Читать книгу Destiny's Woman - Lindsay McKenna - Страница 9

Joe felt like he’d stepped into a hill where rattlers lived, as far as Akiva was concerned. He’d seen the flash of irritation in her eyes when, after the two-hour briefing, Major Stevenson had ordered them to Akiva’s office to work out the details of the base operation. Primarily, they were to choose the personnel who would be going with them, three enlisted people who would provide support for them in all respects.

As he followed Akiva into her tiny office on the second floor of the H.Q., he realized it was the first time he’d been in it.

“Close the door,” she told him as she pushed several flight reports aside on her green metal desk, dropped her new manuals there and sat down. “Sit over there,” she said, pointing to a green metal chair in the corner that had at least a dozen files stacked on it.

Closing the door quietly, Joe walked over to the chair, picked up the files and set them on the floor. He moved the chair to the opposite side of the desk from where she was sitting. Joe sensed her brittleness and distrust toward him. He could tell by her abruptness that she was stressed. But more than anything, he wanted this liaison to work between them.

Joe had to keep himself from staring at her. Akiva could have been a model in some chic Paris show, wearing designer clothes. Her face was angular and classic, with high cheekbones, wide intelligent eyes and a soft, full mouth.

Giving her a lopsided smile, he sat down and said, “You’ve been here at Black Jaguar Base for three years. I’m sure you’ve got some ideas of the personnel you’d like to have come with us?” Even as he asked the question, Joe wondered why he’d been chosen to be Akiva’s X.O. She wasn’t easy to work with—except in the cockpit, where she was all business.

He saw her gold eyes narrow speculatively on him. “Yes, I do have a list of people I want.” Her nostrils flared as she waited for his reaction.

Joe sat there relaxed, his hands clasped on the desk in front of him. He was darkly tanned, the color emphasizing his large gray eyes. A lock of ebony hair dipped rebelliously across his wrinkled brow. She wished she could ignore him, but she’d promised Maya to try and make this work. “I’m new at this,” she muttered defiantly.

“What? Being a C.O. instead of a pilot taking orders?”

She ignored his teasing demeanor. “Yes.” The word came out like a trap snapping shut.

“When Major Stevenson told me I was going to be X.O., I wondered if I had the right stuff to do it.” Opening his hands, Joe sat back and said, “It’s one thing to be a pilot. Someone’s always giving you orders and setting the tasks up for you. It’s another to be figuring out the tasks and handin’ them out.” He gave her an understanding smile.

Joe had long dealt with his own fear of not living up to his assignments. He supposed that had had to do with his childhood. None of his peers had ever expected much of a half-breed. To this day, he lived in terror of someone finding out he’d made a mistake and marking it down in his military personnel jacket, where it would be counted against him later on.

Akiva grabbed a piece of paper and frowned down at it. Joe had a lot less pride than she did. She wasn’t about to admit to him her reservations about being a C.O. His sincere humility was a powerful draw to her. He wasn’t one of those testosterone-filled studs who snorted and stomped around, beating their chests and proclaiming they were the best pilots or leaders in the world. “You were chosen because of your night optic background.”

The words were like an insult being hurled at him, but Joe allowed it to slide off him. “You sit tall in the saddle,” he drawled. When he saw her head snap up, and she gave him a confused look, he grinned a little. “Another Texas saying. I guess now that we’re gonna be workin’ close, you’ll get a gutful of ’em. It means that you’re the right person to be chosen to head up this mission. It’s a compliment.”

Why couldn’t he be just as nasty and snarling as she was toward him? It would make Akiva’s life a helluva lot easier. Anger, prejudice and hatred were things she knew how to battle. His laid-back nature in the face of her prickliness made her panicky inside.

Maya’s advice about Akiva’s need to leave her prejudice behind in order to make the transition to a C.O. droned in her head. Damn, forgetting her past hurts was going to be the hardest thing in the world. As she searched Joe’s friendly gray eyes and dropped her gaze to his full, mobile mouth, Akiva decided he must have led a rich and spoiled existence. No, he hadn’t had life hurled at him like she had. Would he be able to handle this mission as her X.O.?

Wrestling with her anger and anxiety, she choked out, “Thanks…I think…for the compliment.”

“You rode horses growin’ up, didn’t you?” Joe decided that maybe the best tact with Akiva was to get to know her on a more personal level. If he could disarm her prickly nature, it would serve all of them.

“Yes, I did.” She scribbled some words at the top of the paper, trying to ignore his gaze.

