The Gauntlet

Molly cringed at the iciness of Sinclair’s voice. A chill worked its way up her spine. He’d positioned himself near her chair, facing off with Martin.

“Yes, sir!” Martin spun on his heel and left promptly.

Molly released a breath of air, giving Cam a grateful look. “Thank you, Captain.”

Cam stared at her. He saw the turmoil in her huge green eyes. Yet her voice was unruffled—soft, without any indication of how troubled she was by Martin’s attack. And an attack was what it had been. “You have a problem, Miss Rutledge.”

Molly blinked belatedly. “Problem?”

“Why didn’t you defend yourself?”

Sinclair was pulverizingly male in a way that shook her. Molly turned around in her chair, facing him squarely. “I did.”

Cam shook his head. “That’s twice Martin’s attacked you.”

“He’s upset, that’s all.”

“And you weren’t?”

“Of course, but—”

“What’s it take to get you to raise your voice and really defend yourself?”

Shocked, Molly stared at him for a long, painful minute. “Captain, just because I’m not one of ‘the boys’ and don’t choose to act in an aggressive manner doesn’t mean I can’t defend myself.”

“Really?” Cam drawled. “What were you going to do when Martin grabbed you by the shoulder? Sweetly ask him to let go?”

“I suppose you think my retaliation should have been a fist in his face?”

Cam nearly smiled. Nearly. So, she had some spunk, after all. “That would have been against regulations.”

“I’m glad one of you macho jet jocks thought of that.”

His mouth twitched. For the first time, Cam felt like laughing. It was a breathless discovery. Molly Rutledge sat there with that spun-gold hair, in her rumpled olive-green flight uniform and black boots, looking positively beautiful and defiant.

“So, what would you have done if I hadn’t stepped in to save you?”

Molly eyed him. “Save me? I had everything under control, Captain. Sooner or later, Lieutenant Martin would have eased off the throttle. I wasn’t giving him a reason for further aggression.”

Cam shook his head. “Lady, you’ve got a lot to learn here at TPS. Don’t you understand that flight engineers have to defend themselves at all times? You’re responsible for the test that’s flown. A pilot can make your test look good or bad. And many times it’s hard to prove who’s at fault. Believe me, in the debriefing room after the flight, I see the test-pilot students trying to blame the engineer’s flight program for their poor performances.”

“I know pilots don’t always fly well, Captain. They have bad days, too.”

“A friendly piece of advice, Miss Rutledge—protect and fight for your territorial rights at all times, or these student test-pilots will eat you alive. You’ll get blamed for flight failures whether they’re your fault or not, and your grades will drop.”

Shaken, Molly pursed her lips. “Captain, you obviously want me to get a good dose of male hormones into my bloodstream so I can be just as arrogant and aggressive as the guys I’m in class with. Well, I won’t. I’m a woman, and I respect my ability to handle situations in a different way.”

“I’m not saying you’ve got to turn into a man. Just speak up for yourself—get feisty. You’re capable of that, aren’t you?”

He was taunting her now. Molly hated the feeling Sinclair was invoking. “I will not turn to cursing or pushy and aggressive tactics to win my point. I’ll use logic and diplomacy.”

If nothing else, Cam thought as he watched her, she was stubborn. “Logic and diplomacy get blown to hell in those debriefings, Ensign. For your sake, you’d better get a little spunk and assertiveness, if you’re hoping to stand the heat in that kitchen with those jocks.”

Smarting beneath his assessment of her, Molly turned around in her chair. “Excuse me, Captain, but I’ve got work to do. Thank you for your advice, but I feel strongly about handling situations with tact, diplomacy and care.”

An incredible urge to reach out and thread his fingers through her loose, silky hair struck Cam. He shook his head, wondering what had come over him. The feeling caught him off guard, and he snapped at her. “Then don’t expect me to come to your rescue next time. Good night, Ensign Rutledge.”

“Good night.” Unhappily, Molly watched Cam turn away, leaving her alone in the huge computer facility. She fought the awful feeling of failure. She’d felt this way after washing out of flight school. Wasn’t there anything she could do right? Pressing her hand to her brow, she closed her eyes, the sting of tears behind her lids.

