Danger Close (Shadow Warriors) (11 page)

“I’ll find out for you,” Jim soothed. “Right now, you relax and take it easy.” He watched her closely. “How are you feeling, Cathy?”

She licked her lower lip, trying to gather her shorted out thoughts and rampant feelings. “Like I’m going to cry.”

Jim reached over, pushing several strands of hair off her brow. “When I had a sunstroke,” he offered her quietly, holding her glistening emerald gaze, “I felt emotionally stripped and naked. I remember crying off and on for no reason at all after I regained consciousness.” He saw the tears form and then run silently down her face. “You’re a pretty courageous lady, you know that?”

Cathy couldn’t deal with the tenderness she saw in his expression and heard in his cultured voice. Who was he? No man had ever affected her as profoundly as he was doing right now. Each time he spoke to her in that low timbre, the tone vibrated through her.
He’s healing me
, Cathy thought disjointedly. His touch was stabilizing; the mere brush of his callused fingers, lightly touching her brow as he removed damp strands of hair from her eyes, made her automatically trust him. “No, just stubborn,” she whispered in a voice strained with tears.

“Sure you’re not Irish with all that metal?”

Her eyes opened and Jim felt his chest expand with an unknown emotion.

“I can be from anywhere or anything. Didn’t you know? I’ll be Irish, if you want.”

He knew she was referring to being an orphan. But if he hadn’t read the file on her, he’d never have known what her cryptic comment had meant. Cathy Fremont hid herself well from a world that threatened her. That meant he’d have to look beyond her obscure comments to search for a deeper meaning and truth behind her flippant words. The prospect excited him.

“You’ve got the red highlights in your hair and freckles to prove it.” Jim watched her respond to his baiting. A sense of humor was one thing to keep even in the worst of circumstances and she had that. Even in her present condition, she was a fighter. Yes, she was like a multifaceted diamond. And rare, so very rare.

“What
do
you want to be?” he asked her. “That’s most important.”

Shaken by his insight and sensitivity, Cathy could only stare at him in the gathering silence. “Free,” she murmured, her tone growing inaudible as she slipped back into sleep.

His mouth worked into a thin line as he watched her relax; the slackness of her jaw, then the slight parting of her lips and, finally, the shallow, rhythmic rise and fall of her breasts indicating she had found escape in sleep. He burned with anger and throughout the rest of the night, Jim remained at her side.

AT 0600, THE African-American medic named Young came to check on Cathy, who was sleeping soundly. Boland yawned and rose.

“She’s lookin’ good, Cap’n. Temp’s normal and her BP’s settlin’ down,” he said, rolling up the blood pressure cuff and stuffing it back into the pocket of the white jacket he now wore over his utilities.

Jim nodded, extracting his crumpled green utility cap from his back pocket. “Good. I’m going back to Alpha. If she needs anything, radio over. I’ve got some paperwork to shove around.”

Young grinned, “You got it, Cap’n. She’ll sleep like a baby for another eight to twelve hours.”

Hesitating, Jim stole one more look down at Cathy. If someone had told him she was one of the top women in the WLF, he’d never have believed it. That face, those guileless, trusting green eyes and soft mouth that curved naturally upward at the corners did not belong to a killer. No way in hell. He didn’t care what the stats were on her over at Lane’s CP or the media hype calling her the Valkyrie. “Tell her when she wakes up that I’m her babysitter from now on. If she wants answers to any questions, she’s to ask me. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

IT HAD BEEN a quiet night for the regiment. The long, snaking rays of the rising sun were thrusting through the jungle when Boland arrived at Alpha via helicopter. He saw weary patrols, which had been out in the jungle all night hunting LA, trudging back in through the perimeter at designated points. The sprawling complex was protected by three rows of concertina with minefields in between. The razor-tipped wire surrounding it was covered by interlocking machine gun fields of fire and zeroed in by mortars. The complex was a fortress.

He was greeted with a variety of tasks immediately. His aide, Sergeant Wanda Adair, managed to scare up some coffee so Jim could start off his demanding day on the right foot. No matter how busy he was, Cathy never left his mind.

Twice, he almost picked up his radiophone to call the rear to find out if she was all right and then talked himself out of it.

Instead, he placed a less eager call to Captain Ingram, apprising her of Cathy’s progress. Ingram was no friendlier than before. In fact, she got more hostile when Boland informed her that Cathy was out of danger. Did he detect a note of disappointment in her voice? Jim shook his head, allowing that piece of evidence to lie in his memory along with Tucker’s admissions.

