Uniform Desires (Make Mine Military Romance) (20 page)

Four o’clock in the morning and she hadn’t slept a wink, preferring to savor every last moment with Tuck. She hadn’t packed, hadn’t notified her landlord, hadn’t done anything to prepare for her deployment.

She was headed to Afghanistan. Not that she was borrowing trouble, but she might not come back. As a member of the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment, she’d be flying into enemy territory to deposit and pick up the Special Operations forces, be they Army, Navy SEALs, or marines, on some of the most dangerous and highly classified missions imaginable. The chances of being shot down by the Taliban were high.

Meanwhile, her heart would be back in Virginia with Tuck.

She’d known from the start that Tuck had commitment issues given his family background plus he was a Navy SEAL first, anything else came second. Including her. But sometimes she dreamed of hearing him say those three words she’d longed to hear.

I love you.

Three of the most powerful words in the English language dictionary, as far as Delaney was concerned. As she headed into the warzone, she’d have to content herself with the knowledge Tuck cared about her. Possibly loved her, but wasn’t willing to admit it and jinx their bond.

Delaney had committed one of the ultimate mistakes she’d told herself she’d never do. Falling in love with a man in the military. Now it was too late. There was no going back. Her heart belonged to Tuck.

Cory and Tuck fell into formation on the pavement outside the Ops tent where their commander worked. Gunny called them to attention, then performed an about-face to hand off to Skipper, Commander Raymond Janek.

The man stood like a tree, six-feet, four inches of hard muscle. He stayed as fit as any of the younger SEALs standing before him, and demanded no less from his team than he did of himself.

Without preamble, Skipper announced, "We’re headed to the sandbox. Report with your deployment bags here at Zero-five-thirty in the morning. That gives you exactly twenty-two hours to shit, shower, shave, and pack. I suggest you get to it. Am I clear?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" The team yelled in unison.

"Dismissed."

The team fell out and ran for their vehicles.

"Nothing like buggin’ out on short notice," Cory said as he jogged alongside Tuck toward his vintage ‘67 Mustang. "It’s probably just as well. I’d hate to be stuck here, coolin’ my heels waiting for O’Connell to get back with her answer." He stopped beside his Mustang. "I don’t know. I’m thinking she might say no." He shook his head. "You think she could love a man like me?"

"I know she loves you. Question is
like what
?"

"What do you mean like what?"

"Does she love you like a lover, a brother, or a friend?" Hell, Tuck knew, but why burst the guy’s bubble now?

Cory’s brows dove together. "What did she tell you?"

"I heard what you heard. She’ll think about it." That still angered him. She could have come right out and said
no.

Cory exhaled a long breath as he pulled out his keys and jammed them into the lock. "I hope that’s a good thing. Means she wants to think about it. I hope by the time we get back from the desert, she’ll say yes. As it is, I don’t know if I can wait that long."

"Guess you’ll have to."

"She give any clue as to where she’s headed?"

"You know this stuff is classified." Tuck glanced at a spot over Cory’s shoulder.

"Yeah. But I was hoping she’d trust us enough to tell us, or scuttlebutt would get back to someone on the team."

"I wouldn’t ask. No sense puttin’ her in the position."

"You’re right. Guess you’re the better man. I’d have asked, if she hadn’t run out so fast. And she didn’t answer her cell phone later. Lord knows I tried to call her ten times."

A wash of guilt tightened Tuck’s chest. Her phone had been in the kitchen, the ringtone specific to Cory ringing several times.

They’d ignored it.

Tuck had a fifteen-minute drive to get back to his house. He made it in ten, grabbed the bag containing his deployment gear, extra uniforms, boots, undergarments, and toiletries that he kept stowed in his hall closet. After a quick look around, he left everything as is. The less anyone knew about his movements, the better. He didn’t know where in the sandbox he was going or how long he’d be gone.

He hoped and prayed he’d be close to wherever Delaney had deployed. Only made sense for those who trained together to deploy together.

The call came in a week after she and her unit had boots on the ground at Camp Leatherneck. Her crew, consisting of her co-pilot and two door gunner crew chiefs, was called into the Tactical Operations Center, where TOP SECRET maps, photos, and intel lined the walls. Briefed on where they were headed and the number of people who’d be along for the ride, they were given the weather conditions, personnel movements, coordinates of their pick up and drop off, the number of men they would be carrying from the pickup point, and the amount of fuel they would be taking. The rest was on a need-to-know basis. Delaney was the Pilot in Command, or PC.

Delaney checked her flight bag for her HGU-56/P flight helmet, NVGs, maps marked with the roads and landmarks she could expect, and her electronic kneeboard, the Air Warrior EDM Tablet with data downloaded. She carried the memory card to be uploaded into the aircraft’s radios and GPS. All data could easily be destroyed in the case of a crash, or if the aircraft was compromised. She threw in a bottle of water and stepped out of the ops center onto the flight line where her Black Hawk MH-60M stood. After a thorough inspection of the exterior and verification of the fuel levels, she climbed aboard, slipped on the helmet, downloaded the memory card, and began her checks on the interior controls.

Her copilot, Lieutenant K-9, settled in beside her and helped her complete the pre-flight inspection and checklist.

"Mac, Jones, ready?" Delaney spoke into her mic.

"Mac, ready," the senior of the two door gunners, Sergeant McKenzie, responded first.

"Jones, ready," Specialist Jones echoed.

Delaney fired up the rotors, and soon they were on their way to their first coordinate, a tiny patch of earth on the desert landscape in the southern province of Kandahar where she’d pick up six men and take them to the second coordinate. Enemy fire was possible at the first coordinate, and expected at the second.

