His Woman in Command

by McKenna, Lindsay

  “Uh-oh,” Nike murmured, “Dallas found another female pilot to replace me?” That meant that her secret hope to be pulled back into the BJS 60 squadron was squashed.

  Emma nodded. “I’m sorry, Nike. I was holding out hope against hope that the pressures and demands on our services here would force Dallas to ask you to come back.”

  “Me, too,” she said. “Oh, well.”

  “I’m sorry. We really miss you. You were our best pilot.”

  “Tell that to Dallas,” she said, giving Emma a playful smile. Lifting her right hand, which had the last of the hot roll in it, Nike added, “Look, we knew we were breaking a cardinal rule when we picked up Berkie, but I’d do it all over again.”

  “I don’t regret it, either. I’m just sorry that Dallas chose to focus on you instead of me.”

  “I’m the one who gave up the seat.” She chuckled. “You stayed with the helicopter. Of course she’s going to zero in on me.”

  “I don’t think I’d take this as well as you are,” Emma said glumly.

  “Hey, you have a family military dynasty on your shoulders to carry,” Nike chided with a grin. “Me? All I have is some disappointed parents and my big Greek extended family. But they understand and agree that I did the right thing. You? Well, if you’d gotten out of that seat, the media would have blitzed you over a transfer to a transport squadron.” Shaking her head, Nike added, “No news about me being transferred as punishment because I’m not famous or in the media’s eye like the Trayhern family is.”

  Emma sighed. “You’re right. I’ve been catching all kinds of flak on the Internet blogs and even on CNN because of my demotion from XO.”

  “See?” Nike said, poking a finger in her direction. “I know the media is in love with the Trayherns. And what you did was heroic in my eyes. Maybe the media is chewing this up, but we saved a life, Emma. I’ll answer for that decision with my God, not with anyone else. Especially not the media.”

  “Nike, you’re one in a million. I’m proud to know you. I’m proud of what we did, punishment be damned. And I couldn’t care less about the media sniping at me, but I know it impacts my whole family. That’s what I don’t like—them going after my mom, dad and sisters.”

  “Listen, they’re Trayherns. They’ll roll with it. A military family has the toughest of skins.”

  “Well, it hasn’t done my career any good,” Emma said.

  “No, but I’m sure you’ll distinguish yourself over here, and, in time, all will be forgiven. Me?” Nike grinned. “There’s not much chance of me distinguishing myself as a transport pilot of men and ammo. So, as I see it, my days are numbered.”

  “Nike! You aren’t going to leave the military are you?”

  “I don’t know. I’m up for reenlistment after this tour. Depending upon how it goes, I may get out. I didn’t sign up to be a trash-hauler. I’m an Apache pilot and a damned good one. If the U.S. military can’t use my services, then why stay in? I can find better work back in Greece where my talent can be used in the civilian sector.”

  “Let me talk to Dallas. You can’t do this! We can’t lose you, Nike! You’re too good at what you do.”

  Nike held up her hand. “It’s okay, Emma. I got myself into this pickle. I’ll decide how I get myself out of it. Life doesn’t end if I can’t fly an Apache. I could land a nice, cushy job as a commercial helo pilot.”

  “Damn,” Emma whispered, hanging her head. “You shouldn’t even be thinking in those terms.”

  “We did it to ourselves,” Nike reminded her, using the last of her roll to run through the gravy on her plate. “So tell me, you said there was good news for your family?”

  “Oh, that…” She grimaced.

  “Eat your food, Emma. You’re so emotional. You can’t let this impact you this way. I’m fine. I’m doing a good job over at the transport squadron.”

  “But you’re not happy.”

  “I didn’t say I was. Life isn’t always fun, but we do our best.”

  “You were happy at BJS 60.”

  “Yes, I was. What I miss most of all is the camaraderie of the women.”

  Emma watched Nike eating her food. She seemed at peace despite everything. “The other good news is that my cousin, Rachel Trayhern, has just graduated from Apache flight school in Fort Rucker, Alabama. She’s being assigned to BJS 60.”

  “Wow, you’ll have a cousin here with you?” Nike was impressed. “Which family is she out of?”

