“Good to go,” Nike said, pressing the microphone to her lips. The sun beat down upon them. “Let’s shut the canopies first. It’s hotter than hell.”
Once the canopies were locked down, Nike was able to turn on the air-conditioning. The coolness flowed past her helmeted face as they went through the preflight checklist in record time. The Apache quivered to life, its rotors swinging in slow arcs. Nike powered up and the blades began to churn. As she looked through the dark shield over her eyes, Nike snapped off a salute to the women on the ground. The chocks were removed from the wheels and they were ready to take off.
For the last two months, Nike had been able to fly the Apache exclusively. She loved being off the roster for assignments with the slow CH-47. As she placed her gloved hands around the cyclic and collective, she lifted the massive, deadly assault helo off the tarmac and into the air.
“I’m punching in the coordinates,” Emma told her.
“Roger.”
“I’m tuning us in to the A-team commo link so we can monitor them going in.”
Lips compressed, Nike felt the helo moving powerfully through the desultory late-afternoon air. “Roger.” The land grew distant as she brought the Apache up to seven thousand feet. With this bird, she didn’t have to fly nap-of-the-earth. The Apache had every conceivable device on board to locate possible firing by the Taliban. This bird ruled the air in Afghanistan.
Her gaze flicked over the large panel in front of her. Nike watched airspeed and altitude and constantly craned her neck to spot problems. She heard scratchiness through the helmet earphones. Emma switched to the A-team frequency, which would enhance communication. In the past month, attacks on the army hunter-killer teams had escalated. They always did in the summer when travel was easier for both sides.
Her mind turned back to Gavin. She hadn’t seen him in two months and was relieved he’d gone back into the field. After she’d dropped Jameela and Atefa into Kabul, her days of ferrying were over. Atefa now had a new leg and was doing fine.
The vibration moved through her hands and up into her arms. But despite her return to more comfortable surroundings, Nike couldn’t stop thinking about Gavin. She felt the weight of the armored helicopter around her. Too bad she couldn’t choose who to love. Not that she loved Gavin, but she kept seeing—feeling—that one, unexpected kiss in her mind. She’d replayed their conversations too many times to count. How sad was that? Nike could convince herself that she didn’t care, but right now she admitted how worried she was for him and his team. It wasn’t unusual to fly three missions a day in support of those out in the field. Each time the temptation came to nose around for Gavin and his men, she hesitated. Nike couldn’t stop her dreams—the ones where she explored his body, her lips moulded against his, those strong hands ranging over her heated flesh. How many times had Nike awakened from sleep, breathing raggedly, aching for him? Too many.
They topped a mountain range, some snow left on the very tops, the blue-purple rock below. As they came over the valley, communications blared into her helmet.
“Red Dog One to Alpha One, over.”
Nike gasped. It was Gavin! The moment she’d dreaded had come. Gavin’s team was under attack!
“Alpha One this is Red Dog One, over,” Emma’s calm voice responded.
“We’re getting another attack! I’ve got two men down. One will die if I don’t get medevac pronto! Do you have us in range? Over.”
The desperation in his voice shook Nike as nothing else ever had. Hands tightening on the flight controls, she saw the puffs of mortars fired at a hill on the other side of the valley. She knew that the A teams set up lonely outposts in valleys to intercept the paths Taliban took into Afghanistan. Gavin must have been ordered to Alpha One. This valley was a hotbed of enemy attacks.
Pushing the Apache, Nike said, “I’ve got them in sight. Prepare the rockets.”
“Roger,” Emma said.
“Alpha One,” Emma called, “we’re on our way. Give me the coordinates of your position. Over.”
Nike heard the back-and-forth between Emma and Gavin. The Apache screamed down out of the sky and Nike watched the firings at the top of the hill where Gavin and his team were pinned down. Her heart raced. Sweat trickled down the sides of her face as she brought the helicopter in line to fire the rockets.
“Ready and on target,” Emma called.
Tension reigned in the cabin. “Fire at will,” Nike said.
