Shadow Warriors: Breaking Point Part 6

"Can you come in and help me? I can carry the child, but the mother is freaking out. You escort her and I'll carry the child outside the gate and we'll wait for that helo?"

"Roger. Coming in."

Within minutes, they were outside the walled village. In the distance, Bay could see the Black Hawk with the big red cross painted on its nose coming in. No valley was safe for a helicopter to land in. They always had to watch out on landing and taking off, that some Taliban soldier wasn't hidden with an RPG, waiting to fire it into the helo. Bay asked Saima if the Taliban were around. She quickly shook her head, running to almost keep up with Bay as she carried her daughter out beyond the walls.

Gabe moved ahead, eyes down and searching for telltale signs of wires hidden by dirt to hint of an IED. When they were clear of the village and the helo could land, he set about looking for a safe landing area. Gabe tossed out a green smoke flare to show the Black Hawk, coming down the valley, where to land. Within minutes, the helo was down on the gra.s.sy area, the blades turning at nearly takeoff speed in case of attack.

Bay transferred the unconscious child through the opened door and into the arms of one of the two medics on board. She helped Husna on board, who was frightened. The air crew chief, a man in his late thirties, knew enough Pashto to convince the mother to come and sit down near her daughter. He threw Bay a thumbs-up after she told him the situation with the child.

"We'll do what we can, Doc," he called.

Nodding, she and Gabe turned and quickly moved away. The place where they landed was green with gra.s.s. For once, there were no clouds of dust being stirred up by the powerful blades.

"What do you think?" Gabe asked as they watched the Black Hawk rise and go quickly to higher alt.i.tude in the blue sky above them.

Pulling off her gloves and stuffing them into her cammie pocket, Bay said, "I don't know. It's not good. Four days, teta.n.u.s can take hold. It's going to be dicey." She glanced up at him, glad he was near. Pus.h.i.+ng strands of hair off her face, she smiled a little. "Thanks for being there."

Gabe felt a special warmth move through his chest. He managed a lopsided grin. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

Bay looked around. Several groups of SEALs were out walking areas near the slopes of the hills. "How's it going?"

"They're finding paths. We won't know much until later whether they're rat lines or not." He met her alert blue gaze. "Come on, I'm sure Husna will have other folks who need your medical help."

"THIS WAS A GOOD OP," Doug Hampton praised his team once they a.s.sembled off the CH-47 back at Camp Bravo. His men sat on the benches, their rucks nearby. "Go get cleaned up, get some chow and I'll see you at 0800 tomorrow. Doc? Gabe? Stick around."

When the SEALs had trooped out, Hampton walked over to the bench where they remained sitting. "Good work out there today, Doc," he told her.

"Thanks, Chief." She frowned. "Husna dumped a bunch of information on me. They are aware of three rat line routes the Taliban have started creating around their village. Faisal hates the Taliban. Because he's a s.h.i.+nwari tribesman, his word is his honor. When the s.h.i.+nwari asked for U.S. help in building infrastructure along the villages on the border, he would back the leaders of his people."

"Did Husna tell you the location of those paths?" Hampton asked.

Rubbing her face, exhausted, Bay said, "Yes." She pulled out her notebook and opened it. "She told me about them just before the Chinook landed. I need to give you this intel."

"You do," Hampton said. He grinned a little. "Nice work. You want to get cleaned up, eat and then meet me back over here in about two hours?"

The sun was setting and Bay nodded. "I can do that."

Hampton nodded. "Gabe? I want you present."

"Got it," he murmured.

"Okay, get out of here. I'll see you two in a bit."

"NICE WORK," GABE congratulated as they sat in the chow hall, eating. He'd chosen a table at the rear. The noise was high as hundreds of men and women were coming in for their evening meal. "You really know your medical stuff."

A warmth went through Bay. She liked having Gabe's company. Spooning in some potatoes and gravy, she savored the hot food. She hadn't eaten all day, just keeping hydrated with water and attending to over forty people in a very intense and short amount of time. "I love what I do, Gabe."

"You put what I know about combat medicine to shame. I'm like a fumbling kid with Band-Aids and you're like a skilled surgeon."

She chuckled. "You SEALs rock when it comes to field medicine, and I know it. You're all trained up to a basic EMT level, so you don't fool me." She knew SEALs were also trained to insert IVs into another man's arm to get fluids into him if necessary and that one technique could save a life.

"I was really impressed with you out there today," Gabe admitted, sc.r.a.ping up the leftover gravy on his tray with a piece of bread. "The people fell in love with you." He met her shadowed eyes. "You've got a great bedside manner, Bay."

