“What happened between you and Captain Hamilton was five years ago. Let dead dogs be buried.” Dallas jabbed her finger toward Rachel. “And I don’t want to hear that you’re not getting along over there. You represent the United States, Captain. We’re the only all-woman Apache squadron in the world, and I’ll be damned if you’re going to give us a black eye. Got it?”
Swallowing hard, Rachel whispered unsteadily, “Yes, ma’am. I got it.”
“Dammit,” Dallas growled, “make it work, Captain. I’m sorry that happened to you, but Hamilton got his just desserts. It’s time to move on.”
“I—I’m struggling with that,” Rachel admitted hoarsely.
Dallas’s eyes narrowed. “Captain, he just saved your life. That should count for something, shouldn’t it? If he hadn’t seen you go down and rescued you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, would we? Dismissed!”
Chapter 3
“Rachel?” Emma called as she popped into her tent in the BJS area, “I just heard what happened. Is it true?”
Rachel was at her small desk, squeezed into the corner of her tent. She turned in the chair and greeted her cousin. “Hey, I didn’t expect to see you today.”
“Got a minute?” Emma asked, sitting down on the end of her cot. “Is it true? Major Klein is moving the four of you over to the new transport squadron that just arrived? That she can’t get her hands on two Apaches?”
Glumly, Rachel nodded and shut the manual on the Chinook she had been studying. “Yeah. Can you believe it?”
Emma reached out and touched her shoulder. “How are you? Your throat?”
“Better, thanks.” Rachel gestured to the bottled water on her desk. “My throat has improved a lot since yesterday’s attack. The doc ordered me to stand down for seven days because of smoke inhalation, but I’m fine.”
Emma set her helmet bag on the wooden floor. “Is there anything Khalid and I can do for you?”
“Aside from Khalid buying me an Apache helo to strap my butt into, no,” Rachel chuckled.
Emma nodded with a smile. “I remember when I was flying Apaches and then was ordered to fly the Chinook. I hated the slow-moving transport. Besides that, you’re wide open for attack. All I had was a tail gunner at the rear of the helo. I felt like a piece of raw meat hung out in the sky with a sign that said ‘shoot me.’”
“I know.” Rachel liked the fact that now Emma was allowed to wear civilian clothes instead of a uniform. Her hair was growing longer and it suited her. Today she had on a dark green, one-piece flight suit with her name on it. “How are things in your neck of the woods? I was over at communications at HQ, and it seems pretty quiet out there today.”
“It is,” Emma agreed. “Usually, when the Taliban makes a big attack, they run and hide for a week. They don’t want Apache wrath out hunting for them.”
“Major Klein is like a madwoman on a wolf hunt over there,” Rachel agreed. “She wants to find and blow them out of existence.” And then sadly, “I wish I was in one of those Apaches. This is hell, Emma. I know I went and learned how to fly a Chinook transport, but that was years ago.” She held up her hands. “This is like starting all over.”
“Hmm,” she agreed, “it is.” Her brows drew down. “And is it true you’re going into Hamilton’s Chinook squadron?”
Rachel groaned. “Yes. The old squadron did its tour of duty, and now Hamilton had been ordered in to replace it. And you know the worst of it? He’s the CO!”
Emma shook her head. “I didn’t know that.”
“Ever since Hamilton was removed from the Apache program, he’s been in CH-47s. That’s five years. Plenty of time to become a CO of a squadron.”
“I guess he kept his nose clean since then,” Emma said with a twisted smile.
“He’s a captain. He’ll never rise higher in rank than that, no matter how long he stays in the Army and flies those transports,” Rachel growled.
“And you’re studying the CH-47 manual to bone up? When do you have to go over there?”
“Read this,” Rachel told her cousin, and handed her the order she’d just received.
“Oh, God,” Emma whispered, frowning. “Not only is Hamilton CO, but he’s the IP? Instructor pilot?”
“It’s like the universe has it in for me. Not only do I get to live with this bastard for the next six months, he has to qualify me in the CH-47. How’s that for double jeopardy? I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure a way out of this.”
“Can you get out of it?”
With a shake of her head, Rachel sighed. “Major Klein made it clear that if I want to fly the Apache when it arrives in six months, I have to sit my butt in that CH-47 and do the duty. If I refuse to fly a transport, then I’ll be shipped out to another Apache squadron. You know how important it is that women fly together. You’ve done it. There’s a camaraderie between us that no male squadron will ever have. I love it here, Emma. I don’t want to give that up.”
Gripping her cousin’s slumped shoulder, Emma said soothingly, “Hey, I understand. I loved flying with the Black Jaguar Squadron in Peru and then here. We’re making history. We’re showing everyone that a group of women can do as well as any male squadron or mixed squadron.”
“That’s the other problem,” Rachel warned her. “Hamilton’s squadron is all men. Then all of a sudden, he’s getting four female Apache drivers thrown into the mix. Because he hates women and loves spreading his crap that we’re not cut out for flying or war, this is going to be a nightmare for all of us.”
“How are the other gals taking the assignment?”
“Better than I am. But they don’t have the past history with Hamilton like I do. They were in other training outfits, not mine.”
“This sucks, dude,” Emma agreed, placing her hands in her lap. “Could you use some interesting news that Khalid got wind of the other day?”
Rachel perked up. “Sure. What has he heard?”
Emma leaned forward. “You have to keep this top secret.”
“Oh, I will,” Rachel promised, seeing the glint in her cousin’s eyes. “Whatever it is, it’s big!”
Laughing a little, Emma said, “Oh, it’s an eye-knocker-outer.”
“What? Tell me!”
Emma grinned. “There’s a new Black Jaguar group forming under Colonel Maya Stevens. Khalid has been working with Maya and her husband, Dane, who were both assigned to the Pentagon. Maya was the creator of the original BJS, and she showed the boys in the Army how to use the Apache to stop the drug runners in Peru.”
“Oh, she’s famous for that. She’s the bedrock of the BJS,” Rachel enthused, excited. “But what is this new BJS squadron?”
“Not a flight squadron.” Emma’s eyes glinted. “It’s a U.S. Marine initiative. They’ve asked her and Dane to head up a group of women volunteers from the five military services who will have boots on the ground. They’re specialists in language and Afghan culture. Their job is to be put in individual Marine deployment squadrons that are coming here.”
Confused, Rachel said, “Women in combat?”
“Yes, with a particular mission. They’re in training with the Marines right now at Camp Pendleton. Come October, they’re going to arrive here, at Bravo Camp. This will be their HQ. Maya will head it up because she knows how to integrate women into all male elements. It’s not flying but Maya will