Lethal Pursuit (Bagram Special Ops #3)

Three

THREE

M AYA CLIMBED IN behind the Humvee’s wheel the next morning and slammed the door shut. “Ready to rock?” she called to the gunner in the back manning the .50 cal.

“Yes, ma’am.” He rapped twice on the top of the vehicle.

“Just waiting for my copilot. He should be here in a minute.” She went back to checking her radio and weapon one last time, not paying much attention to the personnel milling around the line of vehicles.

“Guess this means I get to ride shotgun?”

She jerked her head up to find Jackson leaning his roped forearms on the open window frame of the passenger door, a mischievous smile on his face. Her heart stuttered. What was he doing here? And why did her heart always beat faster when she saw him? He had his full kit on, a large ruck and his M4 slung around his shoulders. “You’re going to FOB Chapman?”

“Yes, ma’am. I volunteered for the MEDCAP.”

Huh. The medical civil action plan was part of a hearts-and-minds campaign dreamed up by the brass in an effort to “reach out” to the people in some of the isolated villages down south. PJs often took part in them, giving medical care and other critical supplies to the civilians.

“That right?” It didn’t surprise her that Jackson had volunteered for it. She already knew he wanted to be a doctor because she’d caught him studying for the MCAT a few months ago. Of course, back then she’d misinterpreted his laid-back demeanor as passivity. Now she knew that beneath his calm, quiet facade beat the heart of a formidable fighter. The man was a sexy, walking contradiction. “I’ve kinda got a lead foot.”

“Even better.” He straightened, tall and strong and ready to rock.

Weird. She knew he could handle whatever came his way in the field, since he’d earned his maroon beret for a reason. And yet, even though he was bigger and stronger than her, for some reason she still wanted to watch out for him. Maya eyed him for a second, letting her gaze roam over the impressive contours of muscle in his chest and shoulders, reminding herself that he could be lethal in addition to a gentle healer. He wanted a ride with her? Why not? “All right, throw your stuff in the back and get in.”

He did, then climbed in next to her and shut the door. And suddenly the Humvee didn’t feel big enough anymore. It was like he took up all the space, all the air. Every cell in her body was attuned to him. She could smell the faint scent of wintergreen and clean male musk. Her skin prickled with awareness and he hadn’t even touched her. This was gonna be a long five-plus hours drive, but an interesting one. “Okay, let’s roll,” she announced.

When everything was in place, the lead vehicle exited the main gate and started outside the wire into the Afghan equivalent of the Old West, driving south along the main highway toward Kabul. Maya pulled out into line, third from the front of the convoy. Behind her, four more supply trucks and another Humvee brought up the rear. The mountains rose to jagged peaks on their left, the crests still tipped white with snow that was only beginning to melt in the spring runoff. Mudslides had wiped out a few of the mountain passes recently, and there would be plenty more before the snow melted completely.

The silence in the vehicle wasn’t awkward, but she still felt the need to initiate conversation. “So, how’s the studying coming?” she asked Jackson.

“For the MCAT? Good.”

“When do you write?”

“June.”

She bit back a smile when he didn’t offer anything further. He was quiet and definitely comfortable in his own skin, yet bold in other ways that continued to surprise her. No way he’d landed a ride in her truck by dumb coincidence. She couldn’t figure out why he’d gone to the trouble of arranging it. Wasn’t like he was planning to make a move on her or anything. He was way too polite and respectful to cross that line with her. She felt so far out of her depth with him it might have been funny if it hadn’t confused her so much. “What made you want to be a doctor, anyway? I mean, it makes sense that you’d want to, since you’re a PJ and all. But there must be a reason.”

Jackson stretched out his long legs a bit more and leaned a forearm on the window ledge in an unconsciously sexy alpha male pose she knew he wasn’t even aware of making. That made it even hotter. “My dad died of a heart attack when I was a kid. Guess since then I’ve always wanted to save people.”

