Lindsay McKenna - Running Fire

Praise Praise for Lindsay McKenna Praise Title Page Dedication Dear Reader CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHAPTER NINETEEN CHAPTER TWENTY Extract Copyright “The unflinching descriptions of flashbacks, panic attacks, and nightmares are riveting, making this essential reading for those who want to understand what PTSD can be like…McKenna does a beautiful job of illustrating difficult topics through the development of well-formed, sympathetic characters.” —Publishers Weekly on Wolf Haven (starred review) “Set within a well-crafted plot, this story—equal parts intriguing, gritty and romantic—will pull at readers’ heartstrings.” —RT Book Reviews on Wolf Haven “Ms. McKenna masterfully blends the two different paces to convey a beautiful saga about love, trust, patience and having faith in each other.” —Fresh Fiction on Never Surrender “A treasure of a book…highly recommended reading that everyone will enjoy and learn from.” —Chief Michael Jaco, US Navy SEAL, retired, on Breaking Point “Her Shadow Warrior heroines are focused and tough, yet secretly vulnerable. Her SEAL heroes are consummate gentlemen, but have an enormous capacity for soul deep passion. The only surrender is the sweet kind, and oh how sweet it is!” —ReadertoReader on Taking Fires “McKenna’s military experience shines through in this moving tale…McKenna (High Country Rebel) skillfully takes readers on an emotional journey into modern warfare and two people’s hearts.” —Publishers Weekly on Down Range

Title Page Running Fire Lindsay McKenna www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dedication Gary Amato, US Air Force firefighter,1973–1977. Joined West Point Volunteer Fire Department before he went into the Air Force. Then, returned and got his fire science degree from Stark Technical College, Canton, Ohio. He then became a Lieutenant. I met him then, when I joined the WPVFD. Gary took me under his wing and made me a good firefighter, the only woman on the WPVFD. He was a great officer, great strategist and tactician at any type of fire. I ran on 400 of 600 fire calls that we had in our township over three years. Gary is a true hero, a military vet who has given from his heart to the surrounding area where he lives. He later became Assistant Fire Chief until 1989, when he retired. Thank you for your service to all of us, Gary. You rock in my Book of Life.

Dear Reader

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

“READY, LEAH?” CAPTAIN Brian Larsen asked.

Chief Warrant Officer Leah Mackenzie picked up the mission information from the US Army 80th Shadow Squadron office. She looked outside, getting a bad feeling. It was raining at Camp Bravo, an FOB, or forward operating base, thirty miles from the Pakistani border. “This is a lousy night,” she told the MH-47 pilot. She saw Brian nod.

“It sucks,” he agreed. “But we gotta make this exfil.”

Leah followed him across Operations, helmet bag in one hand, kneeboard in the other. It was 2400, midnight, and they were to pick up a SEAL team one mile from the Af-Pak border. They had thirty minutes to meet the black ops team who had been out for a week hunting high-value-target Taliban leaders.

Her heart picked up its pace as they walked quickly from Operations onto the wet tarmac. Their MH-47, a specially equipped Chinook helicopter that could fly in any kind of weather conditions, had been prepped by the ground crew and ready for them to board.

The cold rain was slashing down and quickly soaked Leah’s one-piece desert-tan flight suit. It was June 1, and Brian had told her rain was unusual at this time of year in eastern Afghanistan.

Bravo sat at eight thousand feet in the Hindu Kush mountains. Leah had arrived three weeks ago, acclimating and learning the Shadow Squadron area that they operated within. She had replaced a pilot who had gotten appendicitis. Being the only woman in the 80th, she stood out whether she wanted to or not. It was time to take to the sky. Soon, they were in the air, heading toward their objective.

“This is a shitty area to pick anyone up in,” Brian muttered. “You remember? It’s that very narrow valley? With the mountains on the east side at fourteen thousand? And on the west side, at ten thousand?”

“Yes,” Leah answered. She’d worked hard to commit the terrain to memory. Black ops never picked up a team at the same spot twice—ever. It could be a trap or ambush the second time around. “What I don’t like is that we’re landing too close to a series of caves. The Taliban routinely hide in them.”

“Roger that one,” Brian agreed grimly, studying the all-terrain radar on his HUD, or heads-up display. “The SEALs said they couldn’t locate any tangos nearby, but that means squat. The Taliban hide in the caves and pop up with RPGs after we land. It’s a game of Whack-A-Mole.”

Leah nodded. Her adrenaline was already flooding into her bloodstream. Should she tell Brian she had a bad feeling? That when she did, things usually went to hell in a handbag? “Is there any way this team can meet us out in that narrow valley?”

“No. Then they become targets for any Taliban sitting up high in those caves.”

Mouth quirking, Leah felt her stomach tighten. She flew the Chinook in the long, flat stratus clouds, the rain slashing downward at four thousand feet. In ten minutes, they’d hit the last waypoint and start descending into the exfil area to pick up the awaiting SEAL team.

She heard Brian talking with Ted and Liam over the intercom. The two crew chiefs on board would have to lower the ramp once they began to descend into the pickup zone. Brian had made his authorization request with Bagram Airfield where the major part of the 80th Shadow Squadron was stationed. No mission went down unless authorization had been given by everyone in TOC, Tactical Operation Center. And it had just been approved. It was a go.

Leah listened to all transmissions while her gaze roved across the cockpit instrument panel. Everything felt good and solid to her. Since age sixteen, she’d flown by the seat of her pants, which was when her father, full-bird Colonel David Mackenzie, had taught her how to fly. The reason she’d gotten into the Shadow Squadron was because he was the commander of this particular battalion. She was the only woman in it and Leah hoped other deserving women pilots would be allowed to follow in her footsteps sooner rather than later.

“I’ll take the controls,” Brian said.

“You have the controls,” Leah said, releasing them. Brian was worried about this pickup area and she was happy to allow the more experienced pilot to fly them in and out. She busied herself with talking to the SEAL team on the ground and preparing the helo for the pickup with her crew chiefs.

At one thousand feet, she gave Ted the order to open the ramp. Instantly, a grinding sound began throughout the hollow fuselage. The closer they descended to the ground, the harder it rained.

The hairs on the back of Leah’s neck stood up. A sense of real danger washed through her. Compressing her full lips, she watched as the Chinook came out of the low-hanging cloud cover at three hundred feet. Looking to the east, she saw the caves, all black maws. Their exfil was down below them, on a gentle slope that would be easy to land upon. Her heart rate picked up and she felt a strong thrust of adrenaline burning through her.