Danger Close (Shadow Warriors)

by Lindsay McKenna

  “Plus your two patrols a day?”

  “Yeah.” And then Cathy chortled. “I fixed them both, though. I managed to get over to Doc Tucker one night and explained the situation to him. He gave me five days’ worth of sun protector from his supplies. It was our secret. I got it to my women and it really helped them.”

  Jim logged the incident to his memory. Later, it would go on a report to Mackey. More evidence. Lane wouldn’t even give her troops proper protection from the elements.

  “You and Zorro are going to get along fine,” he assured her with a smile. “Tell him what you need and he’ll make sure you get it.”

  Cathy gawked at him. “Are you serious?”

  “Try me.”

  With a shake of her head, Cathy muttered, “Either you’re a dream come true or I’ve really flipped out.”

  “I’m neither,” he said gruffly. “I fall off pedestals pretty damn quickly.”

  With a smile, Cathy relaxed, enjoying the ride. For once, it was nice not to have to walk in the hot, baking sun. “They never made one for me either, Captain, so don’t feel bad.”

  Oh, yes they did. Only you’d never realize it, Cathy. You’re too insecure about yourself to ever think in those terms. Jim wondered what it would be like if he had met her under normal circumstances. Would he be as drawn to Cathy as he was now? Would her laughter make him smile and feel good? Instinctively, Jim knew she would do all that and more to him. Much more. Because of the special situation they found themselves in, there was little latitude for either to show their full range of feelings for one another. Did she trust him in the least bit? He knew how he felt about her. Suddenly, five days of R & R with Cathy excited the hell out of him.

  CATHY’S HEART thudded heavily as she walked up to meet Boland’s Recon team. They stood in a half circle, their faces hard and impassive. It was easy to spot Buck Arnley. He was the oldest of the group, probably in his late thirties. Although not as tall as two of the other men, he was built lean and powerfully, much like Jim Boland. His face was angular, almost gaunt looking, with one cheek protruding outward with a wad of tobacco stuck in it. Arnley’s face was that of a merciless hawk with his narrow blue eyes, thin nose and lips. His imperious stance, large hands resting on his hips, broadcast the fact he was in charge.

  Her gaze went next to the shortest man in the team. That had to be Gomez; he was the only one who looked Latino…Aztec…whatever. Her stomach unknotted a bit—he was smiling broadly as she approached, his chocolate-brown eyes sparkling with genuine warmth. Automatically, Cathy’s heart went out to the lanky Recon who towered over Gomez. His limp yellow hair looked like newly cut oat straw. And he was blushing as red as a beet. That had to be Billy from Arkansas, the one who was just as shy, according to Jim, as she was. One more knot eased from her stomach.

  The African-American Recon appeared to be three times wider than Billy, but shorter. His face was round and his features pronounced, with a wedge-shaped nose, thick lips and broad forehead. If Cathy could presently trust her “radar,” she liked his intelligent cinnamon-brown eyes. She felt no threat as he appraised her. No wonder they called him Chesty—he was built like the proverbial outhouse with a barrel chest and massive, bull-like shoulders. Not many men messed with Chesty and lived to tell about it, Cathy guessed.

  The last Recon, Townsend, was nondescript in comparison with the other four. He looked like the normal all-American college boy type with dark brown hair, hazel eyes and well-defined features. Again, Cathy zeroed in on his unwavering gaze and allowed her full range of instincts to serve her. Townsend was dangerous, but it was apparent in only small, almost minuscule ways. His eyes were cold and she sensed his inner tension. He had the face of an innocent, and yet, his eyes gave him away.

  Jim drew to a halt, nodding to his men. They nodded back, all their focus on Cathy, who stood at his side. He felt sorry for her, knowing how nervous she must feel. Yet, outwardly, she appeared calm. He was getting to see her for the first time in a pressure situation and he was amazed. Was she a chameleon? Cathy’s face expressed nothing; it was empty except for those green eyes that were totally alert. As he introduced her to Arnley, he saw Gomez’s, Chesty’s and Townsend’s faces thaw. Boland smiled to himself. An attractive woman usually turned most men’s heads, and, without realizing it, Cathy was doing that right now.

