The Valkyrie's Guardian (15 page)

Memphis locked eyes with Jack, who patted his assault rifle then made a hand signal she didn't know the meaning of. The men exchanged curt nods, and Cassie wanted to scream.

Someone tapped her shoulder. Cassie turned to see Pops watching her. At least she thought it was ‘Papa Smurf,' the platoon leader, under the ridiculous gadgeted helmet and war paint. He smiled and pointed at her face, cleared his own of expression, and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he pulled a 'fraidy cat face that made him look like Homer Simpson. Cassie laughed, then admitted with a nod that yes, she was scared. He pointed again at her, then arranged his features into a fearsome mask with bared teeth, and his throat moved in what had to be a growl. He waited expectantly until she returned it. It took her a few tries until he was satisfied, then she got an approving nod from Pops and a few other soldiers sitting near.

She looked over the team, Jack's ‘boat crew.' They'd just canceled their mission and jumped on board with Jack based on what they overheard and what he could explain in the two minutes it took to jog to the helo pad. They knew they were going into a dangerous situation with virtually no intel, no strategy, no backup, and no guarantees. They trusted Jack, and that was enough. They'd lost men before and knew exactly what they were getting into; they were ready to die. Cassie shoved those thoughts away before she choked up.

Yes, she could find her home here. If she could prove that she can handle it — real combat. If she even survived.

“Honey, you must have taken a wrong turn.

The Miss Universe contest is over there.”

—Jack MacGunn, King of the Bad Pick-Up Line

Forest looked the same anywhere in the world. Dim, muggy, fuzzy green, and eerily quiet. The Seahawk flew away southward after dropping off the team then making half a dozen false landings in a thirty-mile radius, hopefully to conceal their location. Of course the team wanted to go straight up the mountain to claim the high ground, and the hiking trail was taboo. If there was an impossibly overgrown or rocky stretch of hill, they took it. Better concealment, according to their silent reasoning, which Cassie relied on since no one uttered a word aloud.

Jack had disappeared with Memphis, the team sniper, the moment they'd landed. She hadn't heard a shred of thought from Jack since. He'd dumped her on Chief Hanson, her so-called
shooting buddy
, and even he paid only the slightest attention to her. She felt way beyond rookie, more like a diaper-wearer.

She didn't mind the weight of the gear, but trying to tread quietly while wearing it was a trick. The SEALs didn't climb or hike, they
stalked,
and Cassie was acutely aware she did not have this skill every time her foot snapped a twig and it echoed weirdly.
Thanks for pointing a neon sign at the squad,
Subway thought. After she loosened a cantaloupe-sized rock that would have bounced down the hill if Buck hadn't caught it a few yards behind her, Cassie paused. She needed stalking lessons, or else she would blow their cover.

Quickly she assessed how the others moved, and in ten seconds she gleaned where to step: bare soil, fresh grass, larger roots and rocks. The key was to take smaller steps, then pause to listen and plan the route through the foliage. Her problem was not only noisy steps but shaking or flipping branches as she passed, an unnatural motion which could be seen from a distance. None of the soldiers said so, but they all thought about it, irritably. That would make her the pariah, unless she could redeem herself.

Chief stayed five meters ahead and to the left of her, and she copied what he did with good results. Amazing what she could hear now, what she became aware of. They weren't in a hurry, it was unanimously assumed the enemy had no choice but to wait for them to arrive, so an ambush would work to their advantage.

At the peak of the mountain, Pops sent the signal to halt and take cover. One of the guys climbed a tree and reported black smoke, eight klicks north, close to the Torrey Pines ranger station. He could see the National Guard operating farther north and west, where the valleys under cliffs had taken the worst of the mudslides.

This was it.

“You look hot in Kevlar, baby,” Jack's whisper came right in her ear.

Cassie startled, clutching her throat to keep from shouting. Her heart rattled, and she closed her eyes in forbearance. As her pulse settled she saw how Jack had stalked her. He had lowered himself into the crevice between the two tall boulders Cassie leaned against. She turned and saw him suspended in the air, spider-like, as he hung upside down from one knee hooked over the rim. Three fingers propped on the rock wall supported the weight of his body.

