Читать книгу Destiny's Woman - Lindsay McKenna - Страница 10

Joe wondered where Akiva was. It was 2330, nearly midnight, of their first full day at Alpha. Everyone was in bed in the second building, each in her own plywood cubical containing a cot and metal locker. The C.O. and X.O. cubes were at the front, on either side of the aisle, the enlisted people’s to the rear. The light had been doused a long time ago and thin filaments of moonlight threaded through the windows, which were covered with years of grime. As he walked quietly down the aisle toward the door, Joe mentally put cleaning the windows on his to-do list. Just because Navy Seabees had come in here and built them rough living quarters didn’t mean the place was livable. From a cleanliness perspective it was a disaster.

Exhaustion pulled at him. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his camouflage jacket, he headed out the door. Overhead, foglike clouds were gathering, due to the high humidity. The scream of monkeys and the hooting of owls drifted out of the darkened jungle as he walked across the flattened grass between the living quarters and the communications building. He had a hunch Akiva was still over there in the planning room, working out the myriad details of their upcoming flights, which would start as soon as they could get organized at the base.

Opening the rickety door as quietly as he could, he entered and stood just inside it. The Seabees had divided the room into three sections—the comms center, a meeting space where flight planning could be held, and a small cubicle with a desk in it. There were no doors on the partitioned-off areas, and he saw dim light flooding out of the smallest cube.

He moved to the office, stood in the doorway and felt his heart wrench. Akiva was sleeping over the flight maps, one arm beneath her cheek, the other spread across the table, a pencil hanging limply in her long, thin fingers. At some point she’d unraveled her braid, and her hair cloaked her shoulders like an ebony coverlet, the reddish highlights glowing in the light of the fluorescent lamp on the plywood table that served as a desk.

Hungrily his gaze swung back to her face. In sleep, Akiva looked incredibly vulnerable and beautiful. Joe was sure she had no idea how attractive she was to men. Although she never wore makeup, just the chiseled, patrician quality of her features would make any man look at her twice. Her full lips were soft now, and parted in sleep. Black strands of hair flowed down her temple, covering her ear and curving along her clean jawline. The bright red cotton scarf she wore across her brow highlighted her copper skin and black hair, presenting a dramatic picture.

Whether he wanted to or not, he needed to wake her up. Akiva had to get her sleep in order to keep going, and napping like this wasn’t very restful. Gingerly, Joe slid his hand along her proud shoulder, the black uniform felt smooth beneath his fingers.

“Akiva?” he whispered. He squeezed her shoulder gently.

Akiva’s brows moved slightly. Her mouth closed and then opened.

Heart speeding up, Joe found himself mesmerized by her soft, lush-looking mouth. What would it be like to lean down and caress those lips with his own? The thought was like a lightning bolt of fire and heat coursing through him and settling hotly in his lower body. Grinning to himself, Joe knew if Akiva had read his thoughts, she’d deck him. Rightfully so. Again he squeezed her shoulder, and deepened his voice.

“Akiva? Come on, time to wake up. You’ve got to get some good shut-eye, gal.” The endearment slipped from his lips before he could stop it. Consarnit! Joe knew Akiva wouldn’t take kindly to such familiarity. Had she heard him?

Groaning, Akiva heard a male voice somewhere in the folds of her fuzzy awareness. She also felt a hand—a man’s hand—on her shoulder. Ordinarily, she wanted no one to touch her, for as an Apache woman, her body was sacred and not privy to idle touch by anyone without her permission. In her sluggish sleep state, however, her protective walls were no longer in place. The low, husky tone of the man’s voice seemed like a warm stream flowing into the cold winter of her heart. He’d called her “gal,” in a deep, intimate, caressing tone. The sensation was delicious—and surprising. Akiva had never felt such warmth flowing through her and she wanted badly to languish in the feeling. The man’s touch was nurturing. Akiva had never experienced that with any man.

Again she heard her name called. This time she snapped awake out of habit. Sitting up, she blinked.

Joe released her shoulder and stepped back, knowing full well that Akiva would not like him touching her. Her eyes were slightly puffy with sleep, and half-open, with a drowsy look in their gold depths. Her black hair slid around her shoulders like a soft, silky shawl, and he ached to reach out and touch those vibrant strands to see what they felt like between his fingertips.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Whoa, nothing’s wrong,” Joe said, holding up his hands as she swung around. He could see the sleep leave her abruptly. Her eyes were narrowed and alert now, the gold depths penetrating. Inwardly he longed for the woman who had seemed so innocent and approachable while she slept. That woman was now hidden away once again beneath Akiva’s massive armor plating.

Blinking rapidly, Akiva stared at Joe, who stood relaxed before her. His head was cocked to one side, his gray eyes hooded, with a look in them Akiva could not decipher. One corner of his mouth hitched upward.

She sat back in the creaky chair. “Everything okay?” she croaked, then cleared her throat. She tried desperately to shove the sleep away from her in order to think clearly.

“Everything’s fine, Akiva. I just found you over here. I’m hitting the rack. I think you should, too.” Joe gestured toward the table with maps spread across it. “This is no place to sleep. We need good, restful sleep. Come on, let’s go.”

