In minutes, the ramp groaned and squealed as it came up and closed. The cargo hold was thrown into semidarkness. Patting Jameela’s shoulder, Nike went to her seat, pulled on her helmet and got ready to take the bird up.
Andy sat down next to the twosome and Gavin explained to Jameela that he was there to support her through the flight. Jameela seemed less intimidated when Andy strapped himself in next to her. Nike’s large, broad seat back on one side and the young man on the other seemed to calm her fears, Gavin thought.
After climbing into the copilot’s seat, Gavin picked up the extra helmet and put it on, opening communication between the four of them. As she rapidly went through the preflight checklist, Nike’s gloved hands flew across the instrument panel. She was focused on this flight, not on the man next to her. He must have understood the gravity of this dangerous flight and wasn’t about to distract her. For that, she was grateful.
The flight back wasn’t any different from any other, but Gavin had his hands full with Jameela, who screamed into the helmet’s mouthpiece whenever they dived and wove through the mountain passes at a hundred feet. Nike couldn’t afford to pull her focus off her flying. The CH-47 shook and shuddered like a dog shaking off fleas as she guided it up and down and then twisted around the mountains to plunge down into the next valley.
By the time they arrived at the base, Jameela was frantic. Atefa, however, was laughing and throwing her arms up and down. For the child, it was like a fun roller-coaster ride.
By custom, no man could touch the woman, so it was Nike who unharnessed Jameela and Atefa, taking off the helmet and earphones and walking them down the ramp into the dusk. Andy brought along the suitcases. A medic met them at the bottom of the ramp in a golf cart, ready to whisk them to a tent for the night.
By the time Nike had them settled, it was pitch-dark. Gavin met her outside the tent.
“They all set?”
“Yes. Finally.” Nike quirked her mouth. “What a day.”
Gavin nodded and fell into step with her as they headed to the chow hall on the other side of the base. “Couldn’t have done it without you. Thanks. I know Jameela feels better because she knows you and trusts you.” No lights marked the camp after night fell. To have it lit up was to invite attacks by the Taliban. Each of them had a small flashlight to show the way between the rows of green canvas tents.
The cool night air revived Nike. She was always tense after such a flight. It felt good to talk about little things, and, even though she didn’t want to admit it, she was glad to have Gavin’s company. After chow, she’d go to ops and fill out her mission debrief report.
Inside the large, plywood-floored tent, the odor of food permeated the air. Nike found herself hungry, so they went through the line and ended up at a wooden picnic table in the corner. She eagerly sipped her hot coffee. Gavin sat opposite her.
“You a little hungry?” she teased Gavin, who sat opposite her, digging into roast beef slathered with dark brown gravy.
“Listen, when you eat as many MREs as we do, real food is a gift,” he said, popping a piece of beef into his mouth.
Nike could only imagine. There were mashed potatoes with that thick, brown gravy, corn with butter and a huge biscuit. She ate as if she’d never seen food. Normally, she didn’t have such a large appetite, but tonight, she did. “This hits the spot,” she told him.
“Mmm,” Gavin mumbled, barely breathing between bites.
Nike grinned. “If you don’t slow up, you’re going to choke on that food you’re shoveling down your gullet.”
Chastised, Gavin had the good grace to flush. He slowed down a little. “You have no idea how good real, hot food tastes.”
“I probably don’t. I’m spoiled. I might fly every day or night, but I can come here and get good chow. I hate MREs.”
“Everyone does,” he said between bites. He took his third biscuit and pulled it open. After putting in several slabs of butter, he took a big bite.
Nike saw the absolute pleasure the food gave him. She knew these A teams were out in the wilds for a month at a time, sometimes more. This unexpected trip was a real present to Gavin. She tried to ignore how handsome he was, even with the full beard.
“Do you mind wearing your disguise?” she wondered, pushing her empty plate to one side. She held the white ceramic mug of coffee between her hands.
“No.”
