An Honorable Woman. Lindsay McKenna
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,”