Desperate Situations (3 page)

Megan gave another snort.

"See Megan, the boy bee…"

"Kelly, I don't need a biology lesson."

"Look, Meg, from the heart, how often do ya'all get an interest? Huh? He can't be hard to find, after all we did it once."

"Yeah right, like that'll happen. Anyway, I bet he doesn't tell too many that we saved his ass. A woman,
and us being mercs. Those military guys are all alike. Hell, you
men
are all alike."

"Whoa, Girl. Don't be including Gunner and me with the rest of the male population. We're confirmed lovers of you Ghost. Ain't nobody I'd rather fly with or have at my back."

"He right, Ghost. You do goodly. Bestest in my book.
Tu eres mucho bueno
," a voice sounded in her ear over the intercom.

Megan chuckled. "Thanks, Gunner. I like you too. Okay, so I have the best of the hanging organ
crowd with me."

"Meg…" Cowboy pointed at the flashing light that indicated they were running out of fuel.

"Yeah, I know." She smiled. "We should be running out of fuel… about… now…" Megan had barely gotten the words out and the engine died―then the second engine. "Here we go."

The helicopter began to auto
-rotate to the ground, allowing the blades to rotate freely using only the airflow over them to slow their decent. She sited her landing place just inside the fenced compound of White Pine. Within seconds she flared the blades, and Famine landed with a slightly harder than normal smack.

Megan let out a breath of relief and saw that Cowboy had the same expression. She keyed the microphone. "White Pine Tower, this is Famine."

"Famine, we have a crew already headed to tow you. The Head wants to know what you were thinking doing that rescue?"

A smirk crossed her face as she keyed the microphone. "Tell the Head, I was cooperating with the international coalition to bring about a faster end to this occupation by saving personnel vital to the effort. Also tell him, if he has a problem with my actions, he can masticate my gluteus maximus." She glanced at Cowboy as the smirk widened, then turned into a full-blown, mischievous smile. Her group was getting ready to rotate out of Iraq anyway
, and she was getting real tired of Truman, the egotistical, arrogant, male chauvinist head of the White Pine base in this part of Iraq.

"There's that look that makes me want to crap my pants, Girl. Yee-haw!"

***

McGrew tossed his shower pack on the bed and sat down hard. He was tired, hot, and grimy even though he had just returned from the showers after debriefing. Running a hand over his still wet, brown hair, he looked up as a knock sounded on his door
―his lieutenant. "Yeah?"

"You look beat, Jake."

"Yeah."

"I heard it was touch and go out there."

Jake nodded. "Definitely an ass-puckering mission."

A smile broke out on Ted's face as he leaned on the doorpost. "I also heard you got the Jack of Spades."

McGrew smiled. "Yep."

"Great way to end a career, man."

"It does top off a great run." He let out his breath. "There for awhile, I didn't think I'd make these last four days."

"How long do you have until you're stateside?"

"One more day. Then it's hello soft, warm bed―"

"Hello soft, warm woman?"

McGrew laughed. "Maybe. If I can find one." Both men laughed. Jake sobered up, looking at his Second Lieutenant. "I've never run into mercs before. Does White Pine use them a lot?"

"I don't know, but I know they deliver
a lot of supplies."

"Yeah, I heard that too." McGrew grabbed his shower pack and tossed it on
to his duffle on the floor. "Don't they also provide security for some of the higher ups in the interim government?"

"So I've heard. Why you asking?"

McGrew didn't answer for a long second. "Those mercs saved our asses."

"Ouch."

Jake chuckled. "You don't know the half of it."

Ted smiled again shaking his head. "Just think, in twenty-four hours you'll be stateside drinking whiskey, smoking a cee-gar, and making love to some lovely little thing." His hands made the curves of a female body. "Toast'em then and be happy that you're out of this hell hole."

Jake smiled as he rolled into bed. "Right now, I'm going to get some shut eye. Don't call me unless the building's on fire."

Ted chuckled as he closed McGrew's door behind him.

Jake got comfortable but couldn't fall asleep. His mind kept wandering back to the big brown eyes staring at him from under that helmet.

Jake McGrew shook his head before entering the White Pine offices.
How in the hell did I let myself get talked into this?
He adjusted his tie again. It felt strange to be dressed as a civilian. He glanced down at his white shirt and gray pants. He had just spent over two years in Iraq, there even before the war began, and here he was being interviewed for a job with White Pine.

If the pay was as good as the headhunter, Mr. Bower, had informed him, he might consider it. And within a couple of months he could retire with more money than he dreamed. Being ex-Special Forces carried a lot of weight
with independent contractor companies. Specialized soldiers were in high demand since they were trained to be the best. He would get top pay.

With a smile, he pushed open the door. Still, he had sworn to never return to the 'big sand box' across the water. However, this could be the opportunity of a lifetime. And there was something else, something pushing him to do this, something he didn't want to acknowledge. He sh
ook his head to rid himself of such thoughts as he walked into the cooler interior.

