An Honorable Woman

When she saw the smoldering look in Gus’s eyes, Cam’s mouth grew dry.

The expression in his eyes was clearly readable. He wanted her. In all ways. Swallowing hard, Cam whispered unsteadily, “I—I wish I had the courage to take what you’re offering, Gus, but I don’t….”

Then she turned and walked away, more scared than she’d ever been. Even staring down a Black Shark combat helicopter paled in comparison to facing the desire in Gus’s eyes.

A desire she longed to surrender to. If only she could….

“Lindsay McKenna continues to leave her distinctive mark on the romance genre with…timeless tales about the healing powers of love.”

—Affaire de Coeur

An Honorable Woman

Lindsay McKenna

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Michele Burdet of Switzerland, friend, shaman,

healer and inspiration…. I cherish our friendship.

Dear Reader,

I’m proud to introduce Chief Warrant Officer Cam Anderson’s story to you! For those of you who are following the Black Jaguar Squadron, the all-female helicopter team featured in my series MORGAN’S MERCENARIES: DESTINY’S WOMEN, you’ll probably remember Cam from previous books. And even if you haven’t met her yet, I’m sure you will love reading about her adventures, her challenges and her growth as an individual and a woman.

Cam is a combat pilot and a very good one at that. She’s seen combat, had close calls, and, in her most harrowing mission, she crashed a helicopter after it was fired on and hit. She is still struggling to come to terms with this traumatic event when her commanding officer, Major Maya Stevenson, chooses her for an even more daunting mission: Maya asks Cam to become a commanding officer of a small contingent of Apache helicopters stationed in Mexico, just below the border with the U.S.

More than anything, Cam wants to impress her commanding officer—and she wants to atone for the mistakes she believes she made on her last mission. But she learns that it is one thing to be a combat helicopter pilot and completely another to be leader and manager of people—especially a squadron of male pilots, who don’t want to be “bossed around” by a woman. Cam has her work cut out for her and then some! Will she make the grade? She wonders about that—and whether she should give her heart to one of those pilots, Chief Warrant Officer Gus Morales. Gus is too intriguing and charismatic to resist, and Cam finds herself in a battle to maintain her command—and keep her heart safe from being hurt again. Will she be able to salvage her honor on both fronts? Read on and find out!

Warmly,

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 1

“Hey!” Wild Woman hissed as she stuck her head around the door of the ready room. “Have you heard yet, Cam?”

Cam halted her pacing and quit gnawing on her fingernails, which were almost nonexistent at this point. “Er, no…not yet.” Turning toward the door, she watched as Jessica Merrill, U.S. Army CWO2, otherwise known as Wild Woman, entered the room, dressed in her close-fitting black flight uniform. “You got the duty?”

Cam had had flight duty for the last twenty-four hours and was waiting to be relieved by another crew.

Wrinkling her nose, Wild Woman said, “Yeah. Me and Snake are taking over from you.” Hooking a thumb across her shoulder toward the door of the Quonset hut, which stood inside the massive cavern where the Black Jaguar Squadron had its base of operations, she added, “Snake’ll be along any second now.” Looking at her watch, she uttered darkly, “Geez, 0600 comes so early. What I’d give to have a day off and sleep in. No such thing as ‘beauty sleep’ around here, is there.” She patted her cheek. “I’m still good-looking despite that handicap.”

Chuckling, Cam nodded. Sitting down at the picnic table and picking up her cup of coffee, she said, “Yeah, I know what you mean. But you’re right—we’re such gorgeous girls we don’t need beauty sleep.”

Going to the coffee dispenser that sat on a dark green army-issue desk, Wild Woman laughed. “But isn’t that why you volunteered for this new mission coming up, Cam. So you’d get to sleep in?”

“Oh, sure!” Cam snorted. Running her fingers through her shoulder-length reddish-chestnut hair, she muttered, “I’m on pins and needles. I don’t think I’ll get it.”

“I saw Morgan Trayhern a few hours ago. He just flew in from Agua Caliente, piloted by Storm Queen.” Grabbing a chipped white cup, Wild Woman poured herself some of the strong coffee. “He looked serious.”

