His Duty to Protect
Confused, Rachel said, “Women in combat?”
“Yes, with a particular mission. They’re in training with the Marines right now at Camp Pendleton. Come October, they’re going to arrive here, at Bravo Camp. This will be their HQ. Maya will head it up because she knows how to integrate women into all male elements. It’s not flying but Maya will also be working with transport squadrons here, as well as Apache deployment.”
Rachel gasped at the information. “My God, it’s really happening. These women are being trained for combat roles among the Marine squadrons?”
“Yes. There will be one woman per assigned Marine squad out in the country working with villages and elders. There’s a whole new effort to win hearts and minds here. And Maya was arguing this right up to the halls of Congress. She told the senators in a closed-door session that if they used women who spoke the language and worked with the wives of the elders in a given village, that more loyalty, more contact and far more information would be shared.” Emma grinned. “You know how women talk to one another. These women are being trained as paramedics, too. They’ll be able to give vaccinations, treat the children, wives and female elders of the village.”
“What a brilliant idea!” Rachel said, amazed and excited. “Brilliant!”
“Khalid has been friends with Maya and Dane for years, so he got the inside scoop. Don’t breathe a word of this. The fun part is that you will be interfacing with BJS ground troops because you’ll be flying the Marine squads out with these women. Maya felt that having an all-woman BJS squadron here already would help give these ground-troop women the support they need.”
“Is the Marine Corps happy about this?” Rachel wondered.
“For the most part, yes. But you know the Marines—only a man can fight. There’s a lot of resentment among some of them, but Dane is working with the sergeants who command these squadrons. There’s no room for prejudice out on the ground. All you care about is that the person next to you, regardless of whether they are male or female, can shoot and kill.”
“And these women are volunteers?”
“Yes, all five services are represented, even the Coast Guard.”
“And they’re enlisted?”
“Yes. Maya and Dane chose from among all the volunteers. These are women with at least four years in the military. They are the cream of the crop. This idea was put into overdrive almost a year ago. These women had to learn an Afghan language, complete paramedic training and then go to Camp Pendleton in California to become rifle qualified. They’re the whole package.”
“That is incredible,” Rachel whispered. She saw the happiness glowing in Emma’s face. “Leave it to Maya to break down more doors. While the squad leader is dealing with the male elders, the woman soldier can be talking to the elder’s wife. I’ll lay you ten to one she’ll get more info from that wife than the sergeant or lieutenant ever will from the man.”
Nodding, Emma said with a grin, “That’s exactly what Maya is counting on.”
“Wow,” Rachel murmured. “Does Major Klein know about this? She must. She was Maya’s executive officer down in Peru.”
“Oh, she sure does. Dallas is excited about it, too. She’s gung ho on the whole BJS ground program.”
“They’ll be together again like they were in Peru. That’s kismet, because we both know they were a successful team down there in stopping drug cartels from getting cocaine out of Peru. The Pentagon, the Chief of Staff know that when Maya and Dallas were a pair, things got done right.”
“And their past history and record probably enabled this program to go forward.”
“Absolutely,” Emma said. She rubbed her hands together and added, “Kick butt, take names.”
Laughing, Rachel felt some of her depression lift. Emma was always the positive one. No matter what life had thrown at her, she made mud pies out of the mud. She never let something bad, like the loss of sensation in two fingers of her left hand, stop her. The Army might have discharged her for that, but being married to Khalid had brought her right back here. Reaching out, Rachel gripped Emma’s hand for a moment, “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Listen, you need to get square with Hamilton.” Emma released her hand, her voice lowered with concern. “When do you have to see him?”
“Today.” She looked down at her watch on her right wrist. “Matter of fact, at 1400 I have to officially get inducted into his CH-47 squadron.”
“Ugh. Not only is he your CO, he’s your flight instructor.”
“How lucky can a girl get, right?”
Emma shook her head. “Well, we know that life is never fair, but this sucks. Will you be okay, Rachel?”
“I don’t know,” she said, looking around the tent that had been her life with BJS. “I have such anger toward him. It just bubbles up and it surprises even me. I didn’t know how much I hated him until he showed up at the dispensary yesterday. Everything, and I mean everything, came back from my flight school days. I was so surprised at how cold and angry I was.”
