Lindsay McKenna - His Woman in Command & Operations - Forbidden - His Woman in Command / Operation - Forbidden

Because she was on duty for the next twenty-four hours, Nike remained in her clothes. She took off her armor and boots and laid them at the foot of her cot. She had to sleep, but how? She worried about Gavin and his team. Had they discovered the Taliban coming across the valley yet? Lying down, she brought her arm across her eyes. And then, in minutes, she fell asleep—a small blessing.

“This week, you’re assigned to the CH-47,” Emma Trayhern-Cantrell, the XO, told Nike as they sat together at an ops table. “You’re going to be bringing in supplies to several boundary villages. And we’re short on copilots, so you’re flying without one.”

“Thanks,” she told her XO. Nike nodded and tried to hide her disappointment. For a week, she’d flown the aggressive Apache and done her fair share of firing off rockets and rounds to protect A teams up in the mountains hunting Taliban. Because she loved the adrenaline rush, it was tough to be relegated to a lumbering workhorse instead.

Her XO handed her the list of villages along with the supplies to go to them and the times of delivery. Emma Trayhern was all business. She had the red hair of a Valkyrie with large gray eyes and a soft mouth. She had her uncle Morgan Trayhern’s eyes. However, Nike already knew that this Trayhern child was no pushover even if her face spoke of openness and compassion. Emma was an Apache pilot and as tough as they came.

“I know you’re bummed. CHs don’t rock.” Emma tried to smile. “There’s always dirty work along with the rockin’ Apache. You’re just lucky enough to have skills in the CH-47.”

“Yeah,” Nike said grumpily, folding up the orders. “I wish they’d give us another Apache or two.”

Shaking her head, Emma said, “They’re stretched to the max over in Iraq. We get the leftovers. It sucks, but it is what it is.”

“I’m not so philosophical,” Nike said, rising. It was near dawn, a red ribbon on the eastern horizon outside the ops hut. Already, the air base was in full swing and with plenty of action.

“You hear anything about your guy? Captain Jackson?”

Giving Emma a frown, Nike said, “He’s not my guy. How did that rumor get started?”

Grinning, Emma folded up the huge map and left it on the ops table. “Blame your load master, Andy.”

“Blabbermouth,” Nike muttered.

“We were expecting the Taliban to go down through that valley near Zor Barawul, but they didn’t. I told Dallas that I thought someone from the village probably sneaked off to tell them the A team was in town, so they took another trail into the country.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Nike said. She put the paper into the thigh pocket of her dark green flight suit. “When I was there overnight, there was a lot of wariness toward Americans.”

“Well,” Emma said, “you’ll be delivering the last load of the day to them. If you get a chance, stay on the ground for an hour and find out what’s going on. I like to get eyes and ears out there on those villages. Dallas wants to keep a check on them and whether they get slammed by the Taliban.”

“Good idea.” Nike wasn’t too sure she wanted to spend an hour on the ground to visit with Gavin. She saw the curiosity in Emma’s eyes. “I’ll do my best.”

“Do it at each stop, Nike. We want you to talk to the leader of each team and get their latest assessment.”

It wasn’t a bad idea, Nike thought as she put on her black BJS baseball cap. “Okay, will do,” she promised. “This is going to be more like a milk run.”

Emma walked her to the door. “I hope you’re right. But be careful. Those four villages are not on our side. Yet.”

“Getting food, medical personnel and medicine in to them on a regular basis will help,” Nike said, opening the door. The crisp air was barely above freezing. Nike would be glad when June came. Everyone said it got warmer at the beginning of that month. In the mountains at eight thousand feet, a local gardener told her that there was less than a ninety-day growing period. This made gardening tough, which was why most people had goats, chickens, sheep and few vegetables. Certainly, fruit was scarce, too.

Clapping her on the shoulder, Emma reminded her, “Be careful out there. Dallas does not want to lose any of her pilots.”

Grinning, Nike gave her a mock salute and said, “Oh, not to worry, XO. We’re a tough bunch of women.” She decided to swing by the base exchange and picked up four boxes of dates and four pounds of candy for the kids. Dates were a delicacy usually eaten only at the time of Ramadan. Poor villages couldn’t afford such a wonderful fruit and Nike wanted to give it to the wife of the chief of each village. The meaning of her exchange would go far with the women of the village to cement a positive connection. And the children would love the sweets. That made her smile because the Afghan children were beautiful, so full of life and laughter.

* * *

Gavin was surprised as hell to see Nike walking toward him from the helicopter. She’d covered her short, shining dark curls with a black baseball cap. He grinned, feeling his heart open up.

“Hey,” he called, “this is a pleasant surprise.”

Her lips tingled in anticipation. Nike could see the happiness burning in his blue eyes as he approached her. While part of her wanted to rush into Gavin’s arms, she halted a good six feet from him, hands on her hips. “Just dropping off supplies, a doctor and dentist, and getting the lay of the land and giving Jameela a box of dates as a goodwill gesture.”

Gavin sensed her unease but kept his smile. “Dates. That’s a great idea.” He added, “I missed you.”

Though wildly flattered, Nike couldn’t get on a personal footing with him. Lucky for them, there was all kinds of activity around the unloading of the helo. A number of men carried the cardboard boxes into the village. The doctor and dentist were led into a group of awaiting men and boys. “My boss wants me to spend an hour with you getting a sense of how things are going at the village. She’s compiling an ongoing dialogue with the generals above her on where each village stands.”

Raising his brows, Gavin said, “You ladies are on top of things.” He gestured for her to follow him. “Come on, we’ll go to the team house, have some chai and chat.”

Nike did not want to be alone with Gavin. He was too damned masculine. She wished for the thousandth time her traitorous body would stop clamoring for another kiss from him. Her mind was in charge and no way could she get involved again. Ever. “Okay, but this is business, Captain.”

“No problem,” Gavin said smoothly.

Walking at his shoulder, a good twelve inches between them, Nike said, “You never got that attack you were expecting. I’m glad.”

Gavin dodged the muddy ruts made by the continuous donkey-cart traffic through the village. “Yeah, we’re relieved. But suspicious.” The sun had warmed the village and children played in the late afternoon. Dogs ran around barking and chasing one another. Women in burkas were here and there, but mostly, they moved the window curtains aside to stare at them walking by.

Nike saw a number of barefoot children with mud up to their knees. She smiled a little. They were tough little kids in her opinion and yet, so huggable. She started handing out the bag of candy she carried in her hand. In no time, every child in the village surrounded them. Nike made sure each child, no matter how little, got a handful of jellybeans. When it was gone, they disappeared with their treasures. She turned to Gavin. “I’m glad for you it’s been quiet around here. Why do you think that happened?”

Gavin nodded as they sauntered toward the stone home on the left. “We think the Taliban got tipped off by someone here in the village and they decided to take other paths into the country.”