  “This is Sergeant Buck Arnley,” he said. “Buck, meet Corporal Cathy Fremont.” Jim watched as Cathy was the first to extend her hand.

  “Sergeant,” she murmured in a low voice.

  Arnley stared at her long, slender hand. It was the hand of a damned woman, not a combat soldier. Then he saw the calluses on her palm and small, recent cuts all over them, which came from getting cut on the murderous elephant grass. Gripping her hand, he rumbled, “Fremont.” And then he spit to the left and released her hand. “Where the hell did you get those utilities?”

  Cathy blinked once, tensing. Was he going to attack her in front of everyone? Her stomach knotted. “They were issued to me at Delta.”

  Arnley eyed them with disgust and spit again. “Is your skin rubbed raw around your lower legs where you blouse those things into your combat boots?”

  Confused, Cathy nodded. Arnley’s sneer completed his appraisal of her. She saw the sergeant nail his captain with an ominous look.

  “Cap’n, as long as she’s on my team, she’s gonna have some decent clothes that fit her.”

  Jim hid a smile, trying to look serious. “You’re in charge, Buck. Do what you think is correct.”

  Arnley returned his attention to her. “What’s the matter with those broads over at Delta? Don’t they know chaffed or raw skin is a breeding ground for all kinds of bacteria over here? You want jungle rot, Fremont?”

  Cathy blinked once. “No.”

  Arnley drew a bead on Gomez. “Zorro, as soon as these introductions are over, you take her over to Alpha supply. She don’t know how to dress. You find some utilities that fit her. Understand?”

  She couldn’t read Arnley at all, except to feel his anger. Boland’s description of him being a broody hen was certainly coming to light.

  Buck bristled when she offered him a slight smile and thanked him. This was turning out all wrong! He’d expected an Amazon, not a woman who stood blushing furiously in front of him, a look of gratefulness on her face.

  Jim finished introductions with the rest of his men. Billy flushed to the roots of his blond hair. He removed his cap, the cowlick at the back of his head standing straight up like a radio antenna. For him, Cathy smiled warmly, murmuring his name. Billy went to a deeper shade of crimson. Boland saw Chesty shuffle forward. His huge black hand swallowed up Cathy’s. When she fearlessly looked up and asked, “Were you ever with the Chicago Bears?” he broke out into a ten-thousand-watt smile that transformed his entire face from a set scowl to pleasure.

  Chesty carefully released her damp hand, smiling broadly. “You hear that, guys? She thinks I was with the Bears.” They all laughed, except Arnley, who stood outside the group, continuing to glower.

  Gomez walked forward, taking her hand and placing a kiss on the back of it. The Recons hooted and whistled. It was Cathy’s turn to blush fiercely.

  “Señorita, I am Julio Esteban Carlos Gomez. My friends call me Zorro and I want you to do the same.” His eyes sparkled as he met her gaze. “I promise to take good care of you while you’re with us. Our team is the best and the Cap says you’re the best from Delta.” He grinned widely. “Welcome.”

  She gave an inner sigh of relief, glancing quickly up at Boland, who was also smiling. Some of the brittle tension that surrounded her disappeared.

  “Thank you, Julio.”

  “No, no, call me Gomez or Zorro.”

  “Then you can call me Cathy.”

  “Ah, because of your big, green eyes?” he guessed.

  Cathy didn’t want to tell him it was because of her sharp night vision. She would have to prove herself to these men, and the fewer words she expended
on her own behalf, the better. Especially with Arnley glaring at her every few seconds. “You guessed it,” she told Gomez, lying.

  Gomez turned. “Townsend, hurry up and shake her hand. I want to take her over to supply!”

  She was careful with Townsend. His handshake was monitored. He missed nothing with those eyes of his that seem to bore straight through her. He was handsome and well built, like a boxer. Townsend offered her a slight smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Welcome aboard, Corporal.”

  Gomez uttered something in Spanish. “Her name is Cathy.”

  “That’s all right, Gomez. Townsend can call me anything he wants as long as it isn’t derogatory,” she parried. She heard some of the other men give a nervous laugh at her teasing joke.

  Townsend grinned, a hint of respect glimmering in his eyes. “Same goes for me. The guys call me Strike.”

