Authors: Catherine Mann
Of
course
a
rifle
didn’t
deliver
much
of
a
wallop
against
an
IED.
He
made
his
way
forward.
Slow.
Steady.
Focused.
Almost
there.
A
hand
snaked
out,
grabbing
his
elbow.
Bobby
resisted
the
impulse
to
draw
back
a
fist—thank
God,
since the
hand
was
attached
to
his
crewdog
buddy,
Joe
“Face”
Greco
who
so
wouldn’t
take
well
to
a
fistfight.
“What
are
you
gonna
do,
Postal,
get
off
and
walk?
Sit
down
and
catch
some
sleep.
We’ve
got
a
long
flight ahead
of
us.
Listen,
cheap
ass,
I
seriously
doubt
the
driver
has
any
complimentary
pretzel
packs
and
a
soda cart.”
Postal’s
parsimonious
ways
were
legendary.
Bobby
nodded
toward
the
empty
seats
up
front—let
Face
assume
whatever
he
wanted—and
kept
on walking.
Past
“Vegas,”
a
family
man
with
kids.
Sandman,
Padre
and
Stones,
each
of
those
gunners
was
a
crew
member
with
helmet
bags
and
rifles
of
their own.
His
brothersinarms
who
didn’t
deserve
to
be
blown
to
hell
by
a
terrorist
IED
coated
with
cow
guts.
Nobody
deserved
that.
After
dodging
countless
bullets
on
the
street
as
a
kid
and
even
more
bullets
as
an
adult
in
war
zones,
he figured
he
was
already
living
on
borrowed
time.
Better
to
go
down
in
a
blaze
of
glory
than
let
those
bastards hurt
a
busload
of
innocents.
Like
Gracie,
who,
yeah,
was
always
a
little
too
perfect
to
hang
out
with
a messedup
adrenaline
junky
like
him
anyway.
And
if
he
was
wrong
about
the
IED?
Well,
they
would
just
have
another
reason
to
laugh
and
call
him Nucking
Futz
Postal.
Bobby
stopped
beside
the
driver.
Focus.
Adrenaline
surge.
Act.
He
grabbed
the
wheel
before
the
Army
sergeant
could
do
more
than
look
up.
Bobby
jerked
the
wheel
left.
Hurtled
the
bus
off
the
road
amid
hollering
from
the
back.
The
rear
mirror showed
slinging
bodies
too
busy
righting
themselves
to
overtake
him.
Excellent.
He
slammed
against
the
seat,
clenched
his
hand
around
the
steering
wheel.
The
driver’s
shouts
were
lost
in the…
Boom.
The
explosion
behind
them
rocked
the
earth,
drowned
out
words
but
not
the
hoarse
shouts.
The
rearview mirror
filled
with
the
image
of
flames
splitting
the
road
behind
them,
exactly
where
they
would
have
driven.
Hands
locked,
he
guided
the
wheel,
plowed
the
bus
through
a
pieceofshit
barn
on
the
city
outskirts.
Chickens
squawked
and
scattered.
The
bus
blasted
out
the
other
side
of
the
ramshackle
barn,
into
a
ditch
and
up
onto
the
road
again.
Safely.
Although
new
shock
absorbers
were
definitely
no
longer
optional.
At
least
they
were
safe,
and
Baghdad
International
waited
ahead
in
the
stretch
of
desert.
Heated
nerves
chilled,
settling
in
the
stunned
silence
surrounding
him.
Sweat
sealed
his
flight
suit
to
his body,
but
more
from
the
temp
than
from
any
stress,
because
he’d
always
known
he
would
succeed.
Well,
he’d
been
pretty
sure.
He
nodded
to
the
driver.
“Here
ya
go,
Scooter.
All
yours
again.
But
I’m
thinking
we
need
to
get
the
hell
out of
here
ASAP.”
Bobby
released
the
wheel
and
pivoted
away.
The
swaying
bus
lurched
under
his
feet
before
steadying
again as
the
rows
of
passengers
gawked
and
whispered.
Left
hand
on
a
seat,
right,
left,
he
made
his
way
back
down
the
narrow
aisle.
Joe
Greco
shook
his
head
and
clapped
him
on
the
shoulder.
“Thank
you,
crazyass
bastard.” That
he
was.
Gracie
stared
back
at
him
with
eyes
wide.
Wary.
Confused.
But
mostly
wary.
Yeah,
he
was
definitely
too
close
to
the
edge
for
Dr.
Uptight.
