SEALs Honor (6 page)

Delaney
had committed one of the ultimate mistakes she'd told herself she'd never do.
Falling in love with a man in the military. Now it was too late. There was no
going back. Her heart belonged to Tuck.

Cory
and Tuck fell into formation on the pavement outside the Ops tent where their
commander worked. Gunny called them to attention, then performed an about-face
to hand off to Skipper, Commander Raymond Janek.

The
man stood like a tree, six-feet, four inches of hard muscle. He stayed as fit
as any of the younger SEALs standing before him, and demanded no less from his
team than he did of himself.

Without
preamble, Skipper announced, "We're headed to the sandbox. Report with
your deployment bags here at Zero-five-thirty in the morning. That gives you
exactly twenty-two hours to shit, shower, shave, and pack. I suggest you get to
it. Am I clear?"

"Sir,
yes, sir!" The team yelled in unison.

"Dismissed."

The
team fell out and ran for their vehicles.

"Nothing
like buggin' out on short notice," Cory said as he jogged alongside Tuck
toward his vintage '67 Mustang. "It's probably just as well. I'd hate to
be stuck here, coolin' my heels waiting for O'Connell to get back with her
answer." He stopped beside his Mustang. "I don't know. I'm thinking
she might say no." He shook his head. "You think she could love a man
like me?"

"I
know she loves you. Question is
like what
?"

"What
do you mean like what?"

"Does
she love you like a lover, a brother, or a friend?" Hell, Tuck knew, but
why burst the guy's bubble now?

Cory's
brows dove together. "What did she tell you?"

"I
heard what you heard. She'll think about it." That still angered him. She
could have come right out and said
no.

Cory
exhaled a long breath as he pulled out his keys and jammed them into the lock. "I
hope that's a good thing. Means she wants to think about it. I hope by the time
we get back from the desert, she'll say yes. As it is, I don't know if I can
wait that long."

"Guess
you'll have to."

"She
give any clue as to where she's headed?"

"You
know this stuff is classified." Tuck glanced at a spot over Cory’s
shoulder.

"Yeah.
But I was hoping she'd trust us enough to tell us, or scuttlebutt would get
back to someone on the team."

"I
wouldn't ask. No sense puttin' her in the position."

"You're
right. Guess you're the better man. I'd have asked, if she hadn't run out so
fast. And she didn't answer her cell phone later. Lord knows I tried to call
her ten times."

A
wash of guilt tightened Tuck's chest. Her phone had been in the kitchen, the
ringtone specific to Cory ringing several times.

They'd
ignored it.

Tuck
had a fifteen-minute drive to get back to his house. He made it in ten, grabbed
the bag containing his deployment gear, extra uniforms, boots, undergarments,
and toiletries that he kept stowed in his hall closet. After a quick look
around, he left everything as is. The less anyone knew about his movements, the
better. He didn't know where in the sandbox he was going or how long he'd be
gone.

He
hoped and prayed he'd be close to wherever Delaney had deployed. Only made
sense for those who trained together to deploy together.

The
call came in a week after she and her unit had boots on the ground at Camp
Leatherneck. Her crew, consisting of her co-pilot and two door gunner crew
chiefs, was called into the Tactical Operations Center, where TOP SECRET maps,
photos, and intel lined the walls. Briefed on where they were headed and the
number of people who'd be along for the ride, they were given the weather
conditions, personnel movements, coordinates of their pick up and drop off, the
number of men they would be carrying from the pickup point, and the amount of
fuel they would be taking. The rest was on a need-to-know basis. Delaney was
the Pilot in Command, or PC.

Delaney
checked her flight bag for her HGU-56/P flight helmet, NVGs, maps marked with
the roads and landmarks she could expect, and her electronic kneeboard, the Air
Warrior EDM Tablet with data downloaded. She carried the memory card to be
uploaded into the aircraft's radios and GPS. All data could easily be destroyed
in the case of a crash, or if the aircraft was compromised. She threw in a
bottle of water and stepped out of the ops center onto the flight line where
her Black Hawk MH-60M stood. After a thorough inspection of the exterior and
verification of the fuel levels, she climbed aboard, slipped on the helmet,
downloaded the memory card, and began her checks on the interior controls.

Her
copilot, Lieutenant K-9, settled in beside her and helped her complete the
pre-flight inspection and checklist.

"Mac,
Jones, ready?" Delaney spoke into her mic.

"Mac,
ready," the senior of the two door gunners, Sergeant McKenzie, responded
first.

"Jones,
ready," Specialist Jones echoed.

Delaney
fired up the rotors, and soon they were on their way to their first coordinate,
a tiny patch of earth on the desert landscape in the southern province of
Kandahar where she'd pick up six men and take them to the second coordinate.
Enemy fire was possible at the first coordinate, and expected at the second.

Saving
her adrenaline rush for the second leg of the journey, Delaney focused on the
rendezvous with the team she'd transport.

The
landing went without a hitch. The team, which appeared to be Navy SEALs, many
of them bearded with scraggly hair, hopped aboard, wasting no time on the
ground. Her heartbeat kicked up a notch, her thoughts, for a brief moment,
bouncing back to Little Creek and Tuck. She wished he was there. After only a
week, she missed him so much she physically hurt. Once the team was aboard, she
took off, pulling her thoughts back in line with the mission at hand. She
didn't have time to reminisce and couldn't afford to lose focus.

Dusk
claimed the sun as it dipped behind the mountain range to the west. Darkness
would settle over the desert before they arrived at the second coordinate. As
they took off, the team lead stepped up behind her with a topographical map of
the area. He'd switched his helmet for a headset and stuck out his hand. "Lt.
Reed Tucker, US Navy SEAL."