Later, he was caught in a cross fire between what his company commander, Captain Dick Greer, wanted him to do and an order to see Colonel Mackey immediately. Frustration curdled in him as he promised Greer that the tac and strat would be on his desk by noon so he could obey Mackey’s summons.

Jim’s mood had deteriorated considerably by the time he reached regimental command. He entered the massive tent, his boots sounding hollowly on the planked floor as he wove his way between clerks and other office personnel. Wiping the sweat from his face with the back of his bared arm, Jim knocked once on Mackey’s door. He heard a curt “Come in” and entered.

Mackey laid down the red grease marker on a series of maps of the Ban Pua area that stretched across the limits of his massive desk. He saw the agitation in Boland’s face as he came to attention and saluted. He thought better of chewing him out for not coming over sooner.

“At ease. Looks like you’ve had one hell of an afternoon yesterday,” he grunted. He jerked his head toward a chair. “Sit down and tell me what’s happened, Jim.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mackey sat with a hip perched on the desk and listened intently. Jim detected a pleased look in the colonel’s eyes as he finished.

“I’m impressed with your idea to try and accidentally meet her down by the river.”

“What I didn’t expect was for her to keel over in my arms.”

“It worked out fine, though.” He scratched his graying hair that was cut close to his skull. “What I can’t figure is why Ingram threw her into your area of responsibility.”

“It was political, sir. If Cathy…I mean, Corporal Fremont took a turn for the worse or died, it would be Alpha’s responsibility. We’d get the bad press and they wouldn’t. Ingram’s not stupid, but she isn’t particularly bright, either.”

Mackey eased off the desk. “Well? What do you think about our girl?”

Think? When it came to Cathy Fremont, all he could do was feel. But that wasn’t any of Mackey’s business and Jim wanted to protect her as much as himself. “I think it’s too soon to speculate, sir.”

“You stayed with her last night. How did she react to you?”

Like a child who needed to be held and rocked because she was sick and hurting
. “She wasn’t unfriendly.”

“Didn’t bad-mouth you like she did down at the river, eh?”

“No, sir.”

“This may turn out to be our golden opportunity. If we can keep her with us in the rear for those five days, I’ll make sure you have business to take care of out there during that time. I don’t want Greer suspicious at this point. The fewer people who know about this, the better off we are.”

Boland agreed fervently with that, feeling fiercely protective of Cathy even with Mackey. Normally, he only felt this kind of aggressive protectiveness when one of his own people was being openly threatened or wounded. Yet, Mackey wasn’t a negative factor in this case. So why was he unconsciously treating the situation as if he were?

A plan had been forming in the back of Jim’s mind, despite the workload he labored under at his own CP. Tucker’s conversation hung over him like a vulture ready to pick the bones of a carcass. Cathy was not only in trouble, according to the doctor, she was in danger. What the hell, his idea was a long shot, but she was worth the risk. If his idea worked, Cathy would be with them for more than five days.

“Colonel, I have a plan that I’d like to run past you.”

Mackey knew he could count on Boland to come up with something. “What?”

“What if we, Alpha Company, placed a request to Major Lane to keep Fremont with us for thirty days? Yesterday, Ingram was only too happy to dump her on our doorstep. Tucker said she was in danger. Your reports said that she was a thorn in Lane’s side. It appears that Lane might be open to loaning her to us.”

Mackey’s eyes narrowed. “Go on.”

Boland got up and studied the maps on the desk. “I could talk to Lane about it, perhaps stressing the media aspect of it—the Valkyrie, one of the most publicized WLF women working with a Marine Recon company. Something like that. Lane worked with Recons and would know the benefit of being associated with the finest combat Marines in the world. If I could sell her that kind of hype and the fact it would be a media coup for her as well as us…” He turned, looking at the colonel. “What do you think?”

A grin split Mackey’s heavily lined face. “I think it’s a brilliant idea, Jim. Damn brilliant! If the girl’s considered a misfit, then I’ll lay you odds Lane is ready to get rid of her for a while. Just make damn sure Lane thinks it’s your idea and not mine. If she even suspects I’m part of this, she’ll turn it down without the slightest consideration. In the meantime, I’ll have a talk with Greer. It looks as though he’s going to have to be brought in on this. He’s a good man and trustworthy. You just take care of Lane and Fremont.”

Jim rubbed his jaw, which needed to be shaved. “I can feel Fremont wanting to reach out and trust, but she’s wary and can’t be rushed.”

