Primed for Action

Chapter 10

“Nice flight, Captain Beale.”

Mark couldn’t help himself. He radioed as they circled down together over the soccer stadium. He’d always been so careful not to compliment her. Keeping Emily Beale convinced she wasn’t as good as he needed her to be had honed her skills amazingly over two short months. At least that’s what he hoped motivated him.

Maybe he was being petty… But no. She’d beaten him across the valley in identical birds and still he’d complimented her. Though there wasn’t enough money on Earth to make him actually ask her how she’d found the extra bit of speed to outpace him to the fight.

“Thank you, Major.”

Nice flight? He’d choked when she crawled into that defile under a rain of fire. One lucky shot, one moment of lost control, and she’d have eaten the cliff wall.

Any pilot good enough to make SOAR flew cool under fire. Sitting back at camp they might barf their guts out, but not in flight. And not Emily Beale. He’d never seen her with the shakes, the squeams, nor working out the kinks of a stiff neck from holding too tight.

Captain Emily Beale. Ms. Cool-as-could-be.

Would he have flown into that defile? Probably. If he’d thought of it. Would he have considered it long enough to think of it? Probably not. He’d have dismissed it out of hand as impossible. And probably left the Delta operator to pay the price for lack of any solution.

What was he supposed to do with this woman?

As they landed on the field, she settled her bird clean and square to the worn soccer field lines, hopped down at ease, and chatted for a minute with the D-boy she’d plucked off the cliff. Michael actually shook her hand and smiled before moving off toward the prisoners. More than most got from the silent ghosts of Delta Force. He and Michael had history enough for Mark to know that giving compliments wasn’t something Michael did.

A bunch of the flyboys and ground crew gathered around her. The news of the mission’s success had swept through the base, and the story of the defile had already been spread by one of the Little Bird pilots. Mark could see it sweeping through the crowd.

And Beale, calm as could be and completely unaware of the men’s stares, stripped her flight suit halfway down, tied the empty arms around her slim hips, and turned to inspect her bird. Peppered with hundreds of holes, one of the main rotor blades so chewed up it would need replacing, and a slow stream of black hydraulic fluid dribbled down the side of the engine housing. She climbed up with the crew chief to see where the damage originated, and thirty pairs of eyes followed her.

Hard to blame the guys. Five hundred miles from nowhere and only one woman in sight. A real stunner, too. But that wasn’t the real reason they stared. She’d flown into a place no sane person would go to bring her action team out. For doing that, for protecting the team at any cost, there wasn’t a man here who wouldn’t throw himself in front of a bullet to save her. Wouldn’t matter if she looked like a heifer.

Did she know that she’d mesmerized an entire base of the toughest warriors on the planet with that single act, never mind the dozens before it?

Did she have any idea that she’d done the same to him?

“What the hell is this, Captain?”

Emily rolled off her cot and hit the ground, slapping for the gun that wasn’t on her hip.

Major Mark Henderson loomed over the other side of her cot and glared down at her.

All she wore was a braless tank tee and her underwear. But he didn’t look to be in any mood to give a damn how she was dressed or undressed.

“What the hell is what, sir?”

As she stood, he shoved out a set of orders.

Captain Emily Beale is hereby reassigned. Report aboard Carrier America II soonest for immediate departure.

Captain Emily Beale is hereby reassigned. Report aboard Carrier America II soonest for immediate departure.Admiral James Parker

Admiral James ParkerShe read them twice more, but they made no more sense than the first time.

“Did you put in for a transfer?” The Major looked close to complete apoplexy. It was only the second time she could recall seeing any emotion on his face, the first was yesterday when he’d actually smiled at her. The juxtaposition of the two, both directed her way, wouldn’t reconcile in her brain. He made her feel as exposed as, well, as if she was standing in front of The Viper wearing only her underwear.

“Never, sir.”

“You don’t know what this is about?”

“No sir.”

“s**t!” The Major snatched back the sheet and glared at the order again as if there’d be any change.

“Get your damned gear together. We leave in five minutes.”

As he reached the door, he hesitated but didn’t look back.

“And put on some goddamn clothes.”

Next time she’d sleep in bloody dress blues.

Mark shoved Beale into the copilot seat, forcing his normal copilot into the rear. In the five minutes she’d been packing and saying good-bye to her crew, he’d only grown more frustrated.

Communications had confirmed the order. The only answer he’d received from the carrier was, “All speed.” That was something he couldn’t ignore.

He laid down the hammer and flew in far too foul a temper to speak. Beale tried once or twice to say something, but he couldn’t make himself hear the words. After an hour and a half of desert, followed by a hundred miles of ocean, he scared up the carrier group.

He answered the Mini Boss in Pri-Fly and swung wide to land on the aft-deck helicopter circle. He slammed down so hard that the shock absorbers actually bounced ten tons of helicopter back into air.

“s**t!” He cursed as they thudded back down.

“Captain Emily Beale, report to Captain Tully,” came in over Primary Flight’s air control frequency before the helo had fully settled. Whatever was going on had to be damned hot.

A crew escort in orange opened Emily’s door. She was gone before Mark had a chance to finish the shutdown.

He hadn’t been able to look at her for the whole flight because every time he did, he saw the most enticing woman he’d ever met in the least amount of clothes he’d ever been fortunate enough to witness on her.

He was her commander.

He had no right to think of her that way.

No right to so hate the idea of losing her from his squad, from his life.

Mark punched the cockpit door window hard enough to hurt.