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“Typical military brat?”
“Yeah, kinda…”
“Not me. I was born on the White River Apache Reservation in Arizona and never left until I joined the Army after high school.”
“I’ve never been to Arizona.”
“It’s dry and hot. Not like this place. Fort Campbell reminds me of a sponge. I can hardly wait to get to Afghanistan. It’s hot and dry there like it is on my res. I’ll feel right at home in that desert environment.”
“Weather is the least of my problems.”
Annie thought it was an odd statement, but said nothing. “Okay, Cowboy, take this bird to ten thousand feet. Now.” She smiled at the nickname she’d spontaneously given him. He reminded her of an Old West cowboy—stoic, rough, a little rusty on social protocols, but heroic just the same. If he took umbrage with the new handle she’d given him, he didn’t say anything. All pilots had a nickname they were usually called by instead of their real name.
Jason powered up both engines, and the thumping of the Apache’s blades deepened. In seconds, the helo was clawing upward, the pressure of the climb pressing Annie against her seat. From ten thousand feet, the carpet of trees looked like lumpy green cottage cheese below them. They were safely within the restricted airspace, and she looked at her HUD to make sure no other aircraft was in the vicinity. Usually, at this time of day, few were flying because of the nasty up-and downdrafts created by the sun’s heating of the earth.
“Okay, nice going, Mr. Trayhern.” Annie leaned forward and shut off both engines. “You are now without power. Get this bird down in one piece.” She heard him gasp once, but that was all. Instantly, the Apache fell, nose first. Without his quick intercession, the bird would have continued to plummet. Trayhern clearly knew what to do. He stabilized the helicopter, using the flailing blades that still whirled above them despite the lack of engine power. An experienced pilot could use the air as a cushion, and the blades as helping hands, to get a chopper down in one piece. As they plummeted closer and closer to the earth, Annie was pleased to see Trayhern moving the wallowing helo toward a small meadow off to the right. That would be where he’d try an emergency landing.
Jason wrestled with the Apache. The last thing he’d ever thought he’d be doing was attempting a dead-stick landing. She’d cut the engines! Just like that! What the hell was she thinking? His anger surged, then receded as he jockeyed the sluggish bird toward the meadow, which was coming up very quickly.
Annie braced herself. At one thousand feet, Trayhern pointed the nose downward. The earth came rushing up fast. At five hundred feet he suddenly eased back on the stick, raising the nose abruptly. The whirling blades caught the cushion of air once more. At the last moment, he steadied the Apache. They hit the knoll with a thud and then rolled forward through the grass, finally coming to a stop.
Annie’s teeth unclenched. They were down, the blades spinning slowly around and around. As she relaxed her jaw, she heard Trayhern breathing hard in her earphones. Placing a checkmark in the emergency landing box, she said, “We’re in one piece. That’s good, Mr. Trayhern. Now take her up again.”
Jason suddenly realized she was testing him, and the fact made him angry and frightened. What if he had screwed up? Well, he hadn’t on the emergency landing. He flipped on the engine switches, the familiar hum and whine filling the cockpit once more. He busied himself with getting the bird airborne again. Once he had climbed to five thousand feet, he wiped the sweat off his brow. Pulling the dark visor down across his upper face, he pressed the microphone near his lips.
“Why didn’t you tell me this was a damn flight test?”
“Why should I?”
“Because I have a right to know.”
“No, you don’t. You’re my copilot, Mr. Trayhern. In thirty days, our collective ass will be on the line over in Afghanistan. I want to make very sure that I’m flying with someone I can trust. Now, get this bird up to ten thousand again. Please.”
Grinding his teeth, Jason did as she ordered. None of the other pilots he’d been assigned to had done this to him. It was automatically assumed he was good or he wouldn’t be in an Apache squadron.
“What’s this all about, Ms. Dazen? Why am I being tested like a rookie?”
“I test any pilot I fly with like this, so you’re not being singled out, Mr. Trayhern.”
“I don’t believe you. There’s more to it.” He looked around at the hazy afternoon sky, his mind clicking on possibilities. Then he tightened his hands around the collective and cyclic, his nostrils flaring. “I know why.”
Annie said nothing. She wanted to see how he handled himself when he was upset. Good pilots disconnected from their emotions when flying, Otherwise, when in combat, the spurt of adrenaline could kill them, caught up as they were in the life-and-death drama of war. And Annie wanted to know now whether he had the necessary detachment to think through the adrenaline rush and haze of fear. So far, so good.
Jason waited. She remained silent. Damn her. All of a sudden he wasn’t feeling very kindly at all toward Ms. Dazen. She might have a killer smile that made a man feel all warm and good inside, but that was only frosting.
