Destiny's Woman

Joe saw the three enlisted women hurrying to catch up with them. The looks of excitement and curiosity on their faces as they trotted across the thick green grass in their camouflage uniforms mirrored how he felt inside. As he glanced at Akiva’s profile, he saw the same look on her face, too.

“I’m feelin’ like a kid in a candy store,” he said with a laugh.

Giving him a sidelong glance, Akiva tried not to allow Joe’s laughter to affect her. But it did, in a good way. “We need to split up, take inventory, and then get back together later, wherever my office is going to be. We need to assess what’s missing or what has to be done next.” Akiva had been told they had a week to come online, ready to start interdiction missions. That wasn’t long.

Nodding, Joe erased his smile and closeted his thrill over the assignment. Akiva was all business. He could see the cloak of command settling over her proud shoulders. It wasn’t an easy cape to wear, he was discovering, even as X.O. His own job would be to handle the day-to-day workings of the three-woman crew, plus the scheduling of flights. As he saw it, he was to leave Akiva free to do planning and strategy for the missions. More than anything, he didn’t want to be one more thing she needed to worry about. The past week, he’d seen the awareness in her eyes of just how much responsibility she was charged with on this mission. In one way, it was good, because that didn’t leave her much time or energy to snap and snarl at him. She was too busy with planning.

Approaching the hangar, which was just three walls and a roof of corrugated tin, Joe stopped and looked at it more critically.

Akiva moved onto the hard-packed dirt floor of the building. Spotting several doors on one side, she went over and opened them. Good. Behind each, she found a small office. Each held a green, military-issue desk, paper, pens and the necessary things to make paperwork flow. The other crew members would each have an office to work from as well. She left Joe to look around, and continued her inspection of the new base by heading through another door into an alley between the hangar and the next largest building. It would serve as living quarters, mess hall and offices for the three enlisted women, Akiva realized. The sleeping quarters weren’t much to rave about, she discovered as she opened a recently erected door in a plywood wall. There were three metal cots with green army blankets and a pillow on each, and that was it. A shower had been built at one end. Spartan was the word that came to mind. She noted her and Joe’s quarters were at the front, a plyboard cubicle for each.

Moving out of that building, Akiva keyed her hearing to the excited voices of her crew. They were laughing, oohing and ahhing over the facilities. She felt a little of their excitement, but her mind was humming along, assessing, judging and planning. As she left the second building for the smaller one, across the alleyway, she laughed at herself. Maybe Maya was right; maybe she really did have what it took to lead a squadron. Her focus was on keeping her personnel safe, dry and fed.

In the third building, she found all their radio and satellite communications equipment, plus several computers, maps and boards on which to do planning for missions. This was where she would be spending much of her time. Stepping outside the rickety building again, Akiva spotted their electric generator. It had been put into a fairly well-built wooden structure that had a lot of padding to prevent the noise from being heard. An opening for the exhaust had been cut into the top of it. The gasoline needed to run it was in another tank near the edge of the jungle, which was slowly encroaching on the old airport facility. The tank had been painted camouflage colors so it blended in with their surroundings.

Turning, Akiva saw another, much larger storage tank, which held the fuel for the helicopters. Once a week, a Blackhawk would fly in with fuel bladders and refill it so they could keep flying their missions. That helicopter would come from a secret CIA base to the north of them. The CIA would become their main supplier for anything they needed to keep Alpha Base going.

“I’m happy as an armadillo diggin’ for grub worms.”

Akiva turned and couldn’t help but grin. Joe ambled around the corner, his hands in the pockets of his camouflage pants, a pleased look on his face.

“Armadillos?”

“Yeah, those critters that live in Texas and are worse than prairie dogs, leavin’ holes all around so folks can stumble into ’em and break a leg. And they’re always diggin’ for worms and grubs, their favorite dessert.”

Joe halted about six feet from Akiva. She was happy; he could see it in the sunlight gold dancing in her eyes as she met and held his gaze. Her hands rested on her wide hips and she had long ago gotten rid of the uncomfortable chicken plate vest. In the black, body-fitting uniform, her womanly curves and stature were obvious. She was a woman of substance, of pride, strength and confidence. Best of all, her full mouth was no longer pursed like it usually was, he noted.

“You like our new home, then.” Akiva turned, tearing her gaze from Joe’s smiling face. The man’s positive outlook on life was diametrically opposed to hers. He was always smiling and joking. She never did either.

“Shore ’nuff,” he murmured. “I’ve got Sergeant Cooper whippin’ the women into order over at that second building. I told her to set up housekeeping and unpack their duffel bags.”

