Destiny's Woman
Gulping, Akiva forced back her tears as Maya smiled and then quietly moved away. As she stepped back, that warm, loving sensation began to ebb and dissolve, and Akiva grieved its loss. Maya had been energetically feeding her something she had looked for desperately all her life and believed never existed. But it did. Maya had given her hope. Hope that she would not always feel like a person left out on the hill, alone without help or support. For that was what vision quests were all about—facing nature and the spirit world alone, weaponless, vulnerable and open. Akiva never left herself vulnerable, never opened herself up to anyone. And yet, with her compassionate energy, Maya had just shown her that she, too, was deserving of nurturing, of care and protection.
Swallowing against the lump in her throat, Akiva sat there for a long time in silence. Maya walked around her desk, sat down and began to look for the set of orders in the piles of paper on her desk.
“A-all right, Maya. I’ll take the mission. All I can say is I’ll try.” She drew in a ragged breath as Maya lifted her head. For a moment, Akiva swore she saw the face of a black jaguar staring back at her with sun-gold eyes and huge ebony pupils. But as swiftly as she’d seen it, the apparition was gone. So much was occurring that Akiva couldn’t quite grasp it all. Something profound had just happened to her, and she knew it had to do with jaguar medicine and healing. Akiva’s own jaguar spirit had been given to her long ago. At the time, she had been told that one day she would be properly trained to know how to work with and utilize the vast, transforming power of the jaguar spirit. Right now, all Akiva received from her jaguar guardian was a keen intuition that helped her sense Kamovs. She sometimes would see apparitions, just as she’d seen the jaguar transpose over Maya’s face, but that was not often. And now, somehow, whatever energy Maya had transferred to her, was giving her the courage to take the mission—Joe Calhoun and all. A white man. Her enemy.
“Joe’s a good person,” Maya said, finally locating the orders. She reached for her pen in the pocket on the left arm of her uniform. “Try to see him as an individual, not as one of the men who hurt you. That is the vision quest you’re taking on, Akiva.” Maya scribbled her signature on the orders and handed them to Akiva. “Here, take these over to logistics, will you? They need to start getting this show on the road. You’re now the commanding officer of Black Jaguar Base Alpha—the first base outside the hub we’ve set up here in Peru. I have every faith that you’ll pull off this mission successfully.”
Rising, Akiva took the papers. Her heart was beating painfully in her breast. She wondered if she could grow into the job as Maya seemed to think she could. “I don’t want to disappoint you,” she rasped unsteadily.
“I don’t want you to disappoint yourself,” Maya whispered, and then gave her a crooked smile. “Learn to trust outside yourself, Akiva. Joe Calhoun is a good person. He’s no two-heart.”
Again Akiva winced. She’d never realized her C.O. knew so much about her people until now. Two-hearts were people who lied, cheated, manipulated or deceived others for their own selfish ends.
“I’ll try to hold that thought,” she said, half joking as she moved to the door and opened it. Outside, women were moving quietly up and down the hall of the second floor of H.Q., where the offices were located.
“It’s not going to be easy.”
Akiva lifted her head and stood proudly in the doorway, as much of her old spirit and strength infused her once again. “Nothing in my life has ever been easy. Why should this be any different?”
Grinning like a jaguar, Maya said, “That’s the spirit. That’s what I want to hear from you. Get out of here. I need you down in logistics to initiate this mission at 1030 today. Start packing.”
Akiva nodded, waving the orders in her hand. “I won’t let you down, Maya. I promise….”
As she turned and moved down the hallway, Akiva felt her whole reality begin to slowly disintegrate around her. How was she going to make this work? How was she going to stop herself from ripping off Calhoun’s head? How was she going to stop that violent, destructive anger she held toward all men?
Chapter 2
“Major Stevenson, I feel like a fox that’s been given access to the henhouse,” Joe Calhoun admitted, excitement in his deep Southern drawl as he sat in front of her desk. Joe had arrived promptly at 0930, unsure why the commanding officer wanted to see him. Now he knew: he was being offered a plum assignment to Black Jaguar Base Alpha. As executive officer, no less! For a U.S. Army chief warrant officer like him, this was an unheard of gift.
Warrant officers were in that gray area of army ranks—they were no longer enlisted, but weren’t full-fledged officers, either. They played an important role in the army, but were outcasts of a sort, accepted neither above nor below them. No one really appreciated what they did militarily, and yet without them, the army helicopter program would die.
