Danger Close (Shadow Warriors) (13 page)

Cathy grinned, resting her hands upon the books. “Yes, sir.”

“That’s more like it.”

After he left, Cathy laid her hands gently across all the magazines. Boland made her feel less lonely. Still, her mind revolved back to needing to see her friends. Right now, she needed them and there was no way any of them would be allowed to visit her. Sadness blanketed Cathy as never before.

“PENNY, ONE way or another, I’m getting back to the rear to find out how Cathy is.” Lisa’s set face was shadowed by the hootch cover above them as they sat in its protective shade. “It’s been three days since she got sick. Dammit! It isn’t right. Captain Ingram should allow me permission to go and see her. That bitch.”

Penny, who had been cleaning her M16, put the green cloth across the stock of her rifle. “She won’t let you see Cathy. You know that.”

“Yeah. Well, I’m not going to be a good girl about this.” Lisa looked up, her eyes dark with worry. Her hair was still damp and lay across her skull from the patrol they had just come in from.

Penny watched her covertly, continuing to clean her piece. Three months in the bush had changed Lisa Gardner into a hard shell of her former self. No longer was Lisa the airy, lighthearted girl they had known at Camp Pendleton. Combat had changed all of them to a marked degree. But it had altered Lisa drastically, Penny thought. One of the few who seemed to remain a constant throughout all of it was Cathy Fremont. It was as if combat didn’t touch her one way or another. Her paramount focus had been her squad. Maybe that was the secret, Penny decided, lightly oiling each piece from the field stripped rifle that lay scattered around her on a clean cloth.
Concentrate on your people and ignore what combat is doing to the inside of you
. Penny spit to the left, getting rid of the red grit in her mouth. There was no successful way to ignore the war. Well, Cathy’s kind of philosophy would work for a while, too, but sooner or later, pay-up time came.

“Look, why don’t you wait until Major Lane gets back? That’s another two days. Ask her instead of Ingram.”

With a groan, Lisa rubbed her sunburned face with her callused hand. She had lost plenty of weight, her utilities now hanging on her frame. Hot tears leaked into her eyes and she bowed her head. “Cathy’s like a sister to me. She took care of me through boot camp. She cared, dammit. If I can’t do the same for her now, what the hell does that make me?” And then she took an angry swipe at her eyes and looked round to make sure no one saw that she was crying. Penny could be trusted, but if Cassidy or Ingram saw her crying, there would be all kinds of hell to pay.

“Ingram will tell you none of us are allowed off our little piece of sacred real estate.”

“That’s pure bullshit! She sends Hayes and a few other of her “favorites” to the rear for supplies all the time.” Lisa slowly made a fist with her dirty hand. “I’ve got to know how she’s doing.”

“Listen, Lisa, wait this one out. Maybe you can talk to the major. Talkin’ to Ingram about this is gonna be like talkin’ to a brick wall.”

Zeroing her attention to the hill where the Marine regiment was situated in the distance, Lisa’s mouth turned downward. “I’m getting over there, one way or another.” Her eyes flashed with animosity as she met Penny’s brown gaze. “I haven’t spent three lousy months over here learning to sneak around without getting caught, not to use what I learned now.” With a jerk, she picked up her rifle, beginning to disassemble it. “Let’s just hope the LA drop a few mortars or rockets tonight. I’m going to need some distracting cover so I can sneak off the reservation and hitch a chopper ride to the rear.”

CATHY MOVED restlessly and looked at the watch on her wrist. It was nearly 2200. Lonely, she sat up in bed, an array of magazines surrounding her. In spite of the reading material, it had been a long, boring day. Her only visitor was Young, who had made it his personal responsibility to make sure she ate three square meals. And all day, Cathy had wanted to hear Boland’s already familiar, heavy footfalls coming down the corridor. Picking up a pocketbook, she ran her fingers absently over the smooth cover, staring at the silent entrance. On the third day of her recovery, the captain hadn’t come back. Disappointment flowed through Cathy. Well, what did she expect? He had a company of men to take care of. Besides, she wasn’t even from his outfit.

All day, Cathy had tried to concentrate on resting, sleeping and reading. Jim Boland’s words, their conversations and his smiling face kept popping into her mind at the most unexpected times. What the hell was happening to her? Could a sunstroke make her feel this emotionally vulnerable or was it the combat finally catching up to her? Maybe it was the penalty for burying her feelings so she could function and keep her women safe. Thanks to Ingram, she didn’t even have a squad anymore. Cathy worried how they were doing without her care. A jagged ache tore through her and, unconsciously, she rubbed the area between her breasts, trying to ease it.