Saving her adrenaline rush for the second leg of the journey, Delaney focused on the rendezvous with the team she’d transport.

The landing went without a hitch. The team, which appeared to be Navy SEALs, many of them bearded with scraggly hair, hopped aboard, wasting no time on the ground. Her heartbeat kicked up a notch, her thoughts, for a brief moment, bouncing back to Little Creek and Tuck. She wished he was there. After only a week, she missed him so much she physically hurt. Once the team was aboard, she took off, pulling her thoughts back in line with the mission at hand. She didn’t have time to reminisce and couldn’t afford to lose focus.

Dusk claimed the sun as it dipped behind the mountain range to the west. Darkness would settle over the desert before they arrived at the second coordinate. As they took off, the team lead stepped up behind her with a topographical map of the area. He’d switched his helmet for a headset and stuck out his hand. "Lt. Reed Tucker, US Navy SEAL."

Chapter 2

Delaney’s heart skipped several beats, and she schooled her face before turning to the man outfitted for battle. "I believe we’ve met."

"O’Connell?" Tuck’s grin lit up his face. "What are you doing here?"

"I suppose the team that trains together plays together." She wanted to say a whole lot more, but refrained. "Who’ve you got with you?"

"Reaper, Big Bird, Fish, Dustman, and Gator." He shook his head. "I didn’t know you’d be here, much less taking us out on this mission."

She stiffened. "Does it make a difference?"

His smile disappeared. "Not to me."

Delaney nodded. Some men had dumbass superstitions about females being part of a mission. They believed having a woman along would jinx them, spelling out trouble from the get-go.

As the only female pilot allowed on a trial basis into the 160th with the specific purpose of flying combat missions, Delaney wanted to be treated like any other male pilot. She was as good, if not better and she had to prove it, over and over, while proving she wasn’t bad luck to a mission.

Tuck gave Delaney a brief rundown of her role in what was about to go down.

The team was infiltrating a small village reported to be harboring Amir Khan Muttaqi, one of the Taliban leaders the U.S. had been after since the war in Afghanistan had begun. They were to infiltrate, capture him, and get out before the Taliban knew what hit them. Small footprint, minimal casualties.

Delaney was to set them down on the other side of a hill from the village under cover of darkness. The men would move in, find and secure the target, then she’d fly in to retrieve them.

That would be the sticky part. Helicopters weren’t known for their stealth abilities, and the distinctive sound of rotor blades beating the air alerted people on the ground before the helicopter came within firing range. Delaney understood the danger.

Tuck laid a hand on her shoulder. "You got this?"

Delaney knew he didn’t doubt her ability to understand and perform the mission. His unspoken question was, could she handle it?
 

A flash of anger fueled her response. "Got it."

Tuck returned to his seat in the back.

"Let’s do this." Delaney checked her controls, fuel levels, and took off, swinging north toward the small village located in the hills. As darkness cloaked the desert, she switched to NVGs, flying at an altitude high enough not to be seen from the ground below, and out of range of Taliban-controlled rocket-propelled grenades or RPGs.

The mission proceeded like clockwork. Delaney hovered on the opposite side of the hill where the village was located. The men fast-roped to the ground and hustled toward the hill.

Delaney and her crew stayed long enough to provide cover, then flew south a couple clicks to a wide open, deserted location and landed to await word from the team.

Delaney sat behind the controls, wishing she could pull off her gloves and bite her nails. Waiting had never been her strong suit. The guys on the ground would see action before the night was over.

Question was, would they live to tell?

Tuck took point, and the rest of the team fanned out in a V to his sides and behind. Armed with M4A1 rifles with the SOPMOD upgrades including sound suppression and night vision devices, they moved through the darkness like cougars stalking prey.

Treading silently over the rocky terrain, Tuck eased to the top of the hill and checked for posted sentries. He spotted one twenty yards from where they hunkered low. He pointed to Reaper and motioned for him to take out the guard.

Reaper slipped away from the others and, within minutes, dispatched the man with the point of his knife. Quick, quiet, and efficient, Reaper rejoined the others before they descended the hill toward the village. Halfway down, Tuck held up his fist and the group of men stopped. He pointed to Reaper and Gator to join him.
 

Through his NVGs, Tuck picked out the bright green signature of a man standing guard on top of a building at the south end where the road led into the village. Tuck dispatched Gator to take him out. Not long afterward, Gator signaled from the top of the building, with one flash of a red lens light up at the hill.

The team moved into the village, Tuck counting mud-brick, fenced compounds until he reached the sixth one on the left, set back a little from the main dirt road. Inside the walls would be a house and storage buildings, all looking very similar, like mud boxes, either square or rectangular. Until they crossed over the fence made of large stones stacked, chinked, and covered in a mortar-like mud, they couldn’t see into the structures.

Tuck was first to pull himself up over the wall and drop to the ground on the other side. Reaper was right behind him. Gator and Dustman brought up the rear while Big Bird and Fish remained on the other side of the fence, positioned at the far corners to watch for anyone attempting to go in or out. They’d provide back up, should the team need it.

Tuck pointed to Reaper and indicated he should sweep the left, while Tuck took the right and they rounded the main structure within the wall. No one stirred. Tuck stopped in front of the back door, tested the handle, then slid his knife into the gap, and pushed the lock open.

He slipped in and Reaper followed.

Once inside, they moved room to room, passing a living area and then a bedroom where three adult women crowded on a sleeping mat on the bare floor with small children tucked against them.

In the next room, the heat signature of a man lying on the floor caught Tuck’s attention. He appeared to be an older man, not the Taliban leader they were supposed to find. Either he would be found in another building on the compound, or they had the wrong home.

Tuck motioned Reaper ahead of him and out of the home, pulling the door closed behind him.