Morgan's Mercenaries: Heart of Stone
“Whoa!” Jess yelled. “Another Kamov at nine o’clock, starboard!”
That was two of them. Maya thumbed the radio. “Dallas, I’ll take the one at nine. You take the one at eleven. Over.”
“Roger, you got it. Out.” Dallas’s voice was tight with tension.
Maya banked the screaming Apache to the right. She spotted the sleek Russian machine trying to go after the escaping Blackhawk below it. The U.S. aircraft had scattered in three different directions like birds that had been shot at. The Blackhawk had dropped quickly in altitude and was making for the cloud cover. The only problem was that once the Blackhawk entered the clouds, the pilot would have to go on instrumentation in an area he didn’t know, while being pursued by a Kamov pilot who knew this territory like the back of his hand.
“Damn,” Maya whispered. She sent the Apache into a steep dive. The machine screamed and cranked out, the beating pulsations of the rotors thumping through her tense body. Gripping the controls, Maya grimaced, her lips lifting away from her clenched teeth.
“Put a rocket on ’em, Jess.”
“Roger. I got a fix!”
“Fire when ready.”
They were arcing at a steep, banking dive toward the Kamov, which was closing in on the slower Blackhawk. Maya knew the shot would be wide. She hoped it would be close enough to scare off the Kamov. Or at least make him turn and pick on them instead of an unarmed helicopter.
“Fire!” Jess cried.
There was a flash of light from the starboard wing where the rocket launched. Maya followed the trail of the speeding weapon as it careened toward the Kamov.
“Fire two more!”
“Roger. One sec…firing now!”
Two more rockets left the pod on the right wing of the Apache.
Maya watched as all three streaked toward the Kamov. Satisfaction rose in her as the first one dived in front of its nose. The pilot had seemed so intent on pursuing the Blackhawk that he wasn’t aware of them—until now. The problem with the Kamov was that it was a single seater, and the pilot not only had to fly the damn thing, but work all the instruments, as well. That led to attention overload, and Maya was betting the pilot had been so engaged in downing the Blackhawk that he hadn’t had time to check who else might be around.
The Kamov suddenly banked sharply to the left. The other two rockets flew harmlessly past it.
Good. Maya sucked air between her teeth as she pushed the diving Apache to the left now, to follow the fleeing Kamov. In her headset, she could hear Dallas and her copilot talking excitedly back and forth to one another as they engaged the other Kamov. It sounded like they had everything under control.
“We’re going after this son of a bitch,” Maya muttered to Jess. “Hang on.”
The Kamov pilot knew it. In a split second, the gunship suddenly moved skyward in an awesome display of power and agility. It was trying to do an inside loop over Maya’s Apache so that it would come down behind her “six” or the rear of her machine and put a rocket into her. The Kamov turned a bloodred color as it arced high into the dawn sky, the twin blades a blur as it rose swiftly and then turned over. Maya knew that few helicopter pilots in the world could accomplish an inside loop. But she was one of them. Gripping the controls, she pushed the power on the Apache to the redline. The engines howled. The machine shuddered like a frothing monster, chasing after its quarry. It shot up well above where the Kamov was making its own maneuver. With a deft twist of her hands and feet, Maya brought the Apache into a tight inside loop. All the while she kept her eyes pinned on the Kamov below her.
Within seconds, the Apache was shrieking into a somersault, the pressure pounding against her body. Breathing hard, Maya felt the sweat coursing down the sides of her face beneath her helmet. The Apache was handling well, the gravity rising as she kept the loop tight.
“I’m going to make that bastard’s day,” she said through gritted teeth. Snapping the Apache out of the loop, she ended up behind the Kamov.
“Jess?” It wasn’t truly a question; it was an order. Her copilot knew what to do: arm a missile and fire at the Kamov.
“I’m on it. Firing one, two…”
Eyes gleaming, Maya watched as rockets on either side of the Apache lit up and sped off toward the Kamov, which was now diving for the cloud cover. They were wild shots, but Maya wanted to let the pilot know that she’d pursue him. It was a ruse, of course, because her first duty was to the three unarmed helicopters.
The Kamov dove into the clouds and raced away. The rockets missed their intended target because of the Kamov’s rapid response.