"Ah, good afternoon, Mr. McGrew. Mr. Zingerton is waiting. Can I get you a drink or anything?"
a lovely blond receptionist behind the counter asked. Talking on the phone next to her was another stunning blond.

"Uh, no. Thank you. I'm fine," Jake said, barely stopping his eyes from tracing up and down the women. Both were model material, with large breasts, thin waists
, and legs that didn’t stop.
Damn. Were all the women in this company beautiful?

A huge smile flashed his way. "Very well then. Please follow me."

Jake followed, his eyes feasting on the softly swaying hips contained in the dark blue dress in front of him. He barely acknowledged the greeting of the two men that passed him in the hall.

She turned when they reached the end of the hall, and opening the door, smiled. "Mr. Zingerton, Mr. McGrew to see you."

"Thanks, Dorothy."

Jake stepped into the room, his eyes swung to the man standing up from behind a desk. The door closed quietly behind him. Jake cleared his throat silently and walked to
ward the man.

Zingerton smiled and extended his hand. "Hello, Mr. McGrew. Bower has already sent us your qualifications." The two men shook hands. "Please get comfortable." He swung his hand to indicate the leather, high back chairs in front of the big mahogany desk. After they got settled, he leaned back. "So, you're only two weeks out of Iraq?"

"Yes."

"How long was your tour?"

"Twenty-five months, twelve days."

Zingerton nodded. He picked up several sheets of paper. "Your jacket shows that you participated in a lot of important missions."

Jake didn't let the surprise show. Those were confidential records for military eyes only. "My jacket?"

Zingerton laughed. "We have access to a lot of, uh, 'things' that others don't. I've also checked your security clearance. Highest possible level." He looked the former Special Forces Ranger in the eyes. "Let's cut through the usual bullshit and talk money. We want you. How much will it take to have you work for us?"

Jake smiled at Zingerton's enthusiasm, knowing that he had a lot of bargaining power. "First of all, what sort of missions would my job entail?"

"Well, we deliver supplies to areas of contention. We pick up and deliver
…"

"I thought we were cutting through the shit."

Zingleton chuckled. "Yes. We work in primarily four locations: Iraq, Afghanistan, Somalia and Saudi Arabia. We have a few minor bases in other places, but if you join us, you'll be sent to either Afghan or Iraq."

"And what do 'we' do?"

"We deliver supplies." Zingleton held up his hand to stop Jake's protest. "That however is sometimes used as a front to supply other things. We run security for many people in both areas. We do recon for, well, intelligence people, military and such. We provide support and protection for other divisions in our company."

"I heard that this company is also a front used by the CIA."

Zingerton shook his head. "We're an independent contractor. However, I'll not blow shit up your pants, McGrew, we do sometimes 'help' them. Joint operations with them and the military are not unusual."

Jake narrowed his eyes.
Dangerous work.
But for the money needed to buy me off, it would have to be.
"My job?"

"Well, at first you'll be assigned to a regular crew, until you get your feet wet. Then we'll want you in charge. We like former military members in command, that way we know what sort of work to expect. So at first, you'll be under another crew chief." Zingerton leaned forward with a smile. "I see I have your attention. So, how
much to get you?"

***

McGrew stepped into another White Pine office―this one in Germany. He was assigned to Afghanistan and was meeting his crew chief and team as they were also being transferred.

From Zingerton he had learned that this crew was consider
ed the best in the company. They had the best record of successful missions and were 'self-contained' but had just lost a member and he was that person's replacement. This might make it hard to fit in.

"I'm looking for Cartwright's crew. I'm Jake McGrew," he said to the office manager on second floor.

This older, gray haired lady gave him a critical eye before answering. "Room four." She pointed down the hall. "Have you heard about the loss of one…?"

"Thanks. Yes, I have. Have they been together long?"

"Many months and in this line of work, that is something." She paused checking out a computer screen. "Are you fully equipped, Mr. McGrew?"

"Yes, Ma'am. When do we leave?"

"They were waiting for the replacement."

"Good. I hate hurry up and waits."

The lady finally smiled and pointed down the hall.

With a thanks nod, Jake walked in the direction indicated, stopping briefly at the door. He took a deep breath and opened it.

The room went silent at his entrance.

McGrew quickly looked the room over, typical conference room, beige table and chairs. Table littered with papers. Seven people total. Closest to him were three black men and two lighter-tanned men. His eyes narrowed at seeing Cowboy smiling at him. Then he slid his eyes to the head of the table, not surprised to see the same big, brown eyes staring at him, amused.

"Hello."

McGrew grimaced slightly. "Yeah. I'm to report to Cartwright." His eyes panned to Cowboy to see him chuckling silently. The entire room snickered. "Let me guess
…" He looked back at the Ghost. "You're Cartwright."

"That's right." Megan smiled. "Can you handle it?"

"I don't have a problem taking orders from women."

