Danger Close (Shadow Warriors)

by Lindsay McKenna

  He spun around, taking long, angry strides toward the LZ to hop a helicopter ride back to the regiment. Was his loyalty to Mackey honestly worth what he was doing to Cathy Fremont? No, it wasn’t. Somehow, he had to try to make it up to her. To atone for his part in his whole goddamn mess. And then Boland slowed his step, realizing the feelings that he thought had died with Susan were alive. He was feeling, deep and hard.

  In those next few strides across the dusty plateau, Jim discovered that Cathy Fremont meant more to him than he realized. Her explosive reaction had torn away the veneer he had been hiding behind. He liked her, dammit. Maybe more than that. Great. Just great! You can’t keep your feelings out of this, Boland. What the hell are you going to do now?

  THE BUNKER shuddered as another mortar “walked” up the hill. Dirt sifted down on Boland as he sat with his back against the sandbagged wall. The command bunker radios were all chattering with calls from the outer perimeter, telling them that the LA were hiding in the tree line and lobbing in the mortars. He had wanted a quiet night so that he could think about how he was going to integrate Cathy into his Recon team, but the LA had decided differently.

  Captain Dick Greer, who was also in helmet and flak jacket, was on the radio, talking to the other officers, ordering them to keep the perimeter lit up with another round of flares. They had to pick off the LA who might have intentions of sending sappers into the concertina to blow a hole through it and try to infiltrate the area. At thirty, Greer looked forty-five. Jim wondered how he would look himself if he signed back up for another six-year tour. He only had five months left on his mandatory enlistment. He had already been promised major’s leaves if he re-upped for another six years.

  “Looks like the LA are going to keep us awake all night,” Greer griped, his lean face glistening with sweat.

  Jim nodded and tensed as another mortar exploded closer to their bunker. More dirt sifted down on them. “Hell, assuming we make it through the night. Then I’ve got tomorrow to worry about.”

  Dick grimaced. “Oh, yeah, Fremont’s coming up from the rear.”

  The lantern on the side of the wall shook as another mortar exploded. They were “walking” them closer and closer. Jim glanced at the heavy timbers overhead, praying that they wouldn’t receive a direct hit.

  “Who you going to put her with?”

  “My team.”

  “You joking?”

  “No. Why? Do you think that’s a bad idea?”

  “Buck Arnley, your sergeant, that’s why.” Dick grinned tiredly, waiting for the next round to hit. “That’s one salty grunt. How many times has he been busted in the fifteen years he’s been in the Corps?”

  “Once. He’ll be okay.”

  “Oh, sure. He barely tolerates officers. Want to bet what his reaction will be to a WLF woman in his team? You want World War Three?”

  “He’ll buckle down if I tell him to,” Jim growled.

  Dick shrugged. “You’re the only one he respects. I wish you luck. God, I’m glad it’s you the colonel chose for this. I couldn’t handle Fremont and Arnley at the same time. That’s like throwing a frag grenade into an ammo dump.”

  They both fell silent, waiting for the hollow “thunk” telling them that the next mortar had been fired. Finally, after five minutes, they looked at each other in silent relief. The LA had quit for the evening.

  Dick stood, tossing his helmet on the planning board that sat out in the middle of the huge bunker. Jim got up too, swallowing his unhappiness. He glanced at his watch. It was 2300 and too late to see Cathy. Probably just as well. His presence represented only pain and agitation to her. She saw him as the person responsible for throwing her to the wolves. Well, wasn’t he?

  It was nearly 0100 when the company was secure and quiet. Jim found his way to his own hootch, not far from the command bunker, but he couldn’t sleep. All he saw when he closed his eyes were Cathy’s distraught features and the wounded look on her face when he’d told her of her transfer to Alpha.

  Greer was right. Buck Arnley was going to be a problem. Buck was a throwback to the old type of Marine: rough, crusty, salty and one hell of a fine noncom. If Cathy could befriend him or earn Buck’s respect, no one would mother hen her more than Buck. And if Buck fell into line, then the rest of his team would welcome her with open arms. She might find caring in Arnley’s unit instead of the constant friction that was tearing her apart before his very eyes. And more than anything, Boland didn’t want to be responsible for further damage to Cathy. Enough had been done already.