“I think he’s gone,” Jess said, studying the radar.
Maya blew out a breath of air. Looking above her, she rapidly climbed to gain altitude.
“Black Jaguar Two. What’s your status? Over.”
Dallas came on moments later, her voice tight. “Black Jaguar One, we just routed the second Kamov. He’s heading back north. And you? Over.”
“Same here. Let’s catch up with our unarmed children. Over.”
Dallas’s laugh was tense and explosive. “Yeah, roger that, One. Out.”
Turning the Apache back toward base, Maya didn’t for a moment think that the game with the Kamovs was over, but she kept a sharp lookout as they flew homewards. Adrenaline was making her feel shaky now. It was a common reaction after combat. Wiping her face, Maya saw that the bloodred ribbon along the horizon had turned a deep pink color. Now it looked more beautiful than deadly.
“You think our boys peed their pants yet, Captain?”
Maya chuckled over Jess’s comment. “Well, if they haven’t, they probably thought about it.”
“Helluva welcome to the killing fields,” Dallas intoned.
“Yeah, well, it will put them on warning that this is a hot area and they can expect this anytime, day or night.”
“Probably killed York to have to run. You know how aggressive he is in the air,” Dallas said.
Maya laughed fully. “He probably feels like a coward about now. And gee, he had to leave it to four women to protect his behind. That is probably eating at him more than anything.”
Jess giggled. “Can you imagine his horror that he’s still alive and flying and that we didn’t drop the ball?”
“Yeah, what’s he gonna do,” Dallas said, “when he has to stare us in the face and admit we saved his bacon?”
The laughter felt good to Maya. She knew the let-down after a tense combat situation was necessary. Fortunately, they could talk on a private channel between the two Apaches, so that no one else could pick up their banter. She was sure York would have a hemorrhage if he’d heard them just now. No, it was going to be fun to watch the good ole boys from Fort Rucker get a look-see at the Eye of the Needle. It was going to be even more enjoyable to watch them sweat their way through it for the first time. That made any pilot, no matter how experienced, tense up big time.
“Well, ladies, let’s go home and see these guys pucker up.”
The laughter was raucous.
Chapter 4
Dane York was nervous as he stood aside, watching the all-women crews hurriedly move the three new helicopters into the maw of the huge cave. His heart was still pounding in his chest from barely squeaking through that damned entrance they called the Eye. His other pilots and crew members stood off to one side on the rough rock surface of the lip of the cave, out of the way, tense looks on their faces. Only one person had welcomed them, a woman with short red hair who introduced herself as Chief Warrant Officer Lynn Crown before hurriedly running off to direct the crews as to the placement of the new gunships.
As the clouds around the high lava wall thinned, Dane gazed at the Eye. He heard the approaching Apaches on the other side of it. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he settled his garrison cap on his head and waited. As the morning sun burned off some of the thicker clouds he could see the entrance better. Shaking his head, Dane realized just how tight that aperture really was. How many times a day did Maya fly her Apaches in and out of that thing? What a helluva “needle” to try and thread. Dane wondered how anyone, man or woman, could muster enough brain power and concentration after an exhausting mission to slip through it without nicking the blades of their Apache on the unforgiving lava walls. His admiration for Maya’s pilots rose.
Joe and Craig moved to his side. They all watched as another woman, dressed in an olive-green T-shirt and fatigues, trotted out with red-orange flare sticks in her hands and stood at attention opposite the Eye. One of the Apaches was coming through. The crewmember raised her hands above her head to direct the helicopter into a landing spot once it flew through the opening. Dane’s eyes narrowed as he watched. Though he and his men had crawled through, literally, this first Apache came through like the pilot was on a Sunday drive!
“I’ll be go-to-hell,” Joe gasped in amazement. “That’s some purty flying. Will ya look at that? Whoever the pilot is, she just flew through that opening like it wasn’t there!”
“No kidding,” Craig muttered, scowling.
Dane said nothing, his mouth flattening. The first Apache landed opposite where they stood, on the other side of the massive lava lip. Bruising waves of air buffeted them, kicked up by the rotor blast as the gunship landed. The lip was at least four hundred feet wide and about one-quarter of a mile long, from his estimates. The maw of the gigantic cave was simply mindboggling. Inside the shadowy space, crews were running at full tilt as they positioned the three new helicopters in the maintenance area.