“No one ever watches what happens above the head — this works every time. Don't just watch your back, guard your bubble.”

Her upraised face nearly met his. His dazzling white smile looked out of place with his face paint. “You are such an ass.”

“One week in the Navy, and you cuss like a sailor.”

She scowled at him, thrown offbeat by the giddy-with-anticipation vibes coming from him. He was smooth, cool, eager to go off to battle as though it was his first day of kindergarten. That didn't mesh well with the dread settling low in her gut.

“This is spooky, Jack.”

“We'll be in position soon. Then it will be over fast.”

“Ah, okay … ”
Cassie glanced around, locating Chief, hoping she hadn't missed anything important.

“Just two more things before it's too late. If the op goes FUBAR, I want you to turn tail and run like hell. As fast as you can, and I don't care if any humans see you. Go to the base and wait for Kyros.”

“I don't like what you're implying.”

“It's smart to keep a plan C. I want you to get out safe. Promise me, Cass.”

She crossed her fingers behind her back. “Promise.”

He narrowed his eyes, skeptical.

“You had something else to tell me?”

“Yeah.”
He pushed off the wall and cupped the back of her neck, bringing her up on her toes as he captured her mouth with his. His camo-paint-flavored kiss went from rowdy to deep to tender in seven long, long seconds. She swallowed a girly sigh as he sealed his lips sideways over hers, in slow motion. An electric buzz brushed up her spine. The familiar heat burned through her anxiety, leaving her with his same happy-go-lucky attitude. It also turned her brain to mush, because somehow he made her consider holing up here and spending the morning kissing.

Radio static crackled in Jack's earpiece, and she heard at least three men complain. Apparently they could hear what went on through his throat mic. “Get in the game, Doolittle,” came Memphis' deathly quiet whisper.

Jack, don't be bait today. Please, no turkey shoot, or whatever stupid stunt you and Memphis run. Please, Jack, for me?

His radio buzzed, and Jack's thoughts were already absorbed in tracking the conversation. Back to soldier mode.
No promises, lass.

One more kiss, then he was gone. She rejected the thought that it might have been their last.

Chief signaled for her to advance in formation and cover his six but keep her weapon locked. She let him think she understood combat hand signals, which were even more ridiculous than baseball coaching signs. She hiked the eight kilometers from the mountain top to the ranger station without earning a single mental complaint from the others — a relief to elevate her status from burden to tag-along.

Cassie had yet to prove she could do anything other than work some medical magic and run like a machine, and more than half of the men expected her to either freak out or freeze in combat. If they felt even an inkling of that foul-smelling dread wafting from the ranger station, they would look a little green around the gills too. It was much worse than Boris at Lake Powell. Even without eavesdropping on their radio chatter she knew this was where the enemy had holed up. She could feel it, prickling her spine, charging her blood, creating a sinking feeling in her gut.

She heard unanimous relief that smoke from the fires made visibility bad, but the squad was spooked about doing an operation without the cover of nightfall. Pops called a halt, cursing as he saw the bodies of two park rangers on the ground. No way could they pass for mudslide victims, since they'd been stabbed repeatedly, hopefully
after
taking gunshots to the temple.

Chief tried to keep her calm while the team waited in formation, listening to Jack's radio feedback as he scouted the perimeter. Cassie sat with her back to a massive tree trunk, and Chief squatted in front of her. He mouthed silently, “Hey Thundercat, I was wondering. Can you do the same things as MacGunn?”

Cassie scowled, pretending she didn't understand. Chief flexed his arms and made a face like a WWF wrestler. “Are you strong? Like MacGunn?”

Gutsy of him to be so direct, and strange that he accepted what would seem supernatural to him. Cassie cocked her head and held her fingers a few inches apart and mouthed back, “A little bit.”

Chief unsheathed a KA-BAR and handed it to her, pantomiming that he wanted her to bend it. She shrugged and snapped the blade near the hilt using her thumb and two fingers, covering it with her other hand to damper the noise. His eyes bugged out, and she heard him wish he had something more impressive for her to break, like a crowbar.