“Yeah,” Cam said unhappily, “I saw him. He’s with Major Stevenson and Major York, reviewing the short list of possible pilots for this mission.” Shrugging, Cam watched her colleague walk confidently to the table and sit down opposite her. Jessica had short blond hair with a bright red streak dyed in it. Major Maya Stevenson, commanding officer of the BJS, allowed Wild Woman this unique expression of herself. It went well with her pilot handle, Cam thought with an inward smile. And all you needed to do was take one look at Jessica’s square face and frosty blue eyes filled with feral intelligence to understand why she was one of the best Apache gunship pilots here at the squadron. She was competitive, rebellious, and never afraid to break rules and regulations over the skies of Peru or Bolivia when it came to stopping the drug trade.

“You’ll get it,” Wild Woman said confidently, sipping her coffee.

“I dunno,” Cam muttered worriedly. She gnawed again on her index finger.

“You don’t have any nails left, Cam.”

Chuckling, Cam looked at her fingers, then at her friend. “You’re right about that.”

“You always do that when you’re nervous—No Nails Tree Trimmer!” Jessica chortled.

“Tree Trimmer” was Cam’s nickname. Every pilot got one after graduating from flight school. She’d earned hers by dropping the Huey helicopter she’d been flying into the jungle in Peru. Of course, at the time she was being shot at by a Kamov Black Shark helicopter, piloted by a Russian mercenary hired by a drug lord to shoot her out of the sky.

Feeling heat rush into her cheeks, Cam grinned. “I look forward to the day when I can earn a new and better handle.”

Laughing huskily, Wild Woman turned her head as the creaky door to the ready room opened and closed. “Hey, Snake! My, don’t you look bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, girl.”

Snake glared at them as she entered the hut. Pushing her straight, dark brown hair off her shoulders, she headed for the coffee urn. “Shut up. I haven’t had my java yet,” she growled.

“And a dreary good morning to you, too,” Cam murmured, a grin crawling across her mouth. “Depriving Snake of her coffee is like stepping on the rattles of her tail….”

“Yeah, and she bites,” Jessica giggled. “Forget any hissing. This girl just sinks her fangs into you.”

Cam saw that Vickey Mabrey—Snake—was dressed into her combat uniform, too. She was all set for her twenty-four-stint duty with Wild Woman. The Velcro fastening of her uniform collar was open at her throat, exposing the dark green cotton T-shirt she wore beneath. The body-fitting uniform, made of special fire-retardent materials, hugged her tall, lean figure.

“Both of you can it. Gawd, I need my coffee.” And Vickey reached for the pot.

Cam grinned across the table at Wild Woman, who had a twisted, evil smile on her own face. “No one walking into this place could tell you two were the best of friends, could they?”

“Military friendships are like that—full of verve and content,” Wild Woman murmured sagely, sipping her coffee.

“Humph,” Snake said, pouring herself a mug of coffee.

“So, you’re worried about getting this assignment, Cam? You’re cut out for it, you know,” Wild Woman stated.

Shrugging, she muttered, “I don’t even know what the assignment is, so why am I sweating it?”

“Who’s in the running?” Snake asked as she sauntered over and sat down at the end of the table near her friends. Stirring creamer into her coffee, she breathed in the rich scent as she lifted the cup to her lips.

“Storm Queen and Pele,” Cam replied. She truly admired Pele—Lieutenant Mirella Gallardo, one of the first two women helicopter pilots in the Peruvian Army. Pele was the Hawaiian goddess of volcanoes, and Mirella had gotten the handle because of her hair-trigger temper and in-your-face attitude. Mirella was a take-no-prisoners kind of woman on the ground and in the air. She’d fought hard to become one of the first Peruvian women to fly helicopters and her competitiveness was legendary. Here at BJS, she was competent, aggressive and combative in the air—the exact qualities a gunship pilot needed in order to survive.

“Humph. You’ll get it, Cam,” Snake said, huddling possessively over the coffee, her long, thin fingers wrapped around the mug in a death grip.

“Yeah? Why?” Cam asked.

“Because it’s your turn for something good to happen to you.” A sly grin edged her full mouth. “I mean, there was nowhere to go but up after you gave that poor jungle a haircut with the runners of that Huey.”

Wild Woman burst out in raucous laughter and slapped her knee. “Snake, you have deadly humor at 0600.”