The second Apache flew through smoothly in turn, as if the Eye weren’t there, either. It landed so close to the first one that Dane held his breath momentarily. The punctuation of the rotors pounded the entire area; the wall across the cave opening acted like an echo chamber of huge proportions, until his eardrums hurt from the reverberations. Wind kicked up by the rotor blades slammed like a boxer’s gloves against his body. Still, as Dane watched the two crews hurry toward the Apaches that had just landed, he was critical of everything.
He didn’t think Maya Stevenson could run a squadron. However, from the way the crews worked in almost balletlike precision, that prejudice was blown away, too. As the engines were shut down, the high, ear-piercing whine echoing from the wall began to lessen. The rotors began to slow, and finally came to a stop. Instantly, one crew woman ducked beneath the nose of the first Apache and hooked up the device used to pull it inside. He watched as the left-sided canopies were opened to allow the two pilots from each helicopter to exit.
Morning sunlight shot through the Eye in gold streamers that lit up the murky depths of the cave. Dane ignored the surprised murmurs of his I.P.’s, his gaze fastened ruthlessly upon the two flight crews. Maya Stevenson would be there. His heart squeezed a little in anticipation. What was she like now? Even more sure and confident? More mouthy? He scowled. Why did he have to hold such a grudge against her? If the truth be known, and it wasn’t something he liked to think about often, from the first time he’d met Maya he’d been powerfully drawn to her. But once he’d come up against her willful nature, he’d instantly rejected the primal attraction.
The wisps of clouds thinned. He saw fragments of the constantly moving mist weave through the Eye, then dissipate beneath the rays of equatorial sunlight that was growing stronger by the minute. Dane saw the legs of the returning women pilots as they gathered close to one another behind the carriage of the last Apache. They were probably talking over their fight with the Kamovs. That would be typical of any group of pilots, male or female. Impatience thrummed through him. He wanted to see her. As repelled as he was by the assignment, there was something in him that ached to see Maya once again. That surprised Dane more than anything else. How could he miss someone who had been such a thorn in his side? Challenging him? Confronting him daily as she’d done at school?
The crews hurriedly took the two Apaches farther into the cave, where they would be unseen from the air. When they’d slowly rolled by, Dane saw the four women pilots, helmets tucked beneath their arms, standing in a circle, talking animatedly. One of them, to his surprise, was a blond with red streaks through her hair. What kind of base did Maya run that she’d let one of her pilots look like that?
The women were all heights and body builds, but it was easy to pick out Maya, because at six foot tall, she stood above all of them. The body-hugging black flight suits they wore had no insignias on them. They were long-sleeved despite the heat and humidity. He knew the suits were styled that way because in the event of a fire in the cockpit, the Nomex material would protect them against burns. He saw that Maya wore knee-high, polished black boots, while the others had on regulation flight boots that fit snugly up to their ankles. Maya looked every inch an Amazon warrior—formidable in her own right.
The drift of women’s laughter made him tense. And then he saw Maya lift her head and look directly at him. Dane felt a heated prickle at the base of his neck—a warning—as her eyes settled flatly on him. He was the tallest in his own group, so he would be just as easy to spot as she was. Unconsciously, Dane wrapped his arms across his chest as he locked onto her gaze. At this distance, he couldn’t make out her expression. He could feel the coming confrontation, however. And he saw that a number of crew women were casting furtive looks as if to see when, not if, a fight might break out. The tension was thick. Even he could feel it. Joe and Craig moved restlessly, sensing his unease.
Mouth going dry, Dane watched as the women pilots broke from their huddle and walked toward them. Maya strode with her chin up, her black hair flowing across her proud shoulders, the black helmet beneath her left arm. The other three pilots walked slightly behind her, in a caliper formation. They looked like proud, confident, fierce warriors even though they were women. As they passed through the bright shafts of sunlight, now shining strongly though the Eye, he watched the golden radiance embrace them.
