She wasn’t ready to quit flying. Not by a long shot. And she’d bet that Major Beale would find a way back into the sky after the birth.
Maybe it wasn’t the flying that made it worth the effort and hardship and pain. Maybe it was who you flew with.
Lola looked back down from the sky, and there Tim stood in his unconsciously competent pose, not five feet away, swaying ever so lightly as the cutter rode the waves. The race boat now in tow as they turned for port.
“Twenty cases of one-quart steel bottles. Enough to take out a dozen cities. He thought it was moonshine. Went sheet white when he discovered he’d wanted to sample some of the product. The guys with the guns had yelled at him when he tried.”
“So, he gets away with it. Again.” She should have shot him when she had the chance.
Tim grinned that easy smile of his. “Not so much. That bag I found wasn’t the only one. He must have been out on a run when you called his cell. That’s how he got there ahead of us. It just happens that he also has a quarter ton of heroin aboard. Wonder how much cash that cost him?”
Lola nodded. He’d go down hard for that. This wasn’t some local judge in the Big Easy. With the Coasties involved, this one would hit Federal court. Maybe she was finally done with her past. Maybe, just maybe, she was who she said she was, Chief Warrant 2 of the Army’s SOAR, a Night Stalker of the 160th.
“They’ve got a nickname for you now.”
Lola grimaced. “That doesn’t sound good.” She’d left behind more than few black eyes when various crews had tried “Stripper LaRue” and a dozen variations on it.
“They’re calling you ‘Hammer LaRue.’ Kinda fits.”
She looked at him in silence, knowing full well exactly who had started that nickname—the oh-so-pleased-with-himself man right in front of her.
“Just ‘The Hammer,’ for short. Personally, I kinda like it.”
She rolled the sound back and forth. She liked it, too. The power, the strength, but still herself.
“Hammer LaRue and Crazy Tim. Quite a pair, huh?” It wasn’t until after she said it that she realized quite what she’d given voice to.
Tim went all quiet. Hands rammed deep in his pockets. So still that he almost faded from sight like a D-boy.
She knew what was in his pocket. Knew what he hoped for and wanted.
Lola also knew that there would never be anyone who could know her the way Tim did. Who had been able to talk her back from that cliff edge where warfare turns to murder. Had found her in the dark shadows that surrounded her soul.
And no one that she’d ever known so well. No one who made her feel safe and loved and important. No one else had ever made her feel complete, and Tim could do it with the simplest gesture of merely taking her hand.
There wasn’t anyone that she ever could love the way she did Crazy Tim Maloney.
He voiced no question. But he was asking.
She’d been sitting in almost exactly this spot on the edge of the Huey’s cargo bay that day. It had been spread for a picnic, not dusty with blowback from the miniguns. But he’d asked the question again no less clearly.
And she had given one answer the first time, smashing an heirloom and his heart in the process. The joke had been on her. Who’d have thought that Lola LaRue also had a heart that could be shredded.
Who’d have thought that she had a heart that could be healed by the love of a good man.
This time she knew her answer to his silent question.
She pulled up her legs, shifting back into the shadows of the cargo bay, sitting out of the reach of the sole work-light atop the cutter’s helideck.
Then she extended her left hand back into the soft light to beckon Tim to join her. She held her hand out to him, with the ring finger slightly raised.
A sigh ran the length of her body as the cool gold slid onto her finger and his warm lips marked it in place.
Curling his fingers into hers, she pulled him into the dark shadows of the chopper and the dark shadows of her life, where Tim spread nothing but the brightest light.
Chapter 61
Lola LaRue stood at a moment and a place she’d never imagined.
A simple “I do” joining her life to Tim’s. The two simple words completed her declaration that matched his.
When he kissed her, tears flowed and she couldn’t stop them. Tears and laughter and one of his searing kisses that made her know she could fly.
In moments, her laughter had swept the wedding party and then the rest of the crowded restaurant closed for the occasion. Mark Henderson, who’d escorted her down the aisle, now close beside Emily, her maid-of-honor, still barely showing despite the clingy bridesmaid dress. Big John, looking absolutely amazing in his best man’s suit swept his quiet wife into his arms and delivered a smacking kiss that she wholeheartedly returned.
Dilya ran forward, still carrying her near-empty basket of rose petals, to offer her a quick hug before dodging back to her parents barely in time avoid Tim’s family descending on her.
