One Man's War. Lindsay McKenna

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СКАЧАТЬ inches and kiss the hell out of her parted, soft lips was almost Pete’s undoing. But something cautioned him not to do it—at least, not yet. Patting her shoulder, he said, “I’ll see you around, honey.”

      He was gone. Tess stood in the center of the hut, the syringe still in her hand. Whatever powerful magic was at work made her feel dizzy and not of this world. Trying to shake off Pete’s overwhelming presence, she turned and knelt down by the little girl. Tess’s night would be spent bathing the child to keep her temperature down until the antibiotic took hold—if only it would. Some of Tess’s hope diminished as she heard the helicopter take off, the heavy whap, whap of blades cutting through the humid air that always hung over Vietnam.

      She began to gently bathe the girl, and her hope continued to erode as the last sounds of the helicopter bearing Pete Mallory back to Marble Mountain faded into nothing. It had been a crazy day in so many ways. Pete had crashed into her life, quite literally. Tess couldn’t understand how his hard line toward women in general went with such a compassionate streak toward children. It didn’t make sense. He didn’t make sense.

      Still, as she remained awake through the early morning hours, bathing the delirious child, Tess couldn’t forget Pete. There had been moments when his eyes had revealed another side to him—and it was that side she wanted to know. Tess sighed. She’d already lost her innocence about life and men. Three years ago, she’d been engaged to Eric Hampton, a Peace Corps volunteer. So caught up with being in love, Tess had given herself—body, heart and soul—to him.

      Tess struggled to shake off much-needed sleep to stay up with the girl. By 3:00 a.m., the child’s temperature was beginning to drop. Relief shattered through Tess as she lay down and drew the girl into her arms. She closed her eyes, but sleep refused to come. Pete’s unexpected entrance into her life had stirred up a lot of unsolved feelings toward Eric.

      Eric had been the exact opposite of Pete: quiet, sincere and hardworking. Somehow, the engagement had fallen apart. What had gone wrong? Had it been her? Was she incapable of being loved? Or of knowing what love really was? Now Pete was saying he was a bastard, making no bones about it, and yet there was such a discrepancy between his words and his actions. Unable to figure it all out, Tess sighed again and gave the little girl a gentle squeeze, just to let her know she was loved and cared for.

      Pete Mallory was a hunter with few morals or values when it came to women. The pain in Tess’s heart widened as she broached the twilight zone between sleep and wakefulness. So how could she be drawn to him? How? Resolution wove with sleep as she surrendered to the security of the darkness. Under no circumstance would she allow herself to be manipulated. No way.

CHAPTER THREE

      “Man, things are getting bad out in the bush,” Pete’s copilot, Joe Keegan, confided. The Sikorsky helicopter’s blades were turning slowly, the engine already shut down. Pete finished flipping off the rest of the switches on his side of the cockpit and sat back in the uncomfortable seat, perspiration running down the sides of his face beneath his helmet. Sweat poured off him from the humidity that hung like a heavy, wet blanket around them twenty-four hours a day.

      “Yeah,” Pete croaked, loosening the helmet strap. “Things are getting worse.” With a groan, he took the heavy helmet off, fresh air cooling him momentarily. Running his fingers through the wet hair plastered against his skull, he glanced back at the glum marine second lieutenant—a green twenty-three-year-old kid. This was the officer’s first month in Nam and into what was known as the “bush,” a place where lives could be and were lost—especially to VC land mines and snipers. The war—and it was a dirty war, in Pete’s opinion—was heating up daily.

      Keegan glumly lifted his hand in farewell and exited out the right side of the Sikorsky, heading toward the flight shack to file their flight report.

      Pete’s gunner, Random, a red-haired marine lance corporal with dancing gray eyes, glanced over at him. “Want me to check for holes in the fuselage, Mr. Mallory? I know we took hits.”

      “Go ahead. Just don’t tell me how many you find.” Pete sat there, letting the shakiness pass before he attempted to move. His knees felt like jelly.

      “You don’t want to know?”

      Pete shook his head. “No way.” He didn’t want to know how close one of those bullets had come. The VC knew the man sitting in the right seat of a helicopter was the pilot, and they aimed for him first. He tipped his head back, closed his eyes and took in a ragged but deep breath, trying to still his pounding heart.

      “It wasn’t very groovy out there today,” Random added, just as shaken as Pete from the ground fire. “Hot LZ’s are the armpits of the universe.”

      “No argument from me, and groovy isn’t a word I’d use for a wartime situation,” Pete whispered. His mind, his heart, circled back to Tess. Damned if she hadn’t haunted his dreams for the past five days. And not an hour went by that her image didn’t gently intrude upon his world of harsh reality, of life and death, giving him a moment’s serene peace. How was the four-year-old girl? he wondered. Had she survived with the help of the tetanus vaccine and antibiotics? How was Tess?

      With a sigh, Pete opened his eyes, stuffed his helmet into the green canvas bag that he stowed behind his seat during flights, and slowly moved out of the cramped, confining cockpit. All around him on the tarmac was the busy-bee activity of ground crews servicing the birds and tanker trucks, refueling them for the next flight. Weary flight crews were dragging their butts back to the flight line shack to file their reports and discrepancy logs.

      At the flight shack, Pete joined his copilot. “What’re your plans?” Keegan asked as he handed him the report to check and then officially sign off. “Beers at the O club?”

      Normally, that’s exactly what Pete would do. Only an ice-cold beer took the edge off his thirstiness and dulled the adrenaline from a rough flight. He quickly read Keegan’s report, noticed how wobbly the printing was on it, and signed it off with his own trembling signature. Pete handed the report across the desk to the flight chief. “No,” he said. “I gotta check out some things. Maybe later.”

      Gib Ramsey was at his desk in the hard-back tent that served as headquarters for the Marine Air Group helicopter squadron. The air in the tent was squalid, and hung like a damp sheet within the gloomy interior. Gib looked up as Pete sauntered in.

      “How was it out there today? I heard you took ground fire.”

      Pete shrugged. “Yeah, my crew chief counted fifteen rounds that stitched up my bird. No casualties, though.”

      “Good,” Gib said, putting the pen and paper aside.

      “We aren’t always going to be so lucky.”

      “No...”

      “Hey, I want permission to buzz on over to Le My for a couple of hours.”

      “Oh?” Gib cocked his head, his eyes curious.

      With a burgeoning grin, Pete added, “I scrounged up some more supplies for your sister.”

      “I thought so.”

      His mouth stretching into a full smile, Pete said, “This is business.”

      “Oh?” Then Gib shrugged. “She knows your type anyway, Mallory, so I’m not worried. Tess has been СКАЧАТЬ