“It’s got to be different from the spit and polish of shaving every day.”
“Oh, that.” Gavin touched his neatly trimmed beard. “I bet you wonder what I look like without it?”
“No…”
“Sure you do.” He grinned.
“I was just wondering how you liked going under cover.”
Shrugging, Gavin finished off his third and final biscuit. “Doesn’t bother me. Usually, when we’re out for a month, we’re riding horses and doing our thing.”
“So you’ve all learned how to ride.”
“That or fall off.” He laughed. Scraping up the last of the gravy, he sighed. “That was damn good food. I wish I could take this back to the guys.”
“You and your team go without a lot of things,” Nike said, feeling bad for them.
“Luck of the draw,” Gavin said. He wiped his mouth with his paper napkin, pushed the plate aside and then picked up his cup of coffee. “I’d rather be on the ground than threading the needle with that hulking helo of yours. That must take some starch out of you.”
“Sure it does. Seat-of-the-pants kind of flying. I don’t mind doing nap-of-the-earth. I do mind getting shot at.”
Chuckling, Gavin felt the warmth of the food in his belly. How lucky he was that Nike had shared such a meal with him. He felt happiness threading through him like sun shining into a dark valley. “Makes two of us. I felt for Jameela. The poor woman is probably going to refuse to step into the CH-47 tomorrow morning.”
“We’ll have to persuade her that the flight to Kabul will be smooth and quiet, unlike the snaking flight from her village.”
“I don’t know if she’ll believe me,” Gavin said.
“She’ll get on board because her daughter is going to be fitted for a new leg.”
“I appreciate all you did. If you hadn’t been there, this would have been a lot tougher. Moslem customs don’t allow any man to touch a woman.”
Shaking her head, Nike muttered, “I’m glad I was there, but I can’t see how their women live in such a state. I know I couldn’t.”
“Different realities, different belief system,” Gavin said. “We don’t have to like it for ourselves, but we have to understand and respect them for it.”
“Glad I’m a woman from a democracy, thank you very much.”
Gavin smiled. “Dessert? I saw some great-looking cherry pie over there. Want some?”
“Sure.”
He got up. “Ice cream on it?”
In that moment, Nike saw he was like a little boy in a candy store. The light dancing in his readable blue eyes made her heart melt. “Why not?”
“Be right back.”
She watched him thread his way through the noisy, busy place. This was the dinner hour and the place was packed with crews. There were a few A teams, as well, all dressed in their Afghan clothing. Still, as she allowed her gaze to wander around the area, Nike thought Gavin Jackson stood head and shoulders above any other man present. Maybe she was prejudiced. Maybe she liked him more than she should.
Feeling uneasy for a moment, Nike didn’t question why she decided to have a meal with him. If she was really sincere about not ever wanting to love a military man again, she’d have left him at the chow hall and disappeared. But she hadn’t. Damn. Rubbing her face, Nike felt torn. The problem was, Gavin was too easy to like.
His eyes were shining with triumph when he came back with two large plates. His had two pieces of cherry pie and scoops of vanilla ice cream. Setting hers down in front of her, he gloated, “I couldn’t help myself. I love cherry pie and ice cream. My parents h
ave a farm in Nebraska and I grew up picking sour cherries from our trees so Mom could make these mouthwatering pies.”
“You’re something else,” Nike murmured. She watched him sit down and launch into the dessert without apology. Indeed, he was a little ten-year-old boy and not the man sitting there. His expression was wreathed with such pleasure that Nike couldn’t help but laugh.
“So, you’re a Nebraska farm boy?”
“Yep. My folks have a five-hundred-acre farm. They raise organic wheat, corn and soybeans for the growing green market. Of course, they were doing this decades earlier.”
“And you helped with all the farming?”
“Me and my two younger brothers,” Gavin said, shoveling in another bite of cherry pie. “They’re still at the farm and will take it over when Dad decides to retire.”
