Dawn of Valor (7 page)

Where was Rachel? Chase lifted his head, becoming more concerned. A good ten minutes had passed, according to his watch. Had a patrol discovered her? Was she captured, refusing to tell them where he was hidden? Ugly and unwanted pictures flashed through Chase’s mind.

His anger was turning into genuine worry. Chase rarely worried about anything. But his Irish lightweight was out there somewhere, causing him a hell of a lot of unnecessary consternation. Suddenly, with a muffled curse, Chase rolled onto his hands and knees and started to crawl toward the glare of sunlight. He wasn’t used to the avalanche of unbridled emotions that came with his decision to try to locate Rachel. The pain in the region of his heart was as real as the pain in his head. He knew why his head hurt, but he was stymied by the ache that was widening every moment in his chest. Whether he liked it or not, Rachel meant something to him. Not knowing whether to be happy or sad about that discovery, Chase forced himself forward.

Chapter Four

“W
here the hell have you been?” Chase exploded.

Rachel froze at the lip of the cave, her hands filled with food for them. Her mouth dropped open and then she snapped it shut, her green eyes blazing as she held the pilot’s furious gaze.

“Where have I been?” She glared at Chase. Her voice grew strident in uncharacteristic fashion. “Who do you think you are, bellowing at me like I’m some child to be punished?” Thrusting her hands forward, she shoved the food under his nose. “These are mussels. I found them in the stream in back of the cave. I don’t know about you, but I’m starved and I intend to eat these slimy things!”

Chase watched her move by him and sit down on the grass pallet. His anger cooled by degrees as he made his way back to join her.

“It’s almost eleven hundred,” he grouched, sitting cross-legged, opposite her. “When I woke up, you were gone. How the hell did I know you were out foraging for food? For all I knew, the enemy had captured you.”

“You’re the one who overslept. What did you want me to do? Wake you up and tell you where I was going?” Rachel tried to stop the hurt and accusation from leaking through her voice, but she couldn’t help it. Like a child finding treasure, she had happened upon the mussels in the stream. Finding enough food for both of them had made her confidence soar. When Chase bellowed like a wounded bull, demanding to know where she had been, it had spoiled her joy. Did it ever occur to the thick-headed pilot that she didn’t have pencil and paper to leave him a note?

Chase stared down at the black and gray mussels, digesting her righteous anger. “Look, I’m a bear today. My head hurts and I’m hungry.” That was as close to an apology as she was going to get from him.

Rachel flicked a glance up at him. “People aren’t usually at their best when they’re injured, Captain.”

“Call me Chase,” he ordered tightly, trying to defuse the anger that hung between them.

Rachel shoved six mussels toward him. “I don’t feel very friendly toward someone who can only yell at me. You’re not my father. We’re both adults in a bad situation, so let’s start acting like it.”

He glared at her. “I was worried, okay?”

“Worried?” Rachel grabbed the first mussel, using a thin stick to try to force open the shells. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

“I like you and I was concerned.”

Startled, Rachel jerked a look up at Chase. It was true. She could see the concern, not anger, in his blue eyes. Heat rushed into her cheeks, and she quickly dipped her head, pretending to work at opening the mussel. “Oh…”

He wanted to throttle her. “You’re touchier than that plane I fly.”

“Flew,” she corrected, trying to pry the shells open.

“All right, flew.” Chase sat back, shaking his head slightly. “Has anyone ever told you you’re stubborn, bullheaded, and a know-it-all?”

Rachel eyed him. “Many times. Usually, men who are defensive about my ability to think and speak for myself,
Captain
.”

Irritation rippled through Chase. Still, he admired Rachel’s skill at being able to find them food. How many people would have overlooked the stream, not thinking of edible creatures other than fish? He picked up a mussel and, using a penknife he always carried in his pocket, opened it.

“Where’d you learn to hunt for mussels?” he demanded sourly, revealing the mussel’s fleshy interior. Chase handed the opened shell to Rachel, taking the one she was having no success with.

Rachel stared. He had a knife! Reluctantly she took the proffered mussel. “My dad taught me how to survive in the woods if I ever got lost.” She eyed the meat, thinking how slimy it looked. Her stomach growled. Could she eat it?

“Where?”

“Maine.”

“No wonder you’re so bullheaded and independent.”

