Down Range
“Go to page four, Captain. This entails the guts of the op.”
Morgan’s gaze went to page four. There were two names chosen for the op. One was her, which sent a giddy emotion of joy through her. When her eyes dropped to the second name, her heart plunged with disbelief. Gulping, she snapped a look up across the desk at Houston. Struggling to speak, she rasped, “But—sir, I’m assigned to this op with Lieutenant Jake Ramsey?” For a moment, she felt as if someone had hit her with an armor-piercing round to her Kevlar vest, sucking the breath out of her.
“That’s right,” Mike Houston said. “General Stevenson and I want this to be a SEAL mission. You’ve worked well with them in the past. We needed a SEAL sniper who could be sniper leader on the op.”
Morgan swallowed her disappointment. “Yes, sir,” she barely mouthed. There would be no way in hell she could voice protest over Ramsey being assigned. On top of that, he had been designated as lead sniper. In the sniping business, they were both equally qualified, but one sniper would be the leader, the final decision maker. And it would be him! Dammit! The ramifications of the assignment whirled like a nightmare around her. Obviously, these generals did not know their long personal history. Maybe that was a blessing in disguise. Morgan was sure she’d never have been assigned to the op if General Houston realized what she and Jake had once been to each other.
Lifting her head, she said, “Sir? What led you to choose Lieutenant Ramsey?”
Mike sat back in his leather chair and said, “His name was spit out by the computer, Captain. Any problems with that?”
“None, sir,” she lied, her voice husky as she carefully closeted her roiling feelings. That was why she’d met Jake in the parking lot.
“General Stevenson is interviewing First Lieutenant Ramsey as we speak. If she feels he’s the right man for the job, we’ll be setting up the briefing tomorrow at 0900 here in this office. We’ll all go over the details of this op at that time.” He picked up a voucher and handed it to her. “You’ll both be staying at this hotel located near the Pentagon. I know you just came out of Afghanistan, flying for almost twenty-four hours to make this meeting, Captain. Get a hot meal under your belt tonight and get a good night’s sleep. I need you a hundred percent tomorrow morning. Understand?”
Quickly coming to her feet at attention, Morgan said, “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
Morgan forced herself to turn and walk to the door. Emotions clashed within her. She felt a little dizzy. As she left the office, she was grateful not to see Jake Ramsey. She kept walking toward the front doors, trying to deal with this new development. Closing her eyes for a moment, she dragged in an uneven breath, forcing all those feelings down into her once more. It didn’t work.
Morgan fought the deep jet lag. She’d only been able to grab some sleep aboard the C-5 that had flown her from Bagram air base in Afghanistan to Rota, Spain, and then on to Andrews Air Force Base just outside Washington, D.C.
Pushing herself, Morgan left the Pentagon, glad to be out in the warm May sunlight once more. The breeze reminded her she was home, if but for a little while, not in the harsh desert mountains of Afghanistan with a hunter-killer SEAL team. Aiming herself at the rented SUV, Morgan looked at the voucher. She was so damned tired, she was weaving. Houston was right: she needed a hot shower and then bed. If she woke up sometime this evening, she’d get dinner to fortify herself. Because the turnaround on this op was immediate. The schedule had them leaving within twenty-four hours, headed back into Afghanistan.
As she opened the door to the SUV, Morgan wanted to check in to the hotel and make a call to her parents in Gunnison, Colorado. And even more, she wanted to talk to her two-year-old daughter, Emma. Just thinking about her family buoyed Morgan. She tried to force her thoughts away from Jake Ramsey. What did he think of the sniper pairing on this op? He had to be feeling like an IED had exploded beneath him. Morgan knew, without any doubt, the last woman Jake would ever want on a mission with him would be her. Correction, he’d never want any woman on a mission with him, believing they were incapable of operating in combat.
All hell was about to break loose….
Chapter Two
Jake Ramsey wondered what kind of bad karma was hanging over his head. When he opened door number one, he came face-to-face with an Army woman General. He snapped to attention in front of her desk and reported as ordered.
“At ease,” General Maya Stevenson said, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk. “Have a seat, Lieutenant Ramsey. We have a lot to cover in a short amount of time.”