“You know who I am,” he said through gritted teeth. “You know I got kicked out of Annapolis on drug charges. You also know that I’ve been booted out of my previous squadron into this one. And this is my last chance to make it or break it. You know everything about me. That’s why you’re testing me like this.”
“If you were in my seat, wouldn’t you do the same thing?”
Her voice was cool and without emotion.
Jason sat there, his gaze flicking across the dials. The Apache soothed some of his rage, some of his fear. But not all of it. “Yeah, maybe I would. If I got handed a black cloud of a pilot who could never say or do the right thing, or do whatever the hell else was expected, I’d be gun-shy, too.”
Heart twinging, Annie felt his pain. Oh, the anger, the rage was there, no doubt. He wasn’t going to be civil about this. At least, not up here in the cockpit.
“There’s a saying back where I come from,” she said quietly. “It’s better that a rattlesnake rattle its tail in warning than let you step on it and get bitten.”
Stymied, Jason took a deep breath. He was sweating big-time now, the armpits of his flight suit soaked. The air-conditioning cooled the cabin, but he was perspiring for other reasons. “And I suppose I’m a snake?” he rasped. He didn’t like mind games.
“You’re missing the point, Mr. Trayhern. I’d rather deal with someone up front, with or without diplomacy, than have them sneak around behind my back to bite me.”
Sitting there, Jason found his mind reeling. “You think I’m going to bite you?”
“Would you?”
“The last two pilots sneaked behind my back and bitched to the C.O. about me. They never faced me and told me they had a problem with me.”
“Well,” Annie said, “that won’t happen here.”
“You’re a damn IP, aren’t you?”
The words were thrown like a gauntlet. Annie lifted her head. From her position in the upper cockpit, she could see Jason Trayhern’s helmet and shoulders below her. She could see he was gripping the cyclic and collective hard, obviously upset.
“Yes, I am.”
His stomach clenched. His heart sank. This was a test—the whole damn flight. What had happened to that pleasant-looking woman he’d met in the hangar? Jason had found himself drawn to her, rightly or wrongly. Her golden eyes, slightly tilted, were so huge and beautiful that he’d imagined he could see sunlight dappling them, like light dancing across the rippled surface of a lake.
“And you’re out to flunk me, aren’t you? Orders from above? From Colonel Dugan? He doesn’t want Bad Luck Trayhern in his squadron, so he’s sent you to do his dirty work. Flunk me out on this flight, and that’s all the reason he needs to give me a BCD outta this man’s Army.”
Stunned by his accusations, Annie said nothing for a long moment. “Mr. Trayhern, you are paranoid. No one has it in for you here, except maybe yourself.”
“You know I got kicked out of Annapolis.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You’ve already formed an opinion of me.”
“No, I haven’t, but you’re trying hard to make me do so now, and I don’t like it.”
Setting the cyclic and collective on autopilot, Jason shoved up the dark shield and shakily wiped the sweat off his brow again. Jerking the visor back down, he rested his left arm against the console and gripped the controls again. He flicked off the autopilot and took over flying once more.
“Are you saying you haven’t already formed an opinion of me, Ms. Dazen?” Jason found that very hard to believe. Trying to control his breathing, he waited for her answer.
“I have another saying, Mr. Trayhern. We don’t judge a person unless we’ve walked a mile in his or her moccasins. Now, I don’t know what went on at Annapolis. Frankly, I haven’t heard much about it. I do know you were caught in a drug ring, but that you were never formerly accused of doing drugs or selling them. I hope you aren’t doing drugs, because if you are, I’ll find out and you’re outta here, anyway.”
“I didn’t do drugs,” Jason snarled. “Now or then. So relax on that one, will you?”
“As I understand it, you can be asked for a urine sample at any time, Mr. Trayhern.”
“That’s right. I signed on in the Army with that agreement. They can test me until they’re blue in the face, and they won’t find me dirty. I’ve passed twenty tests in the last two years. But you probably know that already.”
Annie said, “I let a person walk their talk, Mr. Trayhern. That means that your daily interface with me and my crew is what counts. We’re rated top pilot and top crew here in the squadron. I want that to continue.”
“And you think by being saddled with me, you won’t be?”
“Dude, you are defensive! Did I say that? Did I say anything like that?” Annie chuckled. “I told you before, you will prove who and what you are on a daily basis around here. Your past doesn’t count with me, Trayhern. But your present sure as hell does. Do you understand?”
Jason closed his eyes for a moment. He heard her husky words flow over him like a calming blanket. “Yeah, I hear you.” But could he trust her to do that? Or was Annie Dazen like the other pilots who had screwed him? Just waiting to catch him making a mistake so they could run screaming to the C.O. and nail him? Only time would tell.