  Cathy nodded and had no desire to ask why they called him that. Lane would appreciate someone like Townsend. Unlike Jim Boland, whose features were kind looking, Townsend’s were cold. She searched for some warmth or humanity in him and found little. And that made her feel insecure. He would be the type, like Arnley, who would not tolerate the least mistake on her part out in the bush.

  “Okay, Buck, she’s all yours. I’ve got to get back up to the CP.” Jim held Cathy’s widening green eyes for a moment. He wished he could protect her, but he couldn’t. Now, it was up to his team and Cathy to lay a foundation. He prayed that they would give her a chance and see that she was simply a human being, not the Valkyrie touted by S and S.

  “Zorro, get your ass over to supply. And Fremont, whatever they pick out for you, make sure it fits. Understand?” Buck stood eyeing her utilities with disdain.

  Cathy nodded, taking her M16 and slinging it over her shoulder. “No problem, Sergeant. I appreciate your help.”

  Buck grimaced. “This ain’t no shopping spree, Fremont. And don’t take all day. You got a hootch to put together when you get back.”

  Billy put his crumpled cap back on his head, watching them walk away. “Jeez, Sarge,” he whispered, “she’s a purty-lookin’ thing.”

  Townsend hooted. “Nice mouth, nice eyes and, if I’m right, and I usually am, not a bad ass, either. We’ll find that out when she comes back with clothes that fit her properly.”

  Stow it,” Arnley snarled at both of them. “She’s a soldier. Not a lady.”

  “What’s got into you two? Six months out in the bush has turned your heads too much.” Chesty grinned, putting his meaty hands on his narrow hips as he watched them disappear up and over the barren hill. He turned to Arnley. “I like her style, Sarge.”

  Townsend snorted. “She’s a lily, Chesty. Lily-livered.”

  Chesty’s big eyes went wide, exposing a huge amount of white. “Uh-uh, Strike, you’re wrong. Tiger lily is a better word. Did you watch her? She didn’t miss a thing—eyes always roving, monitoring, like radar. Hell, that sister has what it takes.”

  “Want to put your money where your mouth is, Chesty?” Townsend held out his hand toward the black corporal. “Twenty says she’ll panic the first time we’re out in the bush on patrol.”

  Chesty’s grin covered a third of his face and he gripped Townsend’s hand hard. “You got it, Strike. And you’re gonna lose.” Rubbing his pink-palmed hands together afterward, a thunderous rumble came from his chest. “Yeah, you’re gonna lose this one!” and Chesty ambled on by, heading back toward the other side of the hill where all the team’s hootches and foxholes were located.

  “If she panics, we’ll all lose,” Arnley grumbled.

  WHEN GOMEZ returned with Cathy to their area on Hill 122, she found, to her shock, that a hootch had already been dug for her. Chesty was putting the finishing touches on the two-man hootch with a corrugated tin roof supported by sandbags on three of four sides. His heavily muscled arms glistened like polished ebony in the late-afternoon sun. He grinned in welcome as they walked up, staring up at them from his position in the newly made hootch that was larger than most Cathy had seen.

  “Well, what do you think of your new quarters?” he asked with a flourish of his hand.

  Cathy stared in shock. The hootch was completely assembled and even had a small ditch running around the perimeter of it to keep the rain out of the area. There was not only a plastic cover on the ground, but a fully inflated air mattress had been included, plus a couple of lightweight camouflaged blankets. She turned to Gomez, who had the look of a proud peacock on his round, sweaty face.

  “You did all this? For me?” Cathy was incredulous.

  “Of course.” Gomez took the armload of utilities and handed them to Chesty, who carefully stacked them in one corner of the hootch. Straightening up, he winked over at Chesty. “The Cap told us that you just had a sunstroke. The three of us couldn’t see you having to do this all by yourself. You aren’t up to it yet. Recons take care of each other when one’s down and out. That’s our code. And you’re one of us, now.”

  That was true, Cathy conceded, more exhausted than she wanted to feel. The sun was sapping her strength even though she didn’t want to admit it. Gomez was a hell of a lot more alert than she had given him credit for.

  “Hey, guys!” Billy came trotting over the hill, grinning and holding up a carton of beer in one hand. “Beer ration time!”

