Uniformly Hot! Volume 1 from Harlequin: Letters from HomeBreaking the RulesComing Up for Air

by Rhonda Nelson

  “Sangin Ground, Alpha-Three-One-Six-Zero-Foxtrot, we have a Fallen Angel. Repeat, we have a Fallen Angel.” He bit out the term used to signify a downed aircraft. “Request immediate ground support and medics. The area has been secured, over.”

  Even as he finished speaking, the Black Hawk hit the ground with a hard thud and, still spinning crazily, tipped forward, its rotors digging into the ground with enough force to send up a spray of dust and debris. The helicopter tipped onto its side and Chance saw the door gunner fall out and land on all fours, then pick himself up and scramble for safety, scant inches ahead of the deadly rotors. The helicopter careened wildly in a circle, sending chunks of rock and dirt flying into the air. Finally, it came to an abrupt stop, and Chance watched the gunner make his way back toward the wreckage.

  “Alpha, I’m going down to lend assistance. Over.” The radio transmission came from Teacup as he hovered over the crash site.

  “Roger that, Teacup,” Chance replied.

  “Got you covered,” Fishhead assured the other pilot.

  They circled the area as the second Apache landed on the ground near the crash site, and Chance watched as the copilot climbed out of the cockpit and ran over to the wreckage. He kept an eye on the rescue mission, periodically searching the surrounding hills for any sign of further insurgency, but everything was quiet. Only the smoking ruins of the pickup truck and some burning brush gave any indication of the firefight. Below them, a convoy of armored vehicles left the forward operating base and made a beeline toward the downed Black Hawk, traveling fast.

  Chance and Fishhead maintained a circular flight path around the wreckage site, alert to any signs of attack, until all of the crash victims had been extracted from the Black Hawk and loaded into the ground vehicles. Chance had no idea how serious the injuries were or if there had been any casualties, and that information would not be relayed over the radio, just in case their transmissions were being monitored.

  Finally, the convoy of vehicles circled back toward the base and the second Apache lifted from the ground. The pilot gave Chance a thumbs-up, indicating there had been no fatalities, and they both flew in close formation over the convoy until it was safely behind the security perimeter of the base. Only after he and Teacup had performed one last check of the surrounding hills did they finally bring the birds in for a landing. Whether or not the military would retrieve the remains of the Black Hawk or destroy the aircraft altogether depended on the severity of damage sustained.

  Once they had landed, a team of maintenance technicians descended on the Apaches to perform inspections and repairs. Chance walked over to where Teacup was talking with his copilot. He turned as Chance approached and extended his hand.

  “That was some nice flying, T-Rex. And some damn nice shooting.”

  “Thanks. Did the package get delivered safely?”

  Teacup nodded. “A few bumps and scratches, but otherwise okay. McLaughlin busted his arm and shoulder when the chopper tipped over, and his gunner is one lucky son of a bitch. If he was two seconds slower, he’d be toast. Sliced thin.”

  More than ever, Chance was glad that Jenna hadn’t been part of this particular mission. If that had been her chopper that had taken the hit, or if she or one of her crew members had been injured… He knew men who’d quit flying for less. He glanced at his watch, anxious to be back in the air and on his return to Kabul. To Jenna. “Let’s get the debrief over, so we can get back to Kabul.”

  “You actually think we’re heading back there today?” Teacup’s voice registered disbelief.

  “Sure, why not? This should be an easy debrief. We were attacked and we responded to the threat.” But even as he spoke the words, he knew he was kidding himself.

  The other man’s eyebrows went up. “I wish I could be that optimistic. We have a dozen or more dead insurgents, an injured pilot and crew, not to mention the other passengers on board, and an MH-60 that’s badly damaged or a hunk of scrap metal.” He made a scoffing sound. “This will cause a shit storm of paperwork and meetings. I wouldn’t plan on going anywhere for at least a couple of days.”