Rachel grinned, noting that the surliness in Chase’s voice had disappeared. She watched as he expertly opened the rest of the shells in quick succession. “Back where I come from, I’m seen as self-sufficient, not any of the unflattering adjectives you’ve labeled me with.”

“Are you always this feisty?” Chase looked up, snared by the amusement in her eyes. There was a crooked smile on her full, firm lips…lips he wanted to taste, subdue and pleasure.

“Are you always down on women?”

“Touché.” Chase folded the penknife and slid it back into his pocket. “I happen to like women very much.” And then he smiled boyishly for the first time. “After all, I’m single, relatively good-looking and they seem to like me, too.”

Rachel gave him a flat look. “Typical arrogant fly-boy. Your ego’s as big as that inflated head of yours.”

Chase popped the first of the mussels into his mouth, relishing the meat. “Lady, you have to have a healthy ego to fly a prop plane up against a jet-powered North Korean MiG.”

He had a point, Rachel realized, still eyeing the mussels unenthusiastically. She really did have to eat them if she was going to have any energy to walk and help Chase.

“Go on, eat,” Chase encouraged, popping a second and then a third one into his mouth. “They’re good.”

Wrinkling her nose, Rachel muttered, “I hate clams and such.” She shivered. “They’re so slimy!”

Grinning, Chase said, “I don’t believe it. Lieutenant Rachel McKenzie has a weak spot in her armor after all. I’ll be damned.”

“You,” Rachel retaliated heatedly, “don’t know the first thing about me. Just because I don’t like to eat slimy creatures doesn’t make me weak!” Gingerly she picked up the flesh between her fingertips, holding it before her.

Chase took pity on her. He saw the agony in Rachel’s eyes. “I know enough to see you’re going to have a tough time swallowing them.”

With a little sound of defeat, Rachel put the flesh back into the shell. “I can’t eat it. I’m afraid I’ll throw it up.”

“No, you won’t. I thought that at first, too, when I learned to eat them a long time ago. I lived in a lot of places, growing up, because my father was in the military for thirty years. Once, we lived near the ocean. Mom is a Massachusetts native, and she taught us how to hunt for clams on the beach and eat them.”

Grimacing, Rachel muttered, “I’m glad for you.”

“Maine has lots of beachfront property, too.”

“I lived inland.”

There was something vulnerable about Rachel at that moment. Chase reached out, placing his hand on her slumped shoulder. “When was the last time you ate?”

She shrugged, stabilizing beneath his firm touch. “I don’t know. The ROKs and Aussies retreated around dawn yesterday. We’d been up through the night ferrying our patients to the helicopters, getting them out of there before the enemy overran our unit.”

Chase saw her tuck her lower lip between her teeth. “It’s a wonder you’re still able to walk,” he said quietly. “You’ve been without food for over twenty-four hours, then.”

“I guess,” Rachel admitted wearily. “To tell you the truth, our concern was getting the patients to safety. None of us wanted them to fall into enemy hands.”

There was a quiet kind of courage about her, Chase realized, seeing Rachel in a new and interesting light. “And I’ll bet you worked harder than anyone.” His fingers tightened perceptibly on her shoulder. So much bravery in such a small powder keg of a woman.

Lifting her head, Rachel stared over at Chase. “I was the head surgery nurse. It was my responsibility to make sure everything was taken care of.”

“And you never stopped to eat.”

“No…stupid, huh?”

He managed a thin smile, trying to cover his pain. “Commendable in my eyes.” Squeezing her shoulder, he reluctantly pulled his hand away. If he kept it there any longer, Chase knew he’d be unable to resist stroking the clean line of her jaw, trailing his fingers down the length of her lovely neck in an exploratory gesture.

Rallying beneath his sudden, unexpected tenderness, Rachel tried to smile. “Commendable or not, I’ve got to eat these things.”

“Put them in that stream back there for about ten minutes. The water’s cold. It will firm them up.”

Taking the mussels to the stream, Rachel found a spot to place them in the water, then sat waiting. In the shadows, Chase’s face was strong and hard looking. Meeting his gaze, however, Rachel felt the warmth reach out from him and gently hold her captive. She wrapped her arms around her drawn-up legs.

“I haven’t even asked how you feel,” Rachel offered softly.

“Better and worse,” Chase admitted, pointing to his head. “I don’t feel as dizzy, but I feel grouchier.” He gave her an apologetic look. “You already know that, though.”