“Thanks, ladies,” Cam growled good-naturedly. She saw a glimmer of humor dancing in Snake’s narrowed green eyes. Vickey was half Navajo and half German—an unusual blend, Cam thought. She was quiet like her Indian father, and meticulous like her mother, a college professor of botany who hailed from Cologne. Snake’s skin was a golden color, hinting at her mixed heritage. Cam had seen a photo of her friend’s parents, and knew she favored her father physically. She had taken after him in many ways, from what Cam could tell. She was a good listener, but when she spoke, everyone stopped jabbering and paid attention.

In the air, Snake was a deadly gunship pilot. She was absolutely lethal and had no qualms about facing off with drug runners in a game of sky chicken, where whoever blinked first turned back. Snake never blinked. As she’d wisely pointed out one time, snakes don’t blink at all. She was proud of her handle and lived up to it daily.

“How long have Maya and Morgan been confabbing?” Jessica asked, heading to the coffeepot for her second cup of coffee.

“At least an hour,” Cam answered glumly.

“You don’t even know what this mission is and you want it?” Snake wrinkled her nose and then shook her head. “That’s why I didn’t volunteer to be interviewed. I want to know going in what I’m volunteering for. Not after the fact.”

Cam saw an evil grin spread across Snake’s oval face. “You know the major wouldn’t throw us to the wolves,” she retorted. “I figured it would be fun to get out of here for a while. Three years is a long time.”

“And leave us?” Wild Woman cried in a pitiful, dramatic voice as she poured more coffee into her cup. “I mean, we’re sisters! You love us, Cam. You know you do! Hell, we’ve spent three years of our lives down here, hangin’ out in this cave, chasin’ bad guys together. We’re bonded.”

“More like welded,” Snake added dryly.

“Yeah, that, too. Thanks, Snake, that says it better.” Wild Woman sat down and gave Cam a mock serious look. “You’d actually run out on us? Who says this new mission has any women on it? Look what Akiva got into,” she exclaimed, referring to one of their colleagues. “She got chosen for that Gulf of Mexico black ops with Joe Calhoun, along with three enlisted women from BJS.”

“That was a great mission,” Cam said fervently. “I’d have given my right arm to take part.”

“Well,” Snake counseled in a soft, husky tone, “Akiva and Joe are doing well out there…now. At first it was rocky for Akiva, until she settled into her job as a C.O. Big difference, being just a pilot versus commanding officer of an operation, you know?”

“But,” Wild Woman said, “she did it. She rose to the challenge.”

“Do you think that because Akiva and Joe made it a success, another mission like that might be on the table?” Cam wondered.

“Don’t count on it,” Snake advised. “Maya isn’t known to duplicate operations. She keeps things hot and lively. That way—” she grinned “—we don’t grow bored around here.”

“No one from personnel gave a peep about this covert mission,” Jessica muttered with a frown, more to herself than to them. “I tried pumping Sergeant Prater the other day for info, but got nada. Nothing. She’s buttoned up tighter than a clam about it. She works directly for Major Stevenson, so she knows what it’s all about. But she ain’t sharin’.”

Chuckling, Snake stated, “Prater’s got more sense than you, then. She knows if she gossips about it to us, Maya will have her red head on a platter, pronto. She’s smart to keep her mouth shut in front of the likes of you while you’re nosin’ around like a curious coyote.”

Wild Woman grinned. “Hey, I gave it the ol’ college try, didn’t I? I wasn’t born to understand the word no.”

“I don’t think I’ll get it,” Cam muttered, running her fingertips across the roughened surface of the table. “Storm Queen and Pele are both wonderful pilots.”

“You’re always cutting yourself down, Cam. Don’t you see yourself as equal to those two gals?” Snake demanded, her voice hardening.

Shrugging, Cam said in a painful whisper, “I guess not. I mean…after I deserted Maya out there in the jungle and left her to be captured by the druggies…” She sighed.

“Quit chewin’ on that, will you?” Snake shook her head in disgust. Taking a rubber band out of the thigh pocket of her flight suit, she gathered up her straight hair and fastened it in a ponytail at the back of her head. “You made the right decision, Cam, not the wrong one. The Peruvian jungle is damned near impenetrable. You couldn’t have carried Maya, wounded and unconscious, anywhere. You had to escape.”

“Yeah,” Wild Woman interjected, “and if you hadn’t gone to get help, how would we have known what really happened? It was only when Major York found you and got you back here that we knew Maya had been captured.”

