The Night Is Mine

Chapter 17

17

Mark crossed the carrier’s flight deck to her helicopter. He couldn’t help being reminded of Emily Beale. There sat her bird, perched ever so neatly. All fueled and armed and nowhere to go. It still had her name stenciled beside the door. He’d told Bronson his command was only temporary so no need to put his name on her bird.

He checked his watch. Ten-fifteen in the morning, just after 1:15 a.m. her time. If she was on the East Coast. Her orders had said she was going stateside, so that was as good a guess as any. And they’d be parked here for another hour.

He guessed that she was on a Black Ops assignment and would be back as soon as it was done. He hoped he was right. It happened, but this time felt different. He’d always been in the loop before.

You learned to read between the lines of your people’s orders on the rare occasions when you weren’t inside the loop. “Assigned to Fort Campbell, Kentucky” meant special equipment or tactical training. “Assigned to Fort Rucker, Alabama” meant extreme flight, probably with specialized night-flight training for a specific mission. “Nellis, Nevada” put you near remote and unobserved gunnery ranges for practicing high-explosives missions. The mission could then extend to anywhere in the world, but at least you knew the nature of what your people were up to.

“Reassigned stateside, detached” didn’t mean squat and that unknown was killing him. If she’d crossed out of SOAR and into another type of assignment, who knew if she’d ever make it back.

“And then you kissed her, you asshole.” He whispered it to her Black Hawk. The chance of losing her into that unknown ate at him. So what had been his totally mature response? To nearly wreck his helicopter with her aboard, then put both of their careers at risk with potential fraternization charges in exchange for seven heart-stopping seconds. Real intelligent.

Then the next thought slammed in and he was glad he wasn’t standing any closer to the edge of the deck and the long fall to the ocean or he might be tempted to throw himself off.

He’d been afraid of what would happen if she didn’t come back? Far more important, what would happen if she did? He’d broken a barrier of trust that he’d spent an entire career crafting, refining, and building ever higher and stronger until a TOW missile couldn’t penetrate its armor.

He’d underestimated the ballistic power of a hurt woman in emotional pain. His mother’s tears had always made him frantic, leaving him madly trying to fix the problem—no matter how far beyond his ability. Even without tears, Emily’s pain had scorched through his hard-won defenses as if they were no more than tissue paper.

“And then you kissed her, you asshole.”

Would she want to come back at the end of her assignment? Would she dare? She would believe that he now lurked in the shadows, waiting to take advantage of the only woman flying in the entire regiment the moment she returned. Emily would ask to be reassigned elsewhere, anywhere, except with that s****l-harassing viper, Major Mark Henderson.

He shook his head, stopped in his tracks like a bulldog at bay. There had to be a better answer. She belonged here, 5th Battalion, D Company, 160th SOAR. Her crew was here. Her Black Hawk was here.

And him.

He had to let her know it would be okay.

He couldn’t call her, who knew where she’d landed. But he could write her. Email. She wouldn’t get it right away, especially not if she was in the communications blackout that surrounded most Black Ops. But it would be waiting for her when she came out the other side.

He needed to borrow a computer. He turned his back on her name stenciled across the weapon of war awaiting her return, and signaled a handler to get him back across the flight line.

Dear Emily, Sorry I kissed you. Your doofus commander.

Yeah, that was gonna work great, especially sent from a shared military computer across a military network. Might as well publish it on a bulletin board for his court-martial hearing. Mark deleted the line and tried again.

Dear Emily Beale,

It would be easier if he felt more sorry.

Dear Captain Beale,

He regretted having done it. But he didn’t regret the kiss itself. Her lips had opened to his, blooming in slow welcome. Their mouths had flowed together as if meant for each other. As if designed to be the exact and perfect fit of—

He blinked and glared at the screen.

Captain Beale,

Now what? No clue. He looked around the public comm center. In cubicled rows, sailors on break surfed the Internet, video-chatted with family, watched movies. The guy next to him was trying to get a printout of Penelope Cruz in the surf at the end of Cussler’s Sahara.

“C’mon, Clive. Give an old boy a hand.”

Not a word.

Mark stared back at the laptop sitting on the desk. It was the same model she’d shot with such awe-inspiring speed and accuracy. The woman had a grip of iron to bull’s-eye the three shots one-handed and so closely together. Like an Old West gunslinger. He was glad he’d glanced into the tent in time to see it.

I wish

He flexed his left hand, could still feel where she’d flipped him yesterday. Stung when he stretched for the “W” key.

I wish to assure you that events occurring prior to your departure were unfortunate, strictly accidental, and shall not be repeated.

There’d been no accident, and how unfortunate was it to have tasted her sweet, sweet mouth? Unfortunate in that it still completely overwhelmed his senses. He checked his watch. He’d been sitting here for fifteen minutes already. He kept losing chunks of time even imagining her.

He tried once more.

I wish to assure you that the 5th Battalion, D Company of the 160th SOAR(a) will always honor and treat all of its members equally. I will uphold nonbiased treatment to the limits of my abilities.

Despite your testing those abilities and finding them so lacking.

You will be pleased to hear that the 5D stands ready to honor all men and women who meet the highest standards.

Except I don’t.

I know that I speak for your crew and the entire 5D when I say that we await your safe return where, as there never was before nor shall ever be again, any gender-based difference in treatment of the company’s personnel.

He read it again. It was lame. Never before or again, only that one royal screwup in the middle.

As before, I will personally ascertain that there will never be any threats to your career or position based on another’s actions.

That was it. The best he could do without spelling it out for everyone to see. When she came off her current operation, when she could once again check email, she’d see his apology and should be able to read his personal promise that he’d never touch her again.

Major Mark Henderson

He read it one last time. Then he spotted Big John looking for him.

He deleted the last line and replaced it.

Mark

More personal. His personal guarantee.

It looked good. He clicked “Send” and “Okay” quickly. Only as he cleared the screen did he notice that he’d actually clicked “Delete” and “Okay” in his hurry.

Figured. He never did anything right around Emily Beale.

Though the message was gone, he understood why he’d made the last change from his title to his name. Because he could hear her whispering it in his ear after they’d kissed.

Though she hadn’t.