Morgan's Mercenaries: Heart of Stone (7 page)

“I think he’s gone,” Jess said, studying the radar.

Maya blew out a breath of air. Looking above her, she rapidly climbed to gain altitude.

“Black Jaguar Two. What’s your status? Over.”

Dallas came on moments later, her voice tight. “Black Jaguar One, we just routed the second Kamov. He’s heading back north. And you? Over.”

“Same here. Let’s catch up with our unarmed children. Over.”

Dallas’s laugh was tense and explosive. “Yeah, roger that, One. Out.”

Turning the Apache back toward base, Maya didn’t for a moment think that the game with the Kamovs was over, but she kept a sharp lookout as they flew homewards. Adrenaline was making her feel shaky now. It was a common reaction after combat. Wiping her face, Maya saw that the bloodred ribbon along the horizon had turned a deep pink color. Now it looked more beautiful than deadly.

“You think our boys peed their pants yet, Captain?”

Maya chuckled over Jess’s comment. “Well, if they haven’t, they probably thought about it.”

“Helluva welcome to the killing fields,” Dallas intoned.

“Yeah, well, it will put them on warning that this is a hot area and they can expect this anytime, day or night.”

“Probably killed York to have to run. You know how aggressive he is in the air,” Dallas said.

Maya laughed fully. “He probably feels like a coward about now. And gee, he had to leave it to four women to protect his behind.
That
is probably eating at him more than anything.”

Jess giggled. “Can you imagine his horror that he’s still alive and flying and that we didn’t drop the ball?”

“Yeah, what’s he gonna do,” Dallas said, “when he has to stare us in the face and admit we saved his bacon?”

The laughter felt good to Maya. She knew the let-down after a tense combat situation was necessary. Fortunately, they could talk on a private channel between the two Apaches, so that no one else could pick up their banter. She was sure York would have a hemorrhage if he’d heard them just now. No, it was going to be fun to watch the good ole boys from Fort Rucker get a look-see at the Eye of the Needle. It was going to be even more enjoyable to watch them sweat their way through it for the first time. That made any pilot, no matter how experienced, tense up big time.

“Well, ladies, let’s go home and see these guys pucker up.”

The laughter was raucous.

D
ane York was nervous as he stood aside, watching the all-women crews hurriedly move the three new helicopters into the maw of the huge cave. His heart was still pounding in his chest from barely squeaking through that damned entrance they called the Eye. His other pilots and crew members stood off to one side on the rough rock surface of the lip of the cave, out of the way, tense looks on their faces. Only one person had welcomed them, a woman with short red hair who introduced herself as Chief Warrant Officer Lynn Crown before hurriedly running off to direct the crews as to the placement of the new gunships.

As the clouds around the high lava wall thinned, Dane gazed at the Eye. He heard the approaching Apaches on the other side of it. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he settled his garrison cap on his head and waited. As the morning sun burned off some of the thicker clouds he could see the entrance better.
Shaking his head, Dane realized just how tight that aperture really was. How many times a day did Maya fly her Apaches in and out of that thing? What a helluva “needle” to try and thread. Dane wondered how anyone, man or woman, could muster enough brain power and concentration after an exhausting mission to slip through it without nicking the blades of their Apache on the unforgiving lava walls. His admiration for Maya’s pilots rose.

Joe and Craig moved to his side. They all watched as another woman, dressed in an olive-green T-shirt and fatigues, trotted out with red-orange flare sticks in her hands and stood at attention opposite the Eye. One of the Apaches was coming through. The crewmember raised her hands above her head to direct the helicopter into a landing spot once it flew through the opening. Dane’s eyes narrowed as he watched. Though he and his men had crawled through, literally, this first Apache came through like the pilot was on a Sunday drive!

“I’ll be go-to-hell,” Joe gasped in amazement. “That’s some purty flying. Will ya look at that? Whoever the pilot is, she just flew through that opening like it wasn’t there!”

“No kidding,” Craig muttered, scowling.

Dane said nothing, his mouth flattening. The first Apache landed opposite where they stood, on the other side of the massive lava lip. Bruising waves of air buffeted them, kicked up by the rotor blast as the gunship landed. The lip was at least four hundred feet wide and about one-quarter of a mile long, from his estimates. The maw of the gigantic cave was simply mindboggling. Inside the shadowy space, crews were running at full tilt as they positioned the three new helicopters in the maintenance area.

The second Apache flew through smoothly in turn, as if the Eye weren’t there, either. It landed so close to the first one that Dane held his breath momentarily. The punctuation of the rotors pounded the entire area; the wall across the cave opening acted like an echo chamber of huge proportions, until his eardrums hurt from the reverberations. Wind kicked up by the rotor blades slammed like a boxer’s gloves against his body. Still, as Dane watched the two crews hurry toward the Apaches that had just landed, he was critical of everything.