Cathy’s head snapped up as her acute hearing detected the faint sound of combat boots coming her way. Her heart banged away and she sat up, watching the entrance.

“Lisa!” she whispered, stunned.

Lisa grinned. Her face glistened with sweat and she lightly tiptoed through the area to her bed. Unslinging her rifle, Lisa sat it against the wall. Without a word, she threw her arms around Cathy, holding her long and hard.

“You had us worried,” Lisa muttered, her voice thick with tears as she released Cathy. Squatting down next to the cot and gripping her hands, she studied Cathy hard.

“I’m okay…okay. But how did you get over here? Captain Boland said no one was allowed—”

Lisa squeezed her hands and then took off her cap. She grabbed the folding chair, sitting down. Taking a quick look around at the facility, she gave Cathy a wicked smile. “I sneaked over. No one knows I’m here. Penny’s covering for me.”

“Lisa, if Ingram or Lane finds out…” terror choked off the rest of Cathy’s reply.

“What are they gonna do to me? Send me to Thailand and put me on the front line?”

Shaken, Cathy clung to her hand. “No, listen to me. Ingram…you know she’s stalking you. If—”

Lisa saw the tears beginning to flow from Cathy’s eyes. “Dammit, don’t cry!” she whispered, feeling her own eyes fill. “You’re such a sentimental sop when you’re sick, you know that?”

“I don’t care, Lisa. Listen to me! If Ingram finds out what you’ve done, there will be all kinds of—”

“I don’t care anymore, Cathy. Now stop crying! This is supposed to be a happy occasion, not a wailing wall. Come on! Aren’t you glad to see your sister?”

Cathy threw her arms around Lisa, holding her tight. “I love you, you silly, crazy lady,” she snuffled. It was a long time before she finally released her. “How are you? And my squad? Are they all okay? And Penny?”

“Whoa, whoa!” Lisa laughed, holding up both hands. “One question at a time. We’re all okay. No KIAs, no WIAs.”

Relief surged through Cathy. “Thank God…. Do you know what the firefight report said that Mead filled out? Does Lane know Thatcher and I had a disagreement?”

Lisa grinned. “There was nothing in Mead’s report about the Ka-Bar incident. Matter of fact, Lane has put Thatcher up for a Silver Star for extricating her patrol from certain annihilation. Not bad, huh?”

Cathy stared at her in disbelief. “Are you sure?” Lane was always putting anyone she could up for a medal, deserved or not. Medals were political as hell and Cathy knew it.

“Of course I am! Our beloved sergeant died heroically leading her charges out of enemy territory.”

They both laughed, although death held no humor, just relief that it hadn’t been them instead of Thatcher.

“Get that worried look off your face,” Lisa cajoled. “There isn’t a woman around who will speak up on the Ka-Bar issue. The word’s been put out that if anyone tells on you—” Lisa drew her hand across her throat. “Listen, I don’t have much time, so tell me what’s going on and when you’re coming back.”

Cathy laughed delightedly and told her everything. When she spoke of Jim Boland, her voice automatically dropped to a husky whisper.

“He’s an honest-to-God real officer, Lisa. He cares a lot.”

Lisa grimaced. “A people officer,” she confirmed. “The type we prayed for and never got. Our karma sucks, doesn’t it? Don’t answer that question.”

Lamely, Cathy agreed. “He’s been here to check up on me whenever he could. Ingram dropped me in his lap. She could care less if I lived or died and probably was praying for the latter.”

“Yeah, you’re not real popular right now, that’s for sure.” She squeezed Cathy’s hand. “But there’s a hell of a lot of us enlisted women who are rooting for you, so hang in there. When do you think you’ll get back?”

“The medic who’s on this ward tells me it might be a another two days if I keep recovering like I am.”

“Can you walk?”

She grinned. “Sure. But none too steady yet. Young had to keep his hand on my arm today or I’d have lost my balance. He said tomorrow I’d be better. I hope so. I can’t stand being bed bound. I’m bored to death. If Captain Boland hadn’t scrounged the books up for me, I’d be going crazy.”

“He sounds terrific. Let’s trade him for Lane. Think they’ll let us?”

They laughed and giggled. Cathy’s smile disappeared when Lisa released her hand. She reluctantly stood and put the folding chair back up against the wall. Moments were precious and she hungrily watched Lisa as she picked up her rifle and slung it casually over her shoulder.