He seemed frustrated with himself, probably because he'd called her by her first name. A burst of pleasure soared through Bay at how intimate Gabe sounded. But she couldn't even begin to pursue this. They had to stay professional. She pushed the empty tray away from her and picked up her coffee mug. The truth was, Gabe appealed to her. His quiet intensity drew her. It didn't hurt that she thought he was ruggedly handsome, even with a beard. There was warmth in his eyes as she met his gaze. Something happened in that charged split second. Maybe it was the slight smile tipping the corners of his sensual mouth. Or the feeling that pa.s.sed between them, no words needed.

Her fingers tightened around the mug a little as she absorbed his narrowing green gaze upon her. Bay could feel him wanting her, man to woman. The discovery shook her. For so long since Jack's death, she lived in a no-man's land of numbness. Sipping the coffee, Bay suddenly felt alive again. Normal. And with normal wants and desires a woman had. Her s.e.x drive had been nil. Until now. Until Gabe unexpectedly entered her life. Her heart pounded briefly beneath the intense, heated look Gabe gave her. It was unsettling in an exciting way, her body responding whether she wanted it to or not.

Her gaze fell to his hands wrapped around his coffee mug. She wanted to tell Gabe he had the most beautiful hands she'd ever seen on a man. There were many small nicks and scars, new and old ones. They were burned dark by the sun and time spent outdoors in the rugged Afghan climate. What would it be like to have him touch her with those long, spare fingers? She felt her b.r.e.a.s.t.s tighten in answer, felt her nipples harden. Even more powerful, Bay's lower body came to life, like coals beginning to glow with fire within her.

How long had it been since she felt like a s.e.xual being? Gabe was bringing her to life whether he knew it or not. Bay closed her eyes for a moment, trying get a hold of herself. Maybe she was overtired, stressed by the patrol.

When she opened her eyes, Gabe was watching her. His intense look didn't frighten her. Just the opposite. Bay responded to that look and felt her heart opening up for the first time since Jack's death. Oh, G.o.d, what was going on with her?

"Let's mosey on over to the office," Gabe growled, getting up.

He seemed desperate to do something to break that sizzling connection that had suddenly leaped to life between them. Bad timing, wrong place to be attracted to someone. If anyone sensed what was going on, Gabe would never live it down with his team. He appeared eager to create a distance, and she did nothing to stand in his way.

"GOOD INTEL," HAMPTON praised, standing over the table with the map of the valley before them. Bay had used a red marker on the plastic placed over the map and drawn in where Husna had told her the Taliban rat lines were located. They'd spent a lot of time going over everything that Husna had imparted to Bay in minute detail.

"Can we get some sleep?" Gabe asked. He saw the darkness beneath Bay's eyes. She'd worked hard and she'd been smart enough to make detailed notes, even while taking care of forty people today, men, women and children.

"Yeah," Hampton said, running his hand through his hair. "This is good stuff, Doc. You did well."

Straightening, Bay moved her shoulders to get rid of the acc.u.mulated tension in them. "Thanks, Chief."

"We'll meet at 0800 tomorrow. I'm going to talk with the LT about setting up some night ops on those trails to check them out. We don't have drone capability, so we do it by sniper scope sight."

"You're going to have to go back and get GPS on them," Gabe warned.

"Yeah. We'll send out Bravo Squad tomorrow to verify locations on these rat lines for us. Then I'm sure the LT will coordinate with the other teams and some serious night ops with snipers will happen."

"Sounds like a plan I want to take part in," Gabe said.

Bay settled the helmet on her head, the NVGs on top. They'd be walking in total darkness through Camp Bravo to reach their tents. There were never any lights that could attract the Taliban's attention. Gabe put on his own helmet.

Bay was the first out the door, pulling the NVGs down over her eyes. In the distance, they heard Apache helicopters spooling up to take off, their thumping rotors a clear signature of their identification. Somewhere out there, there was a black ops team in trouble and needing their firepower. This base was operating at breakneck speed 24/7 because it was only thirty miles from the Pakistan border and in the thick of the fight to stop traffic across the Khyber Pa.s.s into Afghanistan.

"You're looking whipped," Gabe murmured, walking at her shoulder. The streets were quiet, most personnel already asleep in their tents.

"I am," Bay admitted. Everything looked green and grainy through her NVGs. The big problem on rutted areas like this, she had no depth of perception through them, so she walked slowly, making sure her boots were stable beneath her. "How about you?"

