Page 88 of Keeping a Warrior

“Well, I’ve definitely learned from my mistakes,” he murmured, sweeping her into a dramatic dip to hide how his heart ached. “And I don’t want to waste another minute dwelling on the past when I could be making love to you.”

Pulling her upright and into his arms, he kissed her, Devon’s mouth soft, welcoming.

“Mmm.” She nipped his lower lip gently. “You taste so good.”

A sudden knock on the door made them spring apart. Shane stuck his head in. “Sorry, guys, but El-Tee just called an op brief. We’re rolling.”

“Ah, shit.” Rhys reluctantly let her go as she stepped back and trailed her fingers along his arm.

“Later,” she promised.

And then she was gone.

“Okay, people, listen up.” Bradley’s voice was tight with adrenaline when they were all finally gathered in the TOC. “A Ranger unit has asked for our help with a high-value target in an enemy village.”

A ripple of excitement went through everyone assembled, and Rhys’s eyes met Devon’s.

Let’s do this.

Devon opened her equipment locker and stood with her hands on her hips, getting into the mission mindset before starting to methodically lay out everything she needed.

Ballistic vest, Kevlar helmet and night-vision goggles. M4 with extra magazines. In one chest pocket of her uniform blouse, she stuffed a wad of cash that she’d use to barter her way to freedom if she was ever captured. In the other chest pocket, she stashed a blowout kit, which consisted of a tourniquet and some Kerlix dressings, blood-absorbing gauze that’d buy a gunshot victim time until the medic—Rhys—could get there.

She stuck her nine-millimeter pistol into the holster on her hip, along with even more magazines, wrapped her trusty shemagh around her neck, and lastly grabbed a handful of candy from a large bag and slipped it into the cargo pocket of her pants. Treats for the kids.

When guys started emerging from their rooms, bristling with gear, Devon followed them outside the wire to the large clearing they’d use as a helicopter landing zone.

“Comms check.”

They gathered in a circle, and Smudge took them through their radio frequencies. There’d be one freq for talking with the command center, and one for intra-squad communication. Devon touched her “bone phone,” the conduction headphone that rested behind her ear. She also wore a throat mic, and she murmured “CST, receiving loud and clear” when it was her turn.

All that was left was to wait for the helo.

Some of the guys turned away to take one last piss break. Rhys stood a little ways apart, fingers linked behind his head.

What was he thinking about? Everyone had their own little pre-mission rituals. She’d seen a couple of guys stuff rosary beads in their pockets, and she knew of one dude who carried a tiny, folded-up American flag in between the chest plates of his ballistic vest.

Rhys caught her looking and wandered over. “Hey. Anything on your mind?”

She shrugged. “A little nervous.” The admission slipped out before she could stop it, but Rhys only gave a commiserating chuckle.

“Me, too. Fast roping isn’t my favorite.”

Devon winced. This wasn’t a stealth mission, where they’d land some distance away and patrol in. No, this was a full-bore, balls-to-the-wall assault, where they’d fly straight to the “X”—the target—and slide down ropes from the hovering helo.

The sound of rotor blades, and the Black Hawk landed nearby in a huge cloud of dust and flying rock. The platoon broke into a trot as soon as the doors slid open.

Wedging herself toward the rear, Devon hooked in while the rest of the team piled in after her.

Shuddering, the Black Hawk rose into the air, the nose dipping to gain altitude and speed. The doors were left open, and guys perched on the edge, legs dangling into the void. As they flew, Devon blanked her mind of everything but getting out of that helicopter onto the ground safely.

When the five-minute call came, Devon’s heart skipped a beat and then started to race. Her palms grew slick inside her heavy roping gloves, and she flexed her fingers, welcoming the burst of adrenaline. The world around her narrowed, taking on a crisp clarity that heightened all of her senses.

“Two minutes!”

The guys in the doorway helped the crew chief bolt a large steel bar into place. The rope was uncoiled and hooked on, then given a few firm tugs. The first guy leaned out, ready...

“Go!”