Love from the Ashes Book Two
Recon
by Gwen Campbell
This book was published by
Shadowfire Press LLC
P.O. Box 385
Broomfield, CO 80038-0385
Recon
Love from the Ashes, Book Two
Copyright © 2011 Gwen Campbell
Cover art by Coyote Shadow Studio
Edited by Jeremy Black
Book layout and Design by Coyote
All rights reserved. Except for brief excerpts for the purpose of reviews, the reproduction of this book by any means known or devised in the future, are prohibited.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, events and all characters are the creation of the author’s imagination. Any similarities to actual events, or persons living or dead are purely coincidental.
The mention of, or reference to any product or service within this book is not intended to be a challenge to the trademarks or copyrights of those products or services.
Chapter One
The Year 22 GW
“Truck’s leaving, Paige.”
“All right. All right. Just let me grab some—”
“No I’m serious. Ah jeez...he’s coming and he looks pissed.” Private Pete Thatcher slid the door to the medical-supply locker shut and held his breath.
“Christsake, Corporal. What is taking your ass so long?” Over six feet of hulking sergeant shouldered the door open, stormed into the locker and didn’t stop until he was leaning his massive frame over Corporal Paige Wynn, literally breathing down her neck.
Paige looked like a woman whose courage rose when she was challenged. Her tone confirmed it. “How many in the unit got the clap last quarter?”
The sergeant didn’t blink—but he did stop yelling. Quite suddenly.
“I could finish reading the medical files on all of you and find out myself,” Paige continued firmly. “So either you give me your best guess, Sergeant, and I pack the appropriate medical supplies, or you don’t tell me and I make the time to read those files. How many cases of the clap, Sergeant?” she repeated hotly.
“Five. Maybe six,” he answered evenly. He angled his body away from hers, watching her turn back to the shelving units. Gunnery Sergeant Richard Miles had been in reconnaissance for most of his seven years in the military. Already tall and athletic when he’d joined up at sixteen, he and recon work had taken to each other like a duck to water. Now, at twenty-three, he was platoon sergeant to one of the most decorated units in the south-east. He was tough and edgy. There was so much force in his personality that a single, well-timed glance had sent captains cowering.
He could recognize that same strength in others. Applauded it. Cultivated it. He let their new medic finish the work they hadn’t given her near enough time for, no longer trying to intimidate her into moving faster. As he waited, seeing if there was anything he could help with, he noticed that Corporal Paige Wynn was—well, she was beautiful. Which was a problem. Maybe five-nine, with legs that went on forever, she had a flared ass that, under any other circumstances, he’d love to sink his teeth into. Nice, high tits and flaming red hair and he could only imagine what it would look like when it wasn’t tucked up tight under the standard-issue cap she was wearing. Yeah, their new medic was a beauty all right. And now the only woman in a platoon of high-testosterone adrenaline junkies.
He watched her strong hands pull packages down from the shelves and hand them off to the other medic in the room. The little guy packed them into four tough, steel cases—keeping well away from the sergeant. Richard grinned inwardly. It could have been worse. Instead of a doable redhead, they could have picked up a pipsqueak who’d probably faint the minute they came under fire.
Paige grabbed two boxes of standard-issue condoms off the shelves. Each held fifty rubbers. Richard reached over her and grabbed a third box.
When she glanced up at him, he shrugged.
“Bragging, Sergeant?” she asked tartly. He caught her wry grin as she unlocked a secure cabinet and counted out ampoules of antibiotics and morphine.
“Not me, Corporal,” he insisted gravely. “Just like to be prepared,” he added and grinned when she smiled at the tease in his voice. Yeah, having her in the unit was going to be a pure pain in the ass. But one he was now looking forward to.
When the medical-supply cases were locked up, Paige turned to her new sergeant. “Ready for departure, Sarge.”
Richard nodded curtly. He bent his knees and hoisted one of the metal cases on his shoulder. Bastard of a thing had to weight at least fifty kilos and the hard edge dug into his deltoid, but he didn’t let on. Instead, he enjoyed the way the pipsqueak’s eyes widened then shied away from him.
Without being asked, their new medic slipped ahead and opened the door for him. That was good. The ability to anticipate and be proactive were essential traits in a recon operative. She might just work out. Richard changed his mind though when he took his time looking at her as he walked past. Green eyes. Son of a...she had red hair and green eyes. Richard felt an unwanted tightening in his groin. If there was one thing that turned him on more than a strong, intelligent woman—it was a strong, intelligent woman with green eyes. This was going to be harder than he thought.
Paige quickly waved good-bye to the medical staff that gathered to see her off. She gave her friend, Pete, a big hug, grabbed her duffel bag and trotted off after her new platoon.
All eleven of them were huge—tall, like her, ranging between five-ten and six-two. Their training was unique, as was their look. Shaggy and ungroomed so they could blend in with indigenous populations, they were trained guerilla fighters, deadly at hand-to-hand combat. Paige remembered how her friend, Corporal Zach Wheeler, had looked during the three months of specialized training he needed to qualify for recon—bruised, cut, sleeping for hours at a stretch when he could.
