Lindsay McKenna - Down Range

“Go to page four, Captain. This entails the guts of the op.”

Morgan’s gaze went to page four. There were two names chosen for the op. One was her, which sent a giddy emotion of joy through her. When her eyes dropped to the second name, her heart plunged with disbelief. Gulping, she snapped a look up across the desk at Houston. Struggling to speak, she rasped, “But—sir, I’m assigned to this op with Lieutenant Jake Ramsey?” For a moment, she felt as if someone had hit her with an armor-piercing round to her Kevlar vest, sucking the breath out of her.

“That’s right,” Mike Houston said. “General Stevenson and I want this to be a SEAL mission. You’ve worked well with them in the past. We needed a SEAL sniper who could be sniper leader on the op.”

Morgan swallowed her disappointment. “Yes, sir,” she barely mouthed. There would be no way in hell she could voice protest over Ramsey being assigned. On top of that, he had been designated as lead sniper. In the sniping business, they were both equally qualified, but one sniper would be the leader, the final decision maker. And it would be him! Dammit! The ramifications of the assignment whirled like a nightmare around her. Obviously, these generals did not know their long personal history. Maybe that was a blessing in disguise. Morgan was sure she’d never have been assigned to the op if General Houston realized what she and Jake had once been to each other.

Lifting her head, she said, “Sir? What led you to choose Lieutenant Ramsey?”

Mike sat back in his leather chair and said, “His name was spit out by the computer, Captain. Any problems with that?”

“None, sir,” she lied, her voice husky as she carefully closeted her roiling feelings. That was why she’d met Jake in the parking lot.

“General Stevenson is interviewing First Lieutenant Ramsey as we speak. If she feels he’s the right man for the job, we’ll be setting up the briefing tomorrow at 0900 here in this office. We’ll all go over the details of this op at that time.” He picked up a voucher and handed it to her. “You’ll both be staying at this hotel located near the Pentagon. I know you just came out of Afghanistan, flying for almost twenty-four hours to make this meeting, Captain. Get a hot meal under your belt tonight and get a good night’s sleep. I need you a hundred percent tomorrow morning. Understand?”

Quickly coming to her feet at attention, Morgan said, “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Dismissed.”

Morgan forced herself to turn and walk to the door. Emotions clashed within her. She felt a little dizzy. As she left the office, she was grateful not to see Jake Ramsey. She kept walking toward the front doors, trying to deal with this new development. Closing her eyes for a moment, she dragged in an uneven breath, forcing all those feelings down into her once more. It didn’t work.

Morgan fought the deep jet lag. She’d only been able to grab some sleep aboard the C-5 that had flown her from Bagram air base in Afghanistan to Rota, Spain, and then on to Andrews Air Force Base just outside Washington, D.C.

Pushing herself, Morgan left the Pentagon, glad to be out in the warm May sunlight once more. The breeze reminded her she was home, if but for a little while, not in the harsh desert mountains of Afghanistan with a hunter-killer SEAL team. Aiming herself at the rented SUV, Morgan looked at the voucher. She was so damned tired, she was weaving. Houston was right: she needed a hot shower and then bed. If she woke up sometime this evening, she’d get dinner to fortify herself. Because the turnaround on this op was immediate. The schedule had them leaving within twenty-four hours, headed back into Afghanistan.

As she opened the door to the SUV, Morgan wanted to check in to the hotel and make a call to her parents in Gunnison, Colorado. And even more, she wanted to talk to her two-year-old daughter, Emma. Just thinking about her family buoyed Morgan. She tried to force her thoughts away from Jake Ramsey. What did he think of the sniper pairing on this op? He had to be feeling like an IED had exploded beneath him. Morgan knew, without any doubt, the last woman Jake would ever want on a mission with him would be her. Correction, he’d never want any woman on a mission with him, believing they were incapable of operating in combat.

All hell was about to break loose….

Chapter Two

Jake Ramsey wondered what kind of bad karma was hanging over his head. When he opened door number one, he came face-to-face with an Army woman General. He snapped to attention in front of her desk and reported as ordered.

“At ease,” General Maya Stevenson said, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk. “Have a seat, Lieutenant Ramsey. We have a lot to cover in a short amount of time.”

Sitting, Jake got his first good look at the female General. His mind spun in shock, but somewhere, in his memory, he had heard this woman’s name. Where? And he almost blurted, what is a woman doing mission planning on a black ops? But didn’t. Judging from the serious look on her face, he’d keep his mouth shut. Her hair was black with some silver strands and barely brushed the shoulders of her green uniform. It was the burning intelligence in her large emerald eyes that warned him she wasn’t some weak woman like his mother. Far from it; so he sat there on edge, trying to appear interested but not anxious.

“Lieutenant, you were chosen for Operation Peregrine by our computers.” She leaned forward, handing him the mission brief. “We need two snipers to go after Sangar Khogani, a Hill tribe leader who is an opium warlord.” She rested her hands on the file. “We have chosen a sniper team to go after him and remove his presence from the fight.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Are you interested in this type of op, Lieutenant?”

“Absolutely, ma’am.” Jake felt himself sweat. This woman General had the kind of look that could cut an officer into so many ribbons. Why would she ask such a question?

“Open the file to page four, Lieutenant.”

Jake opened it. His mouth dropped as he read who his assigned sniper partner would be: Captain Morgan Boland. He snapped his mouth shut, feeling shock bolt through him. “Ma’am,” he said, struggling, looking at her, “this can’t be right.”

“What isn’t right, Lieutenant?”

“This…this is a woman, ma’am.”

The General’s long, arched brows turned downward. Her once-relaxed facial features turned glacial. He knew he’d said the wrong thing but didn’t care. There was no way he was going on a black op with a woman! Not even Morgan Boland. Especially not her. Adrenaline began to leak into his bloodstream. What kind of sick joke was this?

“You got a problem with that, Lieutenant?”

Wincing internally, Jake heard the frost in her husky voice, her eyes narrowed speculatively upon him. Okay, so he saw the choice: argue that a woman had no place being a sniper on a dangerous black op and ask for a man to be assigned with him instead. As Jake sat there in those seconds, he suddenly remembered Maya Stevenson. Scuttlebutt had circulated among the SEALs that a female Army General had formed an all-woman combat unit. The women had been divided among the black-ops community. The all-volunteer force had been trained in Ranger or Special Forces schools. They had then been assigned to a black-ops team to become a working part of it in combat. And he remembered hearing the plan was working very well. Dammit.

Mouth dry, Jake tried to temper his answer. “Ma’am, with all due respect, I honestly don’t feel a woman could handle this kind of op. Just perusing some of the challenges on this mission, it’s in the Hindu Kush mountains. We could be at twelve thousand feet on rocks and scree. I’ve been up in those mountains many times, and I know how brutal the elements and challenges are for a sniper.”