Sitting, Jake got his first good look at the female General. His mind spun in shock, but somewhere, in his memory, he had heard this woman’s name. Where? And he almost blurted, what is a woman doing mission planning on a black ops? But didn’t. Judging from the serious look on her face, he’d keep his mouth shut. Her hair was black with some silver strands and barely brushed the shoulders of her green uniform. It was the burning intelligence in her large emerald eyes that warned him she wasn’t some weak woman like his mother. Far from it; so he sat there on edge, trying to appear interested but not anxious.
“Lieutenant, you were chosen for Operation Peregrine by our computers.” She leaned forward, handing him the mission brief. “We need two snipers to go after Sangar Khogani, a Hill tribe leader who is an opium warlord.” She rested her hands on the file. “We have chosen a sniper team to go after him and remove his presence from the fight.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Are you interested in this type of op, Lieutenant?”
“Absolutely, ma’am.” Jake felt himself sweat. This woman General had the kind of look that could cut an officer into so many ribbons. Why would she ask such a question?
“Open the file to page four, Lieutenant.”
Jake opened it. His mouth dropped as he read who his assigned sniper partner would be: Captain Morgan Boland. He snapped his mouth shut, feeling shock bolt through him. “Ma’am,” he said, struggling, looking at her, “this can’t be right.”
“What isn’t right, Lieutenant?”
“This…this is a woman, ma’am.”
The General’s long, arched brows turned downward. Her once-relaxed facial features turned glacial. He knew he’d said the wrong thing but didn’t care. There was no way he was going on a black op with a woman! Not even Morgan Boland. Especially not her. Adrenaline began to leak into his bloodstream. What kind of sick joke was this?
“You got a problem with that, Lieutenant?”
Wincing internally, Jake heard the frost in her husky voice, her eyes narrowed speculatively upon him. Okay, so he saw the choice: argue that a woman had no place being a sniper on a dangerous black op and ask for a man to be assigned with him instead. As Jake sat there in those seconds, he suddenly remembered Maya Stevenson. Scuttlebutt had circulated among the SEALs that a female Army General had formed an all-woman combat unit. The women had been divided among the black-ops community. The all-volunteer force had been trained in Ranger or Special Forces schools. They had then been assigned to a black-ops team to become a working part of it in combat. And he remembered hearing the plan was working very well. Dammit.
Mouth dry, Jake tried to temper his answer. “Ma’am, with all due respect, I honestly don’t feel a woman could handle this kind of op. Just perusing some of the challenges on this mission, it’s in the Hindu Kush mountains. We could be at twelve thousand feet on rocks and scree. I’ve been up in those mountains many times, and I know how brutal the elements and challenges are for a sniper.”
“Which is why you were chosen for this mission, Lieutenant. You bring experience to the table. But so does Captain Boland.”
There was a hard edge in her voice, and Jake felt trapped. She wasn’t even going to discuss a woman being assigned to the op. It was a done deal to her, normal SOP, standard operating procedure. He held her unblinking gaze. “Yes, ma’am.”
“There’s a but in your voice, Lieutenant.” She gave him a cutting look. “This meeting between you and me is to simply iron out any major problems before we meet at 0900 back here tomorrow morning to go over the details of this op.”
Swallowing hard, Jake felt her power. He could see she was holding back her emotions. “Again, with all due respect, General, I will not allow a woman on an op like this.”
It was the wrong thing to say. Jake felt as if a bomb went off in the small, cramped room. It wasn’t physical, but invisible, as if he got slapped with angry energy. The General straightened, her face going hard. He tried to prepare himself against the anger he saw.
“We’re not asking for your ‘allowance,’ Lieutenant Ramsey. I don’t know what rock you’ve been hiding under, but women are in combat. And they’ve been in combat from day one of the Iraq War. They’re in combat in Afghanistan. For the last ten years. Where have you been?”
“SEALs have no female operatives in their ranks,” he shot back. This op assignment terrified Jake. He couldn’t take Morgan as a sniper partner. No way in hell.
The General gave him a patient look. “Again, Lieutenant, for your edification, women have gone on SEAL ops. I suggest you study Captain Boland’s training and background. That should change your prejudicial mind.”
“Ma’am, it’s not prejudice. I’m concerned for a woman’s well-being.” Jake’s mouth thinned. He felt the beginnings of real threat to him by taking the op. He and Morgan had a challenging relationship. He was positive Stevenson knew nothing of their personal history. Otherwise, they would never have thrown them together in this op.
“Regardless of her gender, Lieutenant, you should be concerned for your partner. Sniping is an art as much as experience to remain hidden so you can take out your target.”
