Target Engaged

Chapter 4

4

Kyle could see it in their faces as they came out of the Commanders Review Board.

He watched Chad Hawkins come out walking tall. He looked like a corn-fed kid from Iowa, but inside was the archetypal hardened soldier: tough, powerful, and serious about it. He was practically skipping like a ten-year-old boy as he came down the steps.

Chad high-fived several of the guys. When he got to Kyle, he turned it into a hard handclasp and a solid one-armed hug and thud on the back.

“Kick ass, bro,” which was odd, as the man had barely spoken to him over the last month.

“Thanks, man.”

Andrew came out looking like he’d been ass-kicked and then mauled by a pit bull. The Delta cadre escorted him away before his wave of depression could affect the others, but Kyle still felt it. Andrew had survived Delta Selection. A Green Beret like Kyle and Chad with a damn fine rep, he’d been one of the twelve in the fire circle at the end of the Forty-Miler. He’d made jokes about how anything after this had to be easy.

Not so much by the look of him.

There were several passes and two more hammered-down failures—one who stalked away from the cadre escort with an I don’t need this s**t!—before Kyle’s turn came up. Only Carla and three others were left. She offered him a smile. It was tight, almost pained, but it was a smile nonetheless. He did his best to return it and stepped through the door.

The room where the fate of men’s careers was decided should have been more impressive. It had beige cinder-block walls, a white linoleum floor, and bright fluorescent lighting. A single chair sat in front of a couple of folding tables. The only decoration was an American flag in a stand.

Behind the tables sat Colonel Brighton and his assistant, Major Clayton—the Unit’s commanders. Sergeant Major Maxwell was to Clayton’s right, along with two others from the training cadre. And to the Colonel’s left sat a man Kyle didn’t recognize. They were all dressed in boots, ACU pants, and black t-shirts, not a whole lot to go on for an ID.

The stranger had collar-long black hair and blue-grey eyes. No one Kyle had ever met looked like this guy. It was as if one moment he was the only one in the room with Kyle and it was between the two of them alone—the next moment it was as if he wasn’t there at all.

The Colonel waved him into the single chair before the table with no ceremony.

Kyle’s butt hadn’t quite hit the metal seat when Sergeant Major Maxwell snapped out the first question.

“So, you want to be in The Unit to impress that b***h outside and get into her pants. Makes you a waste of our time because we’re not letting a wench into The Unit. We aren’t that f*****g stupid. Is that the only reason you’re here?”

And that snarl was the friendliest question of the next hour.

“We already called your unit commander and warned him we were dumping your sorry ass back on him. He didn’t sound any kind of pleased.”

Carla faced the Board and did her best to take a steadying breath, but the Board wasn’t big on pauses. Though the comment wasn’t a question, she couldn’t stop the answer.

“Then I’ll climb to the top of another unit. But you want me in this one.”

“Why is that?” Those were the first words the stranger had spoken throughout the entire interview. His voice was soft, yet it silenced the room.

This was her idea of the ultimate Delta operator. He was thirties, maybe forties—hard to tell. But there was no mistaking his impossible level of fitness or that he clearly saw more in a single movement than most men saw in an entire interview. He…felt different. Like Kyle, but honed down to the essence of Delta through long and hard service.

As they’d harangued her about underlying motivations based on her mother’s and Clay’s deaths—which, in truth, had started her down the Delta path but were no longer relevant—she’d thought a lot about Clay’s stories of what he’d done while flying for SOAR and the people he’d met.

He’d bragged a lot on Beale and Henderson, but a couple times he’d talked about the shadow warriors he’d met, and ultimately, that’s why she was here in Delta. The tone of awe in Clay’s voice had snagged his little sister’s imagination. He spoke of one in particular.

So, she took a guess, though she didn’t think it was a wild one.

“Because, Colonel Gibson…”

The man didn’t blink, though several of the others reacted. It was exactly as she’d expect from the Number One soldier of the Number One combat unit in existence. Nothing would surprise him.

“…Delta or CAG or The Unit is about soldiers who are determined to get it done no matter what. It doesn’t matter what you call it, it matters what gets done. ‘Alone and Unafraid’ they say about Delta. But we are—”

“We?” he snapped out.

“We,” she shot back, “because you are going to let me in. We are more than that. We are that sharp tip of the spear, so fine that you can’t see it except occasionally by how the light glints there, which”—she kind of liked how the analogy played out—“is probably why we do so many operations at night.”

“Pretty damn cocky there, Anderson.” The Sergeant Major scowled at her.

“Yes, sir.” She didn’t see any point in denying who she was. “This isn’t Rangers or Green Beret. This is The Unit.”

“What about Kyle Reeves?” Colonel Brighton’s voice was a growl. “You marked him top on your list of who’d you choose to serve with. Why did you do that? Because you want to f**k him?”

Kyle hadn’t come back out the front door. She didn’t know if he was in or out, and this was the first time they’d mentioned him.

“I put him at the top of my list because he is the best soldier I’ve ever met.”

Brighton narrowed his eyes at her for avoiding the question, so she offered him her best smile.

“Of course a girl would be stupid if she didn’t want the best of everything, Delta or otherwise. And, Colonel Brighton…”

He arched an eyebrow at her pause.

“…I ain’t stupid.”

That got her an unexpected laugh from him. Who knew the man could do that?

Sergeant Major Maxwell’s smile was as big as when she’d dug in at the end of the Forty-Miler.

But it was Colonel Gibson she was watching. His quiet nod confirmed Clay’s stories of how it felt to serve with the ultimate and finally do something right.

Carla stepped out the back door of the Commander’s Review Board’s room as they called in the final candidate. She hoped Richie would make it. He’d earned fourth spot on her own list. Richie Goldman was wiry thin, Jewish, and bloody brilliant. Add in enough Delta determination to survive selection and she’d gladly serve alongside him. If he made it, she’d be five for her top five…if Kyle had made it.

This side of the building’s yard was empty except for one soldier sitting on the dirt with his back against the concrete wall, covered by the sliver of shadow that the building’s eave offered against the blazing midday sun.

Kyle Reeves looked up at her and she could see it. He too had been accepted. And on seeing her demeanor, a huge smile washed across his face.

Her next plan of action was improper in about a thousand ways, which didn’t make her hesitate even half a step.

Carla knelt over his lap before he could attempt to rise. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she leaned in and kissed Kyle Reeves hard.

Her momentum made him hit the back of his head against the concrete wall, but he didn’t react to it. He had one hand jammed up into her hair and another one scooped down around her butt, holding her tightly against him. She’d known he was strong; she hadn’t known he was so powerful that his embrace made it tough to breathe, but she didn’t care.

His kiss was rough as hell. The need echoed back and forth between them until it burned like live fire. This wasn’t about tenderness, greeting, or exploration.

This was about thirty days of choking worry about the selection process and an equal portion of bottled-up lust mixed together and compressed down until the combination exploded into a single instant of raw heat.

It didn’t matter if he’d maneuvered her into wanting him or the other way around. She’d never wanted any man more.

The kiss built until the power of it finally blew them back apart, nearly as hard as they’d come together. She tipped back off his lap and landed on her own butt in the dirt facing him.

“You made it!” Kyle gasped out. Damn, he was impressive.

No way could she form words around the way her heart was pounding, and her breath ran short.

She nodded.

He held up a hand and she high-fived it hard.

The first woman in history through Delta Selection. How goddamn awesome was that!

She dove back into his arms and scorch-level blew somewhere past incendiary before they tumbled apart once more, panting hard as if they’d come off a battle royal.

Oh God, this was going to be so much fun.