Page 28 of Bullets and Dandelions

The taller fighter jock asked, “You doing anything tonight? I’d like to take you out for a beer and give you pointers on dog fighting.”

Before I could respond, Sergeant Stone glowered at him. “Get lost.”

“I’m Air Force and a lieutenant. So, shut the fuck up, sergeant.”

Stone shot to his feet, towering over the idiot lieutenant. “She doesn’t date. Ever.”

And once again testosterone raised its ugly head.

“Is that true?”

I looked at his name tag. “It is, Lieutenant Foster. Men who want to date me usually end up dead.”

“Dead?”

I nodded. “Yep, I have a CIA assassin after me.”

“A simple no would be sufficient,” Lieutenant Foster snapped.

Tex interjected, “She’s not lying.”

“The attack on King Faisal Air Force Base was another attempt to kill me,” I said and stood up.

“Going back for seconds?” Tex asked with a frown.

“I want some chocolate cake. Ideservesome chocolate cake.”

Johnson nodded. “She does. That was some mighty fine flying.”

“I agree, but you need to drink more water,” Sergeant Stone replied.

“I will.” I got back in line.

Lieutenant Foster followed me and pointed to my modified pistols. “Is this assassin who’s trying to kill you the reason you’re carrying two guns?”

“It is and I can shoot with both hands.”

“They say you’re a sniper, too.”

“I am.”

Three Taliban males wearing military uniforms burst in firing old Russian AK-47 assault rifles. “Allah Akbar!”

Bullets whizzed by me, hitting the metal food stations and the soda machine. Ignoring the searing pain in my left ribcage, it took me two seconds to draw my guns and return fire. The three militants fell to the floor with a bullet hole between their eyes. Thank God, my luck was holding. If the first shooter’s rifle hadn’t jammed, I’d be dead.

Stone, Rodriquez and Johnson cautiously approached the militants and kicked their weapons away and searched them.

Several military police officers rushed in.

“Shooters have been neutralized,” Stone shouted.

The pain in my side grew worse. I pulled up my blood-soaked shirt and sighed. The bullet had left me with a terrific six-inch long gash.

“Sonovabitch! I’m hit.”

I glanced down. Lieutenant Foster lay at my feet with a big hole in his right shoulder. “You weren’t lying.”

“Nope.” I grabbed some napkins and held them against my injury.

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