  “My uncle Noah’s family. Rachel is one of four children. She’s the oldest. My mother, Alyssa, was saying that even though her brother, Noah, was a Coast Guard officer for thirty years, all four of his children are in the military and flying. The flight gene is definitely from the Trayhern side of the family.”

  “Wow, that’s great! Are you close with your cousins? I know in my family, we’re tighter than fleas on a dog.”

  Emma laughed. “Yes, the whole family tries to get together. One year we’ll go to Florida where Uncle Noah and Aunt Kit live and the next, we’ll go to San Francisco, where my parents live. And then, they’ll all try to make it to Philipsburg, Montana, where my uncle Morgan and aunt Laura live. It’s a huge dim sum plate and it takes a lot of work to get everyone in one spot at one time.”

  “Mmm,” Nike said, finishing off her applesauce. “I would think so if all the offspring are in the military.”

  “Rachel is a rock ‘n’ roll Apache pilot,” Emma said, her voice reflecting pride in her cousin. “She’s very competitive and aggressive.”

  “Just like an Apache pilot should be.” Nike chuckled. She put her empty plate aside on the aluminum tray and picked up her white mug of coffee. “So, when is Rachel arriving?”

  “A week from now.”

  “I didn’t think the military would allow two family members in the same squadron.”

  “They don’t allow brothers or sisters to serve together,” Emma said. “They say nothing about cousins.” With glee, she rubbed her hands together and gave Nike a huge grin.

  “I’ll bet your family is thrilled about this development. They must see you as the watchdog who can take care of Rachel while she learns the ropes.”

  Brightening, Emma began to eat once more. “They are thrilled. I’m excited to have her. We’re good friends.”

  “When Rachel gets here, we must meet.”

  “Oh, that’s a promise,” Emma said enthusiastically.

  “We can help her get situated with combat and Afghanistan. She could use our experience.”

  “For sure,” Emma agreed. And then, her smile disappeared. “Have you been in touch with Gavin? Do you know when he’s coming in from Kabul?”

  “No way to get in touch with him. I checked at ops and his team is on a transport that will arrive here at 1700.”

  “Just in time for dinner.”

  “Maybe we can have one together,” Nike said.

  “You deserve a little happiness,” Emma told her.

  “Thanks,” Nike whispered, meaning it. They sat for a while in silence. The coolness in the huge tent area was wonderful compared to the heat and local storms. This place, in some ways, reminded her of home in Greece. The country blistered with dry summer heat and then chilled with icy temperatures in winter, but there was little snow unless one lived in the mountainous areas. Still, Nike looked forward to the moment when she could meet Gavin and his team. Her heart beat a little harder to underscore just how much she’d missed him in the last two weeks.

  In the quiet moments at her desk, Nike would allow her heart to feel the love that had taken root within her. She knew he’d hurt her career but she’d forgiven him for that long ago. In the heat of battle, one didn’t always think about such things. And in Nike’s world view, a human life was a hell of a lot more important than a regulation. Since Bagram, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Gavin. It seemed as if every few minutes, she’d replay some conversation they had. Or she’d recall that terrorized look in his eyes that told her the raw tru
th: he loved her. At first, Nike had felt it was a game with Gavin. Now, she knew it was not.

  Gavin could hardly keep his face impassive. He watched Nike in her dark green flight suit, waiting as he and his men disembarked from the CH-47 helicopter. It was dusk; the skies were gray and churning. Soon, it would storm. She looked beautiful, her curly black hair about her face, a smile on her lips and those gold eyes shining with what he thought might be love—for him.

  As he hefted off his duffel bag, he ordered his team to their already assigned tents. He told them he’d see them later. Turning, he walked with the huge bag across his left shoulder. Once more, he was in Afghan clothing.

  “Hey,” Gavin greeted her as he walked up to her. “Do you know how much I’ve missed you and our talks?” He kept his voice low so that others could not hear. It about killed him not to show affection. Her mouth was soft and parted, ripe for kissing.

  “I’d like to hug you but I can’t,” she said with a grin, pointing to her arm.

  “How’s your left shoulder?” Gavin asked.

  She held her hand out and could only move it waist-high. “I can’t sleep on that side and I can’t lift it beyond here. If I try to lean out and stretch it, I’m in pain. The doctor says the first three weeks are the worst.”