“My daddy drives an eighteen-wheeler, a big rig, for a living. When I was a tadpole, he said I needed a horse. I remember he bought me this old fifteen-year-old quarter horse called Poncho. The horse had arthritis bad in the knees, but I was five years old and thought I’d died and gone to hog heaven.”

Akiva’s hand poised over the paper. Whether she liked to admit it or not, she enjoyed Joe’s stories; she had since she’d first begun training with him. Even in the cockpit, while he was teaching the upgrade features of the optic night scope to her, he’d told her stories. They always served to relax her, and even now she could feel the tightness in her neck and shoulders beginning to dissolve at the sound of his soft Southern voice.

“Now, old Poncho, as my daddy called ’em, was an old ropin’ horse of some repute. But for me, well, I was a greenhorn five-year-old who’d never thrown a leg over a horse before. Every self-respectin’ Texan learns how to ride. Texas is a proud state with a long tradition of cowboys and cattle. My daddy was bound and determined to initiate me into Texas ways.” Joe saw interest flicker in Akiva’s shadowed eyes as she stared across the desk at him. She’d stopped writing to listen. Somehow, his storytelling was a connection with her that was good and healthy. It made his heart swell with unexpected happiness. Still, he knew Akiva would probably take that war ax she wore on her belt to his skull if he even breathed the possibility that he was drawn to her, man to woman.

“Apaches rode horses until they died under them,” Akiva said. “My great-great-grandmother rode with Geronimo and was one of his best warriors. I remember stories about her passed down through the women in our family. Apaches have endurance, Chief Calhoun. They would ride up to fifty miles a day, escaping the cavalry. Most of the time there were no horses around. If they found any, they’d steal them and ride them into exhaustion, then get off and keep trotting on foot in order to stay free of the white men chasing them.”

“Impressive,” Joe murmured, leaning forward. He saw the pride reflected in her aloof face, in the way she held her chin at an arrogant angle. “I don’t know that much about your people, but I’d like to learn.” And he would, only for other reasons—personal ones. Again he saw her eyes grow more golden for a moment. He was learning by reading her body language what impacted her positively. She was a woman who held her cards close to her chest, giving little away of how she might be feeling inside. Of course, Joe understood why. A combat helicopter pilot couldn’t be hanging her emotional laundry out to dry in the middle of a dangerous flight mission.

“I come from very tough stock.” Akiva said, then scowled and jabbed her finger at the paper in front of her. “We need to get to work here, Chief.”

“Could you call me Joe when we’re alone? I don’t usually stand on protocol unless I need to.”

Her mouth tightened. They were both the same rank. His request wasn’t out of line. “Yeah…I guess…”

He was pushing her and he knew it. There was anger in her eyes now, and her mouth was a tight line, holding in a lot of unspoken words he was sure she wanted to fire off at him. “Thanks,” he said genially, but with a serious look on his face.

Exhaling loudly, Akiva muttered, “These are the women I want coming with us,” and she turned the paper around and shoved it in Joe’s direction.

As he slowly read down through the list, Akiva sat stiffly, as if expecting him to fight her on the choices. Yet even as she did so, she realized there was nothing to dislike about the warrant officer; indeed, of the three men who had been assigned to their squadron to train the pilots on the Apache Longbow gunship, Akiva had felt most at ease around Joe.

“This is a mighty good list of people,” he murmured, giving her an approving smile. “I’ve only been here a couple of months, but I’m familiar with all of them.”

“Then…you approve?”

“Build the coop before you buy the chickens.”

Akiva stared. And then she got it. A half smile threaded across her mouth as she took back the list of people she’d handed him. “It’s a good thing I’m a country girl or I wouldn’t have a clue as to your country sayings, Chief—er, I mean, Joe….” It disturbed Akiva to say his first name, made her feel too familiar with the kind of man she didn’t want to be familiar with.

Akiva saw Joe’s eyes lighten considerably as she tried to be somewhat pleasant—which wasn’t her forte, certainly. Maya would be proud of her, she realized.

“I knew you were a country girl,” he said. “I’ve seen you down at the mining side of this place, workin’ in the garden with Jake Travers and his wife, Ana, whenever you get a chance. Only that kind of woman would be down on her hands and knees, fingers in the warm, black soil. Not a citified type.”

“You don’t miss much, do you?” The words came out sharp and nasty. Akiva mentally chastised herself. Maya never used such a voice or harsh words with anyone. Akiva had to struggle to learn how to be more like her, since she was a C.O. now and not just a pilot in the squadron.