“Gotta go, sis. One of those sweet, good-lookin’ Huey pilots gave me a ride over and I gotta be back at the LZ. If I miss the return flight, my ass is grass.”

“I know, Lisa. Look, be careful sneaking back to Delta. I couldn’t stand if they—”

Lisa leaned down, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be lookin’ for you when they release you. Penny said she sends you her love.” Lisa’s voice roughened. “I love you, too. Just get well, dammit. And let this captain coddle you a little. God knows, you deserve it….”

Cathy’s throat ached with tears as she watched Lisa slide back into the shadows and disappear out the doors. She bowed her head, feeling the hotness of the tears flood her closed eyes. How long she sat there silently crying, Cathy had no idea. She missed her friends acutely. She worried about her squad, who were now being browbeaten by Irene Rogers, one of Ingram’s handpicked glory hounds. She didn’t dare think too much in the future tense. Just getting to see Lisa and knowing that someone cared for her made her happier than she had ever been since joining the WLF.

THE NEXT morning, Cathy found she was finally able to shower and dress herself. The B12 shot had to be working because she actually felt good, although still weak enough to feel exhausted after brushing her teeth and washing her hair.

She was sitting on the edge of her cot when Jim Boland appeared. “Hi,” she said with a welcoming smile.

Jim halted. At the sight of soft and shiny hair framing her face, color in her cheeks and her green eyes sparkling with incredible warmth, he felt his breath momentarily catch. A slow smile spread across his face.

“I should stay away more often. You look ten times better than the last time I was here,” he said by way of greeting, coming toward the end of the cot where she sat.

“I heard from Young that there was a lot of shelling going on yesterday. You look tired. How are your men?”

He wondered if her care was a cover for her own awkwardness in responding to his man-to-woman compliment. “A few shrapnel wounds, nothing else. The LA decided to scare us. By being active last night, they afforded our night patrols some good targets. I think the shelling hurt them more than us.”

Young came around the corner. “Hey, Captain Boland! You’re just the dude I wanted to see,” he said with a big smile.

“Oh?”

“Yes, sir. How’d you like to help Corporal Fremont with her first morning walk to our prize-winnin’, world-renowned chow hall? She’s still a little weak yet, but Doc York says for her to start building up her strength again.” His eyes widened, the whites showing. “Hot chow, Cap’n. You can’t pass that up. Or are you in love with those MREs?”

Jim returned the medic’s engaging smile. No one got hot chow unless it was a holiday. The whole regiment lived off Meals Ready to Eat. The promise of hot food was too tempting to pass up. Besides, he had a breather and wanted to spend some time with Cathy.

“You made me an offer I can’t refuse, Young. I’ll take her down there myself.”

Young came over and patted Cathy’s shoulder. “You look scrumptious this morning, Corporal. Now, I realize that’s not a neutral remark….” He grinned teasingly.

Heat stole into Cathy’s cheeks. She’d felt wonderful putting on a bit of makeup to cover the darkness beneath each of her eyes and lipstick to lessen the impact of her paleness. “Thanks, Young. I’ll take any compliment I can get nowadays.” She looked up at the captain. “Are you sure you don’t mind? You really look exhausted.”

Jim smiled and slid his hand beneath her elbow, helping her up. “Pretty lady and hot chow. What more could a Marine want?”

Young chortled. “See you later.” And then he grew stern. “And, Corporal, you better come back stuffed like a Christmas goose or I’m gonna be upset with you.”

Uncomfortable from all the attention, Cathy patted her stomach. “I’ll eat,” she promised Young fervently.

The medic waved his hand toward them. “Later, Cap’n.”

“Later,” Boland agreed. He looked down at Cathy. “Ready?”

She nodded, tucking her lower lip between her teeth as she followed him out into the corridor. “I’m starved, but I’m sweating out the chow hall.”

He checked his normal stride for her benefit. “Why?”

“All those men. They’ll be staring. I’m WLF, remember? A misfit.”

“You really are a shy violet, aren’t you?” he teased gently, realizing that she was honestly worried.

Cathy flashed him a brief glance. “I’ve always been. Just because you extroverts run the world.”

Jim laughed softly as they passed a number of doctors and medics coming from the opposite direction. “Being shy or introverted is a cross to bear,” he agreed. “If you’re quiet or more comfortable in silence or small groups of people, the extroverts think you’re being a loner or being antisocial.”

“You understand,” she said in awe.

“Why not? I make it my business to know what makes people run inside and out. One of the men in my own personal recon team, Billy, is like you. He’s an Arkansas razorback who turns beet-red if you make him the center of attention. And yet, nobody cares more than Billy.”