Instantly, the Apache shuddered as the first rocket left. Then a second, third and fourth. Nike watched with visceral pleasure as the rockets struck their targets. Rocks, dirt, flame and other debris exploded upward one, two, three and four times. The hill suddenly had tons of dirt gouged out of one side of it.
“On target!” Gavin yelled, triumph in his hoarse voice.
Emma continued to speak to the A-team leader. It was Nike’s job to circle the entire hill. They had infrared aboard that would show body heat where the Taliban was hidden below in the tangle of thick brush. Emma also worked the infrared and continued to give her flight changes so that she could fire the Gatling gun beneath the belly of the helo at other pockets.
In moments, the Apache came on station and Nike held it at an angle, hovering about five hundred feet above a particularly thick grove of trees. Emma released a fusillade of fire, the Apache bucking beneath her hands as the Gatling gun spewed forth the bullets. Nike watched the bullets chew up the landscape like a shredder. Tree limbs exploded, bushes were torn up and she saw about twenty of the enemy scattering in all directions to get out of the line of fire.
It was then that Nike realized just how overwhelmed Gavin and his team had been. She estimated about a hundred of the enemy on all sides of the hill. Her headphones sang with communications between the team, Emma and ops. The sunlight lanced strongly into the cockpit and Nike didn’t like it. This time of day was hard on the eyes, making it tougher to see. Fortunately, Nike had a television screen in front of her and she didn’t have to crane her neck and squint. The television feed showed a number of other hiding places for the enemy.
Over the next five minutes, they systematically took the Taliban charge apart. The .45 pistol she carried on top of her flak jacket made it tough to draw in a deep breath of air. As Nike danced the Apache around the hill, they spotted another force of about fifty men coming down from the slope of a mountain behind the hill.
Whistling, she said, “They want to take that hill.”
“No joke!” Emma said. “We’re running low on ammo. Want to call in another Apache for support?”
“Roger that,” Nike said grimly, and she switched the commo to another position to call ops with the request.
“Red Dog One, this is Alpha One,” Nike said. She kept looking around as she brought the Apache to a thousand feet above the hill and continued to circle. This was the first time Gavin had heard her voice.
“Nike?”
She grinned. “Roger that, Red Dog One.”
“I need immediate helo evacuation.” Gavin’s voice registered his surprise. “I’ve got one man with a severed artery. I’ve got a tourniquet on it but Burkie’ll bleed out before the medevac can get here. Can you land, give up one of your seats and take him on board? Over.”
The request was out of the ordinary and completely against regulations. Emma’s gasp showed her shock, but what could they do? It would take forty minutes for medevac to arrive on station. By that time, his team member would be dead. Nike knew all the men, and her throat tightened. It was Emma’s call. She was the XO. She had the position and power to override any rule.
“Emma?”
“I know,” she said, her voice desperate. “Dammit!”
“We’ve got the Taliban on the run. The hill’s clear and we’ve scattered the fifty coming down to join them. I think we’ll be okay to land. We can do this before our backup arrives.”
“Are you volunteering to stay behind?”
Nike hadn’t thought that far. “I guess I am.
Can you clear this request and give permission?” she begged.
“We shouldn’t do this,” Emma said grimly. “It’s against our orders. Dallas will hang us.”
“I know, but there’s a man dying down there. There’s enough room to land and take off, Emma. I can set this girl down, hop out and we can get the guy on board. It’ll be easy for you to fly him back at top speed. I don’t think the Taliban will regroup. We’ve killed most of them.”
Nike held her breath. If Emma approved the illegal pickup and leaving a pilot behind, it was her ass on the line. Emma was one hell of a pilot and a damn good leader. If anyone could persuade Dallas this was the right decision, it would be Emma.
“Okay, okay, let’s get down there. I’m going to rig some static for a call to ops requesting permission. They won’t give it to us, but we’ll pretend we heard otherwise.”
Nike wanted to cry for joy. “We’ll stick together on this.”
Chuckling, Emma said, “We’re BJS and crazy wild women, anyway. This might not be in the flight rules for the boys flying Apaches, but for us, it’s no rules at times. Peru taught us that.”