  Chapter 9

  STAFF SGT. Buck Arnley stood unmoving, chewing on a large wad of tobacco that protruded from his leathery cheek. He listened to Boland unravel the story on Fremont. His men grinned at one another when he mentioned the five days of R & R they’d be getting ten days from now. The demoted gunny crossed his arms, spitting to the right. Boland watched him, gauging his response to the orders.

  “Questions?” Boland demanded of his five-man Recon team. His face stilled as he focused on his sergeant. The men who surrounded him quieted. Some of them shifted their weight, others shoved their dirty hands in their pockets or stared uncomfortably down at their feet, sensing a confrontation.

  Arnley slid a glance to Boland. “Any company that’s willin’ to gladly get rid of someone is sayin’ that person is a shit bird. You know what a shit bird is? It’s somebody who’s always fuckin’ up when the chips are down. And you want her?” And then he pressed on, not waiting for the officer’s answer. “They’re nothing but Amazons,” Arnley growled, chewing hard on the tobacco and staring angrily out toward the jungle.

  “If that’s what you’re expecting, then you’re in for one hell of a surprise,” Boland countered, his voice grim. He decided to poll the rest of his team and see how they felt about her. “If there are any problems, you see me first. I won’t allow anyone in my team to pit the rest against Fremont. She’ll carry her share of the load.”

  “We have Gomez,” Arnley said sullenly. “We don’t need another point, Cap’n Zorro is the best in Alpha and I don’t want no fuckin’ broad screwing me or my team up and gettin’ us all shot.”

  Gomez, who boasted Aztec warrior ancestors, grinned, his teeth white against his copper skin when they called him by his nickname, Zorro. “She can’t be that bad, Sarge. The Cap’n just said she’s the best Delta has. She’s got three months combat experience under her belt and she ain’t dead yet.”

  “Those goddamn Amazons over there are playin’ soldier out in the bush.”

  Jim ignored the grumblings of his squad leader. “It’s your job to assign Fremont, Sergeant Arnley. She’s a soldier and not to be given any special considerations after she recovers sufficiently from that sunstroke. If foxholes have to be dug; she digs her own. If you want her for point, she’ll take it.”

  The gunny allowed his arms to drop, feeling better now that Boland was giving him free rein over Fremont. “Fine,” he growled, mollified to a degree.

  “Billy?”

  The lanky radioman for the team shrugged. A loose grin broke out on his flushed face, his soft Arkansas drawl dissolving the tension. “Fine by me, sir. I was always taught if you treat a woman like a lady, she’ll act like one.”

  He moved to Chester Smith, a burly black from Harlem, who was built like the center for the Chicago Bears. He was their weapon’s expert. “Chesty?”

  “I was gettin’ bored anyway. I think a woman would be jest fine, Cap.”

  So far, so good, Jim thought. He zeroed in on Chuck Townsend, one of their demolitions experts. “Townsend?”

  The Marine’s hazel eyes glimmered with laughter. “Give her a whirl, Cap. I always liked the company of a lady.”

  “This is strictly work, not play,” Boland reminded the tall, well-built Marine of twenty-two.

  “I won’t promise not to make a pass at her, sir.”

  Jim grinned. “You’re too damn ugly, anyway.”

  The men laughed and it dissolved the rest of
the tension. Conversation eagerly swung back to the unexpected R & R. “Hey, Cap, are we gettin’ R & R because of Fremont?”

  Boland shook his head. “Just the luck of the draw, Townsend.”

  Buck kicked a clod of dirt. “You said she’s just gettin’ over a sunstroke. Just proves my point—women can’t take combat!”

  “Come on, Sarge,” Gomez chided, “how about the time when we dropped twenty miles behind the lines and you passed out because of heat exhaustion?”

  “Yeah,” Billy chortled. “And we ended up carryin’ your ass back to the chopper after dodging all those gook patrols.”

  Boland allowed a slight smile and then retained his serious demeanor. Already, it appeared it was a four-to-one advantage in Cathy’s favor. “Buck, find a place where she can set up a hootch over in your area. I’m going to sign her out from medical. I’ll have Fremont here in a couple of hours.”

  Arnley’s black brows drew into a deeper scowl. “Yes, sir.”