Ordinarily, Akiva would have fought him. But Joe’s voice was low and coaxing, like a hand caressing her in a very gentle and nonthreatening way. He was right: she needed a good night’s sleep.

“Yeah, okay…Thanks…” She rose to her feet and rubbed her face tiredly.

Joe stepped aside and said, “I’ll have Spec Dean wake us at 0600.”

Feeling vulnerable because she was still wrapped in the last remnants of sleep, Akiva nodded. She watched Joe give her a slight smile, turn and leave. For a moment, as she stood there in the silent room, she missed his quiet strength and gentleness. Shaking her head, Akiva sternly told herself he was an Anglo and few of them ever had such attributes. Yet as she stood there alone, she realized that she hungered for Joe’s nurturing nature, now that he was gone. Never had she felt such a driving urgency. At a loss to explain it, she sighed in frustration. How could she be so drawn to Joe? He was Anglo. Her enemy.

Turning, Akiva switched off the light, not wanting to waste electricity. Stumbling from the darkened room, she let her eyes adjust before walking to the door. The moonlight was like thin, diluted milk as it filtered through the glass panes of the grimy windows. As she sighed and rubbed her eyes, Akiva knew she had to get some decent sleep. Being a C.O. was hard work. Much harder than she’d ever anticipated. And tomorrow was another day with Joe…a man she did not want to work with or be around. Yet one she was beginning to need with the hunger of a lone wolf wanting a mate. It was a terrible cosmic joke—on her.

“Well,” Joe said as he knocked lightly on the planning room door, a cup of coffee in hand, “what do you think?” It was late afternoon and Akiva was sitting at the planning table, several flight maps spread out in front of her. She was in her usual uniform, the bright red headband in place, her hair black and straight around her shoulders. Joe was glad she wore her hair down; it made her look incredibly beautiful.

Akiva turned. Her eyes narrowed. Joe was in his black flight uniform and was holding out a cup of coffee toward her.

“Dean got the coffeemaker going?” she asked, hope in her voice.

“Yeah. How about that? Would you like some?”

Akiva wanted coffee. But she didn’t want to accept it from him. She saw the hope burning in his eyes. All day, in small, subtle ways, Joe had tried to be helpful, and yet stay out of her way. He wasn’t dumb; he knew she really didn’t want him around. Akiva eyed the coffee, wanting it desperately. But if she took it, Joe would think it was a sign of peace between them, and that’s not how she felt.

“No…thanks. You go ahead and drink it.” Again, that sense of incredible nurturing cloaked her. It was from Joe, Akiva realized, without a doubt. Her heart dropped with anguish. She desperately wanted that warmth from him, but wavered when she remembered her past experiences. She was torn, knowing that if she reached out for that warmth she craved, she’d be reaching out for him. Akiva could not have what he offered without accepting Joe’s presence in her life. The realization was paralyzing to her. It filled her with a fear she could not sneer at, run from or face. At least not yet.

Joe shrugged and sipped the coffee. “Dean makes a mean cup of java.”

“Smells good,” Akiva admitted hoarsely. She turned her back on him and looked at the maps. Hearing him come closer, she tried to tell herself to stop soaking up his presence like a thirsty sponge. Was she so hungry for intimacy? So empty that even the remotest human warmth touched some dark, frightened part of her and made her feel almost out of control? Akiva had never experienced the overwhelming emotions she experienced now. It was as if Joe was creating a tidal wave of powerful, surging need in her—need that only he could fulfill. How was that possible? Akiva had always felt herself impervious to men and whatever crumbs they offered. Joe, however, was offering such a rich banquet, vital and nurturing energy that she wondered how she was going to stop herself from reaching out and consuming it like a starving wolf.

“How is the planning going? You’re looking at potential flight routes from here, over the Gulf and back?”

Sighing, Akiva nodded and picked up the plastic protractor, tapping it against one of the colorful maps. “Yeah. Trying to figure out flight routes. We can never take the same one twice. Someone might be watching us. I’m trying to devise five different flight strategies, depending on where we meet up with a druggie, and how to fly that pattern back here to the base.”

Joe stood quietly. “Mind if I take a look at what you’ve come up with so far?” His heart thumped hard in his chest. He knew Akiva was a hands-on manager, not one to give up territory or duties to others unless she absolutely had to. Oh, she’d been more than happy to have him, as X.O., handle all the things that needed to be reckoned with in setting up Alpha. But when it came to the serious stuff of planning interdiction, she’d made it clear she didn’t want him nosing around.

Mouth thinning, Akiva scowled and put her hands over her notebook, where she’d been scribbling ideas. Damn. The last thing she wanted was Joe here. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? The more mature side of herself said, Because he’s the X.O. He has a right to be here.Besides, he might have some good ideas that you could use. The immature part of her, the wounded side, won out. Her voice became clipped. “I’ll let you see them when I’m done. Don’t you have other duties that need attending to?”

Wincing inwardly, Joe tried to tamp down his impatience and frustration. In an instant, he had seen Akiva put up her defensive guard; it was in her voice and in her stiffening body. Looking around, he saw that Iris Bradford had left the building. They were alone.