“How are you going to deal with it? Because the Army doesn’t much like it when personal stuff gets in the way of your duties.”
“I’ll conduct myself as an officer and work to be neutral toward him.”
“You can’t afford to flunk out on flying the CH-47.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t. I’m keeping my eye on the prize—in six months, I’ll be rotated back to BJS and I’ll strap an Apache on my ass again.” Rachel gave her a twisted grin. “I have my priorities straight, believe me. I might hate him, but I’ll be all business in the cockpit.”
“That’s going to be so hard,” Emma said.
Rachel shrugged. “I’m thirty years old. I’ve been around the block. I guess it’s my time to suck it up, see it for what it is—a test.”
Emma chuckled. “Spoken like a true Trayhern.”
Rachel nodded and smiled. “My parents have emailed me about it. They always have good advice about stuff like this. My dad said to just keep my eye on the future and try the best I can to remain detached about Hamilton.”
Emma giggled. “I know your mom. She’s a take-no-prisoners woman. What did she say?”
“Because she was one of the first women police detectives down at Miami-Dade, she said to not take anything personally. That I needed to be responsible for every action, every word I had to speak to Hamilton. And to keep a daily journal of what happened so that, in case this all goes to hell in a handbag, I have notes to rely on, not my memory.”
Emma laughed fully. “Aunt Kit is a realist. I like her approach. Uncle Noah is always so philosophical about life. And she’s brass tacks all the way.”
“I think I got the best from both of them. I really want my position back with BJS. I’ll go through this hazing with Hamilton and gut it out. But I’ll also be chronicling my time with him. He sideswiped my career once. I won’t let him do it again.”
Emma looked toward the tent flap opening and then lowered her voice. “I had Khalid do a little inquiry into Hamilton’s career since he got kicked out of Fort Rucker. He’s been a good boy according to the records. But what is against him is that he’s been in all-male helo squadrons since then. He’s never had to interface with female pilots again. And Khalid is worried that, by you being ordered over there, this could upset his apple cart. You know that the general told Hamilton that if he ever showed one prejudicial moment against another woman, he was kicking him out of the Army.” Emma straightened and she pointed toward the tent flaps. “Khalid thinks Hamilton won’t try to sabotage you like he did before.”
“I hope you’re right,” Rachel whispered fervently. “Thank Khalid for getting the dirt on Hamilton. I appreciate it.”
“Well,” Emma said, “if the truth be known, Uncle Morgan was already looking into it. You know he has contacts right up to the president. Khalid bumped into him at the Pentagon. When they discovered they were trying to find out more about Hamilton, they joined forces.”
“The Trayherns stick together!” Rachel laughed. “It makes me feel good Uncle Morgan is in there pitching for me.”
“You know he won’t allow anyone to harm us in any way,” Emma said. She lowered her voice. “As a matter of fact, Khalid found out something that just shocked me.”
“What?”
“Your father called Uncle Morgan and told him what was going on with Hamilton trying to get you dropped out of the flight program. What no one can know is that Uncle Morgan had a direct pipeline into the general running the program. And Morgan asked the general to release Hamilton. And he did.”
Rachel sighed. “I was told about it shortly after Hamilton was out of the program. I didn’t realize you didn’t know.”
Emma smiled tightly. “No one messes with the Trayhern children. Uncle Morgan will see to that.” She reached out. “So, just be aware that Uncle Morgan will be watching the reports being sent to the Pentagon by Hamilton. He’ll be monitoring him like a hawk.” Patting her arm, Emma said, “You have a guardian angel at your back, Cousin. You just haul your share of this load and do it right. The moment Hamilton steps out of line, Uncle Morgan is going to quietly insert himself into the equation and make damn sure he’s booted out of the Army for good.”
Pleasure and reassurance thrummed through Rachel. “Thank you for the pep talk. I really appreciate it. It makes going over there less nerve-racking for me.”
“Well, you have to carry yourself with integrity at all times,” Emma warned. “You can’t lower your guard and get angry or throw a temper tantrum around him. You have to be bulletproof, Cousin. Be the officer that you are. You’re a Trayhern and you have honor. If he tries anything, Hamilton will be in a world of hurt. Uncle Morgan needs you to keep your record clean.”
“Got it,” Rachel said. “This is incredible. My dad filled me with stories of the military and all the Trayherns that have served over the last two hundred plus years … but I never realized until this happened how powerful they really are in the military world.”