“Bench-press?” He pantomimed lifting a weight bar then held his palms up in question.

Cassie shot him a flat look then glanced at the shooting pair behind them in the formation. Chief waited, too curious to drop it, so she turned and made the numbers with her fingers
, nine, eight, five.
985 pounds, on a good day. Pee-wee compared to Jack, whose idea of a workout was tossing freight cars in a scrap yard.

Chief raised his brows and sat back. A minute later he closed his fists and mouthed, “You could crush an attacker.” He grasped his head and palmed his jaw, showing her the twisting motion to snap a neck. He mimed a bear hug and thrust inward with his fists. “You get in a fight, do that.”

She nodded, betraying neither her pleasure at being taken seriously nor her horror at the idea of deliberately crushing a man's chest into mush.

He thumbed over his shoulder, “And if I go down, throw me over your shoulder and run like hell.”

“Hooyah, Chief. I got your six.”

He flashed a Harrison-Ford-style crooked smile with scruffy dimples, and Cassie realized she finally had a friend of sorts, bringing the grand tally to … one. Jack and Lyssa didn't count, since both were practically family. She sat with Chief and waited, amused with the way men are content to say nothing to fill silences.

Ten minutes later Jack's voice whispered through Chief's headset. Eighteen enemy guards with Uzis ringed the ranger station. Jack reported five people inside the shack, at least one hostage, and no one questioned how he knew that when the two windows were covered. This news aggravated the team, and she observed their frantic restrategizing, hating the situation more as it developed.

They agreed Jack would ambush the five north-facing guards and draw their fire while Memphis picked them off from behind the cover of the forest. As soon as Jack and Memphis punched a hole through the enemy line, Pops and the next shooting pair would bust through the door of the ranger station, clear the room and secure the hostage. Cassie tasted blood as she bit down on her tongue, her best effort against shrieking in outrage. Exactly as she had begged Jack
not
to do.

Simultaneously, smoke grenades would blind the remaining thirteen guards to the east, west and south, to prevent them from reinforcing the guards at the door. Thermal sensitive goggles would allow the other half of the SEAL squad to locate and “neutralize” the thirteen guards. Cassie was to stay under cover with Chief at the north end of the tree line, so he could direct the attack. Cassie was charged with the very important task of sitting on her rump and keeping out of the way. Pops promised she could take potshots at any guard who broke though the lines. She heard Chet and Subway scoff, something about
blue on blue,
unconvinced she wouldn't shoot them in the back by mistake.

“Why can't you call in an air strike?” Cassie mouthed to Chief.

“Hostage.”

“Who cares?” How could one mystery person matter more than Jack, more than the entire squad? The mission plan was solid but something was off, and everyone sensed it on some level.

“I do. And so do my boys.” He reached across to squeeze her shoulder. “We'll come out on top. Don't worry.”

She nodded; she had to. She heard doubts nagging the back of the soldiers' minds, but none of them wished themselves elsewhere or hoped for an easy way out. If they could be brave, so could she. It required every ounce of restraint, but she didn't call to Jack,
Be careful, I love you …
distractions he didn't need. Mushy stuff not allowed in the Navy.

The operation had taken four hours to accomplish the infiltration and positioning, then it went down fast, in a blur. Chief gave a countdown then a
GO,
and Cassie watched, confounded, as Jack exploded from the tree line, his gun spraying bullets on full auto as he charged the guards. His sinewy tenor voice roaring in a battle cry razed the nerves along her spine and made her heart sink — the single most frightening sound she'd ever heard. He covered the distance in two seconds, long enough to empty his clip and startle the guards into action. Popping sounds announced the smoke grenades launching in the rear. Chief's eyes scoured the scene, and he muttered orders into the radio. He seemed calm.

Cassie watched Jack move at inhuman speeds, but it played in slow motion to her brain. Suddenly she understood his game and why it worked. He was simply too fast for the guards to track. Jack taunted the guards as he feinted left and right, disappearing behind cover only to emerge elsewhere an instant later. She could see the guards reacting, seemingly sluggish, and it really was a turkey shoot as Memphis dropped them one at a time from the farthest to the one in front. They never saw it coming.