Rachel smiled acceptance of the unspoken apology. “It’s understandable. You’ve got a four-inch gash that needs to be sewn shut. Your skull isn’t broken, but you really scrambled your brain when you hit the tail of your plane.”

“I’ve got good news and bad news for you, then,” Chase answered with a careless grin. He dug into another pocket of his flight suit. “The good news is, I’ve got a needle and thread.” He produced a small first aid kit. “There’s a pair of scissors in there, too. The bad news is, I know what you’re going to do with them.”

Delighted with the discovery of the medical items, Rachel crawled back to where he sat, opening the case. “I didn’t know you guys carried things like this.” Indeed, the kit contained antiseptic, bandages and various other first aid articles.

“Don’t sound so happy. I don’t really want anyone to touch my head.”

Rachel smiled, holding his unhappy gaze. “Your head will hurt less when I get done patching you up, Capt—Chase.”

Rallying beneath her attempt to be friendly, he shrugged his broad shoulders. “While your mussels are chilling to the perfect eating temperature, why don’t you sew up my thick skull, doc?”

Rachel didn’t need another invitation. Chase sat stoically, lips compressed, eyes narrowed, not uttering a word of protest as she cleaned the wound and sewed it shut. She had lost count of how many times she had sewn up the minor wounds of men. To ease their discomfort, Rachel always chatted with them in soothing tones. It was no different with Chase.

“You said your father was in the service?”

Chase closed his eyes. Although Rachel was delicate, it was still painful. “Yeah. I come from a hundred-and-eighty-year family tradition of military service. He was a general in the Army when he retired. My two brothers and I went into various branches of the service. Boyd’s in the Marine Corps, Steve’s in the navy and I’m in the air force.”

Laughing huskily, Rachel said, “Are you the oldest?”

“How’d you guess?”

“Because you’re bossy and a know-it-all.”

Chase grinned sardonically. He was delighted with her lightning-quick retorts. “Then you must be firstborn, too.”

“I was an only child.”

“That explains it.”

“What?”

“Taking over,” he explained. If the sewing hadn’t been so damned uncomfortable, Chase would have enjoyed Rachel’s closeness. Her body was fractions of an inch from his shoulder and arm. The musky scent of her made him dizzy in a new and enjoyable way. It would be so easy to curve his arm around her, drawing her against him.

“Taking over is fully acceptable if a man does it—he’s called a leader. But if a woman tries to lead, she’s called bossy and told she doesn’t know her place.” Rachel leaned over, catching the agony in his stormy eyes. So far, Chase hadn’t uttered a groan. “Or, am I putting words in your mouth?”

He grimaced, holding her smiling gaze.
Saucy wench. You’ve got the upper hand right now, but that will change. And when it does, I’ll be the one who’s smiling.
“I guess it’s all right if a woman leads. Once in a while.”

Chuckling, Rachel completed the job, dressing the wound and wrapping a clean bandage around his head. “If I hadn’t led us, we’d be captured right now. Don’t you think you ought to reevaluate women and their abilities?”

“Maybe,” Chase grumped. He shot her a dark look. “You’re still going the wrong direction, you know.”

“My father taught me directions when I was seven years old. You’re still disoriented and in shock from your wound, Chase. In another day or two, you’ll see that we are going the right direction—south.” Rachel delighted in their parrying with each other. She couldn’t even be defensive about his last comment. Somehow Chase made her feel giddy and happy as no other man had. Gently knotting the bandage, Rachel dropped her hands to her thighs, sitting next to Chase.

Carefully touching his newly bandaged head, he muttered, “I feel better. In fact, almost normal.”

“You aren’t, not yet.” Rachel gave him a pleading look. “Just trust me, Chase, will you? I know which way is south.” She opened her hands to him. “Am I not worth trusting? Who got you out of that parachute and to safety? Who found us food?”

Grudgingly Chase realized Rachel was right, but he couldn’t admit it. “Speaking of food, why don’t you eat those critters. We need to get going. We’re still not very far from where that convoy was strafed.”

Curling her lip, Rachel nodded. She made her way back to the icy stream. With great reluctance, she picked the first mussel out of the water. To her delight, the flesh was much firmer and far less slimy.

“They taste a little like chicken,” Chase encouraged. “Just close your eyes, pop it in your mouth and chew it. Think of a big fat roasting hen while you eat. Maybe that will help.”