No Quarter Given. Lindsay McKenna

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ ripped through Griff. “But, sir—”

      “Ensign Coulter is your student, Lieutenant. And despite your personal prejudice, which needs work anyway, you are to treat her just like any male student assigned to you. Is that understood?”

      Griff tensed. A lot of responses went through his head, but the only wise answer was “Yes, sir.”

      “I don’t want to hear Coulter smacking us with a sexual-prejudice lawsuit, either.”

      His heart sank. Ramsey expected him to railroad her out of flight school. Well, wasn’t that what he’d planned to do if forced to take her? “I’ll treat her like any student assigned to me, sir.”

      Ramsey nodded. “Good. Dismissed, Lieutenant.”

      “Yes, sir.” Wearily Griff turned on his heel and left the office. Outside in the hall, he slowed his pace, wrestling with an incredible avalanche of feelings. A woman had killed Toby. Coulter could kill him. Women didn’t have good judgment in times of emergency. Carol fell apart under the most trivial circumstances. She had always cried and clung to him.

      Rubbing his brow, Griff headed back to his small office. Glancing at his watch, he saw he had exactly half an hour before Coulter reported to him. It would give him the necessary time to bone up on her file. No doubt she’d be a lot like Carol: appearing strong on the surface, but internally flawed and weak, needing a man to tell her how to run things or make decisions.

      Yeoman Johnson already had placed Coulter’s file on his desk. Reluctantly, Griff opened the thick folder. He nearly came unhinged at her physical statistics: five foot two, one hundred pounds and only twenty-two years old. She was too small to wrestle the weight of a screaming, out-of-control jet! His anger mounted as he continued to peruse Coulter’s file. In her plebe year—the first year as an underclassman—Coulter had won the right to carry the company colors. Who had she twisted around her finger to get that plum?

      Academically, Coulter appeared to be brilliant. She excelled at mathematics and computers and earned a degree in aeronautical engineering. On the Annapolis swim team, she’d been first in freestyle and butterfly. She’d been appointed team captain in her third year at Annapolis, and under her guidance, the team had tacked up impressive wins over the next two years.

      Griff wasn’t impressed. He slammed the folder shut, shoving it away. “That doesn’t mean you have hands, sweetheart. You might be good in the water, but air is an entirely different matter.” “Hands” was the term used for an individual’s feel for a plane. To have good flight hands meant possessing a natural knack with the aircraft and flying. Griff raised his head when Johnson gave a brief knock and stuck his head inside the office door.

      “Ensign Coulter’s here to see you, sir.”

      Girding himself, Griff growled, “Send her in, Johnson.”

      “Yes, sir.”

      Dana sat on a long wooden bench in the hall with several other student pilots. They were all nervous. The man nearest her, Ensign Manning, a fellow Annapolis grad, shook his head.

      “I hear you got a screamer, Coulter.”

      Dana frowned. “A screamer?”

      “Yeah. Word’s gone ’round that the Turk’s a screamer. You know, he yells at you constantly in the cockpit.”

      Dana’s throat got a little tighter. “I’ll take it one day at a time.” One hour at a time. First, she had to get past this initial interview. Ever since high school when she’d found out that the Navy pilots were considered the best in the world, Dana had dreamed of becoming one of them. Flying, for her, meant having the unshackled freedom of an eagle. To sail above the earth meant to sail over the misery that would meet her once she landed. No. Getting her wings was the most important goal she’d ever set for herself. And she’d win those wings—with or without the Turk’s help.

      Manning shrugged. “Sorry you got such rotten luck. I wouldn’t wish the Turk on my best enemy.”

      Dana managed a laugh, although it still hurt to smile. Her eye had nearly swollen closed again. “I’m known for my rotten luck, Manny. I’ll just persevere like I always do.” When they’d first met Manny at Annapolis, he’d hated the three women; but later, as part of Dana’s freestyle swim team, he’d been won over by her physical abilities. In the last year, Manny had become their staunch supporter.

      “What do you think will happen when he sees that black eye?”

      “He’ll probably think I started a barroom brawl somewhere and had it coming,” Dana muttered.

      Manny shook his head. “You’re something else, Coulter. A sense of humor even as you walk into the jaws of death.”

      Dana saw Sergeant Johnson crook his finger in her direction. Time to meet the dreaded Turk. She grinned as she rose, smoothing at the wrinkles in her too-large flight suit. “My black humor has gotten me this far, Manny.” If only it could get her successfully past this interview.

      “Break a leg,” he whispered.

      As Dana walked down the long, polished passageway, she wondered if the Turk would try to break her spirit as a way of washing her out. Nervously she wiped her damp palms against her thighs. Johnson opened the door, giving her a slight smile that she read as encouragement.

      “Go right on in, Ms. Coulter. Lieutenant Turcotte is waiting.”

      “Thanks,” she said. Dana moved around the door and closed it quietly. The small office was filled with bookshelves. Behind the massive oak desk sat a man, his head bent, studying what might be her file. Sweat popped out on her upper lip. Dana faced him and prepared to snap to attention. But before she could, he raised his head. A gasp escaped her.

      “You!” she croaked. Griff. Dana saw the shock in his eyes. He was no less stunned than she. Her defenses shattered as his gray eyes momentarily thawed from ice to smoldering heat. Then, just as quickly, they hardened again. Off balance, Dana stood, her lips parted, words deserting her. How could Griff be the dreaded Turk? This man, his words, his incredibly gentle touch on her shoulder, had been anything but threatening at the airport.

      Griff stared up at her in utter disbelief. She stood helplessly, her hands open in a gesture of peace toward him. “Dana?”

      “I—yes, it’s me. But—you said your name was Griff.”

      He stared down at the file, a gamut of emotions colliding within his heart. “Griff is my middle name. Your file said Danielle Coulter.”

      “Yes,” she choked out. “But I’ve always been called Dana. No one calls me Danielle.”

      Angrily, Griff noticed his hand tremble slightly over the file. Of all the tricks to be played on him! Her left eye was nearly swollen shut, her entire cheek black-and-blue. A huge part of him wanted simply to get up and hold her. She had to be in constant pain from that injury. Her eyes were huge, and he could read the shock in them. He was sure his IP reputation was foremost in her mind. She was probably trying to reconcile it with the man who’d helped her capture the thief at the airport.

      Dana watched as the care that had again surfaced in his dove-gray eyes dissolved. Automatically she snapped to attention, tucking her chin against her chest. “Ensign Coulter reporting as ordered, sir.”

      Griff СКАЧАТЬ