“Timing is crucial,” Mackey agreed, and then he came over, giving Jim a congratulatory slap on the back. “Get right on this. Lane’s back from Bangkok as of this morning. Draft the proposal and let me see it. Then, you can take it over to that bitch and sell
her
a bill of goods for once, instead of her selling it to everyone else and the press. Good work, son.”

Boland made his way from the HQ. It bothered him that Mackey wasn’t at all concerned what Cathy Fremont might think about all this. How would she react to such an abrupt change if Lane allowed her to stay with Alpha for thirty days? He grew uneasy. Better, how would his men react to having a WLF woman in their midst? Even worse, how would that further impact Cathy? If she was as embattled as Tucker had made her out to be, he was only adding to the tremendous pressures she already carried. Could the inner strength that he saw last night stand up to all of this while he gained her trust?

By the time Boland arrived at Alpha, his mood had soured considerably. He was angry with himself and feeling guilty. Cathy Fremont deserved a hell of a lot better shake than what he was giving her. One look into those trusting green eyes of hers and he felt like Judas Iscariot taking the thirty pieces of silver.

FORTY DAYS WITHOUT Fremont. “It’s almost too good to be true.” Louise Lane stared at the neatly typed proposal a Marine messenger had just delivered to Kay. “And who the hell is this Captain Boland?”

“Executive Officer of Alpha. Confident bastard but shrewd,” Kay said.

“They’re Recons,” she murmured, mulling over the pros and cons of allowing Fremont off the leash.

“Yes, and just think of the press, Louise! Can you see it now—the Valkyrie and the Recons? Fremont is damn good at what she does. She’ll give us added limelight. It’s a great media twist in our favor.”

“Tell that messenger I’ll see Boland at 1500. I want to meet this bastard in person and try and figure out where he’s coming from before we agree to anything.”

Swallowing a smile, Kay left. At last: relief from Fremont!

BOLAND MADE a point of wearing a set of clean, pressed utilities and a set of blackened captain’s bars on the collar lapels before he shrugged into the mandatory sleeveless Kevlar vest. He crossed the shallow tributary that symbolized the demarcation line between the WLF and the rest of the Marine regiment. Stares of disbelief met him from several women who sat near their shaded hootches to escape the blazing late-afternoon sun. Sweat trickled down his jaw and splotches appeared beneath his armpits.

The WLF CP was no different than Alpha’s. Jim quelled his curiosity to look around like a tourist. When he entered the headquarters, he received startled looks from the women on duty manning the company radios and communication equipment.

He halted at Ingram’s desk. Her face lifted and she studied him silently for a long moment. Her mouth worked into a sneer. “Yes?”

Leaning down, Boland said, “Major Lane, please.” And then he laughed silently when Kay turned a mottled red. He knew he could be charming when he chose to be, but he was a little surprised to see her blush. Ingram got up, disappeared inside the complex and reappeared five minutes later, her mouth set.

“Major Lane will see you now, Captain.”

“Thank you,” he said, keeping his voice firm and unruffled.

Lane was seated at her desk with maps of the area spread out in sequence. He came to attention, as he would in front of any superior officer, and saluted. Kay Ingram stood at the end of the desk at parade rest, glowering at him like a guard dog.

“At ease, Captain Boland,” Louise said, returning the salute. “Please be seated.”

Jim had never met Lane in person. He’d seen photos of her in
S and S
and on television. He had to give himself an internal shake to remind himself that the officer before him was much more than just an attractive woman with a pleasant smile on her face. He met her stare and felt the hair stand up on the nape of his neck. Eyes of a viper, Jim thought: cold and calculating. He returned her empty smile.

“Thanks for taking the time to see me, Major. I know you’re as busy as we are.”

Lane toyed with a pencil. “Busier,” she corrected. “Anyway, I hear you rescued one of my women from the river yesterday. We owe you a debt of thanks for your quick action. I understand it may have saved her life. Corporal Fremont is one of our best soldiers.”

If Boland had not been prepped or read the debrief reports, he would have been swayed off guard by her conversational friendliness. His smile was perfunctory. “No problem, Major. I’m sure you would have done the same if one of my men had keeled over out there.” Judging from the flinty quality in her eyes, Jim knew otherwise.

“Absolutely. We’re all in this together.”

“Has Dr. York kept you updated on the corporal’s recovery?”

“Yes. I’m pleased with communications in regard to her, Captain. Now, what’s this about wanting me to loan out one of my best media makers to your Recon company? I must admit, I’m intrigued by this sudden gesture on Captain Greer’s part.”