“Thank Uncle Morgan. He’s the head honcho. And like I said, he’s got the ear of every military general in the U.S.A.” She grinned and stood up. “That plus the president.”
Standing up, she hugged Emma. “Thank you, Cousin.”
Emma leaned down to pick up her helmet bag. “I hope Hamilton realizes by now he can’t screw around with a Trayhern.”
Opening the flap to her tent, Rachel said, “We’re going to find out in a couple of hours.”
Emma slipped through the flaps and lifted her hand. “I’ll be in touch….”
Turning, Rachel allowed the flaps to fall together. The August heat made the tent stuffy. She wiped her brow and sat back down to continue reading the CH-47 flight manual. A lot of her stomach churning had settled with Emma’s good news. She had even more reason to make this unholy alliance work. But would Hamilton plan on making her look bad again? Or had he really learned his lesson?
Chapter 4
Ty Hamilton dragged in a deep breath. The next woman he had to see was the one he didn’t want to ever see again. His clerk had just told him that Captain Rachel Trayhern had arrived. He hit the button on the intercom.
“Tell her to come in,” he ordered.
“Yes, sir.”
Stomach in knots, Ty wondered if she was still pissed off at him for saving her life a week ago. Sitting behind his desk, he saw the door open. Rachel Trayhern looked a lot different today. Her brown hair was caught up in a knot at the nape of her slender neck. Her dark green flight uniform was clean instead of dirty. She wore no makeup, but she didn’t have to, he thought. Willing himself to ignore her natural beauty, he watched her as she turned and shut the door. Then she came and stood at attention in front of his desk, her face unreadable. But her cheeks were red and Ty knew she was upset. Back in flight school, when Rachel was angry, her cheeks were like two red spots on her flawless face.
“Captain Trayhern reporting as ordered,” she said, tight-lipped.
“At ease, Captain,” Ty said. He gestured to a chair that sat near his desk, on her left. “Have a seat. We have a lot to discuss.”
“Yes, sir.” Rachel tried to ferret out how Hamilton really felt about meeting her again. This time, it was on equal footing rank-wise. She wasn’t a newbie to flight school. Heart pounding, she kept a grip on her clipboard and sat down.
Ty flipped through a sheaf of papers and located her personnel record. As he opened it, he glanced in her direction. She sat at attention in the straight-backed chair. His heart squeezed over the hardness in her golden eyes. There wasn’t a trace of an emotion on her oval face. Her lips were compressed. Okay, he deserved that reaction. Five years hadn’t healed the wound. He got it.
“Your record indicates that you took CH-47 flight school training four years ago.”
“Yes, sir, I did.”
Nodding, Ty kept his voice neutral. “And you have forty hours in them?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, it’s obvious you need retraining, and I’ve set up flights with my scheduling sergeant. You will assume copilot duties from now on. We’ll be flying every day.” He held her hard gaze. “I’m the instructor pilot in our squadron. But you probably knew that.”
“I make it a point to know,” Rachel said in a low, tight tone. She searched his face. It would be easy to continue to hate him if he weren’t so drop-dead good-looking. Eye candy for sure, Rachel thought. Tyler Hamilton was the perfect poster boy for an internet ad by the U.S. Army to lure young men who wanted adventure.
“Of course,” he murmured, looking down at her file. He reached to his right, picked up the squadron patch and dropped it on the edge of the desk nearest to her. “You’ll be wearing the Raven Squadron patch from now on. At least for the six months that you’re assigned to us.”
Rachel desperately wanted to keep her BJS patch on the left sleeve of her uniform. But she knew she had to relinquish it. Distastefully, she picked up the other patch. It burned in her fingers. She wanted to angrily throw it on the floor but didn’t. The flicker in his eagle-like gaze revealed how carefully he watched her for any reaction. Did Hamilton still have it in for her? Rachel assumed he did. Every day in the cockpit with this bastard would be like being sent to the dungeon for torture.
“Do you have any questions?” he demanded, feeling as if he were addressing a wooden doll, beautiful but completely detached from him. Ty could have wished for a warmer response.
The other three women from BJS whom he’d also be training, had been open, smiling and enthused to be here to fly. But not Rachel. A sense of defeat flowed through him. He had hoped five years had buried the hatchet between them. Casting around for a topic, he asked, “Have you been cleared by the physician on your smoke inhalation?”