  Teacup was right. Whenever there was a loss of life or aircraft, the resulting investigation could last for days, sometimes weeks. The forward operating base would want to send a team out to the hillside to inspect the area to try to determine who the insurgents were and if a threat still existed. Then there would be the endless debriefings and analysis of what had gone wrong and why they had failed to detect the threat earlier. The top brass would make every attempt to get him back into the air as quickly as possible, but it couldn’t be soon enough for Chance.

  He wanted to howl with frustration.

  He’d promised Jenna that he would back at Kabul that night. If he was stuck at Sangin for the next couple of days, she would definitely be gone by the time he returned. No sandstorm lasted that long, and eventually her own command would insist upon her return. In fact, his own unit would feel the pinch of having two less Apaches at their disposal.

  “Okay,” he muttered, “let’s get this done.”

  * * *

  NIGHTFALL CAME QUICKLY in the desert, and even without the sandstorm, the darkness was nearly impenetrable. Jenna sat on her bed, propped up against her pillow and duffel bag, reading by a small light. But the words danced on the page and she couldn’t focus on the narrative. She glanced at her wristwatch. Nearly seven o’clock, and still no sign of Chance. The team had departed ten hours ago; where the hell was he? He should have been back by now. Or maybe he’d returned and had decided not to come and see her. Either way, her insides were a jumble of nerves.

  “Why don’t you just go over to the operations shack and find out if they’ve returned,” Laura suggested. “You’ve been sitting there, sighing and fidgeting, for over an hour, and quite frankly, it’s driving me nuts.”

  Looking up, Jenna saw the other woman watching her. Their door gunner lounged on one of the bunks behind them, listening to music on her iPod, oblivious to their conversation. Giving up any pretense of reading, Jenna set the book aside and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, blowing out a hard breath. “I just have a bad feeling. What if something happened to him?”

  Laura frowned. “What could happen? The guy’s flying an Apache. He’s virtually indestructible.”

  “What if the sandstorm caused a mechanical failure?”

  “Just go over and find out, would you?”

  At that moment, the door was flung open and Sergeant Melissa Robbins, their crew chief, stumbled inside. She closed the door behind her and then leaned against it, gasping for breath, her eyes wide behind her goggles. Seeing the expression on the other woman’s face caused alarm to leap in Jenna’s chest.

  “What is it?” Her voice came out sharper than she intended.

  “McLaughlin’s chopper went down,” the sergeant blurted. “Just outside Sangin. They were ambushed.”

  Someone gasped, and Jenna realized it was her. For just an instant, a wave of dizziness washed over her and her heartbeat thudded loud and insistent in her ears. It took a moment before she identified the sound as someone banging loudly on the door of the containerized housing unit. Galvanized into action, Jenna stood up and pulled the door open.

  Chance stood there, a bandana covering his lower face and his eyes grim behind a pair of goggles. Relief caused her knees to go a little unsteady, and only the knowledge that the other women in the CHU were watching kept her from throwing herself into his arms.

  “Can I come in?”

  Jenna stepped back, opening the door wider, her gaze devouring him. She was only vaguely aware of her crew scrambling to their feet as they recognized the gold oak leaf on his uniform, signifying his rank as a major. Something wasn’t right, though, and even as Jenna took in the special forces insignia on his sleeve, he removed his goggles and dragged th
e bandana away from his face, revealing a heavy growth of beard.

  Chase!

  Jenna gaped at Chance’s twin brother, her stomach fisting in renewed fear.

  “Chance is fine,” he said without preamble, accurately reading her expression. “But they came under heavy fire just outside of Sangin. The MH-60 went down and McLaughlin was injured.”

  Relief at hearing Chance was okay drained the remaining strength out of Jenna’s legs and she sat down heavily on the edge of her bunk. At least it wasn’t Chance who’d been injured. Immediately, guilt washed over her at the unbidden thought. She might not like McLaughlin overly much, but she’d never wish him any harm. At the end of the day, he was still one of the good guys.

  “Is McLaughlin going to be okay?”

  “He’s busted up some, but he’ll live. They medevaced him to a coalition hospital at Kandahar and he’ll be airlifted to Landstuhl in the morning. His aircraft won’t be flying any more missions for a while, though.”