Maya smiled. “You Texas boys have a language all your own, Chief Calhoun. But I’m glad you’re willing to give this black ops a whirl.”
He had a tough time sitting still in the dark green metal chair. “Yes, ma’am, I sure am.” Joe felt like he was in a dream. As a half-breed Comanche who’d grown up in Texas, he’d long been an outcast. Joe had had a hardscrabble life as a child, and been the victim of jeers and taunts throughout twelve years of school, where prejudice followed him mercilessly. He felt the army was giving him a chance to prove he was better than the names he’d been called, and he worked longer and harder than anyone else, trying to prove his self-worth.
All his life he’d been told he was worthless, except by his family, who loved him. That love had given him hope to cling to when things got bad at school. Joe worked hard at never making a mistake, because to make one, in his books, was the worst thing he could imagine. It would prove he was a “dumb redskin” who was too stupid to learn. He never told anyone of his heritage—ever. Now, as he sat there hearing words he’d never thought possible, it seemed as if all his hard work was going to pay off—he was going to be X.O. of a base! That was mind-blowing to Joe. He could barely sit still because of the happiness exploding through him. Finally, someone was going to give him a chance to prove himself!
“Now…can you tell me a little of how the night ops training went between you and Chief Redtail?”
Furrowing his brows, Joe avoided the C.O.’s penetrating gaze. Clearing his throat, he opened his large, square hands. “Ma’am, she caught on the quickest of all the pilots when we trained her on the night scope we wear on our helmet to see in the dark.”
Smiling to herself, Maya continued to hold his candid gaze. Just as she’d thought, Joe Calhoun—who had seemed from the start to be a throwback to a kinder, gentler time when women were put on pedestals and treated like ladies—was showing his warm, amicable nature. Maya had seen Calhoun’s carefully written reports on the women pilots he’d trained. Oh, he’d been specific about weaknesses and strengths in night ops activities, but nary a word had been said about possible personal problems between himself and Akiva Redtail.
“Joe,” Maya said, her voice ringing with authority, “it’s very important for me to get the gist of the chemistry between you and Chief Redtail. After all, she’s going to be your C.O. at this new base. I have more than a passing interest in how you two might get along.” Maya’s mouth twisted wryly. “There’s a great Texas saying I heard from one of my pilots, who was born there—‘you don’t drop your gun to hug a grizzly bear.’”
Maya’s meaning wasn’t lost on Joe. Shifting uncomfortably in the chair, he rubbed his sweaty palms on his jungle-fatigue pants. “Yes, ma’am, I’m familiar with the phrase.”
“Good.” Maya pinned him with her narrowed gaze. “So, does it clarify the relationship between you and Chief Redtail?”
Joe pushed his long, thick fingers through his short black hair, as he did whenever he was nervous. There was a lock that always rebelled and dipped across his brow. Nervously, he pushed it back. “Ma’am, with all due respect, I really admire Chief Redtail. She’s the best combat pilot you’ve got here at Black Jaguar Base, in my opinion.”
Maya heard the respect and admiration in Calhoun’s soft drawl, but she also saw his struggle to remain positive. Maya knew it was important to get all the cards laid out on the table, to have all the possible problems addressed now—not later, when they were in Mexico, fighting like two cats in a dogfight. Joe’s easygoing Texas style made it hard for Maya to think that even Akiva’s acidic temper could rile this good ole boy. Joe had, in her assessment, the patience of Job. He was infinitely tolerant, which would well work for him in this upcoming project, as Akiva was none of those things. Maya hoped Joe could provide the necessary balance to make this operation successful.
“I’m in agreement with you, Chief Calhoun, about Akiva’s skills. She’s the best we’ve got, which is one reason we’re earmarking her for this mission. The other is that in your reports on the pilots, she scored consistently highest on night-scope trials with the Apache. We are in need of two pilots, the best two, because a lot of missions are going to be at night, out over the Gulf. You know as well as I do that flying over a large expanse of water poses potential problems with pilot disorientation. And flying at night, with the scope, is twice as tricky.”
Nodding, Joe saw her expression remain hard. He could feel the C.O. casting around for something, and he knew what it was. Joe just didn’t want to give it to her. He didn’t want to paint Akiva in a bad light. It wasn’t his nature to talk negatively of people; rather, he was always upbeat and positive about their strengths, never shooting them down for what they didn’t do right, or what their weaknesses were.