Cocking her head, she asked, “So, what made you come into the military, then?”
Shrugging, he wiped his mouth. “The excitement. I get bored real easy and watching corn grow wasn’t exactly my kind of fodder.”
“So, this is your career?”
“I plan to put twenty in, retire and then do a lot of things I couldn’t do before.”
“Like what?”
He gave her a wistful look. “I like to travel. I want to see the countries of the world, large and small. I enjoy meeting people of different beliefs and religions. I always learn from them and it makes me a better person in the end.”
“I’d never have thought that of you.”
“No?” Gavin asked, lifting his head and giving her a thoughtful look. “What did you think?”
Uncomfortable, Nike said, “I don’t know. I just never thought that much about it.” Liar.
“I see. Well, how about you? You’re Greek by birth. How did you get into the U.S. Army to fly Apaches?”
The pride in his tone washed across Nike. Plenty of men distrusted her because she was a woman in the pilot’s seat of an Apache. “My father was in the Greek military for twenty years and then went into flying for a commercial airline. I grew up wanting to fly. He made sure I had flight lessons on single-engine airplanes from the time I was fourteen years old. Later, I wanted to fly helicopters, so I got my license when I was seventeen. My mother didn’t want me to go into the military, fearing I’d die.”
Gavin nodded. “Not a prudent choice from her perspective.”
“No, but I was a tumbleweed of sorts. I didn’t want to do things girls were supposed to do. All I wanted to do was get in the sky. I loved the challenge of flying a helo versus a fixed-wing aircraft. When I was up in the sky, everything in my life went right.”
“On the ground, things got muddied up?”
“You got it.”
“Was there a program for flying the Apache?”
“There was, and I took advantage of it. After I graduated from school in the U.S., I was assigned to the Black Jaguar Squadron down in Peru. I spent several years chasing the druggies and loved every moment of it. From there, I got assigned to chasing druggies along the U.S.-Mexican border. Dallas, who was already there, got me assigned to her unit. When she told me the Pentagon was going to approve a second all-woman BJS squadron, I wanted to be a part of it.”
“And here you are. That’s pretty impressive.”
“Thank you. Women can do anything they want if they dream high enough.”
“Obviously, you’re one hell of a dreamer.”
She chuckled and relaxed completely. Talking to Gavin was like talking to her best friend. “I don’t think everyone dreams of being in combat, though. I like the challenge of it. I don’t like thinking about getting killed. No one does.”
“So, what other dreams do you have?”
She took a sip of her coffee. “I’d like to go back to Apache school in the U.S. and teach. I think I’d be a good instructor.”
“So, you dream of twenty years in the military, too?”
“I guess I do, but I’m focused only on the present. My mother is always urging me to get married, have kids and come back to live in Greece. I told her I was too young for all of that. I’ve seen people get married too early, get bogged down with children, and then they’re forty-five before they ever have a life of their own. I love kids, and I want them, but not right now. I want to use my twenties and thirties to explore what moves me in life. After that, I’ll settle down.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Gavin said before his expression became serious. “You said the man you loved was killed in combat down in Peru?”
“Yes.” Nike hesitated.
“I know what it’s like to lose someone you care for. In my first deployment here in Afghanistan, I lost two of my men from my team.”
“I’m sorry.” And she was. Nike saw his straight, dark brows dip in grief. “I’m just now coming to terms with the loss of Antonio.”
“I’m sure we’ll both remember those we loved forever.”
She liked his sensitivity. “Love can’t be destroyed.”
“I found that with their loss, I became overprotective and superconservative when I was out in the field. I didn’t want to lose any more of my men.”
“That’s understandable.”
“Well, it got to the point where my own men got frustrated with me. I was scared. So, I pulled back, and I lost my will to go out and be the risk-taker I was before. At the end of my first tour, my men finally had to sit me down and let me have it. They told me that risk is a part of our nature, that avoidance wasn’t going to help them live or die. Eventually, I realized they were right,” Gavin murmured. “I was afraid to connect with life again. My fear paralyzed me in a lot of ways I couldn’t see then. I do now, but my men had to gang up on me and force me to see how I was reacting.”