Cathy’s heart went out to Billy from Arkansas. “He’s lucky to have you as his commanding officer. I wish…”

“What?”

With a shrug, Cathy tried to dismiss what she had almost said out loud. Boland was too easy to talk with. And, worse, she was beginning to trust him. How many times in the past had she trusted a person too easily with miserable results? “Nothing,” she said more sharply than she intended.

Boland looked down at her guarded features. Her eyes were very large and green. He fought the impulse to continue to stare at her. “What I don’t understand is how a shy violet like yourself heads up a squad of women and is able to function so well in a combat situation.”

“Very carefully,” she assured him drily. “Are you saying introverts can’t take combat?”

“No. It’s just that in my experience with men who are introverts, they have a worse time getting rid of, or expressing, all the horror they’ve seen. I was just wondering how a woman introvert would handle it. In the Recons, we don’t have women—yet….”

Cathy’s mouth quirked. “What do extroverts do?”

“Cry. Get drunk. Fight. Make love. Work out until you’re ready to drop. If one considers those outlets.”

A tentative smile stalked her lips. “Crying is healthy. And so is working out.” She deliberately didn’t touch his making-love statement.

“You mean you wouldn’t tie one on?”

“Sure, why not? Anything to numb the pain I feel, Captain, would be positive.”

“Are you sure that’s true? If you want to get rid of the pain you’re carrying, why not drugs?”

“Not my style. I like natural highs.”

“Such as?”

She smiled, a faraway look in her eyes. “Trout fishing in a cold, high mountain stream. Sitting undetected up in a tree watching a buck pass beneath me. Or watching a golden eagle climbing into the clear blue sky, her scream echoing off the walls of a mountain valley. Those kinds of highs.”

“I like your highs. Can I come and share them with you?”

Cathy laughed at his teasing. “Anytime, Captain. I owe you one, anyway.”

Jim pulled her to a halt, his hand closing around her elbow. The corridor ended and led to a long, downward flight of stairs to the road below. Although the morning was already growing humid, the fresh air felt good as it flowed strongly past them. “You’re paying me back right now,” he told her, studying her upturned face. When he saw puzzlement written in her eyes, he went on to explain. “Being with you, as a woman, is a high for me. You have a commendable streak of sensitivity and brains to boot. Not a bad combination.”

Nothing could have prepared Cathy for his compliment. The look in his eyes told her he meant every word of it and she grew panicky. Jim Boland had just touched the very chords of herself that she most valued. How was it possible that he knew her so well? He was the opposite of the men she had experiences with and he seemed to revel in her complexity. She could see it in the undisguised warmth lingering in his dark gray eyes and hear it in the timbre of his voice as it flowed through her.

“Come on,” Jim coaxed, keeping his hand on her elbow, “let’s tackle these stairs. If you get weak as we go down them, tell me.”

Mutely nodding, Cathy was grateful for his support. The stairs were steep and her legs were shaky by the time they reached the bottom. This was her first look at the rear area and she stood there, at his side, absorbing all the sights, sounds and colors that bombarded her senses.

Jim stood patiently while she drank in the panorama around them. Helicopters were whapping heavily through the morning air, almost drowned out by a convoy of trucks that began gearing up to leave the supply depot to their left. Hundreds of male and female Marines could be seen moving around them, many carrying their rifles, others with rucks in hand.

“What are you doing?” he asked her quietly.

Cathy barely turned her head, acutely aware of her legs trembling from that small amount of exertion. “Feeling. It’s what I do best.”

“Sensing?” he guessed, trying to understand.

She nodded and flared her nostrils, taking in a deep breath. The drier air of the Khorat plain, the odor of diesel mingling with kerosene aviation fuel, touched her nostrils. The red earth was flat and not chewed up, as was the regimental area. “Major Lane would tell you I’m more of a hunting dog than a woman.”

And then she smiled shyly. “When I look at something, I see more than just what’s there. I see the shadows, the slight change in coloration. Furthermore, I like touching things, feeling the differences in textures. Maybe the major is right. I’m perfect for combat because of my heightened senses.”

Jim nodded and guided her toward a huge, tented area in the distance that had lines of Marines leading into it. “What does Cathy Fremont have to say about her talents? I disagree with what your major has said. No one is ‘perfect’ for combat. Or for any war, for that matter.”