For a moment, Dane thought there was even more light around them. He blinked. Was he seeing things? He must be rattled from being chased by the Kamovs and then having to get through that hole in the wall to land here in the cave. Mouth compressing, he watched as Maya closed the distance between them. There was nothing wasted in her movements. She was tall, graceful and balanced. The chicken plate she wore on her tall, strong body hid most of her attributes. Locking into Maya’s assessing emerald green gaze, he rocked internally from the power of her formidable presence.
She was even more stunning than he could recall. In the four years since she’d left the school where he’d been her I.P., she had grown and matured. Her black hair shone with reddish tones as the sunlight embraced her stalwart form. Her skin was a golden color, her cheekbones high, that set of glorious, large green eyes framed with thick, black, arching brows. But it was the slight play of a smile, one corner of her full lips cocked upward, and that slightly dimpled chin and clean jawline, that made him feel momentarily shaky.
The high humidity made her ebony hair curl slightly around her face, neck and shoulders. Still, she could have been a model strutting her elegant beauty down a Paris runway instead of the proficient Apache helicopter pilot she was. The snug-fitting flight suit displayed every inch of her statuesque form. She was big boned and had a lot of firm muscles beneath that material, but there wasn’t an ounce of fat anywhere on her that he could see. She seemed all legs, and slightly short waisted as a result. All Thoroughbred. All woman—a powerful, confident woman such as Dane had never known before now. With the sunlight radiating behind her as she walked toward him, she looked more ethereal than real.
Blinking a couple of times, Dane looked down at the rough black lava cave floor, then snapped his gaze back to her. The corner of her mouth was still cocked. He saw silent laughter in her large green eyes, and he felt his palms becoming sweaty. His heart raced as she closed the gap between them. He felt like they were two consummate warriors, wary and distrustful and circling one another to try and see the chinks in each other’s armor, their Achilles heel, so that one of them might get the upper hand, and be victorious.
Maya felt laughter bubbling up her long, slender throat as she approached York’s group. The expressions on their faces made her exuberant. All but York had an awed look as they stared open-mouthed at her and her pilots. The men didn’t look angry or challenging. No, they looked all right to her. But Dane York was another matter. Her gaze snapped back to him. Her heart thumped hard in her chest. Her hand tightened momentarily around the black helmet she carried.
He looked older. And more mature. In Maya’s eyes, he’d always been a very handsome man, in a rugged sort of way. He had a square face, a stubborn chin that brooked no argument, a long, finely sculpted nose, eyebrows that slashed straight across the forehead, shading his large, intelligent blue eyes. Eyes that used to cut her to ribbons with just one withering look. Well, that was the past. Maya locked fully on to York’s challenging, icy gaze. He stood with his arms across his chest, his feet spread apart like a boxer ready to take a coming blow. His full lips had thinned into a single line. Those dark brown eyebrows were bunched into a disapproving scowl. There was nothing friendly or compromising about York. His hair was cut military short, a couple of strands out of place along his wrinkled brow. The dark olive green flight suit outlined his taut body. At six feet tall, he had the broadest set of shoulders Maya had ever seen. York was a man who could carry a lot of loads before he broke. And that stubborn chin shouted of his inability to change quickly. Flexible he wasn’t.
Maya came to a halt. So did her women pilots, who created one solid, unbroken line in front of the contingent of men. She snapped off a crisp salute to him.
York returned her salute.
“Welcome to Black Jaguar Base, Major York.”
Dane saw the gleam of laughter lurking in Maya’s eyes as she stood toe-to-toe with him. He admired her chutzpah. Maya knew how to get into a man’s space real fast. She knew she was tall and powerful. Confidence radiated from her like the sun that had embraced her seconds earlier.
“Thank you, Captain Stevenson. I can’t say the welcome was what we’d anticipated.” Dane decided to keep things professional between them at all costs. He saw the glint in Maya’s eyes deepen. Her lips curled upward—just a little. Her husky voice was pleasant and unruffled.
“Get used to it. Around here, we’re on alert twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”
He nodded and dropped into an at-ease position, his hands behind his back. “The report didn’t say that.” Maya stood easily, her booted feet slightly apart. The other women pilots were looking his crew over with critical eyes. He felt as if they were all bugs under a microscope.
