Off Limits (12 page)

“Sir, you wanted to see me?”

Johnson's head snapped up. He jerked around. “You,” he ground out. “I'm ordering you to pick up a rifle
right now
and get out in the trenches.”

Jim's stomach knotted. One look into Johnson's narrowed, angry eyes, and he knew the captain wasn't going to take no for an answer. “Sir, with all due respect, I can't—won't—pick up a rifle.”

Johnson's lips pulled away from his teeth as, livid, he repeated, “One last time, McKenzie. I'm ordering you to pick up a rifle and get your ass up there.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jim saw Gunny Whitman come barreling down the wooden steps into the bunker, his face set. “Sir, I'll help any other way I can—”

With a hiss, Johnson gripped Jim by the shirtfront. If not for Gunny Whitman's intervention, Jim would have been slammed against the wall of the bunker.

“Captain!” Whitman breathed as he gripped the officer's arm. “Calm down, sir.”

“This bastard thinks he can disobey a direct order. He's got another think coming!” Johnson snarled, glaring into Jim's face.

Whitman gently loosened Johnson's hand on Jim's utilities. “Yes, sir, but we've got more important things to address. The VC are trying a rear assault. We've got to get arty called into position or we'll be overrun.”

Johnson's eyes widened considerably. With a curse, he released Jim. “You're on report, McKenzie, for disobeying a direct order from a superior officer. You got that?”

Jim nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Whitman glanced over at him. “Corporal, you're needed topside. We got wounded.”

With a nod, Jim whispered, “Right away, Gunny. I'll go get 'em.”

Whitman grabbed Jim's arm. “Son, be careful. They're exposed. You could get killed just tryin' to reach them.”

“I'll be careful, Gunny.” As he hurried up the steps, Jim worried more for Alex than himself. She didn't look good. He knew that if he was going to survive, he had to think clearly, despite his exhaustion. First, he had to get those wounded marines to safety. Then, if he had time, he'd visit Alex.

* * *

Alex felt Jim's nearness and opened her eyes. She managed a slight smile as he hunched down, his long, large-knuckled hands against his thighs.

“Are you okay?” she asked wearily.

He tipped his cap back on his head. “No sweat, gal.” His eyes narrowed with worry. “You're looking peaked.”

“I've been working a little too hard. I'm not as strong as I thought....”

He brushed several strands of hair away from her brow. “That's another thing I like about you,” he whispered, his voice suddenly emotional. Despite Alex's disheveled appearance, she was beautiful. She needed to climb out of her filthy clothes, wash her hair and take a hot shower. But her gray eyes shone with such luster that he felt as if his heart were tumbling on the wings of pure joy. She loved him. Jim could feel it from her tender look alone. It left him humbled and in awe.

“Listen, we're getting the help we need to break that stalemate topside. The jets are gonna start dropping napalm any moment now, and we've got a bunch of medevacs coming for these grunts—and you.”

Alex frowned. “What about you?”

He grinned tiredly and straightened. “Me? Marines don't hat out when they're tied down. I'll stay until it's over.”

“What are you doing up there?”

“Mostly helping the wounded. Sometimes I trundle ammo to the grunts in the trench.” He shrugged. “The gunny has me giving pep talks to some of the younger marines who are worried about being overrun. I sort of fill in the gaps where he needs me.”

Alex was proud of Jim, proud of his commitment despite his vow never to pick up another rifle. “You're so special,” Alex quavered.

Jim shook his head. “Gal, you must be plumb out of your head with fever again,” he teased. With a wave of his hand, he turned. “Stay here and stay safe. When the medevacs land, we're going to get you out. The weather's finally lifting, and we can get them in here—providing the VC don't shoot them out of the sky.”

* * *

Alex had never realized what it took for the heroic medevac pilots to land their aircraft under the withering hail of small-arms fire. The first one came in and the worst cases, marines who needed immediate surgery, were hustled on board by men who risked their lives just getting their buddies onto the helicopter. It was on the third helicopter that Jim personally took charge of including Alex with several of the less seriously wounded marines.

She didn't have time to say goodbye as he thrust her up onto the lip of the aircraft and the crew chief guided her to a nylon-covered seat at the rear.