Taking the cap, she placed it on her head, squinting against the early-morning rays of the sun. After being in a Quonset hut for four days, the raw sunlight proved too much for her eyes. “I used my senses in my paramedic work. I’m a year away from my R.N. degree and I want to work in maternity after I graduate. I love children and I think the mothers-to-be could use a little mothering themselves. I’m good in a support role.”

“Mothering?”

“Helping other people. I’d like to think that my presence in their life, no matter how long or short, makes a difference.”

“I see. So, you apply that philosophy to your own squad?”

Cathy stepped close to Jim as a truck roared by, billowing dust kicked up in its heavily treaded wake. So much for her feeling of cleanliness after that marvelous shower earlier. She hesitated in answering his question.

“I had my squad up until two weeks ago when the major transferred me to point position in another one.”

They continued toward the mess tent, the odor of freshly cooked eggs, salty bacon and fragrant coffee wafting on the air. Jim tabled his next question, noticing that Cathy slowed her step as they neared the milling men and women who stood in two lines with aluminum trays. They were all waiting to be served by the cooks who stood behind tables that held huge containers of hot food. Boland felt her tense and slow almost to a stop, as if threatened.

The curious Marines stared openly as he and Cathy moved closer to them. She trusted him, but not the line of Marines. They chose a spot at the end of the shortest line, and Cathy kept her head bowed, eyes downcast and staring at her booted feet. Jim could feel the natural warmth of her body and, for a moment, a delicious, heady female fragrance that was her.

He handed Cathy a tray as they inched closer toward the cooks ladling out breakfast foods. She shifted uncomfortably from one booted foot to another. He found her reaction fascinating, given the fact that out in the bush, she must function on a completely different level. After breakfast he was going to have to tell her that she had been transferred to Alpha. He couldn’t wait any longer and she appeared strong enough to deal with the news. He hoped.

Boland chose a table that had just emptied of Marines. If she was hungry, why did she pick at her food?

Jim looked across the table at her. “You can’t blame these grunts for looking at you. It isn’t often they see a good looking WLF woman up here.”

Cathy shrugged, pushing the freshly scrambled eggs around with the fork. “I
hate
getting stared at it. I’d rather face a rocket attack.”

He laughed softly. “I wouldn’t. Come on, it’s all right. They’re friendly and curious, that’s all. They aren’t a threat to you.”

Gradually, Cathy allowed Boland’s coaxing to ease her discomfort. Using her old method of coping with stares, she deliberately focused every sense on her food and the process of eating. All her life she had forced herself to shut out offending events and concentrate solely on the task directly in front of her.

Jim watched her covertly. It hurt him to see her wolfing down the food like a famished animal. Occasionally, her gaze would dart about, missing little, and then she would begin to eat again. Twice, he got up and refilled her glass of fresh, cold orange juice before her thirst was sated. She was more relaxed afterward, holding a cup of steaming coffee between her long, expressive fingers that bore recent pink scars from the long, sharp-bladed elephant grass that all the squads had to work through on a patrol.

“I’d forgotten what hot food tasted like.”

Jim had trouble keeping the irritation out of his voice. “I don’t see why your major wouldn’t rotate you women back here for a hot meal every once in a while. I rotate my men to the rear whenever possible to give them a day’s break. It’s just good mental health.”

Cathy smiled. “Sound emotional health, too.” Looking around, she met his gray gaze once again. “Still, it’s been a nice reprieve from Delta.”

Boland steeled himself internally, holding the tin mug more firmly in his own hands. “Want to extend that reprieve?” he ventured quietly, watching her.

Her brows dipped. “I don’t understand.”

“How’d you like to spend the next thirty-five days with my company before going back to Delta?”

Cathy’s heart started a slow pound as she stared at him. “What are you talking about, Captain?”

Jim slowly turned the mug around, holding her wary gaze. He told Cathy of the recently approved orders, leaving out the real reasons for getting her transferred to Alpha. He saw the color drain from her face, leaving her eyes wide, frightened jade pools. His mouth tightened as he finished the explanation.

“Well? What do you think?”

Cathy swallowed hard, breaking out in a cold sweat. She touched her brow with trembling fingers. “I don’t believe this…I don’t…how could Lane…I mean…”

He heard the raw fear in her voice. Was she going into shock? Why should the transfer upset her so much? “What are you talking about?” he demanded.

Cathy suddenly stood up. She wanted to run. To hide. Turning on her heel, she began walking away from the chow tent. Tears blinded her and everything blurred as she headed back in the direction of the medical facility. The warning honk of a truck didn’t even impinge on her shocked senses. Seconds later, a hand closed over her arm, jerking her backward.