SEALs Honor (13 page)

"Let's
go!" One of the door gunners yelled.

The
helicopter, near its maximum load capacity, lurched from the ground and into
the air.

Tuck
bent over Reaper and shined his flashlight into his teammate's face.

He
was deathly pale, all the color seeming to have leached out of his lips and he
wasn't moving at all.

"Is
he...?"

Fish
shook his head and spoke loud enough to be heard over the rotors. "He's
hanging on, but he's lost a lot of blood. You did good by applying the
tourniquet when you did, or he would have bled out."

Out
of the path of danger, without bullets flying past him, Tuck had time for the
entire event to process. The building had been empty and set with a trip wire.
If he hadn't stopped to read the writing on the wall, he'd have been the first
one through the door. He would be the one lying there with his arm dangling
uselessly, the muscles ground into hamburger meat.

He
glanced at the back of the pilot's head.  He couldn't reach her with the crowd
of men aboard. Instead, he reached out to touch a door gunner's arm. "Who's
flying this bird?"

The
gunner's mouth was set in a grim line. "Captain..." The craft dipped
and the gunner lurched, braced his hand on the inside wall and righted himself.

Tuck
held his breath and waited for the man to finish, his heart in his throat, his
stomach a massive knot.

"O'Connell,"
he finished. "Razor."

The
air left his lungs in a whoosh and he slumped over Reaper. They'd lost an
entire helicopter crew tonight. If they didn't get Reaper to a surgeon
quickly...

Bullshit.
They weren't losing Reaper, too. Tuck helped Fish stabilize the wounded arm,
check Reaper 's other injuries, and establish an I.V. of fluids to replace some
of what he'd lost.

Then
Tuck prayed to God to spare his friend.

Delaney's
hands were steady on the controls as she'd fired on the enemy. She couldn't
think about the burning ruins of the other helicopter. The SEALs’ lives
depended on her keeping a cool head. One thing at a time. Kill the enemy, then
get the men back to safety.

"Take
that, you sons of a bitches," she muttered, the aircraft shuddering with
the force of the machine gunfire and rockets launching.

 
"We got it from here," Mac, her senior gunner said, after she'd
unloaded the last of the ammunition into the Taliban.

Without
hesitating, Delaney turned the craft toward the village.

A
group of men rose from the field and waved at her. She landed and tried to
count but couldn't see from her side of the cockpit. "How many?"

"Four
on their feet. They're carrying one."

Her
throat constricted and she held onto the stick so tightly her knuckles turned
white. "The other team?"

"Coming
now from the village. I count four and they're helping another between them."

"All
on board," Mac said.

Delaney
wanted to take off before they encountered any more enemy fire.

"Wait,"
Mac said, before she could power up for takeoff. "They're going back to
check for survivors from the other helicopter."

The
chances of anyone surviving an RPG direct hit were slim to none.

With
her aircraft on the ground, she was a target and everyone inside was in danger.
She counted the seconds until the team returned carrying a body.

As
soon as Mac gave the go-ahead, she was up in the air and headed south.  When
they'd climbed high enough and out of range of the village, she asked, "What
do we have?"  What she'd wanted to ask was who was injured.

"One
with a bullet in his leg. Another with a penetrating trauma, possible
amputation."

Her
fingers tightened on the controls. "Who is it?" she asked, praying it
wasn't Tuck.

"Don't
know. They all look the same." The gunner shouted, "Who is it?"

A
moment later, he said, "Reaper."

Relief
washed over her, followed immediately by guilt. "Will he make it?"

A
hesitation before the answer came. "He looks bad. Real bad."

Delaney
flew the helicopter as fast as it would go. She radioed ahead that they were
coming in with severe combat injuries.

When
she set down at Camp Leatherneck, medical staff converged on the aircraft.
Delaney dropped down out of the cockpit and ran to the gurney where they loaded
Cory. His uniform was shredded, his right arm swathed in bandages, shorter than
his left arm.

Delaney
gulped, fighting back ready tears.

Tuck
stood on the other side of the gurney, far enough away the medics and corpsmen
could do their jobs.

Cory's
eyes opened and he stared up at her. "O'Connell?" He reached out with
his good hand.

Delaney
grasped his hand. "Yeah, Cory, I'm here."

"You
never answered." He coughed, blood dribbling from the side of his mouth. "You
gonna marry...me?" His eyes closed and Delaney thought he'd passed out.
But then they opened and he looked at her, hopeful.

"Sure,
Cory. I'll marry you. Just hurry up and get better," she said, tears
spilling down her cheeks.

Cory
closed his eyes, a smile pulling at his bruised and bloody lips. "Tuck?"

"I'm
here," Tuck said, his voice raspy as gravel.

"Take
care of her."

"I
will. Until you're back on your feet. Because, you will be back on your feet."

"That
an order?" Cory asked, his voice fading.

"You
bet."

"Aye,
aye." Cory's body went limp and the medics wheeled him into a waiting
ambulance.

"I'm
going with him." Delaney started after the medics.

Mac
stopped her. "Ma'am, he'll be in surgery before you can get to the
hospital. Likely, he'll be in surgery for a few hours. You might as well get
through debriefing before you head that way."

Delaney
stopped, torn between duty and her heart. Cory was a dear friend and he was
about to face one of the most traumatic events of his life. Losing a limb. He
needed all the love and support he could get.

The
ambulances drove away with Cory and the other SEAL who'd taken a bullet to his
thigh. Mac left her standing on the tarmac. With the gurney gone with Cory and
the others clearing the area, nothing stood between Delaney and Tuck. Nothing
but a promise that changed everything.

She'd
agreed to marry a man who might not make it through the night. And if he did,
he had a long road ahead of him coming to grips with the loss of a limb.