“Not that Maya needed any rescuing,” Snake chuckled darkly. “She took care of that drug lord dude right and proper. Buried the bastard in the Canyon of Death. Yeah, that was a right fine burial ground for the likes of him.”

“Well, we got there in the nick of time,” Wild Woman said.

Sighing, Cam slowly got up. “I need a third cup of coffee like a hole in my head,” she muttered unhappily, heading for the dispenser along the wall, “but I’m in dire need today….”

“After two cups we can’t scrape you off the ceiling,” Snake complained. “You’re maxing out at three.”

“High-wire act, Cam the Tree Trimmer.”

“Funny, girls. Very funny…”

The door to the Quonset hut opened. “Chief Anderson?”

Jumping as her name was called, Cam whirled around. Sergeant Prater, dressed in her dark green cammies, stood expectant in the doorway, a serious look on her freckled face.

“Yeah?”

“Major Stevenson wants to see you, ma’am.”

“Er, thanks…yeah, I’ll be right there, Sergeant. Thank you.”

Prater smiled and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” The door closed.

“Ohh,” Wild Woman teased, “you’re gonna get this mission, I got that feelin’!”

Frowning, Cam set her empty cup on the counter. “Maybe, maybe not. Maybe the major is callin’ me in to tell me Pele or Storm Queen got it, instead.”

“You’re such a die-hard pessimist,” Snake groaned. “Gawd, gimme another cup of coffee….” Gracefully she unwound herself from the chair, a grin lurking at the corners of her mouth.

“You think?” Cam asked, heading for the door. “That I got it?”

Waving her hand, Wild Woman chortled. “Oh, honey, you’re such a widget at times! My gut says yes. What does yours say, Snake?”

“That I need another cup of java.”

Laughing, Cam headed out the door and waved goodbye to them. “I hope you two have a quiet shift.”

“Oh, yeah, right. That’s just what I want,” Snake growled.

“I’m bored already,” Wild Woman griped. “Don’t wish that on us, Cam!”

“Okay, ladies, may the Sharks come out and hunt your butts, then. See you later! I’ll let you know what happens!” Cam couldn’t keep the hope out of her voice. Closing the door, she turned to her right and hurried across the black lava floor of the cave. All around her, the noise of women’s voices as well as the clang of tools being used on the Apaches in the rear of the cave echoed and reechoed.

Wiping her mouth in a nervous gesture, Cam barely paid attention to the activity on the wide lip of the cave, their landing and takeoff point. At this time of morning the clouds were thick, hiding the cave entrance. The sun hadn’t come up yet so the fog hadn’t burned off. Hurrying across the mammoth cave complex to the two-story headquarters building on the other side, Cam felt her heart racing. Had she gotten the secret mission? Had Jenny Wright, the psychologist who worked for Perseus and who had interviewed her awhile back, chosen her to head this one up? Cam hoped so with all her heart and soul. Trying not to run, she hurried toward the steel grate stairs that wound up to the second floor of H.Q., where Major Maya Stevenson, her boss and commanding officer, had her office.

More than anything in the world, Cam wanted this mission. She had to prove to Maya that she was worthy, that she could be counted on not to run from a situation, as she’d run from the crash, leaving her superior behind to be captured.

Wiping her mouth again, she rapidly climbed the steps two at a time, her heavy black boots shaking the staircase in the process. She entered the door at the top, which led to a long passageway lined with open doors. The army personnel who ran the black ops base—those in charge of communications and planning—were all here. Cam hurried down the hall, nodding to various enlisted women as they came and went from their offices.

Cam headed to the last door on the right, Maya’s office. The C.O. was a woman of incredible ability and leadership. Many times Cam wished she had some of the confidence and wisdom her boss had. To Cam, Maya was a role model, someone she nearly worshipped. Though she’d been born in Brazil, Maya had been adopted by an American colonel and his wife early in her life, and had grown up in the United States. But rumor had it that Maya had a very mysterious background. Even her name suggested the mystery inherent in her birth, and pilots of the Black Jaguar Squadron were always whispering about her almost uncanny powers and abilities.