“Yes, sir, I have.” She took a paper from her clipboard and dropped it on his desk. “I’ve been cleared to fly and ordered back to duty.”
“Excellent,” he said. “I’ll speak to my sergeant about putting you on the flight schedule for tomorrow. In the meantime, go out to the Ops desk and get your paperwork filled out. Sergeant Johnson will give you the scoop on what you need as a copilot in our squadron. Welcome.”
He rose and extended his hand to her. Stiffly, Rachel got to her feet but refused to shake his hand. “With all due respect, Captain Hamilton, I have to be here for six months, and that’s it. May I be dismissed?”
The iciness in her tone shocked him. It was war, not peace between them. He withdrew his hand. “Dismissed.”
The door opened and shut. Ty moved from behind his desk. The squadron had arrived just yesterday to replace the other one, which was being rotated home to the United States. He’d been here at Camp Bravo for two weeks with his transport pilots, learning the lay of the land and picking up information from the outgoing pilots. Right now, his squadron was ready to go in one of the most dangerous places in Afghanistan to fly.
Walking around the desk, hands on his hips, Ty smarted from Rachel Trayhern’s demeanor. She’d refused to shake his hand. Why had he expected the white flag between them? She probably thought he was going to try and tarnish her record. Stopping, Ty raised his head, his lips pursed. She was all business. No anger in her eyes. No fear. Just that cold hardness. A real ice queen. But then he remembered back in flight school, at the beginning, how warm and open she’d been. The more he rode her during the instruction flights, the less warm and open Rachel became. He wondered if the warmth had returned in any capacity. Was she like this with everyone? Or just him?
Sighing, Ty knew he had no one but himself to blame. But dammit, he’d paid the ultimate price for his stupidity, too. In the last five years, he’d tried to reestablish his good name. And to a degree, he had. When the colonel made him squadron commander last year, Ty had drawn a sigh of relief. He thought for sure that they’d never give him a command. Now, a year into it, he’d led well. But then, there were no women pilots in his squadron, either. Now, he had four of them for six months. Damn. What a test.
From the very beginning he fought liking Rachel Trayhern. He’d found her amazingly beautiful in flight school. Everyone had responded to her like welcoming sunlight. Back then, he’d been jealous, angry. She not only was poised and confident but carried the vaunted Trayhern name. Hamilton was well aware that the Trayherns had served with honor in all of the military branches for hundreds of years. They truly were a military family dynasty. And he’d been jealous of that, too.
Running his fingers through his short, black hair, Ty circled around his desk and sat down. He had a lot of planning to do with four new pilots suddenly on board. Oh, no question he could use them. His other male pilots wouldn’t have a problem with them. They didn’t carry the belief that women were weak and would always be less than a man, like he had in the past.
Rachel took in a deep breath of air as she left the Ops area of the control tower. In her arms, she had more information about Raven Transport Squadron than she cared to have. The sunlight was welcome, the August morning heating up. There was plenty of activity on the tarmac. The second Apache rolled down the recently patched runway for takeoff. The first was already in the air, heavily loaded with armament. How she wished she could be there and not here!
Sadness moved through her as she walked between the tent cities that were set up on the covert base. Bravo sat on top of an eight-thousand-foot mountain. It was the nearest CIA base to the Afghanistan-Pakistan border, always a juicy target for the Taliban. The two Apaches that had been targeted and burned had been bulldozed off the runway. They sat like mangled, broken birds on the other side, and it hurt Rachel to look at them.
“Get your head screwed on straight, Trayhern,” she muttered to herself as she turned down a dirt avenue to her tent. Pushing the flaps aside, she dropped all the gear, manuals and papers onto her cot.
“Hey,” Emma called, opening one of the flaps, “how did it go?”
Turning, Rachel smiled a hello over to her cousin. “Flying in or out this morning?”
“Out,” Emma said, tucking her flight gloves in the side pocket of her uniform. “How’d it go with Hamilton? You look pale.”
Sitting down after offering Emma her other chair, Rachel said grumpily, “It went. I was so angry at him.”
“And him?”
Shrugging, Rachel muttered, “He did all the right things, Emma. I couldn’t see or detect that he still had it in for me.”