He didn’t think Maya Stevenson could run a squadron. However, from the way the crews worked in almost balletlike precision, that prejudice was blown away, too. As the engines were shut down, the high, ear-piercing whine echoing from the wall began to lessen. The rotors began to slow, and finally came to a stop. Instantly, one crew woman ducked beneath the nose of the first Apache and hooked up the device used to pull it inside. He watched as the left-sided canopies were opened to allow the two pilots from each helicopter to exit.

Morning sunlight shot through the Eye in gold streamers that lit up the murky depths of the cave. Dane ignored the surprised murmurs of his I.P.’s, his gaze fastened ruthlessly upon the two flight crews. Maya Stevenson would be there. His heart squeezed a little in anticipation. What was she like now? Even more sure and confident? More mouthy? He scowled. Why did he have to hold such a grudge against her? If the truth be known, and it wasn’t something he liked to think about often, from the first time he’d met Maya he’d been powerfully drawn to her. But once he’d
come up against her willful nature, he’d instantly rejected the primal attraction.

The wisps of clouds thinned. He saw fragments of the constantly moving mist weave through the Eye, then dissipate beneath the rays of equatorial sunlight that was growing stronger by the minute. Dane saw the legs of the returning women pilots as they gathered close to one another behind the carriage of the last Apache. They were probably talking over their fight with the Kamovs. That would be typical of any group of pilots, male or female. Impatience thrummed through him. He wanted to see her. As repelled as he was by the assignment, there was something in him that ached to see Maya once again. That surprised Dane more than anything else. How could he miss someone who had been such a thorn in his side? Challenging him? Confronting him daily as she’d done at school?

The crews hurriedly took the two Apaches farther into the cave, where they would be unseen from the air. When they’d slowly rolled by, Dane saw the four women pilots, helmets tucked beneath their arms, standing in a circle, talking animatedly. One of them, to his surprise, was a blond with red streaks through her hair. What kind of base did Maya run that she’d let one of her pilots look like that?

The women were all heights and body builds, but it was easy to pick out Maya, because at six foot tall, she stood above all of them. The body-hugging black flight suits they wore had no insignias on them. They were long-sleeved despite the heat and humidity. He knew the suits were styled that way because in the event of a fire in the cockpit, the Nomex material would protect them against burns. He saw that Maya wore knee-high, polished black boots, while the others had on regulation
flight boots that fit snugly up to their ankles. Maya looked every inch an Amazon warrior—formidable in her own right.

The drift of women’s laughter made him tense. And then he saw Maya lift her head and look directly at him. Dane felt a heated prickle at the base of his neck—a warning—as her eyes settled flatly on him. He was the tallest in his own group, so he would be just as easy to spot as she was. Unconsciously, Dane wrapped his arms across his chest as he locked onto her gaze. At this distance, he couldn’t make out her expression. He could feel the coming confrontation, however. And he saw that a number of crew women were casting furtive looks as if to see when, not if, a fight might break out. The tension was thick. Even he could feel it. Joe and Craig moved restlessly, sensing his unease.

Mouth going dry, Dane watched as the women pilots broke from their huddle and walked toward them. Maya strode with her chin up, her black hair flowing across her proud shoulders, the black helmet beneath her left arm. The other three pilots walked slightly behind her, in a caliper formation. They looked like proud, confident, fierce warriors even though they were women. As they passed through the bright shafts of sunlight, now shining strongly though the Eye, he watched the golden radiance embrace them.

For a moment, Dane thought there was even more light around them. He blinked. Was he seeing things? He must be rattled from being chased by the Kamovs and then having to get through that hole in the wall to land here in the cave. Mouth compressing, he watched as Maya closed the distance between them. There was nothing wasted in her movements. She was tall, grace
ful and balanced. The chicken plate she wore on her tall, strong body hid most of her attributes. Locking into Maya’s assessing emerald green gaze, he rocked internally from the power of her formidable presence.

She was even more stunning than he could recall. In the four years since she’d left the school where he’d been her I.P., she had grown and matured. Her black hair shone with reddish tones as the sunlight embraced her stalwart form. Her skin was a golden color, her cheekbones high, that set of glorious, large green eyes framed with thick, black, arching brows. But it was the slight play of a smile, one corner of her full lips cocked upward, and that slightly dimpled chin and clean jawline, that made him feel momentarily shaky.

The high humidity made her ebony hair curl slightly around her face, neck and shoulders. Still, she could have been a model strutting her elegant beauty down a Paris runway instead of the proficient Apache helicopter pilot she was. The snug-fitting flight suit displayed every inch of her statuesque form. She was big boned and had a lot of firm muscles beneath that material, but there wasn’t an ounce of fat anywhere on her that he could see. She seemed all legs, and slightly short waisted as a result. All Thoroughbred. All woman—a powerful, confident woman such as Dane had never known before now. With the sunlight radiating behind her as she walked toward him, she looked more ethereal than real.