  Bored and restless, Cathy had volunteered to help log in new supplies at the medical facility. Suddenly she sensed Boland’s presence and lifted her head. She wanted to hate him for what he had done to her, but one look at his weary features and those feelings disappeared. Jim’s eyes were bloodshot and she could see faint shadows beneath them. His mouth was grim and she tried to steel herself as he quietly approached were she was sitting at a desk, logging in medical items.

  “At first, I thought you’d gone AWOL.”

  Cathy set the pencil down on the clipboard in front of her. “I’ve never run away from anything yet, Captain.” Her eyes flashed with a trace of anger. “I’ve faced a lot tougher things than this transfer to Alpha.”

  He managed a tired smile, thinking how attractive Cathy looked despite the sloppy green utilities she wore that nearly hid the fact she was a woman. There was a flush to her cheeks and it heightened as he stared down at her. Today, she wore no makeup and her hair was caught up in a ponytail. “I hope this transfer isn’t the ordeal you expect.”

  Cathy stood, “I assume I’m released and to go back with you, sir?” she asked in a clipped tone.

  “In a while. Come on, let’s go topside and get some air. This place is enough to make you feel like you’re suffocating.”

  She gave him a panicked look but picked up her cap and followed him without another word.

  Jim walked at her side as they made their way over to the mess tent. “I figured you might want one more hot meal before we head back to Alpha,” he said, picking up a tray and handing it to her.

  “I’m not very hungry, Captain.”

  “I am.” That was a lie. He was stalling for time and hoping she’d relax a little. He didn’t want to just drop her into Arnley’s team without preparation.

  “Do you always stop eating when pressure gets to you?” he asked, choosing the last table at the rear of the tent and digging into his meal of tuna and noodles.

  Cathy picked up the orange. She began to methodically peel it. “Yes, sir, I do.”

  He frowned. She was going to make this tough. He clamped down on his rising anger. First, Arnley had behaved like a prima donna. Now she was going to. Setting down his fork and knife, he leveled a stare at her. “Cathy?”

  Her head snapped up, eyes widening when he called her by her first name—something an officer would rarely do with an enlisted person.

  “Talk to me, curse me, scream at me. Have a temper tantrum. But don’t shut me out.”

  She dropped her gaze, the orange frozen in her hands. His voice was incredibly gentle, dissolving all her anger. “I’m not used to this.”

  “To what?”

  “Someone caring. At Delta, if you had a problem, you sat on it.”

  “Maybe they don’t care what’s going on inside your head or heart, Cathy, but I do. I make it my business to know my people like I know myself.”

  She awkwardly began peeling the orange again. “Must be nice to know yourself so well.”

  Jim smiled tiredly. “You’ll get there with time.”

  “Time is something I don’t have any more of, Captain.” She met his eyes. “I don’t look back and I don’t look ahead. All I do is try to survive the day that’s in front of me.”

  He nodded and began to eat again. “That’s common for a field soldier. Man or woman,” he added.

  “Thanks for the validation. I’m glad to know I’m not going completely insane.”

  Jim saw the tight set of her lips. “What else are you feeling?” he probed quietly, watching the wariness come back to her flawless emerald eyes. He could drown himself in them if he allowed himself to.

  “Scared. So scared that I threw up twice already this morning. You know something? I never realized what real fear did to you until I got over here. I thought throwing up was reserved for times when you got the flu.”

  “Fear does different things to different people. But we have one thing in common—we all feel it. It’s just how we handle it that counts.”

  “I always have a letdown after a firefight,” Cathy muttered, pulling a wedge of orange free. “What will your team think of me?”

  “They’ll be very relieved to see you’re human. They know you’re called the Valkyrie. Could be they’re afraid you’re superwoman and they won’t meet their own expectations with you on the team.”

  Cathy gave a startled laugh, putting the orange back on the tray. She opted for the coffee, instead, knowing it would stay down. “Are you serious?”

  Jim smiled crookedly. “Yeah, they’ve all read about you in Stars and Stripes. Four out of my five men are looking forward to having you in the team.”

  “You aren’t lying, are you?” she ventured cautiously.