A solid reason, for sure. She respected and admired that. Most of all, she loved that he was motivated to help people. “What sort of doctor do you want to be?”

“Not sure yet. A GP, or maybe a surgeon.”

“Not a pediatrician? You seem good with kids.”

“I love kids. Not sure I could handle seeing sick ones day in and day out though.”

God, why did that make her heart squeeze for him? This man cared too much, felt too much. Didn’t he know how dangerous that was? If he was lucky, he’d never have to learn that lesson. She let the conversation lapse for a minute but was too curious about him not to keep asking questions. He seemed willing enough to answer them. “Did you grow up in Texas?”

He nodded, giving her a half smile that made her stupid heart flutter. “Born and raised outside of San Antonio. You?”

“Born in Mexico City. Moved to California when I was three.” She glanced over at him. “You part Italian, or Native American, maybe?”

He shot her a surprised look. “One-eighth Comanche, from my mother’s side. You got a big family?”

Not anymore. “Just my grandmother left now.” And a few other relatives she’d never have anything to do with again, lest she give in to the urge to dispatch them all to hell where they belonged. “And you?”

“My mom and three older sisters.”

That made her smirk. “So you were the man of the house, huh? I hope you had lots of bathrooms in your house growing up.” She and Pilar had constantly battled over time in their tiny bathroom. The thought brought a pang of wistfulness. Losing her sister had been the single hardest thing she’d ever faced. No matter where she went, she carried a piece of Pilar with her, even if the memories hurt. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“It wasn’t so bad. I just learned to be fast. Get in, get out before anyone saw me.”

“So you were already way ahead of the covert ops curve when you enlisted.”

He flashed her a sexy grin that made butterflies flutter in her belly. “Yeah, I was.”

Grinning, she kept her eyes on the road and maintained the proper distance between her truck and the one in front of her. They reached the first checkpoint and stopped for the Afghan police to check their documents. Once the convoy got rolling again, the all clear was given and the gunner, Dawson, slid down into the backseat with a sigh.

“Warm out there for this time of year,” he said, wiping a sleeve across his brow. “You got any tunes in here, LT, or what?”

“Just the hip-hop on my MP3 player, unless you like Afghan music.”

“Hip-hop it is.”

She glanced over at Jackson. “You like hip-hop?”

He made a face. “I tolerate it.”

“Well, sorry, but I’m fresh out of Dean Martin. Unless you want to sing for us? Because I totally think you should.”

Dawson leaned forward. “Dude, you sing?”

“And he’s damn fine at it too,” Maya put in.

Jackson aimed a bland look at her and shifted in his seat. “Nah, I’m good. Throw on the hip-hop.” He turned his head away to stare out the passenger window at the bleak terrain they passed through.

Was the man actually embarrassed by her praise? With a laugh, Maya plugged in the cable and hit play. Dawson immediately started singing along and tapping out the rhythm on the door frame. She glanced over at Jackson to find him fighting a smile, enduring it all in his quiet manner.

They were over an hour north of Kabul when the CO in the lead vehicle came over the radio. “Suspicious vehicle on the shoulder ahead. We’re stopping to check it out.”

Jackson instantly reached out to shut off the music while Dawson sprang up from his seat to man the .50 cal. Maya slowed with the others. A half klick away, she spotted it. An old once-white Toyota pickup, left parked at an odd angle on the right side of the highway. Something she would have passed stateside without a second thought, but over here it posed a potential deadly threat.

She halted behind the second Humvee, keeping the engine running while Jackson and Dawson climbed out to provide perimeter protection, just in case the Toyota was an IED and insurgents were waiting nearby to detonate it remotely. Her M4 was within arm’s reach and her sidearm was tucked into its holster on her right thigh. She continuously scanned the surroundings, on alert and ready for anything as the minutes passed. Finally the lead team members walked away from the vehicle and the CO came back on the radio with the all clear.

Dawson climbed into the back to resume his position in the turret, while Jackson slid into the passenger seat. As he set his weapon down with another display of those muscles rippling across his back and shoulders, she was struck again by just how big and intensely masculine he was. Lord, the man tempted her.