That
pissed
him
off,
which
was
better
than regretting
the
fact
he
would
never
get
naked
with
gorgeous
Gracie.
Without
a
word,
he
plunked
in
his
seat,
slouching.
Boot
bouncing
a
neverending
restless
rhythm,
he
settled in
for
a
few
minutes’
power
nap
before
their
flight
out
of
this
shithole
and
out
of
Dr.
Gracie
Marie
Lanier’s perfect
world.
She
balanced
it
all,
profiler
for
the
cops,
then
racing
to
do
her
duty
when
called
to
her
Army Reservist
psyops
job.
All
that
and
hot
as
all
get
out.
Sheeit.
As
still
as
she
sat,
Gracie
fidgeted,
causing
too
many
damned
tempting
brushes
of
those
lush
breasts
of
hers against
his
arm.
With
a
final
huff,
she
stilled.
“Well,
Bobby,
you
sure
picked
a
hell
of
a
way
to
avoid
our
farewell conversation.”
CHAPTER
ONE
Cantou,
Asia
Nine
months
later
“AVOIDANCE,”Lieutenant
Grace
Marie
Lanier,
Ph.D.,
sighed
to
herself
with
longing.
What
a
wonderfully
passiveaggressive
way
of
dealing
with
the
uncomfortable
moments
undoubtedly
in
her near
future.
Not
a
particularly
professional
thought
for
a
psychologist,
but,
well,
professional
objectivity checked
out
when
it
came
to
Bobby
Ruznick.
And
she
would
be
unable
to
avoid
him
for
a
full
flipping week
in
their
jungle
mission
camp
in
Cantou.
Grace
Marie
directed
the
unloading
of
her
platoon’s
gear
from
the
cargo
plane
for
the
joint
Air
Force/Army Reserves
exercise
in
the
lush
jungle.
A
career
coup
that
she
had
pulled
strings
to
get.
She
wasn’t
here
in Cantou
for
the
job
perk.
Only
one
thing
could
have
lured
her
here.
Rescuing
her
father.
And
she
could
very
well
need
Bobby’s
help,
the
reason
she
had
by
name
requested
his
crew.
Grace
Marie
kept
her
eyes
off
the
steaming
expanse
of
sky
where
his
CV22
aircraft
would
crest
the
horizon any
minute
now.
She’d
arrived
earlier
today
in
a
cargo
plane
with
her
equipment.
Bobby’s
Special
Ops
craft would
bring
the
troops.
Damn
it,
she
needed
to
focus
on
her
father,
not
Bobby.
Yes,
nuclear
scientist
Matthias
Lanier
touted
more brain
power
than
any
Mensa
think
tank,
but
when
it
came
to
common
sense,
the
man
might
as
well
still
be
in kindergarten
on
the
buddy
system
for
field
trips.
A
shadow
stretched
over
her
onto
the
tarmac,
reminding
her
to
get
her
head
out
of
the
clouds
before
genetics kicked
in
and
she
morphed
into
her
absentminded
old
man.
She
pivoted
to
find
one
of
the
cargoplane
pilots rocking
on
his
heels
beside
her…Rodeo,
another
Air
Force
flyboy.
But
this
one
was
her
friend,
a
very treasured
and
dear
pal.
“Hey
there,
Flipper.”
Grace
Marie
cringed
at
the
use
of
her
honorary
call
sign
given
to
her
by
her
Air
Force
buddies.
Thank
God, most
of
them
didn’t
know
the
reason
why
and
she
sure
wasn’t
sharing
the
details
of
that
mortifying
event.
My,
how
they
loved
their
nicknames.
She’d
learned
early
on
the
different
military
services
had
different group
personalities.
Knowing
that
aided
her
in
dealing
with
these
people.
Air
Force
service
members
tended to
be
more
laidback
than
their
Army
compadres,
which
wasn’t
a
problem
for
her.
She
simply
needed
to understand
how
best
to
approach
the
different
mindsets,
something
she
usually
managed
with
ease
thanks
to her
training,
except
when
it
came
to
Bobby
Ruznick.
But
Rodeo—Derek
Washington—was
a
friend,
easy
to
relate
to.
His
Denzellike
good
looks
drew
plenty
of female
attention,
but
for
Grace
Marie,
Rodeo
tamed
any
ladykiller
tendencies
in
honor
of
their
friendship.
She
relaxed
her
Army
stance
for
the
less
rigid
Air
Force
atattention.
“Something
I
can
help
you
with
or
are we
just
catching
up
on
gossip?”
