“Oh?” He perked up and placed his hands on his hips. “Like what?”
“Oh, no,” Dallas said, holding up her own hands and laughing, “I’m not going there! Your head is swelled enough, Cowboy.”
“I know, my arrogance is becoming. Even appealing to you. Isn’t it?” Mike liked the way her cheeks grew pink. He knew how to get beneath her armor.
“At times,” she said, holding his penetrating gaze and trying not to respond physically. Did Murdoch know how damn virile he was? Dallas suspected he did. Even though he’d shaved that morning, a hint of stubble already grew, making his face seem slightly dangerous. That kind of danger Dallas liked, and she quelled her yearning for him. She had to settle in as X.O., not to mention she had a number of jobs to undertake to keep this small flight unit functional.
“Well,” Mike said, “since the rumor is true, where did you scrounge up these extra bodies? The C.O. has never been able to force Washington to give us relief pilots so we could have a weekend off.”
“I got one pilot,” she told him. “Captain Alexander. She was due for rotation out of the Black Jaguar Squadron. I knew that in advance, so I made a phone call to an influential U.S. Army general back at the Pentagon.” Dallas handed him the summary orders. It was an excuse to touch his hand. The moment their fingertips met, warmth flowed into her. She savored the sensation.
“Thanks,” Mike said, taking the paper. He stared down at the new orders for the pilot. “Nike Alexander?”
“It’s pronounced ‘Nikee.’”
“Interesting. Wasn’t there a Greek goddess by that name?”
“Sure was. Nike Alexander was named after the goddess of victory. She was born in Athens. And she likes to tell everyone that the goddess was created when the god of war, Ares, consorted with a mortal woman. Nike was the child created by their love.”
“She sounds like she’ll be real aggressive in the air,” Murdoch said, handing the sheet back to Dallas. “And if she was named after the goddess of victory, then it sounds like you picked a real winner. We want aggressive pilots around here.”
“You got that right. There isn’t a woman at BJS who isn’t air combat aggressive, and from my experience around here, that’s needed in spades. Those drug smugglers in Sonora are the worst bunch I’ve ever run into. And I believe Nike can help us make a difference.”
“What about a copilot for her? You got one yet?”
Dallas shook her head. “No. I’ve got some pull in the Pentagon, and I’m working that angle right now. With the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, pilots are rare as hen’s teeth. But I’ve got a lead on one, and I believe we can get him.”
Rubbing his hands, Mike said, “You’re an accomplished, crafty woman, you know that?” He was proud of her abilities. The more he knew about Dallas, the more he admired her.
“That’s the X.O.’s job,” she parried, putting a number of items on her desk away. It was time to get going on their morning mission. “I like what I do. All the chess moves to get what we need around here. The C.O.’s thrilled pink we have Nike assigned to us.”
“I’m sure he is. Jake and Bob are gonna be jumping up and down over this change, too. They’d like to have some time off with their families.”
“I know,” Dallas said, frowning. “This work is demanding. We can’t be fresh and alert when we’re working 24-7, either, so that’s another reason to get a third flight team in here.”
Giving her an intent look, Murdoch said, “You know, I got a funny feeling about you. Why do I think you aren’t going to be around here forever?”
She smiled slightly as she put Nike Alexander’s orders in a personnel folder, which she tucked in the file drawer on the left side of her desk. Her heart twinged at the thought of leaving Mike, and that was new for her.
Normally, Dallas considered herself a tumbleweed, moving from one assignment to another, no strings attached. But after learning of his heartbreaking marriage, she had begun to see him in a new light. A better one. And a part of her wanted to stay here and not move when the new orders came in shortly from the Pentagon. Looking up, she said, “There’s that word again—forever. Mike, you know in our business change is guaranteed. You might not be military, but even the ATF will switch you to another spot eventually. I’m aligned with the U.S. Army, so about every two years I’ll be rotated to another base or mission.”
Frowning, Murdoch took the orders for the day, which lay near his elbow, but didn’t look at them. “Yet you believe in forever marriages.” The idea that Dallas might leave sooner rather than later knotted his stomach. A grim feeling snaked through him, twisting his gut. For once, he wished his intuition was wrong. There was so much about Dallas that was secret or off-limits to him, even now. She had learned to trust him in the last month, and Mike couldn’t fathom going up against the drug smugglers without her. She was a damn fine pilot, fierce in combat and someone he could trust to cover his back when things heated up. But it was more than that, and he tried to wrestle with the shock of her possibly walking out of his life—forever.
“Yes, but that’s not a job, that’s a way of life.”
“I agree.” Murdoch grinned. Dallas didn’t seem to realize how affected he was by the thought of her leaving. But then, he’d never kissed her or really told her how he felt about her. When had there been time? Opportunity? For once, Murdoch was unhappy about the seven-day-a-week job. He wished for a day off with Dallas.
She grinned back. “Marriage should be something great to build on. That doesn’t mean there won’t be problems to surmount, but at least they’re tackled as a team.”
“On that, there’s no argument.” He held her gaze. “You didn’t answer me. Do you know something we don’t? Are you gonna pull a disappearing act on me?” That was the last thing Mike wanted, and when he saw her hesitate, his heart squeezed. She did know something.
How he wanted a relationship with this enigmatic, powerful woman. Mike knew he could be her equal. But did she?
Dallas shrugged. She knew she couldn’t divulge the black ops orders that would be issued by the Pentagon. “Does it look like I’m going anywhere?” She pointed to the stack of tactical assignments on her desk. “There are all our December missions. That should tell you I’m hanging around.”
“Humph.” He pointed at their current mission. “Speaking of that, I see we’re going back to Hermosillo.”
“Yeah, our favorite place,” Dallas said wryly. Getting up, she smoothed out her flight suit, picked up her helmet bag and knee board, and gave him a smile. “Ready, Cowboy?”
A prickling heat of pleasure moved through Murdoch. He liked the way she said his nickname. Throwing her a mock salute, because he was a civilian and didn’t have to salute any military person, he said, “Ready, ready now…”
Murdoch was commander for the flight that day. As they snaked among the Sierra Madres looking for smugglers, Dallas scanned the terrain below. The Sonoran state, with its steep, rugged valleys, was a perfect place for low-flying drug planes to hide. They would pop up to cross a shrubby shoulder of mountain, then dive back undercover of another one. The smugglers rarely crossed into U.S. space. Instead, they’d fly to a dirt strip twenty or thirty miles south of the border and off-load their cocaine or marijuana to awaiting men, who would go by truck, horseback or foot into the USA.
Mike and Dallas had been flying for six hours by the time they neared Hermosillo. Murdoch figured they’d find something there. They always did.
“Got one,” Dallas crowed, binoculars fixed on a yellow-and-white Cessna crossing a steep canyon below them. “Don’t