Lola let herself relax and lose herself in their unstinting welcome and was quickly buried several people deep until Tim rescued her.
Food flowed from the kitchen, and they gorged on delicacies and delights. None of them were on call, but even the second glass of wine wasn’t finished by any of the Night Stalkers; they were giddy enough without the alcohol.
She felt beyond giddy herself and couldn’t stop smiling each time she saw the gift table piled high. She knew that in the depths lurked a double present from bride to groom. The first had cost her a month’s pay, an antique teapot as exquisite as the one she’d shattered. The second, a plaque. The engraved brass plate noting the date of the first shared kill of Sergeant Tim Maloney and Chief Warrant 2 Lola LaRue and mounted above it, the original teapot handle. A joke on both of them that would make Crazy Tim the butt of a joke that his friends would never let him live down, no matter how many years they were together.
When she retreated to a quiet table for a breather, she found Emily Beale sipping from a glass of sparkling apple cider. It somehow seemed the first minute they’d had together. Lola had been too wound up to be coherent in the upstairs apartment as the three women of her crew had helped her get ready.
Perhaps it was the first time they’d been alone together since… Lola could feel a blush rising to her cheeks.
Emily considered her for a long moment.
Lola inspected her hands.
“Hell of punch you have, Chief Warrant.”
“Uh. Thank you, Major. Sorry, Major.”
When Lola managed to look up, the Major was watching her closely.
“I’ll have to remember to return the favor some day.”
“The favor?”
Now it was the Major who looked away, contemplated her cider for a long moment before speaking.
“There will come a time when you have to face choices, Chief LaRue, choices that you don’t want to make for what seem many and good reasons. But to which the answer is obvious. I should never have set foot on that chopper. I knew it, but commanding the Vengeance had defined me so completely that I didn’t know how to be anything else.”
Lola nodded. She knew all about fighting the right choice for the wrong reasons. All she had to do was look up and spot her husband laughing with his best friend, a smear of cake on his cheek that still no one had told him about. He looked up to see her, and again Lola felt the smile bloom from deep inside her.
“I’m resigning my commission.”
That shocked her attention back to the Major. “No! You can’t.”
“Already did. And I browbeat Peter into accepting it, though he was pretty grumpy about it. Especially when Mark turned his in, as well.”
“No! Emily, that’s not right. You can’t just throw all of that away. How did the President ever agree to let you go?
I need to talk to him.”
She’d half risen to her feet to go find him. There. Flirting with Tim’s mother. Emily stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“Actually, Peter’s sponsoring us in a little endeavor.”
“What endeavor?” Lola dropped back into her seat.
It had been strange to fly without Emily beside her, even after the few short weeks they’d been together as crew. But to have her not in the service at all, that absolutely wasn’t right.
“Ever flown a Firehawk?”
Lola could only shake her head. Had seen the footage. Sikorsky Black Hawks rigged with spray equipment, fighting forest fires in places that ground crews could never reach.
“One of the odd things about flying a Firehawk, very few people shooting at you. The other oddity, well, countries are always glad for help from a Firehawk team, even countries where there’s normally no way to get in, even undercover. You should come fly with us some time. It’s going to be fun. Mount Hood Aviation, up in Oregon. Look us up when you’re ready.”
Lola knew about Mount Hood—part firefighting, part CIA undercover transport, an odd leftover of Air America back in the 1960s. That could be interesting. But not where she wanted, needed to be at this point of her life.
“Maybe we’ll fly together again some time.”
Emily looked at her. Took her hand and squeezed it hard. “I’d like that, Lola. Truly I would.”
She returned the gesture, fighting back the tears. The unquestioned truth of that from Major Emily Beale took her breath away.
Tim came up beside her before she could get her breath back. She rose to her feet and kissed away the icing still on his cheek. He looked goofy happy as he pulled her away from Emily.
He danced her out onto the cleared center of the restaurant’s floor. He snapped his fingers and pointed at his cousin Jimmy who punched a button on the screen in front of him.
A tango washed out of the speakers and Lola couldn’t think of when she’d been happier. Perhaps dancing with Tim that very first time on the dusty Afghan soil, surrounded by helicopters. Perhaps that had been her glimpse of what was possible.
No. She looked into Tim’s eyes as he swept her down and then back up into his arms.
There, in his eyes, there was the glimpse of the possible.