"We'll see," Megan said with a hand wave to the chair at the end of the table. "Have a seat. I'll introduce you to the crew that you'll be working with. You've already met Cowboy and Gunner. Cowboy's real name is Kelly Beaton. We're the main pilots. Gunner's name is Alvaro Iniguez. He's obviously the gunner on any mission requiring extra support." Megan nodded toward the other lighter-tanned man. "Next to Gunner is Geraldo Varela, from Chili like Gunner. Fisher is usually in charge of anything computer related. These other three guys are from South Africa, Amadi Baragwanath or Tiny, Kofi Massyn or Bosser, and Sefu Yzelle or Chips. They do almost everything. We'll pick up the other two pilots when we get in country." She paused. "My name's Megan Cartwright. We get real close, real fast
, especially in Afghan and Iraq. Sometimes all we have are ourselves. At the base, we use our names. In the field, we only use our designations. For safety."

McGrew nodded understanding.

"We have no ID on us for most missions. If you go missing, you can't be tracked to the company. And on some missions, they won't even verify that you work for them." She gave McGrew a hard look. "You did understand that from your contract, right?"

Jake's eyes hardened. "Of course."

"Good." Megan gave him a big smile. "Your designation for the time being…"

"Let me guess," McGrew interrupted with a disgusted look. "It's Cupcake."

The entire room burst out laughing. Megan just smiled at him. "Don't worry. When I give the bosses the thumbs up that you're trained and ready to go, you can pick your own designation."

"Beautiful," Jake said under his breath. His future, and more importantly, the pay increase commensurate with leading a crew
, depended on this hard-nosed, extremely attractive female. And yet, somehow, he wasn't at all disappointed.

The biggest of the South Africans was still chuckling. "Don't worry Cupcake, my designation is Tiny. You'll get used to it."

McGrew smiled at him then turned back to Cartwright. "When do we leave?"

Megan glanced at her watch. "Right now. Is your gear here?"

"Downstairs, Chief." The name came automatically to him, since pilots of most military helos were Warrant Officers referred to always as 'Chief.'

"Chief. I like that." Megan gave Jake a bright smile. "Everyone is confined to base for a week, or until you get the obligatory lecture from the head of the base, Fahim Masood, and you learn some of the customs of the country." Megan stood. "Let's load up."

***

Two hours later, they were quickly approaching Afghanistan. The three South Africans and two South Americans were playing cards.

Jake stretched and glanced around. Cowboy was talking with the pilots and it looked like the five others were arguing over the game. Turning his head toward the back of the plane, he saw Megan sitting by herself, staring at her feet, deep in thought.

His eyes narrowed watching her. If she was a
s talented as he heard, this might not be too bad. He saw her swipe her nose. With a puzzled look and quick glance at the others, he stood and made his way back to the vacant seat next to her.

"Mind if I sit?"

She waved a hand to do so.

"Look, we sort of got off on the wrong foot in Iraq."

Megan's head came up.

Jake offered his hand. "Truce?"

"Sure." She shook then went back to studying her shoes.

"That's one hell of a thoughtful look."

"I'm busy. If you don't mind, I need to think. Was there anything specific you wanted?" She didn't even look at him.

"Nope. Just wanted to start fresh."

Her head rose at that, meeting his blue, searching eyes. "Don't screw up and we'll get along fine."

"I'll do my best, Chief." He smiled at her then moved off to see Cowboy watching them from the aisle near the card game. As he got alongside the other pilot, he made a motion with his head back to Megan. "Is she okay, Cowboy?"

"Yeah." Cowboy's eyes drifted back to the lady, who was once more contemplating her footwear. "Just a lot on her mind."

"She said that. Is she worried about me being in the squad?"

Cowboy gave him a big smile. "No. She'll enjoy dressing you down, 'iffan you don't live up to her standards, but don't worry 'bout that. Course, she is gonna be harder on you."

"Because I was Special Forces?"

"Nope. 'Cause you gonna be leading your own crew. She's trained four crew leaders since I've known her. She takes her responsibility in that respect real serious."

Jake turned his attention back to the lady.

"Right now she's probably still goin' over our last mission. She hates to lose a member of the crew."

"Was it bad?"

Cowboy shrugged. "Don't worry 'bout Meg, Jake. She's tough. As soon as we hit Affie, she'll be back to being social, and being a pain in your ass." He smiled at the ex-military man.

Jake chuckled and nodded at Tiny who was inviting him to join the card game. He gave one last look at Megan then sat with the group of guys.

***

Cowboy's smile faded as Jake sat down
―his eyes still staring at Megan. Then he took a breath and headed straight for her. "Hey, Meg."

"Kelly."

Cowboy sat without asking. "Cheer up, Darlin'. The flight lasts just another forty minutes."

Megan snorted.

"I know you hate to be anywhere but in the driver's seat."

"Give it up, Kelly. What the hell do you want?"

"What a lovely disposition you're in. No wonder Jake thought you were on the rag."

"I'm just thinking. You know I hate to be interrupted when I'm working."

"Is that a hint, Girl?"

"Yeah, but like you'd ever take it." Megan finally looked at him with a smile.

Cowboy smiled back then it faded. "Look Meg, there was nothin' you could do. We talked 'bout this."

"I know." She sighed. "I just hope Truman can get his body back. I wanted to at least retrieve it. Damn, they swarmed all over us."