Chapter 4
“We need to talk—privately.” Annie kept her voice low and firm, brooking no argument from Trayhern, who only furrowed his broad brow, his eyebrows drawn down in a V.
Gripping his helmet, Jason nodded curtly, walking beside her toward their office in the hangar. Humiliated because he had felt the eyes of her crew on him as they got the bird’s blades tied down and chocks around the three wheels, he ground his teeth. For two hours she’d grilled him in the air, making him feel like a child. Jason wanted to dislike Annie. But he couldn’t and he didn’t know why. Had it been her whiskey-smooth voice in the earphones of his helmet? Her pointed questions about his ability to trust? The answer escaped him and he kept his silence, studying her profile. Her hair was in disarray now that she’d taken off her helmet, and flyaway black strands glinted with reddish highlights in the sun.
Once inside the air-conditioned office, Jason dropped his helmet into one of the two chairs that sat in front of the green metal desk. When he heard the door click shut, he rounded on her, his rage barely held in check. Her golden eyes were narrowed and assessing, and he was surprised at the strength that suddenly emanated from her as she stood toe-to-toe with him, her helmet still beneath her left arm.
“Okay, Cowboy, let’s have both barrels. You’re spoiling for a fight and this is the place to have it.” She jabbed a finger at the door. “This is where you and I tango. Never while in flight and never in front of our crew.”
Jason was taken aback momentarily at her use of the word our. When had any other pilot ever done that? Blinking a couple of times, he felt his mind spin. Yeah, he was angry, but suddenly he felt as if that wasn’t appropriate. Annie had said “our crew.” Our. She trusted him. She must. Why?
“Maybe,” he growled, “I’m just uptight because of the unexpected test you pulled on me.”
Giving him a taut smile, Annie turned and placed her helmet on a hook. She moved around the desk, smoothed her hair with her hands and sat down. The chair creaked.
“You have a right to feel stressed. I would, too.”
Dammit, she wasn’t like male pilots. When Jason challenged them the way he’d challenged her, he blasted them. Yet he didn’t feel an urge to fight back. Instead, he sat down and ran his fingers through his damp hair. “Why’d you do it?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Annie opened her hands. She saw the confusion in Jason’s eyes. Because she was highly intuitive, she could feel the range of emotions he was experiencing right now. Something told her that he wasn’t as much angry as he was worried that she wouldn’t accept him as a full partner in the cockpit and on the ground. “From where I sit, I’m pleased with how you handled the bird.” She pointed to her clipboard, which held the test scores he’d earned. “I’ll give you a copy of the results and we’ll talk about them. We’ll make strengths of any weaknesses I saw before we leave for Afghanistan. You don’t have the flight hours I feel you need, so we’re going to be doing a lot of flying between now and then to sharpen your reflexes and get more of your skills up to par.”
Jason digested her huskily spoken words. So much of him was drawn to her. What was it about her? He’d never been as fascinated by a woman as he was by Annie Dazen. Maybe it was her slightly tilted eyes that shone like warm, golden sunlight tinged with cinnamon? Or the way her full mouth turned soft with compassion. Or her openness toward him.
“I thought you wanted to get rid of me. That’s what the other pilots did,” he growled. “I thought you were pulling this test to find a reason to write me up and get me out of the squadron.”
Her heart gave a tug. Whether Jason knew it or not, in that moment, he looked like an abandoned little boy, not a twenty-four-year-old man. She had a gift of perception that she’d inherited from her mother. At times she could see beyond the normal range of human comprehension. As she looked across the desk at Jason, any defensiveness she may have felt toward him melted away. It was the look in his eyes; for a second, he seemed like a hunted, haunted animal on the run from…what? Who?
“I hope you don’t paint me with the same brush, Mr. Trayhern. I have no desire to set you up to fail. I want to get to Afghanistan and do a little damage to El Quaida. And whether I like it or not, you’re my new copilot.”
“Who would want me for a copilot with my track record? You probably see me as an instant liability to your hopes for promotion.” He knew a bad junior pilot could drag the best pilot’s career through the mud, and hurt his or her chances for advancement.
Shrugging, Annie sat up, placed her elbows on the desk and looked him squarely in the eyes. “Look, Mr. Trayhern, I have no ax to grind with you. If you do what you say you’ll do, I’ll have no problem with you.”
Blinking, Jason sat there and looked at her sincere, open features. Her hands were clasped in front of her, her voice low and warm. That warmth cascaded through him like heat against a glacier, melting a frozen part of him inside.
