leaders in the world. “You were chosen because of your night optic background.”
The words were like an insult being hurled at him, but Joe allowed it to slide off him. “You sit tall in the saddle,” he drawled. When he saw her head snap up, and she gave him a confused look, he grinned a little. “Another Texas saying. I guess now that we’re gonna be workin’ close, you’ll get a gutful of ’em. It means that you’re the right person to be chosen to head up this mission. It’s a compliment.”
Why couldn’t he be just as nasty and snarling as she was toward him? It would make Akiva’s life a helluva lot easier. Anger, prejudice and hatred were things she knew how to battle. His laid-back nature in the face of her prickliness made her panicky inside.
Maya’s advice about Akiva’s need to leave her prejudice behind in order to make the transition to a C.O. droned in her head. Damn, forgetting her past hurts was going to be the hardest thing in the world. As she searched Joe’s friendly gray eyes and dropped her gaze to his full, mobile mouth, Akiva decided he must have led a rich and spoiled existence. No, he hadn’t had life hurled at him like she had. Would he be able to handle this mission as her X.O.?
Wrestling with her anger and anxiety, she choked out, “Thanks…I think…for the compliment.”
“You rode horses growin’ up, didn’t you?” Joe decided that maybe the best tact with Akiva was to get to know her on a more personal level. If he could disarm her prickly nature, it would serve all of them.
“Yes, I did.” She scribbled some words at the top of the paper, trying to ignore his gaze.
“My daddy drives an eighteen-wheeler, a big rig, for a living. When I was a tadpole, he said I needed a horse. I remember he bought me this old fifteen-year-old quarter horse called Poncho. The horse had arthritis bad in the knees, but I was five years old and thought I’d died and gone to hog heaven.”
Akiva’s hand poised over the paper. Whether she liked to admit it or not, she enjoyed Joe’s stories; she had since she’d first begun training with him. Even in the cockpit, while he was teaching the upgrade features of the optic night scope to her, he’d told her stories. They always served to relax her, and even now she could feel the tightness in her neck and shoulders beginning to dissolve at the sound of his soft Southern voice.
“Now, old Poncho, as my daddy called ’em, was an old ropin’ horse of some repute. But for me, well, I was a greenhorn five-year-old who’d never thrown a leg over a horse before. Every self-respectin’ Texan learns how to ride. Texas is a proud state with a long tradition of cowboys and cattle. My daddy was bound and determined to initiate me into Texas ways.” Joe saw interest flicker in Akiva’s shadowed eyes as she stared across the desk at him. She’d stopped writing to listen. Somehow, his storytelling was a connection with her that was good and healthy. It made his heart swell with unexpected happiness. Still, he knew Akiva would probably take that war ax she wore on her belt to his skull if he even breathed the possibility that he was drawn to her, man to woman.
“Apaches rode horses until they died under them,” Akiva said. “My great-great-grandmother rode with Geronimo and was one of his best warriors. I remember stories about her passed down through the women in our family. Apaches have endurance, Chief Calhoun. They would ride up to fifty miles a day, escaping the cavalry. Most of the time there were no horses around. If they found any, they’d steal them and ride them into exhaustion, then get off and keep trotting on foot in order to stay free of the white men chasing them.”
“Impressive,” Joe murmured, leaning forward. He saw the pride reflected in her aloof face, in the way she held her chin at an arrogant angle. “I don’t know that much about your people, but I’d like to learn.” And he would, only for other reasons—personal ones. Again he saw her eyes grow more golden for a moment. He was learning by reading her body language what impacted her positively. She was a woman who held her cards close to her chest, giving little away of how she might be feeling inside. Of course, Joe understood why. A combat helicopter pilot couldn’t be hanging her emotional laundry out to dry in the middle of a dangerous flight mission.
“I come from very tough stock.” Akiva said, then scowled and jabbed her finger at the paper in front of her. “We need to get to work here, Chief.”
“Could you call me Joe when we’re alone? I don’t usually stand on protocol unless I need to.”
Her mouth tightened. They were both the same rank. His request wasn’t out of line. “Yeah…I guess…”
He was pushing her and he knew it. There was anger in her eyes now, and her mouth was a tight line, holding in a lot of unspoken words he was sure she wanted to fire off at him. “Thanks,” he said genially, but with a serious look on his face.
Exhaling loudly, Akiva muttered, “These are the women I want coming with us,” and she turned the paper around and shoved it in Joe’s direction.
As he slowly read down through the list, Akiva sat stiffly, as if expecting him to fight her on the choices. Yet even as she did so, she realized there was nothing to dislike about the warrant officer; indeed, of the three men who had been assigned to their squadron to train the pilots on the Apache Longbow gunship, Akiva had felt most at ease around Joe.
“This is a mighty good list of people,” he murmured, giving her an approving smile. “I’ve only been here a couple of months, but I’m familiar with all of them.”
“Then…you approve?”
“Build the coop before you buy the chickens.”
Akiva stared. And then she got it. A half smile threaded across her mouth as she took back the list of people she’d handed him. “It’s a good thing I’m a country girl or I wouldn’t have a clue as to your country sayings, Chief—er, I mean, Joe….” It disturbed Akiva to say his first name, made her feel too familiar with the kind of man she didn’t want to be familiar with.
Akiva saw Joe’s eyes lighten considerably as she tried to be somewhat pleasant—which wasn’t her forte, certainly. Maya would be proud of her, she realized.
“I knew you were a country girl,” he said. “I’ve seen you down at the mining side of this place, workin’ in the garden with Jake Travers and his wife, Ana, whenever you get a chance. Only that kind of woman would be down on her hands and knees, fingers in the warm, black soil. Not a citified type.”
“You don’t miss much, do you?” The words came out sharp and nasty. Akiva mentally chastised herself. Maya never used such a voice or harsh words with anyone. Akiva had to struggle to learn how to be more like her, since she was a C.O. now and not just a pilot in the squadron.
With an easy, one-shoulder shrug, Joe said, “I like to think I keep my ear to the ground and my eyes peeled.” He saw the confused expression in Akiva’s face. She really didn’t know what to do with him or how to respond to him. That was okay; at least she wasn’t spitting bullets at him—yet. Somehow, he had to find the key to Akiva, a way to turn off the venom and nastiness and reach her as a human being.
Without a doubt, Joe knew she had a big heart, because he’d seen it in some situations. Like when she was with the children of the villages that lay around the base of the mountain where their operation was hidden. Akiva would hike down to the villages at least once a week to help the Angel of Death—aka their paramedic, Sergeant Angel Paredes—make her rounds to help the people. The villages were in the middle of the Peruvian jungle, and there was no medical help, no clinic or hospitals, available if someone fell sick. Joe had once gone with Sergeant Paredes, not knowing