God knew, he had his own set of problems to work on, and he wouldn’t appreciate someone disemboweling him in public. His father, who was full-blood Comanche, had taught him to speak well of a person, that if he did so, energy would come back tenfold to him as a result. It was easy to eviscerate people, to tear them apart verbally, to shame or humiliate them. Joe had found that out early in his life. And he didn’t ever want what had happened to him at school, to happen to others. The stubborn part of him, which was considerable when tapped, was rising to the surface as Major Stevenson continued to stare at him.
He felt like she was looking inside him and reading his mind. Lips pursed, he waited. What did she want? Why did she want to hear that Akiva Redtail practically hated the ground he walked on? Joe had never figured out why, exactly, Akiva disliked him so openly; he had chalked it up to a clash of personalities. Given his easygoing nature, he let her venomous comments and glares slide off him like water off a duck’s back, and he didn’t take it personally. At least, he tried not to….
“How do you feel toward Chief Redtail?” Maya asked in a low tone.
Brightening, Joe grinned. “She’s an incredible combat pilot, ma’am. I really enjoyed teaching her the upgrade on the night optics. She was a pleasure to work with.” Joe was, in fact, very drawn to Akiva, but she sure didn’t like him, so he kept his desire for her to himself.
“So—” Maya fiddled with the pen in her fingertips and frowned down at it “—you have no problem going on this mission with her?”
“No, ma’am, I don’t.”
“Not one problem, Chief?”
Joe shook his head. “No, ma’am. She’s all guts and glory, as we say in the trade. She’s already bagged a Russian Kamov. And she’s aggressive. That’s what it takes out there—we both know that. I’m looking forward to being her back seat, to tell you the truth. I can learn plenty from her.”
Smiling thinly, Maya raised her head and stopped thumping the pen against the desk. Joe’s expression was so damned easy to read. The guy hid nothing in that square face of his. His gray eyes were wide and earnest. “I don’t think it’s telling any stories out of school, Chief, that Akiva rides roughshod on some people.” Mainly white, Anglo men, but Maya swallowed those words.
Shrugging, Joe said, “I think most combat pilots are perfectionists, ma’am, and they get sour milk real fast when things aren’t right. Their lives depend upon the equipment workin’ constantly and the crew doin’ their job like they’re supposed to do. I don’t fault her on that in the least. Do you?”
Maya smiled to herself, liking Joe’s ability to stress the positive. “I agree with you, Chief.” Still, Akiva would wear him down, and Maya wondered how thick Joe’s hide really was. How long could he handle her acidic responses to him before he reared up on his hind legs and fought back? That was the fly in the ointment on this mission. It all hinged on Joe’s patient, plodding personality, his ability to get along with her, no matter what.
“Ma’am, I feel you’re like a huntin’ dog sniffin’ around for a bone of contention or somethin’ here. Are you worried about me bein’ able to get along with Chief Redtail?”
“I’m not concerned about you getting along with her,” Maya said drolly. “It’s the other way around. Akiva has a lot of knives in her drawer, and she’s real good at pullin’ them out and slicing and dicing, Chief. I just don’t want you to be chopped up by her when she gets in one of those moods, is all. And I think you know what I’m talkin’ about?”
Joe’s mouth curved into a friendly smile. “My daddy always said that makin’ it in life is like busting mustangs, ma’am. You’re gonna get thrown a lot. You gotta expect it. But the key is you get back up, dust yourself off and get right back in the saddle again.”
“Well,” Maya said with a chuckle, “that about says it all when it comes to interfacing with Akiva. She’s got some…weaknesses, Chief Calhoun. And it’s my job to make damn sure you know them going into this black ops, so you’re not surprised at the other end.”
“Okay,” Joe said, stymied. What problems? Akiva had a strong personality, one he admired, but he never considered her penchant for thoroughness and perfectionism to be a problem. It took a strong man or woman to be a combat pilot—that was part of the required package. And he had no problem with strong, confident women. So what was the major hinting at here? Granted, Joe had been at the base only a couple of months and didn’t run into Akiva every day, although he wished, on a personal level, he did. Just getting to look at her tall, proud, powerful figure and those penetrating gold eyes of hers made his heart pound with silent need. But this was a busy place, and the training was grueling and ongoing. Joe had his hands full as an instructor pilot on the night optic upgrade training missions, so rarely saw Akiva.