“Then…you’re giving me a chance?” A real one? Oh, God, how he wanted that! Wanted to halt the downward spiral of his career. Wanted to try and hold on to something, to pull himself up by his own bootstraps. Studying Annie’s features with something akin to amazement, Jason realized that she was his last hope. If he couldn’t turn his life around with her help, he really was done. And he couldn’t stand the shame that would place on his family, or himself. He’d finally hit bottom.
“You’ll be giving yourself that chance, if you want it,” Annie told him. “I’m going to work your butt off for the next thirty days.”
“That doesn’t bother me.”
“Then what does?”
“That you’ll sandbag me, Ms. Dazen. That you’re waiting in the weeds like those other two pilots I flew with, looking for a chance to nail me.”
“I’m not like that.” She sat up, then leaned back in the chair. “But you’ll find that out sooner or later. Right now, you need a shower and a change of clothes. When you’re done, come back to the office and we’ll discuss your test results.”
Jason stood up. “Okay, fair enough.”
“The showers are just off the locker room. There’re always towels, washcloths and soap available.” She looked at her watch. “Be back here in thirty minutes?”
Moving toward the door, he muttered, “Yeah, I’ll be back.”
Annie watched him pick up his helmet in his long fingers. He had the hands of a pilot, there was no doubt, even though his flight suit was stained with sweat.
When the door closed and she heard him walk away from her office, Annie blew out a long, unsteady breath. Relief washed through her. She didn’t like confrontations like that.
“Some days are more trying than others,” she muttered. “Why am I getting this guy, Shaida?” Shaida was the name of her spirit guide. Every Indian Annie knew of, especially one who came from a medicine family as she did, had a guide. Although Annie couldn’t see hers, she knew she was there. She’d grown up with her. As a child, she had often seen the lithe, two-hundred-fifty-pound black jaguar, who used to sit and watch her with large, golden eyes. Annie had always felt safe as a child when Shaida was with her. And the Great Spirit knew, she’d always been in some kind of trouble, needing protection. Shaida was her guardian angel, there was no doubt.
Annie rubbed her brow now and stood up. She nervously wiped her sweaty palms on the sides of her flight suit and went out into the hangar to talk with her crew. They’d brought the bird inside the hangar already and were working on maintenance. Pride in her crew swelled within her as she walked across the clean and shiny concrete floor. Well, it would be a pleasant half hour before she had to bang heads with Trayhern again.
“So that’s the bottom line on your test results, Mr. Trayhern.” Annie tossed the clipboard back on her desk after giving him a copy of the test and the percentages he’d earned on each of the flight functions she’d assessed. “Overall, not bad. I don’t think you got the air time you needed with the other pilots. I think these grades reflect your lack of flying time. That’s something we can quickly remedy around here.”
Jason took the papers and glanced at them. He felt a lot more comfortable sitting in front of her desk in a clean, dry flight suit. A shower had been just what he’d needed, for many reasons. Water was always soothing to him, a calming balm to any fractious state. It allowed him to relax and let go.
Looking at the test scores and then up at Annie, he said, “No, I didn’t get a lot flight time.” Mainly because he’d been squabbling so much with his copilots that they wanted to avoid him, so his flight hours dipped accordingly.
“Because?” Annie was bound and determined to find out what was eating Trayhern. He’d not only showered, but he’d shaved as well, which pleased her. He didn’t have to. It was near 1700, quitting time. He had taken extra pains, she hoped, to show her that he cared enough to try.
“Because,” Jason growled, “I wasn’t exactly pleasant with my command pilot.”
“Why?”
He eyed her. “You don’t mind asking hard questions, do you?”
Her mouth quirked. “Not when my life depends on it.”
Managing a sour grin, Jason said, “I was in his face because I was constantly questioning why he was doing something.”
“That implies a lack of trust in the command pilot.”
“Yes…I guess it does.” He dropped his head and stared at the test scores. Annie Dazen had given him relatively high marks on most of the flight maneuvers, which surprised him. His other command pilots had consistently rated him at the bottom, just above the seventy-five percentile passing mark. She, on the other hand, had given him scores in the eighties and nineties, which buoyed his sense of confidence in himself—and in her. It looked as if she really wasn’t out to get him.
“Why didn’t you trust your command pilot?”
The words were spoken so softly and gently that Jason felt the doors of his heart fly open. It shocked him. He sat there, staring down at the papers in his hand, as he mulled over his emotional response to her. Finally he forced himself to look up. When he did, he was once again surprised. Annie’s usual poker face was soft and readable. He saw a burning look in her golden eyes, as if she genuinely wanted to know the truth.
Sighing, he whispered, “Look, I’ve never talked about this to anyone before….”