With an easy, one-shoulder shrug, Joe said, “I like to think I keep my ear to the ground and my eyes peeled.” He saw the confused expression in Akiva’s face. She really didn’t know what to do with him or how to respond to him. That was okay; at least she wasn’t spitting bullets at him—yet. Somehow, he had to find the key to Akiva, a way to turn off the venom and nastiness and reach her as a human being.

Without a doubt, Joe knew she had a big heart, because he’d seen it in some situations. Like when she was with the children of the villages that lay around the base of the mountain where their operation was hidden. Akiva would hike down to the villages at least once a week to help the Angel of Death—aka their paramedic, Sergeant Angel Paredes—make her rounds to help the people. The villages were in the middle of the Peruvian jungle, and there was no medical help, no clinic or hospitals, available if someone fell sick. Joe had once gone with Sergeant Paredes, not knowing that Akiva would be joining them. Akiva almost didn’t go because he’d tagged along, but he’d cajoled her into staying. He was glad he did, because he got to see the positive, healthy side of Akiva on that day.

She loved kids, big or small. When he had stood back, out of sight, he’d seen her open up to them in a way he’d never seen her do with the squadron. Joe had never seen Akiva smile, joke, gently tease or extend herself as she did with the many children who’d surrounded her the moment they walked into each village. She had hard candy in bright, colorful wrappers in her pockets, and she would hand a piece to each begging child.

Later, Joe had seen her hold babies and children whom Paredes had to work with medically. How gentle and tender Akiva had been with those little ones. Joe had mentally photographed that day into his heart. He was glad he’d seen Akiva let down her armored barriers; it served to remind him that beneath that warrior’s facade was a vulnerable woman of immense ability to reach out and love others. And it also told him that her toughness was a protection. He had held back a lot of personal questions he wanted to ask her about her growing up years. Based upon his own struggles as a kid, he knew that events, good or bad, shaped each person during the formative years. His instincts told him that Akiva had had a hellacious childhood, probably one that would have shattered another child. He figured it was her tough Apache blood that had helped her to survive it.

“What are we going to do about medical emergencies?” Joe wondered aloud. He held her stare. “You got any ideas about that?”

“No…I haven’t even thought about that….” she admitted. Akiva was proud of Joe for remembering such an important detail. At least he was thinking for the good of all, which Akiva knew wasn’t typical of a white male.

“Do you want me to talk to the doc at the medical facility?” he offered.

“Yes, why don’t you? We have Sergeant Paredes, but she’s the only paramedic here. I don’t think Major Stevenson wants to give her up to us.”

Joe nodded. “Yeah, I understand why she wouldn’t. If a crew member on one of the Apaches gets wounded, Paredes needs to be here to help the doctor do what she can for them.”

Akiva sat back and felt herself relax. It had to be due to Joe’s quiet demeanor, she decided. Of all the white men she’d ever met, he somehow helped her to let go of most of her protective armor. But Akiva would never let all that armor dissolve. Not ever. White men hurt women; it was that simple. “See what you can find out.”

Nodding, Joe said, “Yes, I will, and then I’ll let you know what the doc suggests.”

“I hate the idea of being out there in the middle of that jungle with no medical resources. Any of us could get hurt. One of the ground crew could get sick…. This is something we need to plan an SOP for.”

Joe raised his brows and gave her a hopeful look. “How about if I do the legwork on this problem? Can you trust me to come up with a game plan?” He knew from working with Akiva before that she did not trust him. Trust was something she didn’t hand to a man under any circumstances, Joe knew. He watched her wrestle with his request. A good C.O. knew how to delegate. Would she allow him to tackle this one, small element without her micromanaging it?

“Yeah…okay. Do it. I’ve got my hands full with other stuff right now.” Akiva felt a ribbon of heat flow through her when she saw his mouth pull into a smile. She didn’t want to feel good because he smiled, but she did.

“What’s the ETA—estimated time of arrival—on leaving for Alpha?”

“One week, if we get our stuff together on this.”

“Good, I can hardly wait.” He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

Alpha Base was a terrible disappointment to Akiva. She’d flown the Apache Longbow down into the hole in the canopy, skimmed among the towering trees and landed on the overgrown, dirt airstrip near several buildings built out of corrugated tin and poles strung together haphazardly with nails and wire. Sergeant Mandy Cooper, the crew chief for the ground personnel, had flown the back seat with her.

Joe had flown the Blackhawk helicopter, setting it down two rotor lengths away from the Apache. The rest of the base personnel had flown in with him, along with a lot of supplies. He’d joined Akiva as they walked to their new home.

