”

  After talking at length with Dr. York, Jim left the medical facility and couldn’t erase the image of Cathy’s teary eyes. And her words cut through him like a razor-honed Ka-Bar: “You’re so kind….” Sure he was—he was deliberately manipulating her like plastic putty for his own purpose. So much for kindness.

  As he drove back to Alpha, he clung to the only positive thread in the whole complicated plan: at least he had wrangled Cathy a forty-day reprieve. And with any luck, he could help her gather her fragile, pulverized emotions so that she could endure the last couple of months with the WLF in Thailand. Tomorrow would come too quickly. Boland found himself wishing it was already here. He wanted to see Cathy again.

  THE SOUND OF boots echoing hollowly down the corridor and coming in her direction made Cathy stir and she opened her eyes. It was near midnight. Boland came out of the shadows, his square face impassive until he saw her. Her heart leaped to pounding life and an incredible surge of joy nearly took her breath away. He had come back! Boland had come even though he didn’t have to.

  She had lain awake for a long time thinking about the Marine Recon captain. He owed her nothing; after all, it was he who had saved her life.

  “Hi,” Jim greeted, taking off his cap. “How you feeling?” He grasped the chair and sat down. Cathy had more color in her cheeks, just as Young had promised. Her eyes were clear and he saw a spark of life in them. She struggled into a sitting position, smoothing the sheet across her legs.

  “I think I scared the hell out of Young earlier tonight,” she admitted with a self-deprecating smile. “I had a nightmare about that last firefight I was in. I went lunging for the floor when the mortar rounds started.” She touched her hair, wishing badly for a comb and knowing she must look a mess to him. His answering smile warmed the coldness that always inhabited her. “He came and picked me up off the floor. I was trying to get under the cot.”