  “No. I think Gomez, who’s one of our demolitions experts, will grab your hand and kiss it as soon as you show up. He’s Latino. Actually, he’s Aztec, but that’s a long story I’m sure he’ll tell you about. We all call him Zorro or other colorful nicknames when things get tight.” He grinned boyishly, watching a hint of a smile pull at the corners of her mouth. Good, she was beginning to relax. Maybe it wasn’t going to be so bad, after all. Encouraged, he filled her in on the rest of his team. When Jim got done, he was finished with his meal and set the tray aside, reaching for the cooled coffee.

  “Now, does that fine bunch of Recons sound that nerve-racking to you?” he teased.

  Cathy shook her head, turning the mug slowly around in her hands. “No, they don’t. All except for Sergeant Arnley.”

  “He’ll grow on you,” Jim promised, thinking, like a fungus, but he left that unsaid. If Arnley ever smiled, his face would crack and drop off. “Look, they’re just as nervous about this as you are. Trust me. I know you and them pretty well. I don’t see this integration being that rough. If you were a pushy broad, I’d say the sparks would fly. But you aren’t. Basically, you want harmony with the group you’ve got to work with. My team will give you a hundred and ten percent, Cathy. All I need is your cooperation. They aren’t women haters. The only chauvinist in the group is Buck. I think once he sees you working out in the field, he’ll respect your abilities. When that happens, look out.”

  Cathy heard her stomach rumble, and so did Boland. She reached for the orange and began to slowly chew on the slice she had removed from it. “Why?”

  “Because he’s the worst broody hen I’ve ever seen.”

  She laughed. “You must have come from a farm. Broody hen. I haven’t heard that term in years.”

  He liked her laughter. A good, rich laugh. The kind that made his chest expand with delight. “Yeah, I’m a Nebraska farm kid. My parents have a thousand-acre corn farm near Grand Island.”

  “Well, at least we share that in common,” Cathy admitted, feeling all her worry sliding free of her tense shoulders. “We’re both country born and bred.”

  “I have a feeling we share a lot more in common,” he told her, finishing his coffee. And one of these days, I’m going to find out just how much.

  Cathy fi
nished the orange, wiping her fingers on the paper napkin. “I think I’m ready now.” She hesitated. “Thank you….”

  It was the least I could do for you, Jim thought. God help us both, I want to try and get you through this in one piece. He gave her a quick smile and got up. “I’m ready, too. Let’s go.”

  On the way to the LZ by Jeep, Jim brought up the R & R. For an instant, Cathy was almost childlike in her response and she tried to camouflage the excitement in her voice.

  “Can you imagine, a real bed? Clean sheets? And no shelling at night?”

  He grinned. “I know the feeling. Anyway, if you can hang in there for ten days of fieldwork, you’ll get a good rest.”

  She clapped her hands. “And a dress! I can get out of this ugly outfit.”

  “Watch it, or all my men will have a crush on you,” Jim warned.

  “It’s been a long time since someone had a crush on me.”

  “You’ll have to look out for Townsend. He considers himself Magnum, P.I.”

  “Don’t all men?”

  “Yeah. Just don’t get any rivalries going, Fremont. I don’t need to lose men over a beautiful woman.” He glanced up to see her cheeks flushed a dark pink hue. He had struck yet another chord in her.

  Cathy tried to recover from his flippant remark. “Who wants a woman whose skin peeling off?”

  Jim knew she needed a little care and attention. “Nothing wrong with a little sunburn. It just brings out those Irish freckles of yours. My kid sister, Rachel, has as many as you do.”

  Cathy grimaced. She looked down at her arms, which were no longer flaking with dead skin after she’d applied the lotion Boland had given to her. “Lane wouldn’t even let us have something like Vaseline to protect our skin from sunburn. It’s odorless. I tried to tell her that and damn near got that swagger stick laid across my ribs for saying it. She always carries it around with her like a club.”

  Jim forced himself not to react, but his eyes narrowed. “Oh?”

  “Two of the women in my squad were really sunburned bad. I went first to Ingram, asking for a medical chit to get them over to Dr. Tucker. She said no, so I went over her head and straight to Lane.” Cathy grimaced. “It wasn’t a very bright move. Lane got pissed because I didn’t follow the chain of command. I pulled perimeter duty for three nights in a row for that one.”