He
gestured
to
the
back
hatch
of
the
cargo
plane,
a
military
van
rolling
down
the
tracks
with
loadmasters controlling.
“Just
passing
time
while
they
unload.
Did
you
bring
any
good
shoot’emup
videos
for
us
to watch
via
your
surveillance
van?”
The
equipment
would
also
provide
infomercialtype
films
for
the
camp
and
area
military
to
teach
ways
to win
over
the
hearts
and
minds
of
an
enemy
in
the
hope
of
avoiding
war.
Or,
at
least
softening
up
some
of
the enemy
to
lessen
casualties.
“Capture
their
minds,
and
their
hearts
and
souls
will
follow.”
She
winked.
“My
unit’s
motto.” Heart.
What
an
interesting
word
choice.
She
knew
she
and
Rodeo
weren’t
interested
in
each
other
that
way.
She’d
gone
out
with
him
a
couple
times
after
breaking
up
with
Bobby,
only
for
Rodeo
and
Grace
Marie
to find
after
a
few
kisses—no
spark.
Definite
friendship
realm.
Most
likely
because
they
were
both
stuck
on other
people.
And
why
did
it
seem
the
monkeys
were
cackling
louder
at
her
thoughts
right
now?
Rumor
had
it
Rodeo’s
call
sign
had
been
earned
because
he
always
shouted
the
wrong
woman’s
name during
sex
and
one
particular
time
got
bucked
off
in
under
eight
seconds
flat,
bare
butt
landing
on
tile.
Grace
Marie
didn’t
have
any
firsthand
naked
experience
with
Derek
on
the
subject.
However,
according
to
a latenight
drunken
conversation
between
them
in
an
Officer’s
Club
bar,
he
confessed
he
always
called
out the
same
woman’s
name.
Since
Grace
still
couldn’t
ditch
thoughts
of
Bobby,
she
and
Derek
made
a
pretty
good
team.
They
offered each
other
a
nostrings
way
to
keep
others
from
hitting
on
them
until
they
could
shake
loose
of
the
past.
Something
she
could
really
use
this
week
with
Bobby
around.
Another
shadow
stretched
overhead.
An
aircraft.
Bobby’s
CV22
had
sneaked
up
without
her
noticing.
Damn,
she
was
offkilter
today.
Derek
seemed
to
sense
that,
sticking
to
her
side
like
glue
as
if
he
understood full
well
how
tough
standing
strong
against
temptation
would
be
this
week.
God
love
him.
Whoosh.
The
cuttingedge
new
aircraft
shadowed
over
her
simultaneously
with
the
noise
like
the
sensation
of someone
strolling
over
her
grave.
The
mammoth
gray
tiltrotor
roared
over
the
towering
banyan
trees,
right on
top
of
them,
in
fact,
skimming
so
close
the
branches
and
leaves
parted,
almost
bowing.
Or
evading.
The
newtotheinventory
craft
differed
from
any
other,
able
to
operate
as
both
an
airplane
and
helicopter.
The
propellers
on
the
wings
could
pivot
forward,
airplane
style,
or
rotate
upward
so
the
craft
could
fly
or hover
like
a
helicopter.
When
moving
forward,
it
could
nearly
double
the
speed
of
its
helicopter counterparts,
inserting
or
rescuing
troops
in
half
the
time
while
maintaining
the
ability
to
land
in
the
smallest of
clearings.
The
craft
was
technically
still
in
the
testing
phase,
Bobby
one
of
the
handpicked
few
to
see
it
through
until
a squadron
could
be
stood
up.
Hopefully
within
about
a
year.
Anotheryear
of
Bobby
flying
insane
maneuvers
to
test
the
craft.
Her
gut
clenched.
Derek’s
hand
stayed steady
on
her
back
in
comfort
in
spite
of
the
ban
on
PDAs—public
displays
of
affection
in
uniform.
Regardless
of
her
fears,
clearly
this
craft
was
well
on
its
way
to
being
a
major
asset
in
the
Air
Force inventory
that
would
save
countless
lives.
She
could
envision
spouses
who
would
have
their
military husbands
or
wives
return
home
through
the
door
after
combat
because
of
the
risks
Bobby
had
been
willing to
take
to
test
his
craft
to
the
max.
An
awesome
test
pilot.
And
really
unsettling
dating
material.
Some
kind
of
funky
cawing
parrot
joined
the
mocking
monkeys.
The
CV22
had
to
be
at
full
speed
as
it
skimmed
the
treetops.