“Not much to it, is there?” Akiva said as she strode across the long, tangled grass, which grasped at her booted feet.

Joe eyed the main building, a hangar. “Bubble gum, paper clips and a lotta prayers, from the looks of it.” He purposely walked at Akiva’s speed, which was a fast stride. Today she wore that war ax on the belt around her waist, along with a leather scabbard on the other hip that contained a very old bowie knife. From Joe’s understanding, Maya had allowed her to wear the weapons that had been passed down through her warrior family. Like him, Akiva wore a side arm in a black leather holster, along with a flak vest, known as a chicken plate, on the upper part of her body. As they crossed the grassy strip, he shrugged out of his own chicken plate and held it in his left hand as he surveyed their surroundings.

There were four buildings, the hangar being the largest. It could easily house both helos, effectively hiding them from prying eyes in the sky. The week before they’d flown to their new home, the Blackhawk had been the workhorse, bringing all the equipment and food that the crew would need to set up housekeeping.

Joe saw the three enlisted women hurrying to catch up with them. The looks of excitement and curiosity on their faces as they trotted across the thick green grass in their camouflage uniforms mirrored how he felt inside. As he glanced at Akiva’s profile, he saw the same look on her face, too.

“I’m feelin’ like a kid in a candy store,” he said with a laugh.

Giving him a sidelong glance, Akiva tried not to allow Joe’s laughter to affect her. But it did, in a good way. “We need to split up, take inventory, and then get back together later, wherever my office is going to be. We need to assess what’s missing or what has to be done next.” Akiva had been told they had a week to come online, ready to start interdiction missions. That wasn’t long.

Nodding, Joe erased his smile and closeted his thrill over the assignment. Akiva was all business. He could see the cloak of command settling over her proud shoulders. It wasn’t an easy cape to wear, he was discovering, even as X.O. His own job would be to handle the day-to-day workings of the three-woman crew, plus the scheduling of flights. As he saw it, he was to leave Akiva free to do planning and strategy for the missions. More than anything, he didn’t want to be one more thing she needed to worry about. The past week, he’d seen the awareness in her eyes of just how much responsibility she was charged with on this mission. In one way, it was good, because that didn’t leave her much time or energy to snap and snarl at him. She was too busy with planning.

Approaching the hangar, which was just three walls and a roof of corrugated tin, Joe stopped and looked at it more critically.

Akiva moved onto the hard-packed dirt floor of the building. Spotting several doors on one side, she went over and opened them. Good. Behind each, she found a small office. Each held a green, military-issue desk, paper, pens and the necessary things to make paperwork flow. The other crew members would each have an office to work from as well. She left Joe to look around, and continued her inspection of the new base by heading through another door into an alley between the hangar and the next largest building. It would serve as living quarters, mess hall and offices for the three enlisted women, Akiva realized. The sleeping quarters weren’t much to rave about, she discovered as she opened a recently erected door in a plywood wall. There were three metal cots with green army blankets and a pillow on each, and that was it. A shower had been built at one end. Spartan was the word that came to mind. She noted her and Joe’s quarters were at the front, a plyboard cubicle for each.

Moving out of that building, Akiva keyed her hearing to the excited voices of her crew. They were laughing, oohing and ahhing over the facilities. She felt a little of their excitement, but her mind was humming along, assessing, judging and planning. As she left the second building for the smaller one, across the alleyway, she laughed at herself. Maybe Maya was right; maybe she really did have what it took to lead a squadron. Her focus was on keeping her personnel safe, dry and fed.

In the third building, she found all their radio and satellite communications equipment, plus several computers, maps and boards on which to do planning for missions. This was where she would be spending much of her time. Stepping outside the rickety building again, Akiva spotted their electric generator. It had been put into a fairly well-built wooden structure that had a lot of padding to prevent the noise from being heard. An opening for the exhaust had been cut into the top of it. The gasoline needed to run it was in another tank near the edge of the jungle, which was slowly encroaching on the old airport facility. The tank had been painted camouflage colors so it blended in with their surroundings.

Turning, Akiva saw another, much larger storage tank, which held the fuel for the helicopters. Once a week, a Blackhawk would fly in with fuel bladders and refill it so they could keep flying their missions. That helicopter would come from a secret CIA base to the north of them. The CIA would become their main supplier for anything they needed to keep Alpha Base going.

“I’m happy as an armadillo diggin’ for grub worms.”

Akiva turned and couldn’t help but grin. Joe ambled around the corner, his hands in the pockets of his camouflage pants, a pleased look on his face.