In the civilian world she’d have handled things between them totally differently. When she was interested in a man, she went after him. They rarely said no. This time she couldn’t act on the attraction, and not just because of the risk of being caught and written up for a hundred different broken military regs. She might be willing to work around those obstacles if Jackson seemed like the fling type. But he didn’t, and that was all she had to offer. All she could ever offer a man.

He shut the door and settled back against the seat. She didn’t look away quite fast enough. He caught her checking him out and gave her a slow smile that did strange things to her insides. Annoyed at herself, she turned her attention back to driving and pulled out behind the truck in front of them. “See anything?”

“Nope.”

Neither did she. Nothing but dust and rock as far as the eye could see, right up to the base of the mountains. Releasing some of the tension in her shoulders, she drove on in silence. The lead vehicle started to pick up speed. The needle on the speedometer edged past forty miles per hour.

She’d just reached a hand out to turn the music back on when a huge fireball exploded beneath the lead truck, forty yards in front of them. A wall of flame shot into the air as the vehicle blasted off the ground.

“Fuck!” She instinctively wrenched the wheel hard to the left to avoid driving into the fire.

“Contact, front!” someone called over the radio. Jackson already had his weapon in his hands.

No shit , contact. Her heart slammed once against her chest wall, then training took over. Swerving away hard with a squeal of tires, she hit the accelerator and raced past the burning Humvee. She screeched to a halt at a safe distance away as some of the others tore past her, their boots thudding against the hot pavement.

Jackson was already reaching for the door handle with a gruff, “Stay here.” He grabbed his ruck from the back and took off, missing the angry stare she shot him.

Uh, no, she would not stay here.

Dawson was still manning the .50 cal, searching for further threats as Maya exited the vehicle and brought her M4 up. There were no targets, nobody coming at them. Where the hell were those cowardly fuckers? Soldiers had already formed a defensive perimeter around the convoy, all facing outward from the burning Humvee. All except Jackson. He was running right for it.

Heart pounding, Maya fell back toward him, making sure she covered his six. The stench of burning metal filled the air, along with shouts and cries from the wounded. She knew that was why Jackson was racing there. As a PJ he was trained to save lives, even at the expense of his own. That sacrifice wasn’t happening, though. Not on her watch.

Maya whirled and ran flat out toward the burning vehicle.

* * *

T HE H UMVEE WAS lying partially on its right side, completely engulfed in flames. Two men jumped out and ran away from it, but Jackson couldn’t tell if anyone was still trapped inside. The intense heat of the fire hit him long before he reached the truck. Thick, toxic black smoke boiled into the air. Combined with the sound and shock wave from the explosion, any insurgent in the area looking for a target definitely had one now. The wreckage was now a beacon, calling militants to them from miles around.

As he ran, men converged on the burning wreck with fire extinguishers. Someone was at the back of the truck, trying to pull a passenger out. Head bent, an arm thrown in front of his face to shield it from the heat, Jackson raced up and grabbed the arms reaching out through the rear passenger window. The man shrieked as Jackson hauled him out and slung him over his shoulder, rushing him a safe distance away.

He kneeled, set him on the ground and took an initial sweep of the damage. A few shrapnel wounds to the legs, some light scorching over his lower body. Nothing life-threatening. The man’s eyes were dazed but alert. “Anyone else still in the truck?” Jackson demanded.

“N-no. Just me...” He was shaking all over from the overload of shock and adrenaline.

Jackson shrugged out of his ruck as someone dropped onto one knee beside him. He glanced up into Maya’s grave face. “Anyone else?” she asked.

“Negative,” he answered. Damn, he’d told her to stay in the truck. There could still be more IEDs planted along this stretch. Why had he ever thought she might follow his command?

He dug some bandages out of his ruck and when he glanced up, Maya had her weapon slung across her back, her hands already clamped down over one of the more serious shrapnel wounds on the man’s right thigh. “Gloves are on the top of my kit,” he told her. “Put some on.”