“We have another sayin’ in Texas, Major—‘Never grumble, it makes you about as welcome as a rattlesnake in camp.’”
“Hmm, I see. Well, you need to know that Chief Redtail isn’t all sweetness and light. She’s going to need your help and I’m going to need you to roll with a lot of punches she’s more than likely to throw your way. Don’t take them personally, Chief Calhoun. If the heat in the kitchen gets to be a little much, sit her down with your diplomatic, good ole boy style and talk it out. Akiva can be reasoned with.”
“I’ll remember that, ma’am.”
“Good.” Maya looked at her watch. “Let’s get down to logistics. Morgan Trayhern has just arrived with his second-in-command, Mike Houston, and Akiva should be in the planning room with them about now. We need to go over the assignment.”
Leaping to his feet and coming to attention, Joe said, “Yes, ma’am. I’m more than ready for this. Thank you for the opportunity. I never expected this promotion.”
As Maya got to her feet and grabbed the clipboard and pen from her desk, she gave the aviator a dark look. “Keep your positive attitude, Chief. You’re gonna need it where you’re goin’. And I feel you’ve more than earned this position.”
Akiva sat on one side of the planning room and leaned back in the chair, her legs crossed. In the center of the room an overhead projector sat on a table, flashing the first diagram on the white wall in front of them. Two men—both civilians, although she knew they’d both been in the military at one time—stood talking in low tones to one another next to the projector. They’d introduced themselves to her earlier. Akiva had seen them on other occasions at the base, but had never been formally introduced until now. Though she’d arrived right on time for the planned meeting, now that she was here she found her heart beating in panic. Could she really command this mission? More than anything, Akiva didn’t want to disappoint Maya. That one fear gave her the resolve to try and make the mission work.
Hearing the door open, Akiva turned to see who had come in. She saw Maya move briskly into the room, clipboard in her left hand. As Chief Warrant Officer Joe Calhoun followed, Akiva’s brows knitted and her pulse accelerated. Akiva wanted to hate him. He was a white man. And right now, Calhoun represented all Anglo men to her. Working her mouth, she found a bitter taste in it. Reaching for a paper cup that sat next to her folding chair, Akiva took a quick gulp of the tepid water. When she looked up, she saw Joe Calhoun standing right in front of her, his large, square hand extended.
Akiva choked on the water that was halfway down her gullet. Coming up and out of the chair, she coughed deeply, her hand pressed against her throat. Damn! Moving away from him, she finished coughing and turned. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she met his smiling gray eyes. His hand was still extended toward her.
“I just wanted to congratulate you, Chief Redtail.” Joe saw her gold eyes narrow with fury. Her cheeks were red with embarrassment. He saw her gaze drop to his hand and then snap back up to his eyes.
“Thanks,” Akiva mumbled. She ignored his hand and sat back down, crossing her arms belligerently. She wished mightily that Calhoun would go sit down in one of the chairs on the other side of the room. She didn’t want to be anywhere near him.
Joe tempered his disappointment as Akiva refused to shake his hand. Okay, that was fine. He introduced himself to Morgan and Mike, who gripped his hand warmly with obvious welcome. Searching around, he saw a chair nearby and reached for it. As he sat down, he noticed Morgan Trayhern, Mike Houston and Major Stevenson studying them. Feeling heat crawl up his neck and into his face, he saw the quizzical look on the two men’s faces, the worry banked in Major Stevenson’s eyes. Everyone had seen Akiva snub him. Embarrassed, Joe felt as if he’d done something wrong, but there was nothing he could do to rectify it.
“Okay,” Maya said crisply, “let’s get this mission planning on the road. Chiefs Redtail and Calhoun, I think you already know Mr. Trayhern and Mr. Houston? Good. Morgan, do you want to start this briefing?”
Morgan Trayhern shrugged out of his dark green nylon jacket and placed it on the back of one of the chairs. Dressed in a pair of jeans, hiking boots and a dark blue polo shirt, he turned and opened up a briefing file. “Mike? You want to give Chiefs Redtail and Calhoun the dope, here?” He handed two sets of information packets to him to give to the warrant officers.