"The same," Gabe said in a low voice. The chill was below freezing now and he saw white wisps leaving her mouth as she spoke quietly with him. There was something emotionally satisfying to simply being near Bay. Several curls peeked out from beneath her helmet and he smiled. It completely softened the military look.

"Do you think the chief was really happy with the intel I was able to provide?" There was worry in her husky tone.

"h.e.l.l yes. Those people in that village looked at you like you were an angel of mercy." He grinned unevenly as they made a left turn and went down another street. "They had nothing but respect in their eyes for you. And I've been here long enough to be able tell you they trust you. There's just something about you that opens them up. They know you really care."

This trait opened him up, too. Though he tried to suppress his reaction to her, he couldn't. Gabe had seen the positive effect Bay had on people all day long, and he was equally caught beneath her soft-spoken spell, too. Her hands were beautiful and she touched everyone so gently and with genuine care.

Gabe had seen the tender look in her eyes with every patient. He could feel her sending out her energy, her heart, to every Afghan person she treated. And he'd seen the hard faces of the men relax. The children smiled sweetly up at her, calling her Allah's angel. The mothers...well, they could only cry, hug her and profusely thank her for her compa.s.sion.

There was no doubt in Gabe's mind that Bay was going to be this team's secret weapon in the fight against the Taliban and al Qaeda. And like all her patients, he wanted to experience her touch, too. What would her fingers feel like across his chest, tangling in his dark hair? Her lips touching his mouth? He'd fought those images all day long. The ache in his chest built quickly once they arrived back to base where he didn't have to be on alert.

"Good to hear," Bay whispered, relieved. And then she gave a low laugh. "But I'm no angel of mercy. I wish I were. I want to call Bagram Hospital tomorrow morning and see if I can patch through and find out how that little girl is doing."

They halted near Gabe's tent. He shut off his NVGs and pushed them up on his helmet. Bay did the same. Eyes adjusting, he could barely see her as a quarter moon had risen over the peaks of the Hindu Kush. Her hair was mussed but beautiful around her face. Looking deeply into her darkened eyes, he made sure no one was around. The men in the tents around them were sleeping, snoring now and then. Lifting his hand, he cupped her cheek. How badly he wanted to kiss her, but that would be the stupidest thing he'd ever done. Feeling the firm warmth of her skin beneath his calloused fingers, Gabe held her softened gaze. When her lips parted over his unexpected touch, he groaned inwardly.

"Get some sleep, Bay. We're going to rock it out tomorrow. You need every bit of rest you can get. Good night...." Gabe reluctantly pulled his hand away. His roughened fingers tingled hotly and he ached to do so much more. Bay invited something he'd never been aware of before: tenderness. It was a foreign feeling. And wherever it had been hiding, she'd somehow found it and pulled it out of him. He wanted to make slow, tender love with this woman whose eyes shone like the stars above them. Whatever this was, Gabe realized he had no control.

BAY STOOD THERE, shocked by his gesture. As she watched Gabe turn and quietly disappear into the tent next to hers, she released a ragged sigh. Her heartbeat had amped up when she saw that look of attraction come to his eyes once more. When he'd moved within inches of her, reached out and cupped her cheek, she'd felt a bolt of white-hot heat sizzle through her and explode into her lower body. For an instant, she knew he wanted to kiss her.

Turning, Bay went to her tent. Her frayed emotions were beginning to unravel. As she sat down on her cot, taking off her boots and placing them beneath it, she closed her eyes and just sat there. So much had happened in such a concentrated, intense amount of time today.

Lifting her hands, Bay rubbed her face. She was filthy, feeling the grit of dust beneath her fingertips. The SEALs who had made her tent a home had thoughtfully placed a steel bowl, a towel and washcloth with a bar of soap opposite her cot. Someone had also thought about water and had stored a case of bottles next to the cabinet. Bay stood up and poured several of them into the bowl.

As she washed up, feeling the cold cloth against her gritty flesh, her heart and mind returned to Gabe. There was something good and clean shared between them. She wished they had time to explore each other, but combat ruled that out. And she couldn't afford to let her growing personal feelings for Gabe to get in the way of staying alive out here.

She inhaled the scent of jasmine soap deeply into her lungs. It blotted out the constant odor of kerosene aviation fuel polluting the air. Scrubbing her face, neck and arms, Bay felt a little cleaner. A shower tomorrow morning, a clean set of cammies, would make her feel human once again.