Notes
The curiously straight line and large power station in the Iranian desert outside Ravar may be viewed by pasting 31.30593, 56.76981 into your favorite map viewer. Perhaps just an irrigation ditch, it was still enough to inspire this bit of fiction.
Desert One is located at: 33.083236, 55.799088.
For a great view of real-time ship movement at ports all over the world, including New Orleans, visit www.marinetraffic.com.
Watch for Pure Heat,
the first book in Firehawks, an exciting new series by M.L. Buchman, coming May 2014 from Sourcebooks Casablanca
The daredevil smokejumpers of Mount Hood Aviation do more than fight wildfires. Led by retired SOAR pilots, they fly elite operatives into places that even the CIA can’t penetrate—and Charlene Thomas and Steve Mercer are the best in the business.
While battling the summer’s toughest fire, the pair uncover a terrorist camp in the remote forest of Oregon. Using specially equipped helicopters and a stealth-modified drone, they take on the camp. The mission—and the flames—are combatable. For Steve, it’s the heat from Charlene that might just scorch him to the core.
The Night Is Mine
by M.L. Buchman
NAME: Emily Beale
RANK: Captain
MISSION: Fly undercover to prevent the assassination of the First Lady, posing as her executive pilot
NAME: Mark Henderson, code name Viper
RANK: Major
MISSION: Undercover role of wealthy, ex-mercenary boyfriend to Emily
Their jobs are high risk, high reward:
Protect the lives of the powerful and the elite at all cost. Neither expected that one kiss could distract them from their mission. But as the passion mounts between them, their lives and their hearts will both be risked… and the reward this time may well be worth it.
“An action-packed adventure. With a super-stud hero, a strong heroine, and a backdrop of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue and the world of the Washington elite, it will grab readers from the first page.” —RT Book Reviews
For more in The Night Stalkers series, visit:
www.sourcebooks.com
I Own the Dawn
The Night Stalkers
by M. L. Buchman
NAME: Archibald Jeffrey Stevenson III
RANK: First Lieutenant, DAP Hawk copilot
MISSION: Strategy and execution of special ops maneuvers
NAME: Kee Smith
RANK: Sergeant, Night Stalker gunner and sharpshooter
MISSION: Whatever it takes to get the job done
You wouldn’t think it could get worse, until it does…
When a special mission slowly unravels, it is up to Kee and Archie to get their team out of an impossible situation with international implications. With her weaponry knowledge and his strategic thinking, plus the explosive attraction that puts them into exact synchrony, together they might just have a fighting chance…
“The first novel in Buchman’s new military suspense series is an action-packed adventure. With a super-stud hero, a strong heroine, and a backdrop of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue and the world of the Washington elite, it will grab readers from the first page.” — RT Book Reviews, 4 Stars
For more Night Stalkers, visit:
www.sourcebooks.com
Wait Until Dark
by M.L. Buchman
NAME: Big John Wallace
RANK: Staff Sergeant, chief mechanic and gunner
MISSION: To serve and protect his crew and country
NAME: Connie Davis
RANK: Sergeant, flight engineer, mechanical wizard
MISSION: To be the best… and survive
Two crack mechanics, one impossible mission
Being in the Night Stalkers is Connie Davis’s way of facing her demons head-on, but mountain-strong Big John Wallace is a threat on all fronts. Their passion is explosive but their conflicts are insurmountable. When duty calls them to a mission no one else could survive, they’ll fly into the night together—ready or not.
“Filled with action, adventure, and danger… Buchman’s novels will appeal to readers who like romances as well as fans of military fiction.” —Booklist Starred Review of I Own the Dawn
For more M.L. Buchman, visit:
www.sourcebooks.com
About the Author
M.L. Buchman began writing novels on July 22, 1993, while on a plane from Korea to ride a bicycle across the Australian Outback. M.L. has been a substitute instructor for the University of Washington’s Certificate in Commercial Fiction program and spoken at dozens of conferences, including RWA national and BookExpo. Past lives include: renovating a fifty-foot sailboat, fifteen years in corporate computer-systems design, bicycling solo around the world, developing maps for a national franchise, and designing roof trusses, in roughly that order. M.L. and family live on an island in the Pacific Northwest in a solar-powered home of their own design.
“To Champion the Human Spirit, Celebrate the Power of Joy, and Revel in the Wonder of Love.”
M.L.’s website: www.mlbuchman.com
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Take Over at Midnight (The Night Stalkers) Page 29