  Shaking his head, Gavin said, “That’s no good. How’s the desk job?”

  “Boring as hell. How was Bagram?”

  “Lonely without you.” Gavin drilled a look into her widening eyes. “Is there anywhere we can go to be alone for a while?”

  She grinned. “Yeah, my tent. Don’t worry, the gals on either side of it won’t say a peep about me having a male visitor.” That was against regulations, too, but the female pilots protected one another. They would never go to the XO or CO about it. Sometimes, rules were meant to be broken.

  “Good,” Gavin said. “Lead the way.” He hoisted his duffel up on his left shoulder once more.

  In no time, they were at her tent. Nightfall was complete and they had flashlights to light their way through the tent city. Wind began to twirl around them as Nike opened up the tent flap to allow Gavin inside. She followed, turned and tied the flaps together. A small fan in the corner sitting on the ply-board floor gave some coolness against the high temperatures.

  Gavin set his duffel near the entrance, turned and walked over to Nike. Although she did not wear her left arm in a sling any longer, he was aware of how painful it was to her. Gently, he laid his hand on her right shoulder. “Come here. I’ve been dreaming of kissing you for two weeks….”

  How wonderful it felt to come into his arms. Nike situated herself against him, her breasts beneath her flight suit pressing against his cotton Afghan clothes. His beard was growing once more and she felt the prickly hair against her cheek as their lips met. With a moan, Nike opened her lips and hungrily clung to his mouth. Their breathing changed, became ragged. He held her gently against him, his left arm around her right shoulder. His tongue moved slowly along her lower lip and a shudder of need rippled through Nike.

  She wrapped her right arm around Gavin’s broad shoulders. He smelled of the heat, and his arm felt strong and capable around her body. Her breasts ached to be touched and teased by him. Nike knew they couldn’t dare make love here, even if her injured shoulder would allow it. Frustrated, she broke their hungry, wet kiss.

  They stared at one another in the semidarkness. The only light came from a table lamp and it cast a weak beam around the interior of the warm tent. Gavin’s eyes burned with need of her. After two years, Nike felt starved for a man’s touch. Not just any man. Gavin.

  “This is hell on earth,” she muttered, reaching out and stroking his returning beard.

  Her fingers trailed across his cheek and Gavin groaned inwardly. What would it be like to to have Nike touching his body? Nightly dreams had kept him tossing, turning and waking up over that very thing. He caught her hand and pressed it between his.

  “Definitely,” he agreed thickly. Gavin understood implicitly that Nike was in enough trouble. If he were found in here with her it would be another nail in the coffin of her career.

  Nike moved away and went to sit on a canvas chair opposite the bed. “Sit down,” she invited, gesturing to the cot.

  Gavin did so—because if he didn’t, he was going to kiss her again and again. His lower body ached with want of her. Nothing could be done about that right now. Sitting down, he opened his legs, rested his elbows on his thighs and clasped his hands. “I don’t know what’s worse—not seeing you at all or this.”

  Smiling, Nike sat back in the chair and cradled her left arm against her body. “I know. It’s like going into a candy store and seeing all the goodies behind the glass. You can’t reach them. They aren’t yours.”

  Chuckling, Gavin said, “Exactly.” He absorbed her quiet beauty. “How are you really?”

  “I’m missing you. Our talks,” Nike admitted quietly. They both spoke in low tones so no one could hear them outside the tent. It was the first time she’d ever admitted that to Gavin. She saw his eyes flare with surprise and then fill with warmth…and love. “My shoulder is progressing slowly. A lot more slowly than I want. The doctor keeps telling me at the four-week mark I’ll have full range of motion back. If that happens, I’m going to be all over my CO to put me back on the ops missions and start flying again.”

  Gavin saw the frustration gleaming in her eyes. “There’s no chance Dallas will take you back into BJS 60?”

  Nike shook her head and shared Emma’s information from lunch with him. “Hey, it’s okay,” she told him. “Berkie’s alive. I’m okay with that, Gavin.”

  “I’m not,” he growled, unhappy. “You should have been put up for a medal for your bravery, not removed from your squadron.”