No one at an FOB went to sleep undressed. Just as she'd done in Iraq, Bay placed her rifle, Kevlar vest and helmet near the head of her cot. The boots were placed beneath it, within easy reach. She'd sleep in her green T-s.h.i.+rt, trousers and socks. The air was freezing and she snuggled beneath four wool blankets, trying to get warm. The exhaustion of the day stalked her as she closed her eyes.

Gabe... What was she going to do about him? She couldn't deny the worry over her contribution to the team. She didn't want the SEALs thinking she was a useless appendage. And she desperately wanted Chief Hampton to value her contributions, whatever they might be. Snuggling her head into the hard, unyielding pillow, Bay felt herself truly beginning to relax.

As her mind began shutting down, her last thoughts were of Gabe. Would he have kissed her out there? She'd felt his desire, seen it in his face. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.

That was what was different. Bay had lived in an emotionless vacuum since her fiance's death. The shock must have worn off and she must be through the worst of the grief over Jack's loss. She was no angel. Her body was turning traitor on her, no matter what she did to try and stop the longing for Gabe. There was a need to be loved once again being gently suspended in front of her.

Right now Bay was being tempted and teased with the forbidden fruit of Gabe Griffin. She couldn't blame him any more than she could blame herself. A relations.h.i.+p, as she well knew from experience, had no place in combat. Not at all.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

"DO YOU THINK the guys are going to die laughing at my shooting of the SIG?" Bay asked Gabe as they sat on the floor of the planning room, oiling and cleaning their Win Mags. All day, Bay had been either dialing in and shooting the sniper rifle on the course or learning to shoot on the run with the SIG. The SEALs referred to this training as "rattle battle." It was late afternoon and Gabe moved her inside from the intense heat and temperature, to clean her rifle.

"When you start gunning and running, your job is to place every shot," he told her. Gabe had spread a tarp out for them to sit on and disa.s.semble their Win Mags. He'd gotten a few of the other SEALs to volunteer to help train Bay on the SIG pistol. They'd set up an obstacle course of sorts. Having been trained during SQT, Seal Qualification Training, a year-and-a-half-long course to become a SEAL after surviving BUD/s, they had to learn to shoot on the run. They had configured a smaller course on the edge of Bravo, but nonetheless it was equally challenging for Bay. Today, Gabe had been able to get a feel for her shooting discipline. And her keen ability to focus and keep it dialed in as a combat soldier.

Bay took some of the local oil used by the Afghans on their rifles and applied it to the parts spread out before her crossed legs. Snipers used local oil because if the Taliban walked by their place of concealment, they wouldn't smell anything out of the ordinary. If they smelled a U.S.made oil, they would instantly knew there was a sniper nearby and start blazing away.

"It was really embarra.s.sing."

Hearing the anxiety in her voice, Gabe raised his head. Soft curls fell around Bay's temples. She was already tanned from the Iraq sun, but sunlight at eight thousand feet on a mountaintop was more intense. Her nose was slightly red. "You should have seen me when we started the rattle battle training," he told her wryly. "I was the one who couldn't hit the broad side of a barn."

Bay's eyebrow raised. "Seriously?" At least she was. .h.i.tting the target as she ran, firing off fifteen shots. She'd drop the empty mag out of the bottom of the pistol as she moved toward the next target, grabbing another full mag out of her H-gear pocket and slapping it up into the b.u.t.t of her pistol. Bay had to run at least a couple of hundred feet between each of the targets the SEALs had set up for her. What was stressful were three of the SEALs were there to judge her shooting skills, off and on during the morning and early afternoon hours. They didn't laugh at her, thank goodness. But their faces were unreadable. He smiled, starting to rea.s.semble his sniper rifle. "Yeah, very seriously. It's one thing to be lying or standing still and hit a target. It's another to be running, out of breath, your chest heaving up and down, trying to draw an accurate bead on a target. Even though you get to stop at each target and fire, your hand is moving up and down in time with your ragged breathing. It makes. .h.i.tting a target ten times tougher." Gabe looked up, seeing the shadows in her blue eyes. His body instantly responded to her and he savagely tamped it down.

Last night, he'd lain awake for a long time trying to figure out why the h.e.l.l he'd reached out and cupped Bay's cheek. It was a stupid, hormone-driven mistake. s.e.x and desire had no place out on the battlefield. And it wasn't that Bay was teasing or flirting with him. She wasn't. That made it tougher to ignore her as a woman. As a SEAL, he was taught control. Well, now he had to apply it to Bay.

"Do you think the guys are laughing at my attempts out there today?"

"No, because you were as good as they were, or better, on their first day of rattle battle. Stop worrying, Bay. You'll integrate into our team over time. You gave a good accounting of yourself out at the village. Other missions are being planned right now because of what you found out through the elder's wife. Feel good about that."