“Good.” Akiva continued studying the way the jungle was hugging the base. She tried to stop her heart from opening up to Joe’s sunny presence. Trying to avoid looking up again at his well-shaped mouth, Akiva wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Would Joe be as gentle as he seemed? Or hurtful like every other Anglo man she’d had the sorry misfortune to tangle with? Forcing her mind back to the present, Akiva was unhappy that she was evaluating Joe on such an intensely personal level.

Joe moved to where Akiva was standing with her back to him. He was getting used to how she tried to ignore him. Her thick black hair had been woven into one large braid, tied off with a piece of red yarn and then coiled at the back of her long neck so that it fit beneath her helmet when she flew. Now, as he approached her, she took out the pins holding her braid in place and let it roll down her long, strong spine. The urge to reach out and touch that frayed, silky rope was almost his undoing. He forced his hand to remain in his pants pocket, knowing she’d probably deck him if he tried to touch her. Frustrated, Joe wondered what made her so defensive.

“This is a good place, strategically speaking,” he confided to her in a low voice. “The jungle is close enough to really hide us.”

“Yes…” Akiva moved away from him. She didn’t like Joe’s intimacy with her. Giving him a hard look that said Back off, she announced, “I’ll be in the tack and strat building,” and she pointed behind them. “Ask Spec—Specialist—Bradford to get over here and get the computers and communications online.”

Joe nodded. “Right away.” He turned and headed back toward the hangar. Once again Akiva was all business. But the panicked look in her eyes told him she didn’t want him getting that close to her in future. As he made his way with long, easy strides through the tangle of grass, Joe sighed inwardly. What was it about him that Akiva hated so much? She rarely tried to hide the fact she couldn’t stand being in the same room with him.

As he stepped into the hangar to hunt down Iris Bradford, their radio communications specialist, Joe tried to stop the ache he felt in his chest. More than anything, he wanted others to like him, to think well of him. He wanted to make up for his youth, spent as an outcast because he had Comanche blood flowing through his veins. He felt a driving need to always look good to his superiors. As a result, he was a hard charger from a career point of view. He saw this X.O. opportunity as a possible gateway to becoming an officer in the U.S. Army someday soon, not just a warrant officer. However, his career was now in Akiva’s hands. If she put a bad report in his personnel jacket, she could torpedo his career goals in a heartbeat.

And why? What was wrong with him? he wondered as he poked his head into the first office, where he found blond-haired, blue-eyed Iris Bradford. She was twenty-three years old and a computer geek from the get-go. Five foot three inches tall, she was slightly chunky, big-boned and, he had learned, of Swedish background. She brightened when she saw him enter the office.

“Sir, I’m looking for the comms. You seen them?”

Joe nodded. “They’re over in the last building, Bradford. Why don’t you hightail it over there and get that stuff hummin’? Chief Redtail’s over there, too.”

Flushing with excitement, Iris said, “Yes, sir! This is so cool! I love this place! I’m so glad I was asked to be a part of the team.” She flashed him a toothy smile, moved past him and then trotted out of the hangar toward the last building in the row.

Joe smiled and looked around the office. He saw a laptop computer on the desk, a printer, a telephone and a small gold plate on the front of the desk that said C.O. This was Akiva’s office. Figuring his must be nearby, he left the office and closed the door. The next office over was indeed his. Standing there in front of his desk, where the small gold plate saying X.O. sat, he got chills. Excitement thrummed through him. Finally, the army was giving him a chance to show what he could do. Now his only problem was Akiva.

Chapter 4

Joe wondered where Akiva was. It was 2330, nearly midnight, of their first full day at Alpha. Everyone was in bed in the second building, each in her own plywood cubical containing a cot and metal locker. The C.O. and X.O. cubes were at the front, on either side of the aisle, the enlisted people’s to the rear. The light had been doused a long time ago and thin filaments of moonlight threaded through the windows, which were covered with years of grime. As he walked quietly down the aisle toward the door, Joe mentally put cleaning the windows on his to-do list. Just because Navy Seabees had come in here and built them rough living quarters didn’t mean the place was livable. From a cleanliness perspective it was a disaster.

Exhaustion pulled at him. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his camouflage jacket, he headed out the door. Overhead, foglike clouds were gathering, due to the high humidity. The scream of monkeys and the hooting of owls drifted out of the darkened jungle as he walked across the flattened grass between the living quarters and the communications building. He had a hunch Akiva was still over there in the planning room, working out the myriad details of their upcoming flights, which would start as soon as they could get organized at the base.

Opening the rickety door as quietly as he could, he entered and stood just inside it. The Seabees had divided the room into three sections—the comms center, a meeting space where flight planning could be held, and a small cubicle with a desk in it. There were no doors on the partitioned-off areas, and he saw dim light flooding out of the smallest cube.