Tuck
loosened the strap beneath his chin and removed his helmet. His uniform was
peppered with tears and blood. A large smear stained his chest and shoulder. He
stared down at it and tried to brush it away.

"Yours?"
Delaney asked through a tight throat.

He
shook his head. "No, Reaper’s." Then he looked up and stared across
at her, the anguish in his eyes more than Delaney could bear.

She
went and wrapped her arms around him. Her tears fell faster, soaking into the
dried blood on his tattered uniform.

"It
should have been me," he said, his voice harsh. He didn't raise his arms
to wrap around her.

"You
can't second guess what happened." Delaney swallowed hard on the lump in
her throat. "It won't change the outcome."

"Reaper
was one of the best." His body stayed stiff, rock hard and unrelenting.

"And
he still is." Delaney leaned back, gripping Tuck's arms and shaking him. "He's
not gone yet."

"You
saw him." He glared at her, his lips peeling back in a snarl. "How
can anyone live through that?"

With
the image of Cory's ravaged arm seared into her mind forever, Delaney couldn't
let it rule her life and thoughts. She straightened, pushing back her
shoulders. Cory was her friend as well as Tuck's. He was too young to die. "We
have lots of beer and pizza ahead of us. I can't drink and eat it all on my
own." She laughed, the sound choked off by an escaping sob. "He'll
make it."

Tuck
looked to the sky and sighed. "God, I hope so."

"And
when he does, he'll need all the support we can give him."

His
gaze returned to her. "You promised to marry him."

"He
needed to hear that." She chewed on her lower lip. "I couldn't say
no."

"You
do realize, you can't take back that promise."

She
nodded. "I know." Cory's injuries were so severe, any emotional
setback could kill him. For better or worse, she'd promised to marry Cory. And
a promise was a promise. Even if she didn't love him that way, maybe she could
learn to.

A
medic stepped up to Tuck and pointed at his leg. "Sir, you're bleeding."

Delaney
stared down at Tuck's pant leg, for the first time noticing the blood stain
running from mid-calf to his ankle. "Damn, Tuck. You've been injured."

He
shrugged. "Just a flesh wound."

"If
you'll come with me, sir, I'll check it out." The medic hooked Tuck's arm.
"You might need to see a surgeon."

Tuck
shook off the hand, standing tall. "I'm fine."

"If
it's all the same to you, sir, I'm just doing my job." The medic wasn't
taking no for an answer.

"Go
with the medic," Delaney urged. "The Navy needs you."

He
paused, his gaze capturing hers. "And you don't?" he asked softly.

Her
lips twisted in a wry grin. "I seem to recall the situation was the other
way around."

Tuck
nodded. "Doesn't matter anymore. Reaper needs you more."

Though
she didn't want to, Delaney agreed. Still, it would have been great if Tuck
owned up to loving her. Then again, an admission like that would only make
their lives harder when she married Cory, knowing Tuck had changed his mind and
wanted a long-term relationship with her. No, she was better off this way.
There never was anything permanent between her and Tuck, which left her open to
marrying a man she loved like a brother. If he lived to their wedding day.

"Captain
O'Connell." Delaney's CO, Lt. Colonel Cooley, appeared beside her and
gripped her arm.  "Glad to see you're okay."

She
stared up at him, fighting the tears. Members of the 160th Night Stalkers were
the elite fighting force. They didn't cry.  

Her
commander shook his head and pulled her into a hug. "It's okay. Every
pilot is allowed to express their grief. You wouldn't be human if you didn't."

She
let a few tears trickle down her cheeks, then pushed back from the lieutenant
colonel, wiping at the tears. "I had breakfast with Captain Kuntz this
morning. He's got a baby on the way. His daughter starts kindergarten this
year." She shook her head and swiped at more tears. "Sergeant Ryerson
was one class short of his online degree, and Pickard was supposed to be best man
in his sister's wedding next year."

"They'll
be missed." The CO's jaw tightened and he stood for a few moments,
gathering himself before he went on. "A retrieval team is on its way to
recover them and bring them home."

More
tears welled in Delaney's eyes as she pictured the funerals, the flag-draped
coffins, and the wives and children of those lost. "Sir, my fiancé was the
man severely injured in the explosion. I request permission to accompany him
back to the States." She bit down on her bottom lip to keep it from
shaking before adding, "If he lives."

"I'll
see what I can do." He tipped his head toward the hospital. "Now, go.
When he regains consciousness, he'll want to see a familiar face."

"Thank
you, sir." Delaney hurried toward the hospital, pushing aside thoughts of
the men who'd died, her hastily made decision to accept Cory's proposal, and
the look on Tuck's face of resigned acceptance. Everything about loving a SEAL
reminded her of why she shouldn't. Men who volunteered for such dangerous missions
set themselves up for death or dismemberment. They were fearless adrenaline
junkies. Women who married them waited in constant fear of getting that call,
or of the chaplain stopping by with word of their soldier or SEAL's demise.
She'd been through it once, when Max died on a mission.

If
Cory lost his arm, he would never be deployed as a SEAL again. Most likely,
he'd be medically retired or given a desk job. He'd be safe from going back in
the line of fire. He would be the ideal husband for Delaney. She could love him
without worrying about him getting killed. The idea didn't make her feel any
better. Her heart couldn't switch gears so quickly, not when she still had
feelings for Tuck, feelings that were more potent than the love of a brother.

Damn
it. All the time she'd been holding back and telling Tuck they couldn't be
together, she'd done exactly what she'd sworn she never would do. She'd fallen
in love with a SEAL.

Again.
Her realization didn't matter. What happened now wasn't about her or Tuck, or
why they couldn't be together. Her focus was all about getting Cory through the
night. Beyond that, she didn't dare think or plan.