She didn’t argue, waiting only until he began cutting the material away before she did as he said. More soldiers came over to help, but Jackson waved them all back. Maya held the pressure dressings in place over the worst of the wounds while he did a more thorough exam. The sight of the blood didn’t seem to faze her. “Did you lose consciousness?” he asked the patient, watching his pupils, gauging his cognitive function.

The man shook his head, telling Jackson his C-spine was probably okay. The guy wasn’t going to walk out of here though. Jackson glanced over his shoulder to speak to one of the other soldiers. The nearest hospital was at least an hour’s drive away, and this guy was losing a lot of blood. “Go call for a medevac and get me a backboard and cervical collar.” The soldier rushed off.

His patient was panting through his teeth, shuddering, trying to lift his head to see the damage. “My legs. How’re my legs?”

“Can you still feel them?”

“Fuck yeah, they’re on fucking fire.”

“Consider that a good thing.”

“Lie back,” Maya told him firmly. He did. She looked up at Jackson, her sea-green eyes steady, attentive. “What else can I do?”

“You’re doing exactly what I need you to right now,” he answered, tying off another bandage then pulling out a sphygmomanometer and stethoscope. “Keep pressure right there so I can get a baseline.” The patient’s BP was high, which was to be expected, considering his elevated heart rate and pain level.

Someone finally came back with the C-collar and backboard. He secured the soldier’s neck carefully in case there was any spinal trauma, and Maya helped him roll the man onto the backboard. “Any other casualties?” he asked the soldier who’d brought him the supplies.

“Two. One minor, the other one...” He glanced down at the wounded man, who was pretty much out of it now, so he kept talking. “Not so much. Another PJ is with him.”

“Munro,” Jackson told him.

Maya raised her gaze to his. “Cam? Devon’s Cam?”

“Yeah, we’re partners. Volunteered for the MEDCAP together.” Cam was one of the best friends Jackson had ever made. “Any word on the medevac?” he asked the other soldier.

“En route. Another twenty minutes.”

That was plenty quick enough, at least for this guy. Jackson leaned over him so the patient could see him better. His eyes were a bit glazed. “You’re good to go to the hospital. We’re just waiting for the helo. Want some meds for the pain while we wait?”

He gritted his teeth and shifted restlessly against the pain. “How long?” he managed.

“Twenty minutes.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “Shit, yeah. Gimme something.”

“You allergic to any meds?”

“Penicillin.”

Jackson administered a syrette of fentanyl. The medication took effect in seconds. With a sigh, the patient relaxed slightly, his breathing slowing.

Then suddenly he reached up to grasp Jackson’s forearm. His eyes were wide, anxious. “My legs. Tell me the truth, man. Am I gonna keep my legs?”

“Your legs are gonna be fine once they heal up,” Jackson assured him.

With a nod of relief, the man closed his eyes and rested quietly, enduring the pain as best he could. Jackson glanced up, wondering where Maya had gone to, and didn’t have to look far. She stood just a few yards away, facing away from him. She’d stripped off the gloves, but her hands were stained with blood as she held her weapon up and at the ready. She was in profile to him, the brim of her helmet shadowing her face. Both her hands and her posture were rock steady, despite everything. Ready for action if anything happened.

“Want to clean your hands?” he called out.

She didn’t glance his way, and her tense posture didn’t change. “Later. After the helo gets here.”

Jackson climbed to his feet. Leaving another soldier to watch his patient, he hefted his ruck and made his way to where Cam worked on the other two. Maya followed, maintaining that same distance and vigilance. Protecting him? Shit, no. He could take care of himself. If anything, he should be guarding her . “You don’t need to do that. Go on back to the truck and clean up.”

She shook her head, not bothering to look at him. “You can’t treat patients and watch your back at the same time. Until we get the all clear, I’m not taking any chances.”