“Did he look happy to see you?” She grinned.
“I don’t know. Honestly, he had a poker face, too.”
“And so did you.”
“Guilty,” she admitted, frowning. “It was just weird. When he tossed the squadron patch on his desk, I had this infantile reaction to grab it, throw it on the floor and stomp on it.” She laughed.
“Hey, you have a right to feel like that.” Emma smiled. “But like the good officer you are, you didn’t allow your personal feelings to make it a messy situation.”
“It was hard,” she admitted, rubbing her hands down the thighs of her flight suit. “I kept trying to ferret out his hate for me. Or his anger. All I saw was officer decorum.”
“Well, that might be good news then.” Emma raised her brows. “Maybe he’s learned his lesson, that female pilots are just as good as male pilots?”
Rachel shrugged. “I’ll find out, won’t I?”
“Oh, I don’t think he’s going to do anything but treat you right, Cousin. After all, he has everything to lose if he doesn’t.”
“I thought of that angle, too,” Rachel said. “I can barely tolerate that he’s going to be my flight instructor—again.” Lifting her eyes to the tent ceiling, she said, “I wonder what I did to deserve this a second time, Emma. Talk about double jeopardy.”
“Take it one day at a time,” Emma counseled. She stood up and patted Rachel on her slumped shoulder. “Do the things we talked about earlier. I’m off to take a load of books, children’s clothes and shoes to a village north of here.”
“Be careful….”
“Oh, always!” Emma leaned over and gave Rachel a quick hug. “See you on the return. I’m due back at sunset. Maybe we can have a cup of coffee over at the chow hall then?”
“I’d like that,” Rachel said. Even though Emma was now a civilian, she had access to the chow hall to eat, just like anyone in the military would. Watching her cousin leave, she felt buoyed by her presence. Emma was always positive. But then, Emma had not encountered a female-hating flight instructor, either.
Rising, she walked over to the cot. The squadron patch showed a black raven in flight. Rachel resisted putting it on and placed it on the table. She’d do it tomorrow morning. Until then, she still wanted to wear her BJS patch, a source of pride and honor to her. There was a lot to do. She had to go to BJS Ops and turn in her helmet gear. The ugly-looking transport helmet would have to be worn instead. It was all so distasteful, like she was being thrown back into hell again….
The morning air was cold at eight thousand feet. Out on the flight line, everyone’s breath created white clouds when they spoke. Bundled in her flight jacket and gloves, Rachel moved slowly around the Chinook helicopter. It was the workhorse of Afghanistan. Carrying men, supplies, ammo, food and aviation fuel, the bird could do it all. She listened to Ty Hamilton as they performed the mandatory walkaround duties. Having studied the manuals, Rachel had already memorized the things she needed to check on the helicopter before ever entering the cockpit.
The sun was still below the horizon, the stars visible high in the dark sky. The crew was busy getting this helo prepped for takeoff. Today, Hamilton was flying boxes of ammunition, MREs, meals ready to eat, to an Army outpost in a valley north of the camp. As he went over their schedule for the day, Rachel tried not to like Hamilton’s low voice. He was thorough and instructive but not arrogant as he had been in flight school. That was good, because Rachel would not tolerate that attitude from him now.
At the open ramp at the end of the helo, a load master, responsible for getting supplies into the huge bay, was busy. The other young, red-haired man was their gunner.
“The only protection we have is our gunner,” Ty told her as they stood near the yawning ramp, which lay against the surface of the tarmac. “Once we’re ready to lift off, he’ll put the machine gun up in the center, there—” and he pointed to a square cut out of the platform surface “—and settle it into it and lock it. Then he’ll be sitting down, legs between it, hands on the weapon. We keep the ramp down while we fly. He’s our eyes and ears back here, and we’ll be relying heavily on anything he sees. We’ll take the ramp up shortly before we do any landing.”
Nodding, Rachel knew there was little evasive protection in the Chinooks. Unlike the Apache, which could instantly know when a SAM missile or a grenade launcher was fired, this workhorse had no such protection. “It falls on the eyes and ears of the crew,” she agreed. Rachel made sure she didn’t have to stand any closer to Hamilton than necessary. They both wore dark green baseball caps on their heads and Nomex fire retardant gloves. It was below freezing and the Nomex warmed their hands.