“I'll make sure you get home...or at least as far as Da Nang,” Jim promised with a shout, and lifted his hand before quickly moving off the crown of the hill where he was a target. Mortars still dropped sporadically around them, and the helicopters were perfect targets.

Alex opened her mouth to say goodbye, but the craft lifted off, straining with its full load of wounded. Despite the way her mind was shorting out with exhaustion, Alex wondered if and when Jim would get off that embattled hill. The last she'd heard, there was still the possibility of it being overrun. Fighting to hold together her shredded emotions, Alex bent her head so no one could see her tears. She was going to Da Nang, to safety. Never in her life had anything sounded so good—but leaving Jim behind dampened her relief. As soon as she landed back at the huge marine complex, she would receive needed medical attention and then she'd find Jim's commanding officer, Breckenridge. Alex began to laugh, her shoulders shaking. Her father! She'd completely forgotten about her father. Where was he? Still in Vietnam? Stateside?

Her laughter, more out of hysteria than humor, passed. The helicopter shuddered on toward its destination, and she was relieved to think of her mother being told that Alex was alive. Her father was probably more angry over her disappearance than anything else. He didn't like unplanned events getting in the way of his precise schedule.

As Alex lifted her head, her eyes awash with tears, she set some priorities for her arrival. First, she'd ask a Red Cross official to contact her parents, then she'd get someone to hunt down Lieutenant Breckenridge. Would Jim's boss be as nasty as Captain Johnson out at the hill had been? Or would he understand what Jim had done? More than anything, Alex didn't want to see Jim slapped in the brig and held on desertion charges.

* * *

“Miss Vance? I'm Lieutenant Matt Breckenridge. I understand you wanted to see me.”

Alex was lying with her eyes closed on a bed in one of the MASH-unit tents. Two hours had passed since her arrival at Da Nang.

Struggling to sit up, wearing only a light blue gown of coarse cotton, Alex crossed her legs beneath the bed covers. The recon officer standing at the foot of her bed was in his mid-twenties, his dark brown hair cut very short. He was tall and lean, but not rawboned like Jim. It was his gray, hawklike eyes that made her understand why recons were set apart from the regular marine forces. For a moment, Alex was frightened by the officer's emotionless expression. And then, as if he sensed her apprehension, his eyes thawed and grew warm. His mouth stretched into a slight smile of welcome. Her left arm in a sling, Alex maneuvered awkwardly upright, and tried to return the smile.

The lieutenant carried his utility cap carelessly in his left hand. The web belt around his waist had the same items as Jim's, with the addition of a .45 pistol. As Alex searched the officer's hard features, she felt hope.

“You're Jim McKenzie's boss?”

“Yes, ma'am, I am. I understand Jim's alive?”

Alex saw worry and concern in the marine's eyes. “He's recovering from a broken leg, Lieutenant. Please, if you've got a few minutes, I've got to tell you what happened to Jim. It's important you know the truth—I'm afraid they'll put him in the brig when he gets to Da Nang.”

“What?” Breckenridge muttered, coming around the end of the bed. “Jim? In the brig? What are you talking about?”

As weary as Alex was, she pointed to a nearby chair. “Sit down, Lieutenant. I've got a lot to tell you.” She glanced at her watch. Her father was due to arrive from Saigon in another hour. “And I don't have much time.”

Breckenridge nodded and straddled the chair. “What's going on?” he demanded.

* * *

“What do you think the Marine Corps will do with Jim now that you know the whole story?” Alex asked in a hushed voice, closely watching the officer's expression.

Breckenridge rose tensely. “McKenzie's one of the best men I've served with in the recons,” he muttered more to himself than her. “He's not a coward or a deserter.”

Alex watched Breckenridge pace, feeling strongly that he was a fighter—a defender of the men on his team. Alex liked the young officer. It was obvious he was loyal to his men. “I found out through Gunny Whitman that Captain Johnson, the company commander on that hill, is going to put Jim on report for disobeying a direct order from a superior officer. Jim refused to pick up a rifle and fight.”

Rubbing his chin, Breckenridge nodded. “That's going to work against him.”

“But he was helping with the wounded and taking ammo to the marines in the trenches. I saw him!”