With his safety. She didn’t say it, but she didn’t have to. His shook his head in exasperation. Though she was half his size, she would stay and guard him, with her life if necessary. The woman was turning him inside out, but her stubbornness rankled him. While he understood and respected her training and ability, he didn’t want her putting herself in danger on his behalf. The way he saw it, it was his duty to protect her, not the other way around.

Now wasn’t the time for that fight. Tearing his attention away from her, he strode over and squatted beside Cam. “Need a hand?” One of the patients had an ugly head wound and the other was sitting up talking with his buddies.

Looking up from where he was still bandaging the head wound, Cam’s blue eyes met his. “No, I’m good. Where the hell are those assholes hiding? A hole in the ground?”

“Have to be. Nowhere else to hide around here.” Patting his friend’s shoulder once, Jackson went back to check on his patient, who was resting as comfortably as could be expected in a situation like this. Maya shadowed him, staying close, weapon up and safety off. Did her stubborn insistence about guarding him mean anything other than her simply performing her duty? If he was honest, he wanted it to mean more.

Finally the throb of rotors sounded in the distance. A Black Hawk appeared in the clear blue sky, the red cross on a white background on the door becoming visible as it neared. It touched down close by and a crew rushed out. Squinting against the dust kicked up by the rotor wash, Jackson helped carry his patient to the helo. He moved back and turned to collect his gear to find Maya standing next to it. She was looking at him this time, and the admiration he saw in her eyes made his heart swell.

Crossing to her, he stopped beside his ruck and pulled out some damp towelettes. “Here.”

She safetied and slung her weapon then took them from him to wipe up. “Thanks,” she said softly, seeming almost shy as she avoided his gaze.

“You’re welcome.” He wanted to touch her. Wrap his arms around her and hold her close, just for a minute. They could easily have been hit by the blast. If the IED had detonated a second later, it would have been their Humvee blown to hell. Maya had held it together, stayed tight despite the scare and adrenaline rush, the sight and smell of the blood. Not once had she faltered in her duty.

A fierce wave of pride and protectiveness rose inside him. She was brave and strong and professional. He knew in his gut that if the bullets had started flying, she would’ve stayed and defended him, putting herself between him and whatever the insurgents who’d remotely detonated that IED could throw at them.

He’d never met a woman like her. She deserved a man who would appreciate all that she was, cherish the softness locked away beneath the hard exterior. Jackson did. Something had forged her into this steely soldier. He wanted to know what it was.

Her hands shook ever so slightly as she wiped at her forearms, telling him she wasn’t as unaffected as she wanted everyone to think. Without a word, Jackson gently took the wipes from her and held her hands in his. Her eyes flashed up to his, surprise in their depths. Her skin was cold. But there was heated awareness in her gaze too. A kind of buried longing he would love the chance to satisfy.

Damn, he wanted her. In a primal and possessive way he’d never experienced before.

He gently washed away the remaining traces of blood, mindful of the swollen knuckles on her right hand. He stroked his thumb across them lightly, wishing he could heal her with his touch, that he could fight her battles so she wouldn’t have to. Standing this close to her, touching her soft skin and drinking in the unique features that haunted his dreams, he only craved her more. And suddenly he couldn’t hold back the incautious words that flew out of his mouth.

“If we were alone right now, I’d show you just how much I want you.”

Her expressive eyes widened a fraction. The flare of shock morphed into molten heat in the space of a heartbeat. And she didn’t pull away. Didn’t break eye contact. One dark brow rose in challenge, all that attitude confronting him full force. “Is that right?”

Oh, hell yeah, that was right. All fucking night long. Until she couldn’t breathe without wanting him against her, inside her. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her lips quirked, her bold gaze holding his. Direct. Unflinching. Full of confidence and interest. “Well, I’ll definitely keep that offer in mind.”

He went rock hard at the verbal taunt. Before he could reply, one of the other soldiers called out to them. “Let’s saddle up. Plans have changed—we’re going to Kandahar.”