Boland handed her the folder with the final, detailed proposal enclosed. The one he had sent over to her had been a working copy in case she disagreed with the wording of the contents. He sat back, drinking in the small semi-lit tent that had every available wall space filled with maps. One chart contained the body counts accumulated by each platoon and several graphs to indicate the number of patrols by each squad.

A larger chart with scout or point duties hung directly behind of Lane’s head. Cathy Fremont’s name appeared at the very top and contained the most x’s in a row compared to any other point in the company. Jim returned his attention to Lane, who was unconsciously drumming her fingers against the desk as she completed reading the orders. She met and held his gaze.

“Whose idea was this, initially?”

“Mine.”

“What inspired you to do that?”

He shrugged, offering her a slight smile. “I’ve always been a strong supporter of women being able to do anything a man can. And I’ll also admit that women have a greater resource of talents to be tapped than a man due to their emotional matrix. Frankly, I’d like to work with one of your women, Major. I think the time’s coming in the very near future that women will be allowed in all combat slots throughout the services.” Boland hesitated and then glanced at both of them. “Politically, I think it could be advantageous to both the WLF and myself.” Congress was still having pangs about placing women in all combat slots, and that included as Army Rangers, Special Forces, Navy SEALS and Marine Force Recons. Boland knew Louise wanted that to happen.

Louise raised one eyebrow. “Oh?”

“If this experience proves positive, Major, it’s going to be a feather in my cap, too. I’m bucking for early major’s leaves. I pride myself on being a little more creative than the next guy. Women fighting side by side with Recon Marines in combat will occur. It’s only a matter of time.”

Not if I can help it
, Louise thought. Nevertheless, she smiled daintily. The captain was a little too self-congratulatory, but that was all right. She’d use that ego of his against him. “You want her for a period of forty days?”

“Yes, ma’am. Five days in the dispensary. Five days R & R and thirty days in the field with Alpha.”

“And Fremont would be going on in-country R & R with one of your Recon teams?”

“If that meets with your approval,” Boland said, holding his breath.

Louise sat up, planting both elbows on the desk. “The R & R is of little importance to me, although I’ll hold you personally responsible for any incidents that occur. Do I make myself clear? Any bad press on Fremont in Hua Hin with your team and the whole deal is off.”

“Neither of us wants bad press, Major. The R & R will be uneventful. That, I promise.”

“She’s a combat soldier, Captain. I’d want your assurance that she’d get plenty of field and patrol work.”

“How about a company-size sweep later on this month?”

“Only if she’s point. That’s what Fremont’s best at.”

Jim struggled to contain his shock over her request and the sudden venom that leaked through in Lane’s tone. “Normally, I rotate all my men at point because it’s such a dangerous position, Major.”

“Either you keep her on as permanent point, or I won’t agree to this, Captain. Do I make myself perfectly clear? Fremont’s our best. I want her out front where she can shine for us in the media. We’re proud of her abilities and I want the press to be aware of the responsibility and danger on her shoulders while she works with you.” She smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. “After all, she’s the Valkyrie.”

Jim saw the glitter in Ingram’s eyes and it sickened him. He was getting a firsthand taste of how little Cathy Fremont actually meant to them. Point was dangerous no matter who took it. The only other position that was almost as dangerous was carrying the radio on a patrol. Point men often drew fire to pull the LA out of ambush. Points were the first to step into a minefield, trip a mine wire or get killed by snipers. Drawing in a controlling breath, Jim forced himself to nod.

“All right, point.” It was a lie and he’d deal with the ramifications of it later.

Lane smiled brightly. “You won’t regret it, Captain. Fremont has the instincts of a good hunting dog. She’s saved far more lives than your companies have lost. Your men will be safer as a result.”

Jim felt his stomach turn.

“I want weekly reports on Fremont’s participation, Captain. I want to be able to show off her performance record with you to the press. It must also be understood that any press gained by your company because of Fremont must be run through me first and I’ll handle it.”

“Do whatever you want.” That’s all she cared about, Boland realized. The WLF was a means to an end. What her end was, Boland wasn’t sure of, yet. Maybe Cathy could shed some light on that subject. He felt a lessening of tension, relaxing slightly. Good, at least Cathy would be safe with Alpha. She’d have time to recover fully before rotating back into Delta. Just the thought of having her come back to this viper pit made his skin crawl. The two women staring at him reminded him of vultures waiting for a prey to drop dead. He saw it in their eyes and the set of their mouths. Ingram looked positively joyous. Lane, on the other hand, displayed a poker face. She wrote in the agreed stipulations on the orders before signing them, handing one copy to him and retaining the other.