Nike understood. How many times down in Peru were the flight book and rules thrown out the window? Too many times to count. If nothing else, BJS was a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants squadron. It shouldn’t be any different here, either.
“Red Dog One, this is Alpha One. Clear off an area north of your position on the hilltop. We’re coming in to land. Once down, I have to shut off the engines. Bring your man once the blades have stop turning. Over.”
“Thank you, Alpha One. We’ll get on it pronto. Out.”
Nike heard the incredible relief in Gavin’s voice. Knowing how tight he was with his men, that they were family to him, Nike felt moisture in her eyes. She blinked away tears as she noted the men scrambling to the north end of the hill to pick up anything that the blades might kick into the air. If there was anything lying around, the power of the blades could throw it up in the air and turn it into weapons against them.
Emma rigged the shorting-out communications call with ops and made it sound like static. She laughed darkly. “Okay, we’re indicted now. Ready to land?”
“Yes.”
Banking the Apache, Nike swooped down and brought the helo to a hover fifty feet above the clearing.
“You can take a hop back on the medevac that’s already under way.”
“Roger that. No way do I want to stay on that hilltop tonight.” Nike brought the Apache down until its tri-wheels hunkered on the earth. Dust clouds kicked up in every direction until the blades had stopped. She pushed open the canopy, climbed out and leaped to the ground.
Two men were carrying a third between them. The injured man’s left leg had a tourniquet, midthigh. Blood stained his entire pant leg down to his boot. Gavin trotted up, his face grim, rifle in hand. There were splotches of blood all over his uniform. He’d probably dragged his friend out of the line of fire.
Emma had thrown open her cockpit canopy and stood on the seat to give the men directions.
Nike met Gavin’s eyes and ached for the fear and grimness in them. He handed her the rifle and then lithely leaped up on the Apache. Together, the three men got the unconscious soldier into the cockpit. Nike watched as Gavin quickly harnessed him up. Within two minutes, Emma was ready to take off. Gavin locked the canopy back into place and gave her a thumbs-up.
Nike handed Gavin his weapon as he leaped off the Apache. Together, they all moved away.
“Are you all right?” Gavin demanded as they stood back and hunkered down.
“I’m fine.”
“Thanks for doing this,” he said.
“No problem.” She was kneeling down in a foxhole dug deeply enough to keep them hidden. The dust from the Apache kicked up and the shriek of the engines was like music to her ears. Coughing, Nike shut her eyes and covered her mouth as the thick dust rolled by.
Within three minutes, the Apache was hotfooting it across the valley toward base. The thunking sound of the blades beat in echoing retreats across the valley. Nike told Gavin that a medevac was on the way, and Gavin nodded. “That’s good to hear. You’re going to be on it.”
“Yes, I will be.”
He wiped the sweat off his brow. His hands trembled as he put another clip of ammo into his weapon. “You just saved our bacon. At least a hundred of those bastards were down there.”
“I’m glad we made the difference.” Nike sat down in the hole, dust all over her flight suit. She saw the rest of the men in other foxholes across the top of the hill. Huge craters had formed from mortars fired earlier by the Taliban. The sun slanted powerfully across the hill, making it difficult to see on the western side.
“I’ve got two other men wounded, but they’re walking and firing.” He locked and loaded his weapon, craned his neck out of the hole and gazed down the side of the chewed-up hill. Sitting back down, he conferred with his assistant and told him to keep watch, this was merely a lull in the fighting.
Nike sat next to him, her heart lifting with joy to see him alive. “How long have you been up here?”
“Too long. It’s been twenty-eight days so far, Nike.” He managed a grin. “Why? Do I smell bad?”
Nike chuckled. “This isn’t exactly the Ritz.”
“I’d give almost anything for a hot shower.” He met and held her gaze. “But right now, I’m the happiest man on earth. You’re here. With me. Amazing.”
Laughing softly, Nike said, “Okay, I missed you a little, too.”