Cam hesitated at the glass door, watching Molly press her hand against her eyes. Feeling like a first-class heel, he almost went back in to comfort her. No, he couldn’t do that. Still, his conscience gnawed at him. He shouldn’t have been so hard on her. Martin had done enough damage without Cam hitting her broadside with another salvo from another direction.

Dammit! He stood, torn, watching as she sat at the terminal, her hands covering her face. Was she crying? She had every right to do so. Troubled, Cam put his hand on the door handle. As an instructor, he played a dual role with the students. First, he had to terrorize them enough to wring out their best, whatever that was. Second, he had to be a support system for them, to encourage them to surpass what they thought was their best. But he’d just gone in there and terrorized her.

Irritated, Cam let his hand slip off the handle. How had Molly gotten through four years at Annapolis? Surely she’d handled far more harassment and pressure than this. He watched as she lifted her head and rubbed her forehead. Her face was pale, but he didn’t see any tears on her cheeks. What kind of woman was she? Molly was a genuine enigma to him. Still, Cam knew without a doubt that they’d shred her in debriefing if she didn’t stand up for her programs—logic and diplomacy were the first to go in those heated exchanges.

Muttering to himself, Cam turned away, not wanting her to discover him still standing there. It would be the ultimate embarrassment to her if she spotted him. A huge part of him wanted to stay. Stay and do what? As he shuffled down the hall toward his office, Cam shook his head. Molly interested him. Maybe the word was fascinated. She was unlike any woman in the military he’d met or worked with.

“Too soft,” he said under his breath. “She’s too soft to stand the attacks she’s going to have to go through.”

* * *

Molly tried to dismiss the entire crisis that had taken place, but she couldn’t. Her stomach growled, but she wasn’t hungry. Glancing at her watch, she saw it was 2100. Time to go home and get some sleep. Unsettled, she logged her software program into the files of the computer and shut down the terminal.

Placing the yards of computer printout in her briefcase, she left the room. As she headed from the elevator to the main doors, she saw Captain Sinclair’s office door open, light spilling out into the semidarkened hallway. Hesitating, Molly felt the urge to stop and speak with him. About what? To defend her way of handling situations? He’d made himself perfectly clear about how he thought she should handle them.

It was obvious Sinclair didn’t think much of her, either. Leaving TPS, Molly decided to try to call her friends at Whiting Field. She desperately missed Dana and Maggie. Perhaps they could shed some light on her most recent problems.

* * *

“I think you should’ve decked Martin,” Maggie Donovan told her, anger in her voice. “That kind of jock only understands one thing, Molly, and that’s aggression equal to his own. What he puts out, he gets back.”

“I don’t agree,” Dana Coulter’s voice countered from the other phone. “You said Captain Sinclair broke it up?”

“Yes,” Molly admitted unhappily. She sat on her couch, her legs folded beneath her, the receiver resting against her hand and shoulder.

“He defended you,” Maggie said.

“No, he didn’t,” Molly countered. “I’ve already told you his view of the situation. Martin ripped me open, and he just added salt to my wounds.”

“I think he was trying to get you to see how you need to change your behavior to fit the circumstances,” Dana pointed out. “The fact that he came to your rescue means he’s on your side.”

“He sure didn’t look it. Gosh, gals, Sinclair is like ice all the way through. He could put holes in you with those eyes of his. You should have seen Martin back down. The guy was tripping all over himself, backpedaling.”

“Of course.” Maggie chuckled. “Martin isn’t going to take on his instructor. Martin’s smart for gigging you when you were alone. He’s trying to make you fail, Molly, before you even get a chance.”

“He’s a male chauvinist, that’s all.”

“No,” Dana argued passionately. “Martin’s more than that, Molly. He’s really dangerous to your career. You’ve got to show more backbone. Maggie’s right. That kind of guy only respects an equal response to whatever he throws at you. Sinclair was doing you a favor by telling you how to arm yourself against Martin.”