Holding out her hand, Lane got up. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Captain Boland.”

He stood, offering his hand. Her grip was firm. “And I with you, Major,” he lied smoothly. And then he asked, “Can you tell me how Sergeant Thatcher is?”

Louise scowled. “She died in Bangkok, Captain. A casualty of the last firefight.”

Boland was glad as hell to get out of Delta’s CP. Taking several deep breaths, he worked his way back to Alpha. When he arrived, he made a call to Mackey. Captain Greer was with him, so all the ends to the operation had been explained neatly and tied up. As he went to his office, Boland took a handful of messages from a clerk and rapidly perused them. According to Dr. York, Cathy Fremont was awake and was asking questions.

Grabbing his cap, he found an available Humvee and headed toward the rear, unsure of how to tell Cathy she was officially with Alpha and not Delta. Would she be relieved? Angry? Suspicious? Jim wiped away a rivulet of sweat that followed the line of his clenched jaw. Dammit, deceit wasn’t a good foundation to build trust on.

JIM FOUND Cathy sitting up in the cot, the sheet and light blue bedspread draped around her waist, although one remaining IV was still in her right arm. Young was talking to her, a syringe in his hand. Jim slowed to a stop at the entrance of the area and watched without being discovered. He tried to ignore a powerful wave of emotion that swept through him as he drank in Cathy Fremont’s wan face. Her shoulder-length hair was an unruly mass that needed to be tamed. She looked better, Jim thought, a little pluckier around the edges. On his way through the sprawling medical facility, he had located the supply tent and conned a sergeant out of a small bottle of surgical hand lotion. Her skin, laid bare to the unrelenting Thai sun, was badly burned and peeling. The lotion was just what she needed and Jim felt good about being able to do something for her when so many people either didn’t care or had ulterior motives behind their actions.

“Come on, Young,” Cathy pleaded, her voice still not very strong, “why can’t you give me the B12 tablets instead of a shot? Those things sting like hell. You don’t want to give me more pain, do you?”

Young rolled his eyes. “Aw, come on, Corporal Fremont, don’t do this to me. Doc York said you gotta have the shot. It’ll get into your system faster. You’re plumb anemic, in case you forgot.”

Cathy sat back, resting on the extra pillows Young had brought to her earlier. She wrinkled her nose. “Please?”

Young groaned. “Corporal…believe me, I don’t want to hurt you. This is gonna help you! Don’t you want to feel better in a hurry?”

Eyeing the needle and knowing it was going to go into her hip, Cathy shook her head. “I’m a year away from being an R.N., Young, and I know how miserable a B12 shot is on a patient.”

“I’m sorry, but orders is orders, Corporal. Now come on, you just roll over on your side. I promise you, I’m the best medic here for givin’ shots that don’t hurt!”

With a groan, Cathy succumbed, knowing Young wasn’t going to detour from York’s explicit orders. She was extremely weak and that frustrated her more than anything as she obediently lay on her side and modestly pushed the gown aside, exposing only the necessary target area. She steeled herself for the inevitable shot.

“This is gonna make you feel like a million dollars, Corporal,” Young said in his deep, placating voice. “A pretty gal like you needs to bring some pink back to your cheeks.”

Cathy tried not to tense up because that would make it all the worse. “You’re going to bruise the hell out of my right cheek, Young! And I don’t care about how pink or white my face looks.” She shut her eyes tightly, wincing. When it was all over with, Young had been as good as his word; the actual shot had been smooth and professional. But the sting afterward started and Cathy lay there on her side afterward, fighting back the tears. Why did she have to be so damn sensitive to physical pain? Or any pain, for that matter?

Young came around the cot, peering down at her, his big, brown eyes wide with concern. “You okay, Corporal?”

She managed a grimace. “Yeah, fine…fine…”

“If you gently massage the area—”

“Don’t touch me, Young!”

He grinned bashfully and made sure the covers were drawn up to her waist. “The sting will go away in a few minutes. Feel like somethin’ to eat?”

Cathy pried one eye open. Young should have been a Globetrotter for all of his lanky height. But he was a good medic and she appreciated his mothering. “If I eat, will you take out the last IV?”

“Now, Corporal.” He rolled his eyes again. “There you go again. I swear, you’re my worst patient.”

Cathy managed a tight grin. “Didn’t you know? Medical people are lousy patients? Going to let me get rid of the IV?” She knew how to remove it, but then knew Dr. York would probably have a hissy fit if she did.

Young shook his head dolefully. “Doc York is comin’ on rounds in about an hour, Corporal. You ask him then. You want some chow?”