Mission: Christmas. Lindsay McKennaЧитать онлайн книгу.
by flying daily reconnoitering ops to locate them. We also had the use of satellite intel. We’d be in the air before dawn, because most of the druggies flew C-206s that lacked the radar needed to avoid hitting mountains. They flew daylight hours only. During my years of service, our unit was responsible for stopping over a million pounds of cocaine from leaving Peru. We worked with the Peruvian government, the CIA and other intel organizations to accomplish our goals.”
Mike gulped. When Major Klein lifted her head and met his stare, he saw her full lips pull into a slight smile. It was the glitter in her eyes that made him realize she was no stranger to the game of drug running. “I didn’t know.”
“Of course not. We were black ops. We still are. I just transferred out of there to move on to this assignment.”
His new X.O. could have poured salt into his wounds, and she didn’t. But he could never trust her. She was a woman, dammit. And after his divorce, he didn’t want anything to do with women.
Yet Major Dallas Klein was going to be his boss. What the hell was he going to do?
Chapter 2
The September dawn was cool in the Sonoran desert. Girding herself, Dallas carried her flight bag across the tarmac of the airstrip, an M16 rifle across her shoulder. Parked just ahead of her was the tan-and-white Cessna 206 Stationair she would fly. This was her first day on the job, and she knew Murdoch would test her.
The sky to the east was pink, and she enjoyed the desert scenery, which reminded her of Israel. Dallas lamented that her month-long visit to Tel Aviv had gone by so quickly. She missed her parents already.
This latest assignment would be temporary. There was a new black ops forming for the Black Jaguar Squadron. Right now, it was in the planning stages at the Pentagon. Dallas had been alerted that she was up for consideration as the C.O. of the as-yet-unveiled project. Because the all-woman BJS had been so successful in Peru, the boys at the Pentagon had finally seen the light. They wanted to take the BJS model to other parts of the world, only with men added to the mix.
Still, it was going to be overseen and run by a woman—her—and that made Dallas feel good. At least the military was getting over its hissy fit about women pilots performing in combat. They could and did, as well as any man. In the meantime, Dallas wanted to stay active out in the field, until the important new ops assignment came together.
Tightening her grip on the handle of her duffel bag, she greeted the mechanic just opening the doors on the C-206.
“Morning to you, Major Klein,” the man called, lifting his hand in a wave. “I’m Scotty, your mechanic.” He flashed her a toothy smile, doffed his dark green Border Patrol cap and ran a hand through his thick, gray-streaked brown hair.
Smiling, Dallas walked over and shook his hand. “Thanks for the welcome, Scotty.” The mandatory Kevlar bulletproof vests were sitting in the cockpit, she noted. She placed her duffel bag next to her vest on the copilot’s seat. “Can you tell me where Agent Murdoch might be?” She glanced at her watch. “Take off is in ten minutes.”
Chuckling, Scotty finished cleaning the cockpit Plexiglas and said, “Hey, the Wild Bunch parties hard and plays hard, Major.” He raised his bushy brows. “I’m way past that kind of scene myself, but those rascals…Before Randy Grant got killed—he was Agent Murdoch’s partner—those four dudes would take off for the nightclubs in Nogales as soon as they hit the tarmac and finished their reports. You would see them staggering back here the next morning, smelling of alcohol…”
His smile waned and his brown eyes grew serious as he walked back around the single-propeller Cessna to where she stood. “I’m a teetotaler now, and don’t go for any of that, but the Wild Bunch does.” Shrugging, he added, “They get the job done, despite everything.”
“They come out here for a mission still drunk?” Dallas couldn’t keep the alarm out of her voice.
The lean mechanic gave her a pained look. “This is your first day here, Major. Before you hang ’em, see what they do.” He patted the fuselage of the C-206. “You’ve just signed on to a very dirty, dangerous business.”
The cool breeze brought the sweet scent of broom snakeweed, a huge desert bush covered with tiny yellow flowers. Dallas looked around the quiet facility. A black-eared jackrabbit loped across the small airstrip and disappeared up a hill covered with the blooming plants. “I know it’s dangerous, Scotty.” Frowning, she asked, “How did Agent Murdoch’s partner die?”
“It was pretty bad. Him and Mike tailed two C-206s flying near Los Mochis. They followed one down to what looked like a deserted dirt airstrip. When they went to arrest the pilot, smugglers hiding in a nearby hangar opened fire on them. Randy died in the firefight, but Mike got them all.” Proudly, Scotty added, “Murdoch’s a cando kind of guy, Major. You want him at your back in a crunch ’cause he’s fearless. Not only did he nail the druggies in the Cessna, he captured seven hundred pounds of marijuana, plus killed the three bad guys who were hiding in that hangar.”
“How long ago did this happen?” Dallas began to wonder if Murdoch wasn’t wrestling with grief over his partner’s death. It would be normal to do so.
“A month ago.” Scotty lowered his voice. “Major, he’s had a bad run of luck of late. He just got finished with a nasty divorce. First, Randy dies, and then his ex-wife tore up his life. And now, well, you’re his new partner.” The mechanic eyed her wryly, and added, “You’re a woman. He’s not real keen on females right now, if you know what I mean. Not that any of this is your fault. You’re the innocent walking into it.”
Great. Dallas understood anyone dealing with the death of a loved one had a lot of grief to plow through. Her good friend Kat Wallace, commander of a C-17 that delivered supplies to Lima for the Black Jaguar Squadron, had lost her brother last January. Mack Wallace had been a U.S. Marine serving in Iraq. Kat was not part of the all-female black ops of the BJS, but Dallas had struck up a friendship with the Air Force pilot. She had seen the thirty-year-old, baby-faced woman shut down emotionally after her brother’s death.
Kat had started wearing her brother’s dog tags during the last flights she’d made into Lima, before being reassigned to a unit in eastern Europe. It helped her ease her grief and stay connected to Mack, she’d told Dallas over shots of pisco, a powerful local drink in Peru. Seeing Kat suffer so badly, Dallas had ached for her friend.
As she sifted through those recent memories, she looked up to see a lone figure in a dark green flight suit making his way toward them. It was Mike Murdoch.
Okay, he was grieving, too. That was good to know. Further, with a fresh divorce making him emotionally raw, his hostile demeanor of yesterday could be understandable. He might not be angry at Dallas, but she was female, and therefore, the enemy. Great. Just great. It was hard enough fitting into a new squadron, but this made it doubly tough.
Dallas turned to Scotty, who was finishing up his ground duties around the Cessna. “Thanks for the info,” she called softly. “I appreciate the heads-up.”
He grinned. “You seem like a nice lady, Major. We’re lucky to have someone of your caliber step in and fill the slot as Mike’s partner. That dude needs a good, solid, steady person working with him. That’s what Randy was, you know. He was always the cooler head that prevailed when things heated up, in the air and on the ground. Mike’s the leader of the Wild Bunch for a reason.” The mechanic flashed his uneven, toothy smile once more.
Nodding, Dallas wished she’d gotten this info from her commander. But then, life didn’t work that way. The rank hierarchy often didn’t know the facts of a situation unless someone like Scotty was around to let them in on the real story. “I owe you one,” she called.
The mech gave her a shy smile. “Nah, you don’t, Major. You just come back safe and sound. That’s all I ask.”
“That’s my goal,” she promised him.
The sun was barely peeking above the