He moved to the office, stood in the doorway and felt his heart wrench. Akiva was sleeping over the flight maps, one arm beneath her cheek, the other spread across the table, a pencil hanging limply in her long, thin fingers. At some point she’d unraveled her braid, and her hair cloaked her shoulders like an ebony coverlet, the reddish highlights glowing in the light of the fluorescent lamp on the plywood table that served as a desk.

Hungrily his gaze swung back to her face. In sleep, Akiva looked incredibly vulnerable and beautiful. Joe was sure she had no idea how attractive she was to men. Although she never wore makeup, just the chiseled, patrician quality of her features would make any man look at her twice. Her full lips were soft now, and parted in sleep. Black strands of hair flowed down her temple, covering her ear and curving along her clean jawline. The bright red cotton scarf she wore across her brow highlighted her copper skin and black hair, presenting a dramatic picture.

Whether he wanted to or not, he needed to wake her up. Akiva had to get her sleep in order to keep going, and napping like this wasn’t very restful. Gingerly, Joe slid his hand along her proud shoulder, the black uniform felt smooth beneath his fingers.

“Akiva?” he whispered. He squeezed her shoulder gently.

Akiva’s brows moved slightly. Her mouth closed and then opened.

Heart speeding up, Joe found himself mesmerized by her soft, lush-looking mouth. What would it be like to lean down and caress those lips with his own? The thought was like a lightning bolt of fire and heat coursing through him and settling hotly in his lower body. Grinning to himself, Joe knew if Akiva had read his thoughts, she’d deck him. Rightfully so. Again he squeezed her shoulder, and deepened his voice.

“Akiva? Come on, time to wake up. You’ve got to get some good shut-eye, gal.” The endearment slipped from his lips before he could stop it. Consarnit! Joe knew Akiva wouldn’t take kindly to such familiarity. Had she heard him?

Groaning, Akiva heard a male voice somewhere in the folds of her fuzzy awareness. She also felt a hand—a man’s hand—on her shoulder. Ordinarily, she wanted no one to touch her, for as an Apache woman, her body was sacred and not privy to idle touch by anyone without her permission. In her sluggish sleep state, however, her protective walls were no longer in place. The low, husky tone of the man’s voice seemed like a warm stream flowing into the cold winter of her heart. He’d called her “gal,” in a deep, intimate, caressing tone. The sensation was delicious—and surprising. Akiva had never felt such warmth flowing through her and she wanted badly to languish in the feeling. The man’s touch was nurturing. Akiva had never experienced that with any man.

Again she heard her name called. This time she snapped awake out of habit. Sitting up, she blinked.

Joe released her shoulder and stepped back, knowing full well that Akiva would not like him touching her. Her eyes were slightly puffy with sleep, and half-open, with a drowsy look in their gold depths. Her black hair slid around her shoulders like a soft, silky shawl, and he ached to reach out and touch those vibrant strands to see what they felt like between his fingertips.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Whoa, nothing’s wrong,” Joe said, holding up his hands as she swung around. He could see the sleep leave her abruptly. Her eyes were narrowed and alert now, the gold depths penetrating. Inwardly he longed for the woman who had seemed so innocent and approachable while she slept. That woman was now hidden away once again beneath Akiva’s massive armor plating.

Blinking rapidly, Akiva stared at Joe, who stood relaxed before her. His head was cocked to one side, his gray eyes hooded, with a look in them Akiva could not decipher. One corner of his mouth hitched upward.

She sat back in the creaky chair. “Everything okay?” she croaked, then cleared her throat. She tried desperately to shove the sleep away from her in order to think clearly.

“Everything’s fine, Akiva. I just found you over here. I’m hitting the rack. I think you should, too.” Joe gestured toward the table with maps spread across it. “This is no place to sleep. We need good, restful sleep. Come on, let’s go.”

Ordinarily, Akiva would have fought him. But Joe’s voice was low and coaxing, like a hand caressing her in a very gentle and nonthreatening way. He was right: she needed a good night’s sleep.

“Yeah, okay…Thanks…” She rose to her feet and rubbed her face tiredly.

Joe stepped aside and said, “I’ll have Spec Dean wake us at 0600.”

Feeling vulnerable because she was still wrapped in the last remnants of sleep, Akiva nodded. She watched Joe give her a slight smile, turn and leave. For a moment, as she stood there in the silent room, she missed his quiet strength and gentleness. Shaking her head, Akiva sternly told herself he was an Anglo and few of them ever had such attributes. Yet as she stood there alone, she realized that she hungered for Joe’s nurturing nature, now that he was gone. Never had she felt such a driving urgency. At a loss to explain it, she sighed in frustration. How could she be so drawn to Joe? He was Anglo. Her enemy.