  Chesty wiped his brow free of the rivulets of sweat, crawled out of the hootch and stood up. Dusting off his utilities and flak jacket, Chesty walked up to her. “Come on, Cathy, let’s celebrate your new home in style,” and he gave a witch’s cackle, gripping her arm.

  “Beer,” Cathy said. “We never got a beer ration over at Delta. My God, this is a dream.”

  Gomez tittered as they all made themselves comfortable in a semicircle on the ground next to her hootch. “One of the benefits of being at the front. We may have to put up with MREs, but at least, if we’re lucky, we can get a warm beer in the afternoon.”

  Billy gave her another shy smile and handed her a can. “It’s not cold, Cathy, but it’ll slide down real easy and wash the dirt out of your mouth and throat.”

  Cathy felt a thrill run through her as she took the beer. “I know it will. Thanks, Billy.” And as she looked at all of them, her voice quavered. “Thanks, all of you. I never expected this.”

  CATHY SAT CROSS-legged in her hootch, cleaning her rifle, when Arnley appeared out of nowhere. It startled her because she rarely failed to hear someone coming. Maybe, she thought, it was because she was exhausted. All she really wanted to do was to lie down and sleep. But she couldn’t. Her rifle needed to be cleaned because they were going on a convoy tomorrow morning north to Ban Pua. The convoy they would be protecting would be taking a supply of mortar and small arms ammunition to the SEATO allies.

  “Fremont,” Arnley growled, hunkering down on his heels outside her hootch, staring at her. She was pale, even in the dusk light, he decided.

  “Sergeant?”

  “How you gettin’ along so far?” He draped his arms across his knees, trying to ignore the fact she was attractive.

  “Fine. I can’t believe the difference between the utilities I wore at Delta and the ones I’m wearing now.”

  “Yeah, well get the rest of issue washed before you wear them out on patrol. Softens them. Also, make sure you keep those raw spots on your calves smothered in that antibiotic ointment Zorro gave you for the next few days. Hear?”

  He looked like a grizzled old bear, his face set, mouth hard and glaring at her from beneath those bushy black brows. Despite his appearance, Cathy relaxed. Arnley cared and that counted with her. “I will,” she promised fervently.

  “Then why the hell didn’t you take care of yourself at Delta? I won’t be your babysitter, Fremont. I’m not going to come by every night and check those raw spots on your legs to make sure you’re doctorin’ them up right.”

  She stopped oiling the trigger mechanism, holding his stare. “They never gave us anything over at Delta to take care
of things like that, Sergeant Arnley.”

  “You’re screwing with me.”

  Cathy tried to keep the anger out of her voice. “Look, things are run a lot differently at Delta than here. Our officers don’t care like yours do. My sergeant wasn’t concerned with a few cuts or abrasions. Our job was to show up and successfully run two patrols a day. If we got sick, it was our responsibility to crawl over to the medical bunker on our own time.” Her nostrils flared as she saw the surprise in Arnley’s leathery face. “If you want the truth, I feel like I’m being pampered here. I never had an air mattress at Delta. We didn’t get ointment for cuts or oil for sunburn. So if I look a little shocked, maybe now you’ll know why. And don’t worry, I don’t need my hand held. I’m used to holding everyone else’s. You give me an order, I’ll carry it out.”

  Arnley rubbed his jaw, gauging the quaver in her voice. “That’s good to hear, Fremont, because I only give an order once.”

  She tensed, her eyes flashing. “I know you don’t want me here, Sergeant. No one’s sorrier that it happened than me. But this is out of our hands. We’re both good at carrying out the orders given to us. I’ll try to fit in with your team. We’ve got a common enemy out in the field to fight. I don’t want to fight back here with you or any other Marine in this team. All I want is to try and fit in for this thirty-five-day period as smoothly as possible. I don’t want trouble. I’ve got enough….”

  He fought to hold on to his anger toward her, but the pleading quality of her voice got to him anyway. That and the look in her eyes. Dammit, she had a way of reaching inside him and he didn’t like that. No doubt Billy, Chesty and Gomez were already under her spell. Disgruntled, he grumbled, “It’s not important that I like or dislike you, Fremont. I’m interested in one thing—your combat capability. Now be a good girl and tell me what your function over in Delta was so I can try to figure out what the hell to do with you.”