  Jenna gaped at him in horror. If McLaughlin was being airlifted to Landstuhl Hospital in Germany, then his injuries must be fairly serious. “What happened to him?”

  “He’ll need surgery on his shoulder and he sustained some internal injuries, but his prognosis for a full recovery is excellent. He’ll be back in the air within six months, if not sooner.” He looked at the female crew, who still stood behind her, listening, before his attention flicked back to her. “I came to tell you to head over to the operations shack. They need you to fly out to Sangin and pick up the rest of McLaughlin’s crew and return them to Kandahar.”

  “Tonight?” Jenna couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.

  “No, first thing in the morning. The worst of the storm will have passed, although you’ll be flying with poor visibility until the dust settles. Literally.”

  “Okay, I’ll just grab my gear and head over.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  Surprised, Jenna looked at him. “You don’t need to do that. I can find my way.”

  “I’m sure you can, but I’m heading that way myself, so we may as well go together.” His tone was polite but firm, and in that instant Jenna could see that his resemblance to Chance went more than skin deep.

  “Okay, then,” she murmured, and turned away to pull on her BDU jacket and grab her hat from the peg where it hung alongside her weapon. When Laura began grabbing her own gear, Jenna paused to give the other woman a questioning look.

  “What?” Laura demanded. “You don’t think you get to do this all by yourself, do you? I’m the copilot, so I’m going with you. That way I get to hear the report first hand and you don’t need to repeat yourself.”

  Jenna gave her friend a brief smile, grateful for her support. “Thanks.”

  Outside, she was surprised to see a military vehicle waiting for them. An orange rotating light mounted on the roof cut through the thick, dark air. She slanted a speculative glance at Chase. He opened the door and hustled them in, before climbing in beside them.

  “How’d you manage this?” she asked, removing her goggles. The flight ops shack was within walking distance of the housing area, and during brownout conditions, only emergency vehicles patrolled the streets of Kabul.

  Chase shrugged and gave her a wry grin. “I have a few connections.”

  Jenna suspected that was an understatement. As an elite special forces commando, he probably had all kinds of connections. She was still struck by how much he looked like Chance, but despite the fact he was a gorgeous guy, she didn’t feel the same tug of awareness that she did with his brother. In fact, she couldn’t believe she’d thought he was Chance when she’d first seen him standing on her doorstep. Her only excuse was that he’d been wearing his goggles and bandana; had she been able to see his eyes clearly, she’d never have made that mistake.

  Within minutes, they arrived at the operations shack, and Jenna saw the lights were still on in the briefing room. Now that she understood what was required of her, she was anxious to depart. She didn’t want to wait until morning, but she knew the tac ops commander wouldn’t allow her to fly at night during a sandstorm, no matter how experienced she might be.

  Forty minutes later, after she and Laura had been briefed on the details of the ambush outside Sangin, she acknowledged that waiting until daybreak made sense. The insurgents would likely regroup after the morning’s attack, and most ambushes and mortar attacks occurred during the night or bad weather, making a counter attack more difficult. Kabul had an Apache unit assigned to the base, and one of those aircraft would fly with her as an escort. Jenna had no doubt that she could handle whatever fate threw her way, but she was appreciative of the extra security.

  Back at the CHU, she quickly briefed the rest of her crew on the details of the next day’s mission. If any of the women had misgivings about flying in brownout conditions into a combat area, they were too well-trained to show it. In fact, if Jenna wasn’t mistaken, they actually looked eager to take on this assignment.

  “Let’s all get a good night’s sleep, get our heads in the game and be ready to rock at oh-five-hundred hours,” she suggested. But as she turned out the light and lay back on her narrow bunk, she wasn’t thinking about the next day’s mission. All she could think about was Chance and how grateful she was that he hadn’t been injured, or worse, in the ambush. According to the tac ops commander, he’d been responsible for eliminating the threat, although the Apache’s actions had come too late to prevent the Black Hawk from being hit.