Houston, who was dressed similarly, nodded. He quickly handed out the twenty-page packets on the planned mission. Joe nodded and thanked him. Akiva’s belligerent look faded and she actually softened the line of her mouth as he handed the papers to her.
Morgan stood at the projector. On the wall was a map of southern Mexico. “We were able to use satellite infrared to locate this little airport facility. It’s hidden deep in the jungle and is completely surrounded by old-growth trees.” Flashing his laser penlight, Morgan circled what appeared to be a small pinprick in the map. “This is the exit-entrance point. Many years ago druggies cleared this thousand-foot-long dirt runway for light, fixed-wing aircraft, as well as helicopters. They were using the aircraft to haul cocaine shipments.”
Akiva sat up. “You said helicopters? What kind?”
Joe glanced at her. She was now in combat mode, tense and alert, her huge gold eyes narrowed on the map in front of them. Despite her prickliness, Joe couldn’t help but admire Akiva. She was six feet tall, big boned, and her womanly body was firmly muscled beneath her tight-fitting black uniform. Joe would never admit it to anyone, because it would be considered sexist by the U.S. Army today, but by damn, she was a good-lookin’ woman, with curves in all the right places. She was easy on the eyes, as his fellow Texans would say.
Joe’s problem was that he wanted to stare like a slobbering fool at Akiva. She commanded everyone’s attention whenever she strode into a room. He liked the fact she wore the bright red scarf of her Apache heritage around her head. Her high, sharp cheekbones and large, slightly tilted eyes gave her the look of a lone wolf on the hunt. That excited him. And yet she’d rebuffed his friendly overtures at every turn. Joe figured she didn’t like him at all. Though disappointed, he still absorbed her intense beauty and dynamic energy as she sat up in the chair and pointed to the map.
Mike Houston, who stood next to Morgan, responded to her question. “All civilian types, Chief Redtail. No armed military rotorcraft that we can find.”
“Good,” Akiva muttered defiantly, “because if we’re moving in, we need to know what’s out there and around us.”
“The closest town, San Cristobel,” Morgan said, pointing to the north of their base of operations, “is here. It’s a village of about a thousand people, all farmers. The jungle begins just outside their little community. Your base is fifty miles away, so there’s no chance that they’ll discover you. Few farmers penetrate the jungle, so it’s your fortress of protection.”
Houston grinned slightly and looked at Akiva and Joe. “I wouldn’t bet that people in the village don’t know this airport is here, however. So you need to keep on your guard in case someone wanders in someday while hunting for medicinal herbs or whatever.”
Akiva nodded and, picking up the clipboard she’d leaned against her chair, she began to make notations on the mission. She respected Mike Houston. He was part Quechua Indian. And from what she had seen of him, his blood was decidedly more Indian than Anglo, which made her trust him more than she would most white men. Though Morgan Trayhern was Anglo through and through, Akiva gave him grudging respect as well. The man owned a black ops company known as Perseus, and he’d done a lot of good for people in trouble around the world. He was one of the few white men she’d seen who was truly good-hearted.
Most Anglos were bastards, in her experience. Sending Joe Calhoun a glance as she lifted her head, Akiva found her heart pounding briefly. Why did she feel so out of sorts around him? she wondered as she watched him write down information on a notepad he held in his large hands. His profile was strong, and for some reason reminded her of the White Mountains on the Apache reservation in Arizona where she’d grown up. The res was a craggy, windswept piece of land, baked by the brutal heat of the sun in summer and freezing cold in winter. Joe’s face was craggy, too, with high cheekbones, a chiseled, full mouth, and strong chin.
He was six feet tall, like her, and medium boned, with more of a swimmer’s body than a weight lifter’s. Most Apache helo pilots were lean and mean looking. Joe was lean and tightly muscled, but he had a kind-looking face, not the face of an aggressor. He didn’t fit the normal mold of a warrior, and that stymied Akiva. And yet the army had promoted him to instructor pilot, so he must have the goods or he wouldn’t have made the grade to the Apache program. The old maxim of her grandmother—never judge a book by its cover—must apply to Joe, Akiva thought.
She remembered the warmth she had seen in his gray eyes when she’d met him that first day of training in the Boeing Apache Longbow helicopter. Normally, combat pilots had predatory eyes, reminding Akiva of an eagle in search of its next quarry.