“Armadillos?”

“Yeah, those critters that live in Texas and are worse than prairie dogs, leavin’ holes all around so folks can stumble into ’em and break a leg. And they’re always diggin’ for worms and grubs, their favorite dessert.”

Joe halted about six feet from Akiva. She was happy; he could see it in the sunlight gold dancing in her eyes as she met and held his gaze. Her hands rested on her wide hips and she had long ago gotten rid of the uncomfortable chicken plate vest. In the black, body-fitting uniform, her womanly curves and stature were obvious. She was a woman of substance, of pride, strength and confidence. Best of all, her full mouth was no longer pursed like it usually was, he noted.

“You like our new home, then.” Akiva turned, tearing her gaze from Joe’s smiling face. The man’s positive outlook on life was diametrically opposed to hers. He was always smiling and joking. She never did either.

“Shore ’nuff,” he murmured. “I’ve got Sergeant Cooper whippin’ the women into order over at that second building. I told her to set up housekeeping and unpack their duffel bags.”

“Good.” Akiva continued studying the way the jungle was hugging the base. She tried to stop her heart from opening up to Joe’s sunny presence. Trying to avoid looking up again at his well-shaped mouth, Akiva wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Would Joe be as gentle as he seemed? Or hurtful like every other Anglo man she’d had the sorry misfortune to tangle with? Forcing her mind back to the present, Akiva was unhappy that she was evaluating Joe on such an intensely personal level.

Joe moved to where Akiva was standing with her back to him. He was getting used to how she tried to ignore him. Her thick black hair had been woven into one large braid, tied off with a piece of red yarn and then coiled at the back of her long neck so that it fit beneath her helmet when she flew. Now, as he approached her, she took out the pins holding her braid in place and let it roll down her long, strong spine. The urge to reach out and touch that frayed, silky rope was almost his undoing. He forced his hand to remain in his pants pocket, knowing she’d probably deck him if he tried to touch her. Frustrated, Joe wondered what made her so defensive.

“This is a good place, strategically speaking,” he confided to her in a low voice. “The jungle is close enough to really hide us.”

“Yes…” Akiva moved away from him. She didn’t like Joe’s intimacy with her. Giving him a hard look that said Back off, she announced, “I’ll be in the tack and strat building,” and she pointed behind them. “Ask Spec—Specialist—Bradford to get over here and get the computers and communications online.”

Joe nodded. “Right away.” He turned and headed back toward the hangar. Once again Akiva was all business. But the panicked look in her eyes told him she didn’t want him getting that close to her in future. As he made his way with long, easy strides through the tangle of grass, Joe sighed inwardly. What was it about him that Akiva hated so much? She rarely tried to hide the fact she couldn’t stand being in the same room with him.

As he stepped into the hangar to hunt down Iris Bradford, their radio communications specialist, Joe tried to stop the ache he felt in his chest. More than anything, he wanted others to like him, to think well of him. He wanted to make up for his youth, spent as an outcast because he had Comanche blood flowing through his veins. He felt a driving need to always look good to his superiors. As a result, he was a hard charger from a career point of view. He saw this X.O. opportunity as a possible gateway to becoming an officer in the U.S. Army someday soon, not just a warrant officer. However, his career was now in Akiva’s hands. If she put a bad report in his personnel jacket, she could torpedo his career goals in a heartbeat.

And why? What was wrong with him? he wondered as he poked his head into the first office, where he found blond-haired, blue-eyed Iris Bradford. She was twenty-three years old and a computer geek from the get-go. Five foot three inches tall, she was slightly chunky, big-boned and, he had learned, of Swedish background. She brightened when she saw him enter the office.

“Sir, I’m looking for the comms. You seen them?”

Joe nodded. “They’re over in the last building, Bradford. Why don’t you hightail it over there and get that stuff hummin’? Chief Redtail’s over there, too.”

Flushing with excitement, Iris said, “Yes, sir! This is so cool! I love this place! I’m so glad I was asked to be a part of the team.” She flashed him a toothy smile, moved past him and then trotted out of the hangar toward the last building in the row.

Joe smiled and looked around the office. He saw a laptop computer on the desk, a printer, a telephone and a small gold plate on the front of the desk that said C.O. This was Akiva’s office. Figuring his must be nearby, he left the office and closed the door. The next office over was indeed his. Standing there in front of his desk, where the small gold plate saying X.O. sat, he got chills. Excitement thrummed through him. Finally, the army was giving him a chance to show what he could do. Now his only problem was Akiva.