“Tell me something,” Joe said in a low, soothing voice. “Am I green lookin’, with scales and a set of horns on my head?”

Stunned, Akiva twisted around and stared at him, her mouth falling open. Joe was leaning languidly in the entranceway, his brows furrowed, his eyes dark and searching. “What?”

“Did I grow horns and a tail? Is that why you don’t want me within ten feet of you at any time? Am I some virus you’re afraid will infect you through casual contact?”

Akiva was shocked by his brazenness. Maybe she had misjudged him; she had thought Joe was a beta male, not an alpha one. She stared up at him, stunned speechless. The silence thickened between them. Gulping, she realized that if she spoke the truth, he could, by military regulations, have her strung up for dereliction of duty because of prejudice. And she wasn’t about to let that occur. But if that was Joe’s intent, she didn’t sense it. There was nothing in his face or his voice that indicated he intended malice toward her. No, what she heard from him was hurt. Hurt that she was leaving him out of the loop, that she didn’t need him around at all. And also, there was a gentle persistence in his tone clearly meant to create dialogue to get past the defensive anger on her part.

Her heart twinged with guilt…and another emotion that she refused to look at. Her gaze snapped away and then back to Joe.

“We’re alone,” he told her. “I would never bring this up within earshot of anyone, Akiva.”

Lips pursed, she growled, “Look, I’m new at this…being a C.O. I don’t know how to lead, I guess. And right now, all my attention is on our mission and flights.”

“Understandable,” Joe rasped. “And I haven’t had any training to be an X.O., either, so maybe we’re both floundering around, unsure and on shaky legs with our new assignments?” He saw her eyes fill with fear and uncertainty. “I know I’m feelin’ that way.” Well, that wasn’t really true, but Joe decided the white lie might create some camaraderie between them—and perhaps create an opening with Akiva. There was no sense in accusing her. She’d only shut down and retreat inside that cool, icy tower. That was the last thing Joe wanted.

“Uh, yeah…” Akiva searched his hooded gray eyes. Her ability to read men was deadly accurate; she could smell them intuitively a mile away. And if her all-terrain radar was working correctly, she felt Joe trying to offer her an olive branch of peace. Her heart said to take it. Her mind screamed no. Torn, she shrugged.

“Let me…I’ll be done with my preliminary flight paths probably by tonight. How about you look at them then?”

Nodding, Joe sipped the coffee, though he no longer tasted it. “That would be fine. Thanks. I gotta go. Spec Dean and Ferris have got the helos in the hangar, and they’re going to begin working on the big rig for us. They have to go through normal pre-mission checks on it.”

“Good. Fine…fine…”

Joe saw the indecision in Akiva’s gold eyes. He saw her being pulled between her desire to be civil toward him and something else. What was that other thing? He sensed it more than saw it in her body language. It was as if she wanted to explain herself to him for some reason. “I’ll see you later,” he said, and turned on his heel.

“Better catch your sun rays today to keep that tan,” Akiva called, trying to be friendly. “There’s a lot less sun here, I think, than what we had back in Peru.”

Stopping, Joe twisted around and gave her a quizzical look. She’d already turned her back to him and was bent over the maps once more. Confused by her words, he took a sip of coffee and then headed to the door. What had Akiva meant by that statement? Was she just trying to be pleasant? Maybe she was feeling bad about the way she was treating him and was trying to be social. Heartened, he took her off-the-wall comment as a white flag of truce—at least for now. His heart lightened with each stride, because Joe felt as if they’d taken a step together, in the same direction, for the first time.

Joe had asked the enlisted women to share the mess duties, taking turns being responsible for each day’s meals. Spec Susan Dean, their ordnance person, had been given extra duty as chef today. She hailed from the Bronx, and had a distinct nasal twang to her voice. As they sat at the benches and tables in the dining area, she quickly served them their first dinner at Alpha. Dressed in her camos, her olive-green T-shirt damp with sweat, she zoomed around, passing out aluminum trays filled with the delicious smelling spaghetti she’d whipped up.

Joe sat on one side of the officers’ table and Akiva sat opposite him. She was smiling at Susan, who was singing an Italian song in high falsetto as she served them their meals. It was 1800 hours, and Joe was glad to see everyone pulling together. This was going to be a tight team, and he was proud of the enlisted women, each of whom had pulled double duty today serving outside their trained area of expertise.

Susan set trays in front of Akiva and Joe. Her green eyes danced with pride. “There you go, Chiefs. My mama, who is a killer cook, gave me this recipe. Enjoy!” She turned and quickly went back to the makeshift kitchen for trays for the others.

Akiva grinned and picked up her fork. She risked a glance across the table at Joe. The black uniform he wore accentuated his black hair and darkly tanned features, making him look dangerous to her. Akiva couldn’t pin down exactly what it was about Joe Calhoun that drew him to her, only that her silly heart was always thumping a little when he was in the vicinity. A rebellious lock of black hair dipped over his broad brow. She had the maddening urge to push it back into place. Stunned at her spontaneous feelings, Akiva scowled and forked the fragrant spaghetti into her mouth.