Matt shook his head and glanced over at her. “How much do you know about the Marine Corps?”

“I have two brothers in the corps.”

“Then you know how they feel about a marine who commits treason, deserts or refuses a direct order.”

Alex nodded. “Oh, Lieutenant, you understand why he made that decision!”

“Yes, I do. I was there when Kim was killed.” He shook his head. “It was a shame. A crying shame. Kim loved Jim and vice versa. What Duc did—” He took in a deep, ragged breath and gave Alex an apologetic glance. “Sorry. When things like that happen, you don't get over them fast...maybe never.”

Alex understood completely. She saw how shaken the officer had become discussing Kim's death. Gently, Alex asked, “What do you think they'll do to Jim?”

Matt snorted softly and stared down the row of bunks filled with wounded marines. He kept his voice low. “Honestly? Probably slap him in leg irons and put him in the brig. I'm sure they'll charge him with insubordination at the very least. He's likely to get a court-martial.”

Wincing, Alex forced the question out of her mouth. “What about prison? Will they put Jim in prison?”

Breckenridge shrugged. “I don't know. So much depends on whether and how McKenzie defends his actions. Captain Johnson is a hard-nose, from what I hear through the grapevine.”

“Please, can you help Jim?”

The officer smiled slightly. “I'll get over to CID—the Central Intelligence Division—and see what I can find out.”

“You're on his side, aren't you?”

“Yes, I am.”

Relief flowed through Alex. “Thank God.”

“Look, you need some rest, Miss Vance. You've been through a lot.”

Touched by his concern, she shook her head. “Jim is more important to me, Lieutenant. He's a good man who was caught in a terrible situation. He needs everyone who's on his side working for him right now.”

Settling the utility cap on his head, Breckenridge grinned sourly. “You're Jim's ace in the hole. You're a congressman's daughter. If I were you, I'd play the publicity angle for all it's worth.”

Alex nodded. “I don't know how my father will react to Jim's problem. I'm hoping he'll see that Jim saved my life and forgive him for his choice.”

“Your father's a hawk,” Breckenridge whispered with a frown. “He's gung ho.”

“I know....” Alex lifted her hand in farewell to the marine officer and watched him move quietly down the aisle toward the exit. She knew Matt Breckenridge would defend Jim. Would her father? Anxiety coursed through Alex as she lay back down. Sleep, as badly as she needed it, refused to come. Her emotions skewed sharply from worry for Jim on that heavily defended hill and her father's arrival. What would her father do once he heard her story? Would he help defend Jim or try to put him behind bars?

* * *

“Alex,” Hiram Vance said heavily from where he sat on the chair next to her bed, “I think you're suffering from all the trauma you endured. McKenzie may have saved your life, but the boy's a damned coward and a shirker, in my opinion.”

“No!” Alex's cry sheared through the tent. “No!” she whispered stridently, “he's not!” Sitting up, her arm aching with pain, Alex held her father's dark stare. At fifty, Hiram Vance had silver streaks in his black hair. He was dressed in a suit, of all things, looking sorely out of place in the humid jungle climate. But Alex knew he was proud of the power he wielded in Congress—particularly of being a member of the prestigious finance committee.

Holding up his square hands, Vance gave her a look of disapproval. “Alex, you're distraught from the experience. Now, settle down. Getting all upset isn't going to accomplish a thing.”

Alex tried to bridle her emotions. “But Father, Jim saved my life! Isn't that worth something?”

“Of course it is. But it doesn't take away from the fact that he refused a superior officer's order under fire. And I hear from CID that he deserted his recon team.”

“He didn't desert! How could he go anywhere with a broken leg?”

“Look, this isn't your fight. It isn't even your business, Alex. You're a civilian who happened to get caught in the crossfire.”

Alex glared at her father. “Well, what are you going to do now that you know Jim's a conscientious objector?”

“I'm going to do nothing. The marines can handle a yellow-bellied coward like McKenzie without my involvement.” He rose and smoothed the dark fabric of his suit against his protruding belly. “Now, stop worrying about this jerk and get some rest, Alex. I'm going to talk to the doctor about getting you flown to Saigon for some decent treatment. You need to get out of this country. You're distraught.”