don’t all you boys grow up?” Blue Eyes snarled as she halted and glared at them. “You’re an embarrassment to the human race!”
With that, Blue Eyes spun around on her booted heel and marched angrily out the door.
More hoots, hollers and laughter broke out. The Delta dude who’d tried to pick up Blue Eyes brushed by them and went back to the bar with his buddies. Ethan looked sheepishly over at Tolleson and shrugged his shoulders.
Ethan ambled back to their table. Tolleson was grinning.
“A little excitement,” he said, sitting down.
“We get enough excitement out on patrols without this,” Ethan muttered. He pulled his black baseball cap out of his pocket and settled it on his head. “Later. I’m off to the showers to get this grit off my skin.”
Tolleson tipped the chair back, still smiling. “I’m right behind you. I’ll bet Blue Eyes thinks you’re a knight in shining armor, coming to her rescue. You were the first dude to stand up to stop those Delta guys.”
Snorting, Ethan shook his head. “Doubtful. She lumped all of us into that comment. Or did you not get that?” Judging from her demeanor and coolness under fire with the Delta guys, she didn’t need any hero to protect her. Nope, she was a Black Hawk driver and she risked her life, day in and day out, landing in hot landing zones, RPGs being thrown at her helo, to rescue wounded men or women who desperately needed medical help or would die in the battlefield. If anyone was a hero...it was her. “Later,” he murmured to Tolleson.
“We got mission planning at 0800 tomorrow,” the LPO reminded him.
“I’ll be there with bells on,” Ethan growled, sauntering out into the bright sunlight. The canteen was in the center of Camp Bravo. To his left, Ops and the runway. He heard a C-130’s whistling engines as it came in for a landing. The smell of kerosene aviation fuel used by the helicopters was everywhere; the wind carried it in his direction. Overhead, the June Afghan sun bore down on him like a heat lamp out of control. Already Ethan was starting to sweat again. The eight-thousand-foot mountain where the FOB was located was dry and freakin’ burning up under the heat. He was from Anchorage, Alaska—he loved the cold and hated desert infernos.
Ethan quickly walked down the avenues of camouflage tents sitting on concrete blocks with plywood floors. The dirt was fine and dusty and got into every crack, pore and crevice that a human being owned, not to mention his M4 rifle and the SIG pistol he always wore.
The sky was a light blue as he walked alertly down several other avenues, heading for the showers. There were only forty SEALs on this black ops FOB. They were a small but mighty contingent on this 24/7 base.
He turned down toward the main supply building, an area clear of tents and a shortcut to the men’s showers.
“You sonofabitch! Get off me!”
Ethan wheeled around toward the woman’s angry voice. His eyes widened when he saw Blue Eyes down in the dirt with an enlisted Army sergeant on top of her, groping at her flight suit. The sergeant’s big hand reached down and ripped open the front of her uniform. He held her down with his other hand, fingers closing around her throat.
Blue Eyes weighed a good hundred pounds less than the guy, but, as Ethan ran swiftly and silently up behind him, she was giving a damned good account of herself. The man’s nose was broken and bleeding, and he sported a black eye. SEALs made a living out of being shadows. With one swift movement of his fist, he coldcocked the unknown assailant in his left temple. The man went flying off her, knocked unconscious.
Ethan turned. “You okay?” he asked, kneeling down. She had blood on her cheek, and her nose was bleeding heavily.
“That stupid bastard,” she breathed angrily, trying to pull her torn uniform closed at her neck.
Her eyes were blue fury. Ethan glanced over his shoulder—the stranger was out cold. “He won’t bother you again,” he murmured, giving her a concerned look. Her hair was dirty, and blood ran down her lips and dripped off her chin. Digging out the dark green bandanna he always wore when out on patrol, he said apologetically, “It’s dirty, but maybe you can use it to stop your nose from bleeding?”
She gave him a mutinous look, grabbed it and pressed it against her nose. “Thanks,” she mumbled, rolling over to her hand and knees.
“Are you hurt? Can I get you over to the dispensary?” Ethan held out his hand, but she refused it.
“I’m all right!” She tried to rise, but her knees buckled beneath her.
Ethan moved swiftly, catching her before she hit the ground again. “Okay, look,” he coaxed in a low, even voice. “You aren’t in any shape to be going anywhere just yet. Did he hit you?” Dumb question: he could see she’d been struck. He was trying to talk her down so she’d become reasonable.
“Hell, yes, he hit me!” She glared up at him, breathing hard, gripping her uniform closed so he couldn’t see her bra beneath it.
“Where?” Ethan asked quietly, as if he were talking to a fractious horse he was trying to settle down. He knelt near but kept his hands off her. He didn’t want a broken nose.
“The head. He jumped me from behind, the sonofabitch!” She glared over at his unmoving body.
Ethan looked at her dust-covered brow and noticed swelling on her right temple. “He tried to knock you out.”
“Ya think?”
Ethan nodded, knowing Blue Eyes was in shock. Her hand trembled, and there were tears in her eyes. “Well, he won’t do it again,” he promised her. Assaulting any officer was a major offense, and the man would be going up for court-martial.
“I hope you killed him. I wonder how many other military women he’s stalked and jumped and then raped?” Her lower lip quivered with fury as she looked accusingly up at him.
Ethan saw Tolleson coming with a set of towels, a washcloth and soap in hand. He gestured sharply for him to get his ass over there pronto.
Tolleson skidded to a stop, his eyes widening as he looked down at them and then at the unconscious man. “What the hell happened?”
“The guy jumped Blue Eyes—I mean...” Ethan gave her an apologetic look, making a point of looking at the last name embroidered in black across the top of the left pocket of her flight uniform, “Chief Warrant Officer Benson.”
Tolleson nodded, stepped back and pulled a radio out of his cammie pocket. He called the military police and gave them their location. He looked down. “Do you need medical help, Chief Benson?”
“Hell, no! I just want to get out of here and get back to my tent.” She looked down at her dusty uniform.
Ethan felt sorry for her. She was angry and upset. He could see her tremble as adrenaline raced through her bloodstream. “I can walk you to your tent, Chief Benson. Tell me what you need?” She seemed to calm a little beneath his quiet tone. Tears splattered down her cheeks, making trails through the dust.
“Just help me up, will you? I need to get to my tent and get cleaned up.” She reluctantly held her hand out toward him.
Ethan stood up and wrapped his fingers around hers, gently pulling