Then
in
a
blink,
it
pulled
up,
losing
airspeed
as it
climbed.
God,
would
it
stall?
It
had
to.
There
wasn’t
a
doubt
in
her
mind
who
was
flying
right
now,
because
conservative
Joe
“Face”
Greco
would never
pull
a
stunt
like
that.
The
craft
seemed
suspended
in
midair,
in
midtime.
Even
the
birds
and
monkeys
quieted.
The
wings transitioned
from
flight
to
hover
as
the
nose
swung
around,
pointing
down
and
dropping
toward
the
tarmac, swooshing
like
something
from
a
warmovie
festival
Bobby
took
her
to
on
one
of
their
dates—probably because
of
the
free
admission.
Right
now,
however,
no
one
could
look
away.
Impossibly
close
to
the
ground
the
nose
came
up
and
the
aircraft
settled
down
just
as
soft
as
you
please.
From
the
second
she
saw
the
airplane
until
it
was
parked
and
spooling
down
could
not
have
been
more
than thirty
seconds.
The
maneuver
would
counter
threats
around
the
airfield,
but
who
had
thecajones
to
handle
an aircraft
like
that?
God,
when
she
was
around
Bobby,
turmoil
roiled.
She’d
been
right
to
break
things
off
with
him.
Although at
the
time,
she’d
been
half
hoping
he
would
argue
with
her.
Then
he’d
saved
them
all
from
the
exploding cow,
a
brave
and
fearless
act.
She’d
been
totally
wowed.
Who
wouldn’t
be?
Except
she’d
noticed
his
pulse
as
he
sat
beside
her,
drifting off
to
sleep.
For
a
full
five
minutes
she’d
watched
the
throb
in
his
neck,
slow,
steady,
when
hers
had
been about
to
explode
out
her
ears
in
hyperspeed.
Any
need
to
call
back
her
Dear
John
words
had
evaporated,
as
she
thought
of
life
with
her
mentally
ill father.
Bringing
her
thoughts
back
to
the
here
and
now,
she
readied
to
see
Bobby
again,
CV22
acrobatics apparently
through
for
the
moment.
Grace
Marie
compacted
her
focus
like
a
snowball
in
her
fist,
ironic
since it
was
hot
as
hell
out
here
on
the
runway.
But
she
would
manage
as
she’d
done
since
she
was
four
and
her mama
gave
up
custody
in
the
divorce
in
exchange
for
big
bucks.
That
was
a
tough
thing
to
live
with
sometimes,
that
her
mother
had
sold
her
and
without
a
second
glance
left her
with
a
bipolar
parent.
Still,
all
in
all,
it
had
worked
out
for
the
best.
Grace
Marie
was
used
to
taking
care
of
her
old
man,
who functioned
thanks
to
the
wonders
of
modern
medicine
and
a
lifetime
supply
of
lithium.
His
skyhigh
IQ
brought
him
many
exciting
opportunities,
such
as
participating
in
the
nuclearresearch project
here
at
Cantou
for
the
summer.
But
she
hadn’t
heard
from
him
in
over
six
weeks
and
that
scared
the crap
out
of
her.
What
if
he’d
ditched
his
meds?
What
might
he
do?
He
carried
so
many
U.S.
secrets
in
his head,
what
might
the
people
here
do
to
him?
She
definitely
didn’t
have
time
for
romance
with
anyone,
most
especially
a
guy
one
loose
screw
away
from a
breakdown.
Screw?
Bobby?
Ohhhh…
Tingle.
Paging
Dr.
Freud.
Paging
Dr.
Freud.
Screw?
Yep.
Interesting
word
choice
considering
Bobby’s
animal
attraction
brought
that
notion
to
mind every
time
he
strutted
right
past
her
boundaries.
And
even
when
he
was
nowhere
around.
But
he
would
be.
Soon.
So
she’d
better
shore
up
her
defenses
or
they’d
be
in
a
lip
lock
against
the
nearest wall
again.
And
again.
And
next
time
they
wouldn’t
stop.
“WELL,FUCK
ME
sideways.”
Bobby
pitched
his
checklist
against
the
control
panel,
plane
parked
and
still in
one
piece.
Thank
God.
Of
course,
he
knew
just
how
far
to
push
the
craft.
His
gut
talked
to
him
in
a
way
guys
like
Joe
would
never understand.
In
the
seat
next
to
him,
Joe
“Face”
Greco
scooped
the
checklist
from
the
floorboards
by
rudders.
“Sideways?