She finished oiling her piece and wiped her hands on a rag near her boot. "I'm a worrywart," she admitted. "I'm too compet.i.tive, maybe." Her heart opened as she saw him smile briefly. When Gabe allowed her to see how he really felt, a rush of excitement flowed through Bay. She couldn't explain the feeling and hadn't ever felt this way about any man, not even with Jack. She floundered over how to deal with it. Not that she hadn't liked Gabe's unexpected touch last night. He sensed her need. His sensitivity toward her was startling. Unexpected.

Gabe brought his rifle up, moving a fresh dry cloth across the fibergla.s.s stock, careful to keep the barrel up and not pointed anywhere it could potentially do harm to someone. The weapon had already been cleared and safed, but he never took any chances. You simply did not aim a rifle barrel at anyone except with the intent to shoot him. "You have the makings of a SEAL," he told her. "We're all alpha guys who live to compete. We have the mind-set of always being a winner, not a loser. You need that drive in order to survive what we do."

"That and some serious mental toughness," Bay murmured. Her hands flew surely over the Win Mag as she quickly rea.s.sembled it. It felt good to have this rifle back in her life. She'd grown up with her father's rifle. It was now displayed on a wall at home, no longer used. She moved her fingers lovingly down the barrel, good memories rising to the surface. Her father's rifle had a wooden stock. The military type had fibergla.s.s stock, making it lighter to carry.

Gabe eased to his feet and fitted the rifle into the canvas case and pressed the Velcro closed on it. "Mental toughness is something you either have or don't have. SEAL training brought all of us to that point and helped us recognize what we had. In my cla.s.s of BUD/s, we started out with two hundred and ten guys. h.e.l.l Week sifted a lot of them out. Only thirteen graduated." He set the rifle on the planning table and stood watching her a.s.semble the rifle. Her fingers were long, spare and graceful. There was concentration on her face as she knew which piece fit first, middle or last. And she was fast. As fast as he was. There was no question she was friends with the Win Mag.

Gabe felt his heart pound briefly in his chest. Did Bay know her blue eyes were startlingly beautiful? He remembered his mother, Grace, collected blue delft plates. Bay's eyes were exactly the same color. A man could drown his soul in them, he grimly decided.

"Wow, only thirteen graduated?" Bay said. "Now, that's a training course to kill a horse." She smiled as she stood up. Picking up the new desert-camouflaged sheath that was specially padded for the weapon, she brought it over to the table where he stood. Setting it on the surface, Bay gently slid her rifle into the fabric case and closed the Velcro on it so no dust could enter into it.

"BUD/s never killed anyone. Some guys broke arms and legs, or they picked up a bacterial infection from the polluted San Diego Bay, but no deaths." He watched Bay push tendrils away from her cheek, her grace always evident. Gabe absorbed the moment like a greedy beggar. He stopped himself from wondering a lot more about Bay's touch, those healing hands of hers slowly exploring every inch of his body. Looking down at his watch, he said, "Chow time. We've got a mission briefing in an hour, so let's get over there and get back here in time for it."

Bay picked up the sniper rifle, resting it across her left shoulder. "I want to take my rifle back to my tent first."

Gabe picked up his Win Mag, also settling it on his shoulder. "Rock it out."

AT THE CHOW HALL, they sat opposite each other at the end of a long table. Air Force PJs, parajumpers who were CCTs, communication's experts, were a couple of seats down from where they ate. Gabe pointed out the CTTs often went out with a SEAL team on a direct action mission where they expected combat. These Air Force guys were experts at calling in close air support or B-52s to drop bombs on the enemy. It allowed SEALs to focus on what they did best. Not that they didn't have communications skills-they did-but the CCTs were considered the best the military had to offer.

"I'm finding I'm eating like a horse," Bay confided, shaking her head. Her tray was piled high with meat and carbs, just like Gabe's.

"You were active in Iraq," he said. "Did you eat like that over there?"

"No, but I was equally active."

"You're training, too," Gabe said with a grin, appreciating her confused look.

"I trained with the Army Special Forces, too." She shrugged. "Maybe it's because I'm not at sea level, but at eight thousand feet?"

"Alt.i.tude does extract a lot more energy out of you," he agreed, tasting the spaghetti sauce with his meatball. "Have you lost weight yet?" He couldn't tell one way or another with all the equipment and the loose-fitting cammies she wore.

"I think I have. I know I'm guzzling water like a camel. A lot more here than in Iraq."