Maya had single-handedly fashioned this black ops out of nothing. She had been one of the first women to take Apache helicopter training at Fort Rucker, Alabama, getting badly burned by gender prejudice in the process. Afterward, she had contacted her father, a U.S. Army general by that time, and gotten him to help her set up the BJS base—a covert operation dedicated to stopping cocaine shipments from leaving Peru, one of the main producers of the drug. He’d agreed, and the rest was history. Now Maya was C.O. of the all-female Black Jaguar Squadron.

Cam had joined Maya when she’d graduated from the next class at Fort Rucker, volunteering to come down to the all-woman base. She’d never for a second regretted her decision.

Halting at Maya’s door, which was open as usual—part of her open-door policy so that anyone who needed to could see her—Cam nervously smoothed the fabric of her black uniform. Then she knocked briefly. “Major Stevenson? You sent for me?”

Maya lifted her head from her desk, which was covered with paperwork. “Yes, come in, Cam.”

Entering, Cam stood at attention. “Reporting as ordered, ma’am.”

“At ease, Cam. Have a seat.” Maya gestured toward a chair in front of the desk. “Oh…close the door?”

Feeling her heartbeat speed up, Cam gulped, did an about-face and closed it. Only rarely did Maya ask that her door be closed. It meant she was going to say something that she didn’t want to be overheard. Was she going to announce that Cam wasn’t getting the mission? Dying inwardly, Cam kept her expression carefully neutral and sat down gingerly in the chair. Placing her hands on her thighs, she waited, holding her breath as Maya placed a bunch of signed orders into her out basket for Sergeant Prater to distribute.

Smiling warmly, Maya set her pen aside and folded her hands in front of her. “I’m sure it hasn’t escaped your eyes or ears that Morgan Trayhern flew in this morning?”

Grinning a little and feeling like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar, Cam said, “No, ma’am, it hadn’t escaped me.”

“You know why he’s here?”

“I think so. The new mission is on the table?”

“Very good,” Maya murmured. “I’ve been in conference with Mr. Trayhern and Major York about it.”

Cam blinked. Maya’s large, emerald-green eyes glimmered with mirth. “Yes, ma’am?”

“You know,” she said, pulling a few files off a teetering stack to her right and placing them in front of her, “that three of you were interviewed by Jenny Wright, the Perseus psychologist, for this mission?”

“Yes, Storm Queen and Pele were interviewed, too.”

“Right.” Maya slowly opened Cam’s file, revealing a color photo of her stapled on the left side. “We’ve reviewed everything, Cam. I know none of you knew what the mission was about, and that was done on purpose. Ms. Wright knew the schematic on it, and conferred with Morgan and myself about the three of you. You were all good, strong candidates for the position.”

Heart sinking, Cam knotted her hands on her thighs. Maya was going to tell her she hadn’t gotten the mission. Straightening her spine, she tried to hide her disappointment. It was so important to her to have Maya look upon her as trustworthy once more. Since that horrific crash landing, Maya had never again flown with Cam. Which was unusual, because she routinely flew missions with all her pilots from time to time.

Lifting her head, she pinned Cam with her gaze and smiled. “We’ve chosen you to head up this mission, Cam. We felt you were the best qualified for it. Congratulations.” Maya rose and extended her hand.

Blinking, Cam stared at her superior. Then she leaped to her feet and thrust out her own hand.

“Thanks, Major! Thanks so much! You have no idea what this means to me,” she whispered, her voice raspy with sudden, unexpected tears. Cam quickly pushed them away by taking several gulping swallows. Pumping Maya’s hand rapidly, she continued, “You won’t regret your decision, ma’am. I promise you you won’t. Thanks for the chance…the opportunity…I won’t fail you this time. I swear I won’t….”

Easing her hand away, Maya stood there looking at Cam. The pilot’s face glowed with relief, with joy. Her green eyes swam with tears she was desperately trying to force back. Maya knew Cam needed to prove herself again.

“Listen to me, Cam,” she murmured gently, “this mission is not about you proving yourself to me or anyone else. If I didn’t think you had what it took in the first place, I’d have chosen someone else, so let’s get over that hurdle, okay?”

Choking back her tears, which she knew were not appropriate, Cam nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I understand.” Her heart was soaring. She felt giddy, almost dizzy, and so relieved. She saw respect in Maya’s eyes, sincerity in her expression, and Cam was so surprised and delighted she could barely sit still in the chair. Opening and closing her hands, she whispered, “Thanks for letting me do this. It means so much to me….”