His palms grew damp, his heart pounding with adrenaline as it flooded his body. “I take care of my men, ma’am. They are my priority.”
“Taking care of your personnel is expected of every officer. Well, this time, it’s a woman, Lieutenant. And I can tell by the way you’re looking at me that you think you just landed on Mars. Get over it. This is the twenty-first century, and there is a group of women out there who have been in combat for the last three years in Operation Shadow Warriors, Lieutenant. A very dark, deep SOCOM-produced experiment to see if women could handle combat beside their male counterparts.” She leaned forward, her voice a rasp. “They’ve been proving it, Lieutenant. There are other SEAL teams that Captain Boland has been working with for the past three years. Successfully, I might add.”
Mind spinning, Jake sat back, stunned. SEAL units were small and a tight-knit family. “I’ve been a SEAL for seven years,” he challenged strongly, “and I’ve never heard anything about a woman assigned to a platoon for combat purposes.” If there had been a woman assigned to certain SEAL units, word would have gotten around, for damned sure. Jake saw the General’s face grow even harder, if that was possible. Sweat dribbled down the sides of his ribs. He felt under fire, in a combat situation.
“We’ve looked at your record. You’ve had women assigned to your team on several patrols, Lieutenant. They were there as a linguist, an 18 Delta medic and a forensics and FBI specialist. Were these not direct action missions?”
Jake felt trapped. He did remember women being assigned. But that was different. “That wasn’t as a principal shooter, ma’am.”
“The missions these women were assigned to illustrate each woman was shot at and all successfully returned fire, Lieutenant. The selection of ‘principal’ members is beyond your pay grade. Are you telling me that you are refusing this op?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Good to hear. I want your word, Lieutenant, that you will not treat Captain Boland in a prejudicial manner. She’s equally qualified as you.”
Stunned, Jake jerked a look down at the open file on his lap. He hadn’t had time to read anything about Morgan’s sniper background. He didn’t even know she had one. He knew she’d gotten a major in civil engineering and a minor in linguistics back at Annapolis in Pashto, but that was all. Working his mouth, sweat forming on his upper lip, he muttered, “I’ll do my best, ma’am.”
“That’s not good enough, Lieutenant. And you damn well know it.”
Stevenson’s growling voice stunned him into silence. Jake sat stiffly, holding her glare. She was a General. He was a lowly Lieutenant. Refusing this op would end his career. “Yes, ma’am. I won’t have a problem with Captain Boland being my sniper partner.”
“You sure?” She drilled him with an intent look.
Jake felt as if she had X-ray vision, staring holes through him. His career was far more important to him than arguing women were weak to this Army General. The SEALs were his family; the men, his brothers. Maybe not by birth, but they’d spilled blood among one another on too many occasions. Mouth pursed, he gave her a crisp nod. “It won’t be a problem, ma’am. I’ll make it work.”
Her nostrils flared as she sat up. “By God, you’d better, Lieutenant Ramsey. Or I’ll have your career. This op is not about you. It’s got a lot of other ramifications you aren’t even aware of. And if other SEAL platoons can work well with Captain Boland, so can you. Dismissed.”
Morgan had just given the waiter her menu choices when Jake Ramsey, in civilian clothes, entered the restaurant. It was 2200, or ten at night. She groaned. She’d hoped not to meet him until 0900 tomorrow morning.
As Morgan sat at the table for two in the corner of the busy hotel restaurant, she couldn’t stop her heart from expanding with old, warm feelings. Jake was dressed in a light blue short-sleeve shirt, tan chinos and loafers. Even twenty feet away, she could tell he was a SEAL. He carried himself with a well-earned confidence, his shoulders back, his gaze always roving slowly around an area, checking it out. His black hair gleamed, indicating he’d probably just taken a shower. There was no question, he was a damned good-looking man. He was in control, powerful and intense.
Morgan’s mouth quirked as his gaze moved her way. And then his eyes locked on hers. Surprise flared in his gray eyes for a split second, and then that hard, unreadable SEAL game face dropped into place.
She smiled to herself as she picked up the delicate china coffee cup in both hands and took a sip. Now what was he going to do? Pretend he didn’t see her and get the maître d’ to seat him on the other side of the room so he wouldn’t have to talk to her? Or would he bite the bullet and invite himself to her table? Morgan wished Jake would disappear to the other side of the room. But when the maître d’ approached, he pointed toward her table.