  Her father had flown dozens of combat missions, but he’d rarely talked about his experiences. Most of what Jenna knew of his career, she’d read in military and aviation magazines. She’d asked him about it once; whether he’d been scared when he’d flown his chopper into enemy territory to extract injured or trapped troops.

  “Hell, yeah, I was scared,” he’d answered. “Scared shitless. But it was also the most alive I’ve ever felt.”

  Jenna realized that’s how she felt when she was with Chance. Just the thought of being in a serious relationship with him scared her out of her mind. But she’d never felt as alive as when they were together and his attention was focused solely on her. Could they possibly make a committed relationship work? She honestly didn’t know.

  Her parents’ marriage had failed, partly because her father couldn’t move past his days as a combat pilot. There was an exhilaration in flying that nothing else could match. Jenna understood that. She loved flying as much as her father did, but she didn’t have an unrealistic expectation that everything in her life would be as exciting as sitting in the cockpit of an attack helicopter, not knowing if you’d return from a mission.

  She’d sworn she’d never get involved with a pilot, but now she found herself wondering if a fellow pilot might not understand her better than a guy who had no military experience. If she and Chance decided to get serious, they’d have obstacles to overcome, but what couple didn’t?

  Turning on her side, she realized she was looking forward to the mission, and the possibility of seeing Chance at Sangin caused a thrill of anticipation to course through her. Just recalling their encounter in the cabin of the Black Hawk made her blood turn to honey in her veins. If he hadn’t yet returned to Kabul, she’d tell him she wanted something more than just a casual relationship.

  Did the thought scare her? Hell, yes, but it also made her feel alive. She suspected that she enjoyed being with Chance even more than she enjoyed flying.

  11

  CHANCE CIRCLED THE AREA where the insurgents had launched their attack the previous day, but nothing remained except a chunk of charred and twisted metal, the only evidence of what had once been a truck. It was just past nine o’clock in the morning, and he and Teacup had been flying for nearly two hours. But the sun was up and the sky was a little clearer than it had been the day before
. Using both Apache aircraft, the two of them had been surveying the surrounding hills for almost an hour, searching for any further signs of hostility in the region.

  He’d been told that two days earlier a marine infantry unit was dispatched to a region nearly sixty miles to the west. Local tribesmen had provided U.S. forces with information regarding a rural village located in the foothills, claiming it was actually a Taliban stronghold. Chance and Teacup had flown over the village but hadn’t seen anything except farmers and goatherds. Not that that meant anything; the Taliban was notorious for blending in with the local population. There’d been no sign of the infantry unit, but that didn’t worry Chance; they’d likely be traveling fast and light and would stay off the main roads. He’d spoken with his brother last night, after the attack, and Chase had told him that the unit had been preceded by a special operations team that would conduct reconnaissance and provide intel to the marines.

  Now both pilots circled their helicopters back toward the base, satisfied that the region was safe. During their brief conversation, he’d also learned that Jenna would fly into Sangin that morning to transport McLaughlin’s crew members back to Kandahar. He hated the thought of her at Sangin, which had seen more insurgency in the past few months than any other region in Afghanistan.

  If it was up to Chance, he wouldn’t have Jenna anywhere near this hellhole. She’d be back in the States, flying tourists around. He knew some would consider his attitude chauvinistic, but he didn’t really care. He wanted her out of harm’s way. If he was lucky, she’d be on the ground just long enough to load her passengers, and then she’d return to Kandahar. He desperately wanted to see her again, but he’d gladly sacrifice spending time with her if it meant she’d be safely away from this place.

  He’d spent a sleepless night thinking about her, and in his dreams, he’d relived the attack. Only, instead of McLaughlin piloting the Black Hawk, it had been Jenna. He’d woken up with his heart pounding, disoriented and primed for battle, until he’d realized it had only been a nightmare. Now, in the light of morning, the dream seemed distant and vague, but his fear for Jenna’s safety was still very real. He wouldn’t let her suffer McLaughlin’s fate because of a lack of vigilance on his part.