The sergeant levered the medical-supply case he was carrying onto the back of a supply truck. His thick club of light brown hair swung over his shoulder as he moved. Three other recon soldiers, each with a metal case on his shoulder and strolling down the road like the weight was nothing, followed in his wake. Every member of her new unit was so heavily muscled she wondered how the Army had managed to come up with enough gray-green camouflage material to wrap around them.
Paige turned away from that thought quickly. It was now 22GW. The Great War had ended twenty-two years ago and humanity was starting to come back from a nuclear maelstrom that had killed nine-tenths of the population and left vast stretches of the earth uninhabitable. Too many of Paige’s civilian patients were small—undersized and malnourished—especially those that had been born outside of reclamated areas. One of the things she loved about working as a medic in a reclamation squadron was bringing health care to communities that hadn’t seen any in twenty-two years. She was tall and healthy but her sister, older than her by eight years, wasn’t. Susan was short, stunted compared to the rest of the family. Whenever she got a cough, it quickly morphed into bronchitis. Susan had been seven years old when the newly organized Army came to their town. Before then, there hadn’t been enough food, n
o medicine and drinking water of questionable quality.
Theirs was one of the first towns the Army had cleaned up with their pioneering reclamation program. A whole squadron had swooped in like avenging angels. Paige had heard the stories from before she was born. The guerilla warfare at first as the foot soldiers cleared out the thugs and bullies that had robbed and terrorized them for years, keeping their community from re-building itself. Letting them prosper just enough to make shake-downs profitable without letting them reorganize. The Army brought medical care, clean water and schools, then electricity again into every home. Paige had been born the year after the reclamation and she’d grown up with a sense of pride and obligation that had led her, at sixteen, to sign up and join a reclamation squad.
There were only twelve reclamation squads in New North America. As the population came back, there would be more. Each squad averaged four reclamations a year. That left a lot of the habitable continent isolated, in the grip of criminals that victimized the weak, and living in the dark ages.
Those living in reclamated areas demanded a lot from their young people. Childhood ended at twelve because children had to step up and contribute. Education was fast-tracked. Days were long. Nineteen-year-olds like Paige who should have been in their second year of college and partying too much and re-thinking their major and their purpose in life had been working full-time for seven years and, in the military, were force-fed specialized education and practical training. She was a fully licensed medic with a special certificate in obstetrics. Because she was very smart, as soon as she finished her last four prep courses, she hoped she’d be shipped off to an Army base to train as a surgeon.
Paige stepped up to the back of the massive supply truck and made sure her medical cases were tied down securely, then trotted over to the transport vehicle. With two drivers per vehicle, that left seven pairs of hard, inscrutable eyes to turn toward her. Nobody extended a hand to help her up into the over height vehicle but she didn’t expect them to. Reconnaissance was one of the most demanding, dangerous jobs in the Army. There was no room for a girly girl in a unit that operated in stealth under hazardous conditions. Disguised as civilians, they slipped into communities and vetted them for acceptance into the reclamation program. They ferreted out groups of organized, hard-core criminals and handed them over to military police, took the measure of community after community, seeing if they had the resources, leadership and determination to raise themselves up.
Paige swung her duffle onto her back, grabbed a rail and hoisted herself up and over the tailgate in a neat, powerful movement. Once she was onboard, the sergeant, sitting near the front, slapped the back window of the cab and the transport pulled away smoothly. She was still hanging onto the railing but, now, one of the privates took her duffle from her and slid it under a seat. Another held out his arm and grasped her wrist at the same time as she grabbed his. He helped her stay upright as they went over a speed bump then let go of her after she settled down in an empty spot that more of the men slid over to create for her. All seven soldiers looked at her. She waited to see which one of them would speak first.
“Corporal Benny Weston,” the man seated directly across from her said, holding out his hand and grinning. “Procurement,” he added by way of introduction.
Ah. Their face-man, Paige thought fleetingly and had no doubt why he’d got the job. Benny Weston was a baby-faced cherub. With soft, brown hair and blue eyes that could probably reduce a woman’s heart to pudding, he was nevertheless undeniably and utterly male. He had a banked sensuality that came off him in waves. “You know Corporal Zach Wheeler then?” Corporal Weston asked, looking at her like she was the treasure he’d been searching his whole life for.
Paige wondered if he saved that look for the women exclusively or whether it affected men too. “Yes,” she answered. “Zach and I worked together before he transferred out of reclamation into recon.”
She thought back to her frenzied conversation with her friend. Had it been only three hours ago? Paige shook herself mentally, recalling what he’d said. Zach and his unit had been on base for about four days and she and he had some time to catch up. Only a year older than her, Zach had become her best friend while they served together as medics. He’d always been a bit of a cowboy and had signed on as a recon medic as soon as he qualified. Paige had missed him after he’d left. His sense of humor mostly but also his conversation. He was a guy who, while not overlooking the fact she was a girl, never got hung up on her looks. Few women signed up for the Army. It was nice to find a guy who could be your best friend.