  “I don’t want to waste time talking about it, Gavin. I want our time to be about us.” Her bold statement scared her but Nike tried to ignore the fear. This was real love. Not a game. And time wasn’t on their side right now.

  “You’re right,” he said.

  “Where are they sending you?”

  “They’re dropping us off at the village of Kechelay. It’s about two miles from the Pakistan border. We’ve got an outpost up in the mountains above that narrow valley where the village sits.”

  Nike tried to restrain her concern. “That’s a hot spot right now, Gavin. We have pilots flying into that area and they’re getting shot at. In fact, we had one CH-47 that had to remain on the ground at the village. They were off-loading food supplies for the village when the Taliban mortared it.”

  “What happened to the crew?”

  “They were saved. No injuries. The Apache helo with them blew the Taliban mortar position up, but it was too late. We’re out of pocket for a CH-47.”

  “I know Kechelay is a real dangerous area,” he agreed, his voice grim. “We’ll be taken to the outpost to relieve another A team that’s spent its thirty days up there.”

  Fear gutted Nike. There was nothing safe about Gavin’s job—ever. She remembered Alpha Hill, the memories fresh of Berkie, who had almost died there. His whole team would be put on the line once more. “What are you going to do up there? Be sitting ducks again like you were at Alpha Hill?”

  Grinning, Gavin said, “Yes and no. We’ve got orders to rummage around at night and try to interdict the Taliban flowing through the valley. Kechelay is Afghan and the villagers are deathly afraid of Taliban retaliation on them and their people. Our job is to stop them from getting into that village. They’ve accepted U.S. food, clothing and medicine. We’ve got night scopes and goggles, so we’ll be the hunter-killer team more than a bull’s-eye for the Taliban.” He saw the worry shadowing her eyes. The dim light caressed her beautiful face, emphasizing her cheeks and lips—lips that he wanted to capture and hear her moan with need of him. With a sigh, Gavin understood that wouldn’t happen until he and his team returned to this base four weeks from now.

  “It sounds pretty dangerous.”

  “It
is,” he said, not trying to sugarcoat it. “Flying a transport through these mountains and valleys is a crap shoot, too,” he told her. “I’ll worry about you.”

  “There’s nothing to worry about,” she said. “I’ll probably be flying a desk until you return. The only thing I have to be concerned about is the Taliban attacking our base, and the odds of that are low.”

  “True,” Gavin said. He smiled a little. “At least I won’t have to stress about you.”

  Nike realized that would be a good thing. She wanted his focus on his duty because it would keep him alive—to come back to her. “I’ll be safe here.” Her voice lowered. “But I’ll be worrying about you, Gavin.” Again, the words I love you almost ripped out of her mouth. Nike felt she needed more time. And yet, the torture of not telling him that she was changing, that she was making a turn toward him and away from her past, ate her up inside.

  Gavin rose to prepare for tomorrow morning’s assignment. “Hey,” he called, gently touching her cheek, “I have every reason to survive out there.” Leaning down, he sought and found her lips. They were soft and yet firm. When her tongue met his, he groaned. This was a special hell. They could kiss but not make love.

  Easing away from her mouth, Gavin whispered, “I love you, Nike. I think I did from the moment I laid eyes on you. I know we have a long way to go, and it takes our courage to get there.” Straightening, he threaded his fingers through her soft, curly hair. She felt like warm silk. When she lifted her chin to meet and hold his gaze, Gavin said in an unsteady voice, “I’ll come back in a month. We love one another. We’ve got something to build on. It’s just going to take time.”

  As he opened the tent flap and then put his duffel on his shoulder, Nike stood up, her throat clogged with tears. And then Gavin disappeared into the night. Nike suddenly realized that she hadn’t told him she loved him. Why not?

  Closing the flaps and tying them, Nike had no answer except that she was still afraid. The fear of losing Gavin was ten times worse than before, simply because Nike realized she had fallen in love with this courageous soldier. She felt a helplessness similar to that she had felt in Peru. There was no way she could protect Gavin. The border area was rife with violent fights daily. For the second time, she had to wait and hope that the man she loved would return alive. It seemed unconscionable that she’d twice lose a man to war. But as they’d both said, war wasn’t fair.