Page 39 of Vaquero
Chapter Fifteen
Meg watched the fiery glow from the gravel pit as long as she could see it through the trees, but the Blackhawk cut her view short when it veered north. Charlie still had his big arm wrapped tightly around her. But that was Charlie for you, acting all macho and proprietary in front of his buddies. He probably thought she was some brainless newbie who’d fall out of the chopper or something. But there was no way she could. Her harness held her secure just like his harness did him. They weren’t going anywhere. Not falling out of the chopper nor falling in love.
As strange as it seemed, given she’d only met Julio earlier today, she’d recognized something in him. Something she hadn’t realized she’d been searching for until now. Whatever it was, it felt stronger than the friendship she shared with the cocky, wanna-be-friends guy beside her. Like other male soldiers she’d deployed with, Charlie’d always been more of an over-protective brother than a lover. But Julio?
She cocked her head trying to figure him out. He said he’d come back to her, and she’d believed him. Yet when the Blackhawk appeared overhead for this exfil, he’d vanished. Which meant he still had work to do. Didn’t it? She hoped that was all it meant. Either he intended to follow the workers out of the pit to make sure they were safe, or he’d disappear. To do what, she couldn’t imagine. Oz was dead. There was no way anyone could’ve survived that blast. What else was important enough to stay?
Oh, yeah. Had to be those three missiles. Which made sense. A man like Julio wouldn’t leave until the nukes were secured. He was too honorable, and he cared about the Brazilian people too much to let those weapons fall into the wrong hands.
But her heart hurt for Pepe. That was a hard loss to this day. There had to be a way to return, to search for him until she knew for certain what happened to him.God, please let him stay alive until I can get back to him,she prayed.Keep him safe.
Brushing a hand over her head, she was thankful her bandana was, at least, still hiding her lack of hair. But by then, Meg didn’t really care about hair. She had Pepe to worry about, and she sure hadn’t come to Brazil to impress Charlie or anyone else. She’d come here to help Brazil’s orphans, and she’d already given her heart to Julio. What difference did hair make? None. None at all.
Sliding the grimy square of black fabric off her head, she extended her arm and let the wind take it. If this was to be her last time in Brazil, she wanted to leave something else behind instead of just the bodies of the orphans Oz had taken. Her bandana was all she had to give at the moment. Covered with her sweat, it was her last promise to Brazil. She would return.
The noisy Blackhawk made conversation impossible, and Meg was glad for that. She didn’t need Charlie’s interpretation of what she’d just done. He tended to minimize what he perceived as foolish, feminine promises, and she didn’t want to hear it.
Her gift to Brazil had been hours and sweat well-spent. She liked to think she’d made a difference.
In minutes, they cleared Brazil’s coastline and the bird headed out to sea. Pulling the last of her bravado out of her bag of tricks, Meg slapped Charlie’s big mitt off her shoulder. “Knock it off, CB. It’s not like I haven’t flown side-saddle before.”
He cast a mischievous glance at her bare head. A big, wide Cheshire cat grin deepened the dimples in both cheeks. “Remember that last op?”
“Sure, yeah. Who could forget?”
“You weren’t married then, but you had hair.”
“No, but I was engaged, and hair can grow back.”
“So, the answer’s still no?”
“That depends. What’s the question this time?” Like she didn’t already know what he was after.
His shoulders lifted.
Charlie, Charlie. Charlie…“God, you never change, do you?”
“Can you blame me? I see something I like, I go after it. And I never quit. You should know that by now. What do you say, Duncan? You and me make a good team. We could go far.”
Smiling, she shook her head. Charlie wasn’t so bad. He’d make some woman a husband—maybe not a good husband, but a halfway decent husband—someday. “I say the same thing I told you last time, CB. We want different things out of life, and this time around, I’m not willing to settle for less.”
He winked. “I can change.”
“No, big guy, I don’t think you can, and neither will I. When I settle down, I want a houseful of children, and that’ll take two adults, as in one mother and one father, who choose to be actively engaged with their marriage and their children every minute of every day. Not once in a while. Not just one harried woman who keeps the home fires burning while her guy goes off to war on the opposite side of the world at the drop of a hat.”
Thankfully, the chopper dipped down toward a gray Navy aircraft carrier then, theIwo Jima, and Charlie stopped pushing.
Not as impressive as a Nimitz class supercarrier, theIwo Jimawas still a breath of home-sweet-home in the middle of the wide, gray Atlantic. Wasp class carriers were the Navy’s amphibious assault ships, the much-touted landing helicopter dock (LHD) for any aircraft from the super cobra attack helicopter to…
Oh, look. Are those F-35 Lightnings?Why yes, six Joint Strike Fighters were parked aft in a tight row with their wheels pegged. Excited now, Meg strained to see the newest bad boys of the sky. These Air Force fighters were designed to support Navy, Army, Marines, and Guard. Talk about firepower.Between the Osprey tiltrotor helicopters, the F-35s, and the mix of other helicopters, some large and some small, parked on deck, this ship had it in spades. Pride blossomed in her chest for the men and women of America’s armed forces. There were none better in the world.
She’d no more than jumped off the chopper once it landed—without Charlie’s help, thank you very much—when Maria came running out of nowhere, and grabbed onto Meg’s leg. She nearly stumbled backward at the tender assault. Her left side kept telling her it needed rest, the sooner the better. But Meg enjoyed the snuggle until she sensed the girl was sobbing. With the noisy flight deck in her ears, she couldn’t ask why. Ushering Maria back through the nearest door, she secured it behind her, glad Charlie hadn’t tagged along.
“What’s wrong?” she asked as she knelt at Maria’s level, threading her fingers over the short dark hairs growing back on the girl’s shorn head. “Where’s everyone else?”
“He’s…” Maria hiccupped. “He’s really, really sick.”
“Who? Dom?”