Blinking a couple of times, Dane looked down at the rough black lava cave floor, then snapped his gaze back to her. The corner of her mouth was still cocked. He saw silent laughter in her large green eyes, and he felt his palms becoming sweaty. His heart raced as she closed the gap between them. He felt like they were
two consummate warriors, wary and distrustful and circling one another to try and see the chinks in each other’s armor, their Achilles heel, so that one of them might get the upper hand, and be victorious.

Maya felt laughter bubbling up her long, slender throat as she approached York’s group. The expressions on their faces made her exuberant. All but York had an awed look as they stared open-mouthed at her and her pilots. The men didn’t look angry or challenging. No, they looked all right to her. But Dane York was another matter. Her gaze snapped back to him. Her heart thumped hard in her chest. Her hand tightened momentarily around the black helmet she carried.

He looked older. And more mature. In Maya’s eyes, he’d always been a very handsome man, in a rugged sort of way. He had a square face, a stubborn chin that brooked no argument, a long, finely sculpted nose, eyebrows that slashed straight across the forehead, shading his large, intelligent blue eyes. Eyes that used to cut her to ribbons with just one withering look. Well, that was the past. Maya locked fully on to York’s challenging, icy gaze. He stood with his arms across his chest, his feet spread apart like a boxer ready to take a coming blow. His full lips had thinned into a single line. Those dark brown eyebrows were bunched into a disapproving scowl. There was nothing friendly or compromising about York. His hair was cut military short, a couple of strands out of place along his wrinkled brow. The dark olive green flight suit outlined his taut body. At six feet tall, he had the broadest set of shoulders Maya had ever seen. York was a man who could carry a lot of loads before he broke. And that stubborn chin shouted of his inability to change quickly. Flexible he wasn’t.

Maya came to a halt. So did her women pilots, who created one solid, unbroken line in front of the contingent of men. She snapped off a crisp salute to him.

York returned her salute.

“Welcome to Black Jaguar Base, Major York.”

Dane saw the gleam of laughter lurking in Maya’s eyes as she stood toe-to-toe with him. He admired her chutzpah. Maya knew how to get into a man’s space real fast. She knew she was tall and powerful. Confidence radiated from her like the sun that had embraced her seconds earlier.

“Thank you, Captain Stevenson. I can’t say the welcome was what we’d anticipated.” Dane decided to keep things professional between them at all costs. He saw the glint in Maya’s eyes deepen. Her lips curled upward—just a little. Her husky voice was pleasant and unruffled.

“Get used to it. Around here, we’re on alert twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”

He nodded and dropped into an at-ease position, his hands behind his back. “The report didn’t say that.” Maya stood easily, her booted feet slightly apart. The other women pilots were looking his crew over with critical eyes. He felt as if they were all bugs under a microscope.

“The report,” Maya said crisply, “was meant to be brief and to the point. My X.O., Lieutenant Klein, here—” she motioned toward Dallas, who stood at her right shoulder “—did warn you of possible altercations with druggies once you entered our airspace. And it happened, unfortunately.”

Dane held back a retort. “If you’ll get someone to show my men to their quarters and where we can set up our schooling facility, I’d appreciate it, Captain.”

All business.
Okay, that was fine with Maya. It was better than York taking verbal potshots at her pilots. Turning to Dallas, she said, “Take them to their quarters. Feed them. And then have Sergeant Paredes take them to our Quonset hut, where we’ve set up shop for them to teach.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dallas smiled hugely at the cluster of men in green flight suits. “Gentlemen? If you’ll follow me, I’ll give you a quick tour of our base and get you some quarters.”

York didn’t move as his men left with Dallas. He remained rigidly where he stood. Maya frowned.

“Aren’t you going with them?”

“We need to talk, Captain. Somewhere private. Your office, perhaps?”

Smiling suddenly, Maya got it. Okay, York was going to have it out with her in private.
Fine.
She turned to her other pilots. “Let’s call it a day, ladies. You all have reports to fill out, plus your collateral duty assignments. Wild Woman, see to it that the crews refuel the Apaches and let’s get them on standby. Any problems, see me.”

Jess came to attention. “Yes, ma’am!” And she turned on her heel and hurried into the cave with the other copilot at her side.

Turning her head, Maya looked at Dane, the ice between them obvious. The sunlight was suddenly shut out as a thick cloud slid silently over the Eye. “Well, Major? You ready?” Her voice was a dangerous rasp, a warning that if he thought she was an easy target in private, he was mistaken. She saw York’s eyes widened momentarily and then become slits. Maya felt him harness his anger.

“Ready whenever you are, Captain,” he said coolly.

Turning, she moved into the cave’s murky depths. Within moments, York was at her shoulder, matching her stride, his profile grim and set. Maya could feel the tension within him. As they walked into the maw, the lights overhead illuminated the way, giving the cave a grayish cast with heavy shadows.