“Really?”
She liked the amusement in his crinkled eyes. “A little,” she stressed. Right now, Gavin looked more like an eagle on the hunt than the laid-back soldier she’d met at base camp two months ago. She reminded herself that he’d been under attack, his adrenaline was up and he was in survival mode.
Gavin wanted to grab Nike and crush her against him. He could smell the shampoo she’d used this morning in her hair. Any fragrance compared to the hell he’d seen on this hill over the last three weeks was welcome.
“Are you wounded?” she said, pointing to his leg. Besides being dirty and torn, he had some fresh blood on his right thigh.
“What? Oh, that. I’m fine. It was just some shrapnel from a mortar.”
“You should be medevaced out, too.”
“No way.”
Frowning, Nike began to really study the rest of the team. They were all wounded to some degree and oblivious to it. All their attention was riveted on the base of the hill where the next attack might come from. The courage these men displayed amazed her.
“How long has this attack been going on?”
“Four days off and on. Today they attacked en masse,” Gavin said. He pulled out a canteen and guzzled water. Droplets leaked out the corners of his mouth and down his beard. After finishing, he looked over at her. “They want this hill back. From here, we can see everything going on in this valley. Since we got here over three weeks ago, we’ve called in ten strikes on them as they tried to cross the valley at night to get into Afghanistan.”
“No wonder they’re pissed,” she said, giving him a grin. His blue eyes lightened for a moment and Nike could feel his desire. She could almost feel it surrounding her. And then, he glanced away and the moment was broken. She wanted those seconds back.
“Yeah, just a little.” He stretched his head up above the hole to study the slope for a moment. “I’m glad you’re going to be out of here by dark.”
“Why?”
“They’ll attack then. Damn good thing we have night scopes to pick up their body-heat signatures or we’d have been dead up here a long time ago.”
He said it so matter-of-factly, and yet, for Nike, the words were a shock to her system. Gavin Jackson dead. For the first time, it really struck her that it could happen. Before, Nike had felt he was such a confident leader, that nothing could bring him down. Now, sitting here in a foxhole with him, she felt very different. And she was scared to death.
> Chapter 9
There was nothing to do but wait. Nike remained in the foxhole while Gavin made his rounds, running and ducking into the next foxhole to speak with his men. Their only communication was by yelling. He and his second-in-command had radios, but that was it.
Nike kept cautiously peeking over the top of the foxhole, watching below and wondering if they’d destroyed enough of the enemy to keep them at bay for another hour. She wasn’t sure. Wiping her mouth, which tasted of dust, she took one of the canteens in the foxhole and drank some water.
Luckily for her, she had her radio and could remain in contact with ops and any flights coming their way. Still, she felt dread. Was this how Gavin and his men felt all the time? The waiting? The wondering when the next attack would come? She couldn’t conceive of living in this type of nonstop stress. Her admiration for the A team rose accordingly.
The top of the hill was about the size of a football field, although rounded. The hill was steep and not easy to climb. There had been a wooden lookout at one time, but it had been splintered into oblivion by repeated by enemy mortar rounds. The scrub bush that coated the sides of the hill was massive and thick. Nike had seen it from the air and knew men could quietly sneak up almost to the edge of the top of the hill. Her adrenaline pounded through her. What would happen at night?
She could hear Gavin’s voice drifting her way from time to time. The foxholes were deep and the nine remaining men stayed in a circle at the top so intruders could be spotted coming from any direction. The afternoon sun was nearly gone and was dipping behind the peaks. As much as she tried to stifle it, Nike was scared for all of them, not just herself.
When Gavin leaped back into the hole, she noticed he’d put his Afghan hat back on. He wore body armor beneath the dusty white shirt, soaked with sweat beneath his armpits. It gave him a little protection from flying bullets.
“Like my digs?” he asked casually, putting his weapon next to him and taking another swig from one of the canteens.
“This is a special hell,” Nike said, frowning. Searching his sweaty, dirty face, she added, “I don’t know how you take this kind of stress.”
His Woman in Command Page 10