Friggin’ great. She was barely awake, her lack of sleep so deep she was barely functioning mentally. Never mind emotionally. She forced herself to try to be more alert.
“Mind if I join you?” Jake asked.
Morgan said, “Sit down.”
The maître d’ left the menu with him after he’d taken a chair and sat down. Morgan stared across the table at Jake. Hell, if they didn’t share such an awful history between them, she’d find herself drawn to the SEAL officer. His square face had been recently shaved, and that dangerous feeling that was always around him appealed powerfully to her.
“You look tired,” Jake observed, trying to find some safe ground. Though he did notice, too, how beautiful Morgan was. She had on a pale lilac pantsuit and cream-colored tee with a dark purple scarf around her shoulders. Jake had forgotten just how she could take his breath away. Her hair lay like a gleaming red cloak about her proud shoulders. Morgan never wore makeup, but she never had to. Her green eyes were large and well spaced with thick red lashes to frame them. But he saw shadows beneath those eyes, and whether he wanted to or not, he became concerned for her.
“I just got hauled off an op in the Hindu Kush to make this meeting,” she said. “Don’t worry. I’m up for our mission.”
His nerves nettled as he forced himself to look down at the menu. Jake still wanted her, dammit. His heart did, too, because a ribbon of happiness soared through him. He scowled, focused on the menu. “I was making conversation,” he told her, lifting his chin and meeting her flat stare.
Morgan had the most arresting eyes he’d ever encountered. Jake could feel himself being lured into their depths, the forest-green mixed with glimmers of willow-green color. He remembered hotly that as they made love, there would be gold highlights dappled throughout them. Shifting uncomfortably, Jake felt himself responding to her, much as he wanted to remain aloof.
“You just came off an op? Where?”
“Same area where we met December, two years ago.” It had changed Morgan’s life in ways Jake would never find out about. In one way, it broke her heart and she felt guilty. In another, there was an unbridgeable chasm between them.
Ouch. Damn. Jake scowled, decided on something simple and straightforward to eat. The waiter came over and took his order for a hamburger and fries. He folded his hands, sensing how tense she was. Morgan’s gaze was wary. And that delicious mouth he’d tasted and kissed was pursed. “Did you hitch a C-5 out of Bagram?”
“Yes.” Morgan tried not to be swayed by Jake, but dammit, the toughest thing to do was ignore his blatant maleness. He was a man’s man, a SEAL, and they had male charisma to burn. The expression in his gray eyes was neutral. She saw him struggling to try to find some purchase with her that wasn’t argumentative or threatening. Truth be known, she was too tired to pick a fight with him. “I’m whipped,” she admitted, sliding her long fingers around the china cup.
“Flights halfway around the world will do that to you,” Jake agreed, keeping the edge out of his tone. “In fact, you don’t look quite awake.”
Snorting, Morgan sipped her coffee. “Understatement. I feel beat-up. As soon as I left my meeting with General Houston, I came over here and crashed and burned.” She looked at the watch on her wrist. “I’ve slept since 1000 and it’s 2200.”
“You need another twenty-four hours of downtime to get your body and mind back on the same page,” Jake agreed. In fact, because Morgan was exhausted, her normal defenses weren’t in place. And for that, he breathed a sigh of relief. Anything he’d ever heard about red-haired women applied to Morgan ten times over. She was a risk taker, hotheaded and no-nonsense. Her feistiness had always drawn him. Even now.
The waiter brought over Morgan’s meal, a hamburger and a large plate of French fries. She thanked him, and he left. She saw him eyeing her food. Good God, why did the man have to have such a sensual mouth? Morgan remembered kissing that mouth. He was such a damn good lover, a thoughtful one, despite how they fought outside the bedroom. That was the past. She had to let it go. Seeing Jake stare at the stack of hot French fries, she pushed the plate toward the middle of the table.
“Go on. I know how much you like them.”
“Guilty,” Jake admitted, grinning sheepishly and thanking her. She handed him the bottle of ketchup, knowing that was how he liked his fries. “Been six months since I tasted real French fries.”
She fixed her hamburger, watching Jake through her lashes. “You just get back from Afghanistan and you’re on PRODEV, professional development, with your platoon now?”