“The report,” Maya said crisply, “was meant to be brief and to the point. My X.O., Lieutenant Klein, here—” she motioned toward Dallas, who stood at her right shoulder “—did warn you of possible altercations with druggies once you entered our airspace. And it happened, unfortunately.”
Dane held back a retort. “If you’ll get someone to show my men to their quarters and where we can set up our schooling facility, I’d appreciate it, Captain.”
All business. Okay, that was fine with Maya. It was better than York taking verbal potshots at her pilots. Turning to Dallas, she said, “Take them to their quarters. Feed them. And then have Sergeant Paredes take them to our Quonset hut, where we’ve set up shop for them to teach.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Dallas smiled hugely at the cluster of men in green flight suits. “Gentlemen? If you’ll follow me, I’ll give you a quick tour of our base and get you some quarters.”
York didn’t move as his men left with Dallas. He remained rigidly where he stood. Maya frowned.
“Aren’t you going with them?”
“We need to talk, Captain. Somewhere private. Your office, perhaps?”
Smiling suddenly, Maya got it. Okay, York was going to have it out with her in private. Fine. She turned to her other pilots. “Let’s call it a day, ladies. You all have reports to fill out, plus your collateral duty assignments. Wild Woman, see to it that the crews refuel the Apaches and let’s get them on standby. Any problems, see me.”
Jess came to attention. “Yes, ma’am!” And she turned on her heel and hurried into the cave with the other copilot at her side.
Turning her head, Maya looked at Dane, the ice between them obvious. The sunlight was suddenly shut out as a thick cloud slid silently over the Eye. “Well, Major? You ready?” Her voice was a dangerous rasp, a warning that if he thought she was an easy target in private, he was mistaken. She saw York’s eyes widened momentarily and then become slits. Maya felt him harness his anger.
“Ready whenever you are, Captain,” he said coolly.
Turning, she moved into the cave’s murky depths. Within moments, York was at her shoulder, matching her stride, his profile grim and set. Maya could feel the tension within him. As they walked into the maw, the lights overhead illuminated the way, giving the cave a grayish cast with heavy shadows.
“Let me give you a quick idea of our layout, Major,” she said, gesturing to the right. “Over there is our HQ. My office and all other collateral offices are located in that two-story building. Just ahead of us is the maintenance area for the helicopters. As soon as they land, we get them inside. Faro Valentino always has his Kamovs snooping around. Luckily, we’ve got that lava wall between the cave entrance and the jungle out there. Otherwise, I’m sure he’d have come in here a long time ago and tried to use his rockets or missiles on us. The wall prevents that from happening.”
York looked back at the landing area. “It’s a perfect, natural defense position,” he murmured, awe in his tone. “How thick is that rock?”
“Thick enough to stop radar from getting through it.” Maya grinned wickedly as she gestured toward it. “We got lucky with this place. On the other side of this inactive volcano is an old mining operation and a shaft that connects us to it. There’s no way Faro and his pilots can get access to us. Of course, if we were stupid and left our helicopters out on the landing lip, they might drop a bomb or two, but we don’t give them that kind of an opportunity.”
Dane looked around. He felt a little of the tension ease between them. Seeing the sudden pride and excitement in Maya’s eyes as she talked about her squadron facilities was refreshing to him. So far, she hadn’t lobbed any verbal grenades at him. He was waiting, though. There was too much bad blood between them, and he knew she hadn’t forgotten a thing he’d said or done to her back in flight school. The depths of her emerald eyes were very readable. Or maybe she was deliberately letting him see her myriad emotions.
“I’m going to look forward to checking out your facility, Captain. Seeing it on paper doesn’t do it justice. Seeing it in person…well, frankly, it’s overwhelming. Who would ever think you could get a base like this inside a mountain?”
“It took a year for Navy Seabees and a lot of helicopter flights to bring in everything you see here.” Maya stopped at the door to the two-story metal building. She took off her gloves and stuffed them into the right thigh pocket of her flight uniform. A number of electric golf carts whizzed around the buildings, coming and going in ceaseless activity. They were the workhorses of the facility.
“And you were here that first year?” Dane found it hard to believe.
She straightened and placed her long, spare fingers over the doorknob, her movements full of grace, like a cat’s. “Of course.”