LITMIR.BIZ

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DOA.

      “Chief Benson,” Pascal said, his voice tense, “can you spare Mr. Tait? We’ve got our hands full back here.”

      “Roger that,” Sarah said, her voice cool and calm. “Tait?”

      “I’m on it,” he said, unbuckling.

      Sarah took the Black Hawk up into the darkening sky. The sun had gone down long ago. She pulled her NVGs on her helmet rail, settled them over her eyes and flicked them on. The entire cabin was dark and the two medics were also wearing their NVGs in order to treat the wounded.

      She pushed the Black Hawk to top speed, one hundred and fifty knots. They needed to get to Bagram hospital on the base as soon as possible. For just a moment, her mind fled to Ethan, her fiancé. Was he back at the SEAL HQ listening in on their transmissions? Her heart yearned to see him. Their schedules conflicted all the time because they were at an FOB, in the thick of daily combat.

      * * *

      Ethan Quinn sat in the ready room of SEAL HQ along with Master Chief Gil Hunter, listening in on Sarah’s transmissions. He tried to appear cool and casual, but hell, it was impossible. Getting up, he moved around, wiping his damp palms against the sides of his camos. It had been Hunter who got a hold of him and told him Sarah was taking the mission. His heart was beating hard in his chest.

      “She’s all right,” Hunter said.

      Ethan grimaced. Hunter was the boss and manager of the SEAL platoon. At forty-five years old, the lean master chief had done and seen it all as a SEAL. The only people above him were the three officers, and they often deferred to him, anyway. “It’s hell listening,” Ethan mumbled, pushing the sweat off his brow. He felt as if he was in combat, the adrenaline leaking into his bloodstream as he heard Sarah’s helo taking enemy fire. Dammit! His heart hurt. His soul screamed out that he couldn’t lose Sarah. He’d just found her three months ago.

      Hunter leaned back in his chair, observing the first class petty officer, one of their comms—communication SEALs—for the platoon. He looked at his watch. “She’ll fly those poor bastards into Bagram and turn around and come back here to Camp Bravo. Why don’t you meet her over at Ops? She’ll probably arrive around 2200.”

      Ethan halted and looked out the door of the office. He heard his brother SEALs in the big room playing poker, the guffaws, the brutal teasing, their voices competing with one another. He gave Hunter a wry look. “This is hell. The woman I love is always in danger. And I get to sit and hear it blow-by-blow over the radio.”

      Hunter nodded. “It’s going to happen more and more, Hawk. There are married couples at other FOBs right now. Not ideal, I agree with you. I’m glad my wife is back in the States with our three daughters, to tell you the truth.”

      Snorting, Ethan muttered, “I hear you.” He wanted Sarah out of combat, but dammit, she had months before her squadron rotated back to Fort Rucker in Alabama. “I’m going for a walk,” he muttered. “I need to ramp down.” A restless breed, SEALs couldn’t sit still for more than ten minutes anyway.

      Out of SEAL HQ, the Afghan night sky was a deepening cobalt, the shimmering stars like shards of scattered diamonds above. He could hear some Apache helos spooling up to take off, part of the all-female Black Jaguar Squadron. The smell of kerosene was always in the air, aviation fuel for the helos.

      His heart ached in his chest and Ethan absently rubbed the area. At twenty-nine, he had found the woman he’d been looking for all his life. Sarah Benson was a take-no-prisoners medevac pilot with the squadron stationed here at the forward operating base composed mostly of black ops groups. And now she was in danger. Walking silently down an avenue of camouflage tents, he scowled.

      In late August, the Hindu Kush mountains surrounding the FOB got very cold at night. Bravo sat at eight thousand feet, thirty miles from the Pakistan border. Ethan’s heart was finally easing its beating. Sarah had duty until 0800 tomorrow. He would meet her when she landed tonight. He wished they could have privacy but that wasn’t going to happen. It didn’t matter, Ethan was a SEAL and he was going to kiss the hell out of his woman once she was back out of harm’s way.

      * * *

      Sarah could hardly wait to get out of the Black Hawk after landing at Camp Bravo. Her crew and copilot had already left. God, the coppery odor of the blood was more than she could handle. The deck had been slippery with blood after they’d landed at Bagram, and they’d taken a hose, trying to wash it out of the helo. But it was never really all gone. She exited the Black Hawk, pulled off her helmet and stuffed it in her helmet bag. Pushing her fingers through her loose, black hair, she quickly stepped away, the cloying scent of blood too much. The night was black, the wind cold and gusting from the west. And, oh, God, she was going to throw up.

      Ethan walked silently out of the shadows of the Ops building as he saw Sarah leap out of the Black Hawk. She was in her flight uniform, helmet bag in one hand. He could barely see her since there were no lights on the FOB at night; they would draw Taliban RPGs or mortars. Or both. He hurried out onto the tarmac, heading her direction. She suddenly dropped her helmet bag, bent over and vomited.

      Ethan quickly jogged up to her. Sarah was leaning over, hands jammed against her bent knees, head down. He could hear her rasping breath as he drew close.

      “Sarah?” Ethan halted and put his hand on her back. “What’s wrong?” He couldn’t see her face, the curtain of her shoulder-length hair hiding her features from him.

      Groaning, Sarah managed, “It’s the blood...God...I can’t stand that smell...” She began to dry heave again, wrapping her arms against her stomach.

      Damn it. Ethan moved next to her, one hand against her sweaty brow, the other around her waist to steady her. She gagged and choked, wearily leaning against his solid frame when the second wave was finished. His heart twisted in his chest. Sarah was so damned sensitive in some ways, yet absolutely fearless when it came to flying her medevac helicopter in to rescue wounded soldiers.

      “It’s okay, angel. Okay,” he rasped, his voice unsteady. Hell, it wasn’t! He’d never seen Sarah in this condition before. He didn’t know the stench of blood affected her like this. She trembled and he could feel her knees going weak.

      For her part, Sarah felt embarrassed. She was grateful for Ethan, and his hand on her brow comforted her. His strong body supported her when she really needed it. Finally she spat and wiped her mouth with her sleeve. Shaking, she felt suddenly chilled. The cold night air was fresh compared to what she’d had to fly back here with. “I’m sorry...” she croaked.

      “Don’t be,” Ethan growled, handing her a green cotton handkerchief.

      Sarah wiped her mouth and blew her nose.

      “Here,” he whispered, pressing an opened bottle of water into her other hand as she slowly straightened up.

      Sarah nodded and slugged some of the deliciously cold water into her mouth and spat it out twice. The third time she drank deeply. Sarah felt Ethan’s strong, steadying arm around her waist as she slowly straightened. Her knees felt wonky and she fought to get her balance. Wiping her watering eyes with her shaking fingers, she looked up into his worried, shadowed face.

      “Bad night,” Sarah managed. Ethan picked up her helmet bag and kneeboard and urged her to slowly start walking toward Ops. She handed him the handkerchief, kept the water and walked beside him. Right now Sarah didn’t care if her CO, Major Donaldson, saw Ethan holding her or not. Anyway, at this time of night, everyone who could sleep, was doing just that. Ops was completely deserted except for those forced to be there to stand watch.

      “Master Chief Hunter called me to let me know you had a mission,” he told her. Sarah looked pale and Ethan wanted to do more to help her, but didn’t know what she might need. He’d never seen her react like this after coming off a medevac flight.

      Sarah leaned wearily against his broad shoulder, soaking in Ethan’s quiet strength. “Master Chief Hunter has our back,” she said, her voice husky.

      “It sounded

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