She saw the caring in Gavin’s blue eyes as he held her gaze. “I can see why you became so gun-shy, so to speak. I hope you don’t blame yourself for what happened.”
“I try not to.” Gavin sat up and moved his shoulders as if to get rid of accumulated tension. “It didn’t want to take another chance and that kept me from my job, from living. My men saw it and came to my rescue.”
“They are good friends to you, then.”
“And I want to be a friend to you, Nike.”
His words, softly spoken, made her heart hammer suddenly. Gazing into his eyes, Nike could feel him wanting to reach out and touch her hand. “A friend?” she asked stupidly.
“You’re afraid to get back into life because you lost the man you loved. I know you want to protect yourself.” Gavin smiled warmly, the expression making her ache inside. “But life isn’t like that. You can’t help who you do or don’t fall in love with. It’s chemistry and a million other things all rolled into one.”
“Where is this going?” She tried not to look at him but it was impossible
“I’d like to be your friend, but you won’t let me.”
“You want a lot more, Gavin. I can’t give that to you.”
Sighing, he nodded. “I know. The problem is, I like you. I’d like to get to know you better on your time and terms. I’m not the kind of guy who hops from bed to bed. You’re different from any woman I’ve ever met. You’re courageous, you have steel nerves and you’re intelligent. All those things draw me to you. I didn’t plan this, it just happened.”
His honesty made her feel guilty, especially since there was so much she liked about him. It had been a long time since someone had touched her on such a deep level. “Gavin, you’re a nice guy, but I just can’t.”
Getting up, she left the chow hall as quickly as she could. Her heart was hurting and the grief still roiled within her. The cold night air gave her the slap in the face she needed. She felt bad that she had stomped all over Gavin for being honest. Nike didn’t like herself very much as she made her way to her tent. Weaving through the tent city, she noticed the stars twinkling above. They were cold, distant and beautiful. If only she could feel that distant and cold toward Gavin.
Every time the guy looked at her,
she found herself shaky, needy and sexually hungry. Was Gavin right? Was this all about her own fear of loss? Of course it was. Nike halted in front of her tent and shut off the flashlight. In the distance, she heard an Apache revving up to take off on a night mission. The wind was cold and she shivered. As she recalled Gavin’s story about losing his men, she realized he was trying gently to tell her something about herself.
With a muffled curse, Nike turned, pulled open the flap on her tent and went inside. She sat on the cot and took off her flight boots. Tears burned in her eyes and she wiped them away almost instinctively. She was drawn to Gavin Jackson whether she wanted it or not! A sense of guilt and a need to run flooded her.
The worst part was Gavin had no unlikeable qualities. This fact compelled her to throw her boots across the floor. They made thunks as they struck the plywood. Leaning over, elbows on her thighs, Nike pressed her hands to her face. She wanted to keep crying. Of all things! It had been two years since she’d cried and that was at Antonio’s funeral.
“Damn you, Jackson.”
Chapter 8
The July heat was arid and scalding. Nike had grown up in the dry heat of her homeland, Greece, so she felt right at home. Red-haired Emma Trayhern-Cantrell and she trotted across the tarmac to their waiting Apache helicopter. The crew quickly opened up the canopies. Word had just come in that an A team near the village of Bar Sur Kamar was under heavy attack.
Time was of the essence. Nike was the AC, air commander. She leaped up on the step and quickly situated herself in the forward cockpit. Her heart pounded in time with the snaps her harness made as she fastened it. Emma climbed into the rear seat, behind Nike. A blonde mechanic by the name of Judy cinched them in and gave them a thumbs-up before removing the ladder and hauling it beyond the range of the helo’s blades.
“Ready,” Emma told Nike from the rear seat.
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