Delaney's
heart skipped several beats, and she schooled her face before turning to the
man outfitted for battle. "I believe we've met."

"O'Connell?"
Tuck's grin lit up his face. "What are you doing here?"

"I
suppose the team that trains together plays together." She wanted to say a
whole lot more, but refrained. "Who've you got with you?"

"Reaper,
Big Bird, Fish, Dustman, and Gator." He shook his head. "I didn't
know you'd be here, much less taking us out on this mission."

She
stiffened. "Does it make a difference?"

His
smile disappeared. "Not to me."

Delaney
nodded. Some men had dumbass superstitions about females being part of a
mission. They believed having a woman along would jinx them, spelling out
trouble from the get-go.

As
the only female pilot allowed on a trial basis into the 160th with the specific
purpose of flying combat missions, Delaney wanted to be treated like any other
male pilot. She was as good, if not better and she had to prove it, over and
over, while proving she wasn't bad luck to a mission.

Tuck
gave Delaney a brief rundown of her role in what was about to go down.

The
team was infiltrating a small village reported to be harboring Amir Khan
Muttaqi, one of the Taliban leaders the U.S. had been after since the war in
Afghanistan had begun. They were to infiltrate, capture him, and get out before
the Taliban knew what hit them. Small footprint, minimal casualties.

Delaney
was to set them down on the other side of a hill from the village under cover
of darkness. The men would move in, find and secure the target, then she'd fly
in to retrieve them.

That
would be the sticky part. Helicopters weren't known for their stealth abilities,
and the distinctive sound of rotor blades beating the air alerted people on the
ground before the helicopter came within firing range. Delaney understood the
danger.

Tuck
laid a hand on her shoulder. "You got this?"

Delaney
knew he didn't doubt her ability to understand and perform the mission. His
unspoken question was, could she handle it?

A
flash of anger fueled her response. "Got it."

Tuck
returned to his seat in the back.

"Let's
do this." Delaney checked her controls, fuel levels, and took off, swinging
north toward the small village located in the hills. As darkness cloaked the
desert, she switched to NVGs, flying at an altitude high enough not to be seen
from the ground below, and out of range of Taliban-controlled rocket-propelled
grenades or RPGs.

The
mission proceeded like clockwork. Delaney hovered on the opposite side of the
hill where the village was located. The men fast-roped to the ground and
hustled toward the hill.

Delaney
and her crew stayed long enough to provide cover, then flew south a couple
clicks to a wide open, deserted location and landed to await word from the
team.

Delaney
sat behind the controls, wishing she could pull off her gloves and bite her
nails. Waiting had never been her strong suit. The guys on the ground would see
action before the night was over.

Question
was, would they live to tell?

Tuck
took point, and the rest of the team fanned out in a V to his sides and behind.
Armed with M4A1 rifles with the SOPMOD upgrades including sound suppression and
night vision devices, they moved through the darkness like cougars stalking
prey.

Treading
silently over the rocky terrain, Tuck eased to the top of the hill and checked
for posted sentries. He spotted one twenty yards from where they hunkered low.
He pointed to Reaper and motioned for him to take out the guard.

Reaper
slipped away from the others and, within minutes, dispatched the man with the
point of his knife. Quick, quiet, and efficient, Reaper rejoined the others
before they descended the hill toward the village. Halfway down, Tuck held up
his fist and the group of men stopped. He pointed to Reaper and Gator to join
him.

Through
his NVGs, Tuck picked out the bright green signature of a man standing guard on
top of a building at the south end where the road led into the village. Tuck
dispatched Gator to take him out. Not long afterward, Gator signaled from the
top of the building, with one flash of a red lens light up at the hill.

The
team moved into the village, Tuck counting mud-brick, fenced compounds until he
reached the sixth one on the left, set back a little from the main dirt road.
Inside the walls would be a house and storage buildings, all looking very
similar, like mud boxes, either square or rectangular. Until they crossed over
the fence made of large stones stacked, chinked, and covered in a mortar-like
mud, they couldn’t see into the structures.

Tuck
was first to pull himself up over the wall and drop to the ground on the other
side. Reaper was right behind him. Gator and Dustman brought up the rear while Big
Bird and Fish remained on the other side of the fence, positioned at the far
corners to watch for anyone attempting to go in or out. They'd provide back up,
should the team need it.

Tuck
pointed to Reaper and indicated he should sweep the left, while Tuck took the
right and they rounded the main structure within the wall. No one stirred. Tuck
stopped in front of the back door, tested the handle, then slid his knife into
the gap, and pushed the lock open.

He
slipped in and Reaper followed.

Once
inside, they moved room to room, passing a living area and then a bedroom where
three adult women crowded on a sleeping mat on the bare floor with small
children tucked against them.

In
the next room, the heat signature of a man lying on the floor caught Tuck's attention.
He appeared to be an older man, not the Taliban leader they were supposed to
find. Either he would be found in another building on the compound, or they had
the wrong home.

Tuck
motioned Reaper ahead of him and out of the home, pulling the door closed
behind him.

Reaper
moved on to the next building, similar in size to the first. Gator followed,
the big guy so quiet, he was one giant shadow in the night.

Tuck
joined them against the building. He directed Dustman to be the lookout at the
corner, while Tuck, Gator, and Reaper stood beneath a window where they could
hear the low hum of voices through a narrow opening.

Tuck
made out some of the words in Pashto. They were talking about crops and the
amount of money they could get for the current poppy harvest. When the man
speaking mentioned how many weapons that would buy, Tuck's adrenaline shot up.
This had to be the place. He nodded to Reaper and they ducked around the other
side of the building to the entrance.