“Paige. Hey, Paige.” Zach had blurted out as he’d rushed into the clinic that morning.
She’d looked up from the patient records she’d been charting and stood immediately, grabbing her stethoscope.
“I just got new orders,” he’d shouted as he ran up to her. “Jeez you won’t believe this. They’re yanking me out of recon for three months to send me to Kentucky for obstetrics training.”
Paige set her stethoscope down. Obstetrics was a huge part of the medical corps’ work. It was required training for all medics, no matter where they were stationed. Being out in the field for a year, Zach had probably slipped under the radar. The radar had caught up to him.
“Remember what we were talking about the other day? About you being perfect for recon work? Well I need you to step up for me, friend, and I need you to step up today.”
Paige had felt her mouth thin and she crossed her arms over her chest. “How?”
“My unit got orders too. They’re shipping out early. In a couple of hours. Some escalation in gang activity in the next town they’re going to. It’s near a hotspot the Army wants controlled. The unit can’t ship out without a medic, Paige, and I can’t go with them without disobeying orders.”
“Oh no, Zach,” Paige had stepped away from him, shaking her head. “I’ve seen those guys. Bunch of jacked-up gorillas with old-west sheriff complexes.” She resisted the urge to glance down at Zach’s body. Since joining recon, his six-foot frame had bulked up to over two-hundred pounds of raw, testosterone-ripe muscle. He was still her best bud but there was now an edge to him, an intensity and focus that overshadowed the sweet, good-natured kid she used to laugh with and get into trouble with over a few beers at the enlisted bar after work. Paige couldn’t imagine spending three months with guys like Zach—probably Zach to the tenth power—without that core of sweetness that had always defined him.
“Don’t you dare say no, Corporal Paige Wynn.”
Paige’s eyes had bugged out at Zach’s tone. She’d never seen him like that. Tough gunnery sergeants, yes, but not her bud, Zach. He’d laid his hand on her shoulder and had held her gently but there was such power in him, she literally felt it like electricity sparking her skin.
“You say no, Paige, and they can’t leave. They don’t leave and bad guys kill the good guys while they hang around waiting for a replacement medic. You and me...we grew up in reclamated areas. There’s whole communities out there still living in the dark ages. Don’t you dare condemn them to even a single day more.”
She’d felt her mouth open then close slowly.
“You’ll be all right, Paige. All you have to do is keep my place warm for three months. They’re good guys. Like burnt marshmallows,” he’d added with a sparkle in his warm, brown eyes as he’d lifted his hand off her shoulder and straightened.
“Yeah? All crusty and burnt on the outside but all I have to do is give them a little squeeze and the sweet, warm gooeyness comes flowing out?”
“Yeah. Something like that.” Zach had laughed then nudged her arm with his. “Come on. I’ve got to download their medical records into your portable computer. I’ll help you start packing the medical supplies you’ll need but my transport leaves in twenty minutes so we’ve gotta hurry.”
And before she knew it, Zach was gone. He’d rushed off, his duffle slung over his shoulder, to catch his transport to Kentucky. All they had time for was a quick h
ug and a promise to text each other and, watching him leave, Paige had felt a little bit of her heart leave with him. She’d thought she’d have a few more days with her best friend and she wasn’t ready to say good-bye yet. The only thing that had brought her focus back to her work was the base CO’s ADC coming into the clinic. He’d held out a clipboard and a pen and told her where to sign. Then he’d stood back and said, “Congratulations, Corporal, you’re now a member of recon,” before leaving.
Paige continued to look straight into Corporal Benny Weston’s captivating blue eyes as their transport cleared the second guardhouse and rumbled down the freshly paved road into town. He smiled at her. It was a smile as broad and sunny and disarming as a spring morning and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Zach’s a good medic,” he said. “We’ll miss him.”
“He’ll be back in three months,” Paige said evenly. “I’m glad I could step in and keep his seat warm for him.”
“Listen, um, Corporal.” A massive rock-hard shoulder leaned into hers and she looked up. The man beside her was a corporal as well, she realized , as she caught a glimpse of his chevrons. Even seated, he towered over her. His pale, yellow hair drifted across his cheek as he leaned toward her. Intensely bright blue eyes watched her with an unwavering interest. “Speaking of warm seats...listen, if you’re not doing anything later...maybe you and I could, you know...get together for some hot...tea. Or something,” he added suggestively.
The other members of the unit started snickering and Paige felt her courage rise, and her confidence. They were teasing—busting her chops because she was new. And a girl. Acceptance would grow out of that teasing if she handled it correctly.
Paige inhaled and made a small, interested sound in the back of her throat. She gave the corporal beside her the once over. “It’s a sweet offer and maybe the second best I’ve had all day. But I’ve just gotta say no, Corporal,” she answered sagely and cocked an eyebrow at him. “Now maybe if you’ve got a sister you’d like to introduce me to, we could talk.”
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