“Yes, I was supposed to be on my sixty days of leave.” Jake’s face melted with pleasure as he ate the first few fries. The man was so easy to read when he dropped his SEAL game face. He sat back in the chair, his eyes shuttering closed as he relished and appreciated the food. Some of Morgan’s testiness dissolved.
Morgan understood that the SEALs pined for real American junk food when they were in their six-month rotation into a combat zone. As she bit into the juicy hamburger, she knew six months in combat wore on everyone. SEALs didn’t go into any area that wasn’t life threatening. Since 9/11, sixty SEALs had died in combat. Far too many, but it attested to the sheer dangerousness in their work. They were frontline warriors, black-ops commandos who hunted down the enemy to make this world a safer place for all Americans.
“Gawd,” Ramsey whispered, opening his eyes, “who knew French fries could taste so damned good?” He reached for more.
“The hamburger is to die for, too.”
Jake nodded. “Mine’s coming.” He met and held her green gaze. For once, there was no animosity in Morgan’s stare. He absorbed the peaceful moment between them. God knew, there were never many. He wondered how they were ever going to get along on a sniper op. Would she be able to put her sword away? Could he? But tonight, Jake didn’t want to address those concerns with Morgan. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to bring it up tomorrow morning at the briefing with the two Generals, either.
“Here,” Morgan muttered, cutting her hamburger in half. “Get some good food into your stomach.” She handed half of it to him.
Surprised and pleased, Jake took the proffered hamburger. “Thanks…” Their fingers briefly met. The shock, the pleasure running up his fingers, amazed him. Trying not to be swayed by it, he bit eagerly into the hamburger. Maybe, just maybe, Morgan wasn’t going to be hard to work with after all. It didn’t necessarily mean the war between them was over.
Chapter Three
Morgan girded herself for an intense hour of briefing on Operation Peregrine. Jake Ramsey sat opposite of her at a rectangular maple table in a large room deep in the bowels of the Pentagon. The two Generals arrived precisely at 0900. Both officers snapped to attention when they walked into the room.
“At ease,” Maya Stevenson told them with a wave of her hand. She sat at one end of the table, Mike Houston at the other. Houston placed his leather briefcase on the table and opened it up.
“Here’s the mission,” he told them, distributing a thick red plastic folder to each of them.
Morgan saw an Army Sergeant, a woman with blond hair, enter with a tray that held a large pot of coffee, four white mugs, sugar, cream and a plate of Oreo cookies. She smiled to herself, knowing that General Stevenson was addicted to Oreos. Even at 0900.
After the door closed, leaving the four of them in the soundproof, lead-lined room, Morgan tried to relax. She cast a quick look over at Jake. He was handsome, unreadable, his gray eyes somewhat narrowed. Tension radiated from him, but she didn’t see it in his face.
Morgan wondered if he’d argued against her being on the mission. He considered women weak and incapable. If Jake had, there was no outward sign. Glancing at Maya, whom she knew very well because of Operation Shadow Warriors, Morgan saw the General was focused on thumbing through the briefing. At fifty-four, she was one of the youngest women ever to achieve the rank of General.
“All right,” Maya said, “let’s go to page five.”
Morgan opened the red briefing folder, noting it was top secret.
Houston poured coffee for everyone and passed it around. “The cookies are for General Stevenson,” he intoned, a grin coming to his face. “Off-limits to the rest of us non-Oreo lovers.”
Maya smiled briefly. “Roger that.”
Morgan couldn’t help a small chuckle. Right then, Jake looked up, confused, glancing first at Maya and then over at her for some explanation. None was forthcoming as Mike Houston picked up the plate and set it near the General’s left hand.
Jake shifted uncomfortably, which made her wonder how he’d reacted to knowing she was his sniper partner. Sniper teams could go out in the field as a single operator, or as a twosome, depending on the mission. She couldn’t read into his bloodshot gray eyes. Jake must not have gotten much sleep last night.
Houston looked over at Maya. “General Stevenson, want to tell them why this op has been initiated?”
Maya nodded, folded her hands over the briefing. She pinned both officers with an intense look. “Sangar Khogani is an opium warlord in Afghanistan. He’s chief of the Hill tribe, and they are at war with the Shinwari tribe, next door. We couldn’t care less about this except that the Shinwari are under our government’s protection. We’ve given them millions of dollars in the past few years because they asked for our help. They want infrastructure, schools, medical clinics and help in creating a viable economy for the four-hundred-thousand strong in their tribe.