I Own the Dawn: The Night Stalkers Read Free Page A

arms were crossed, her purple helmet, unbelievable, with the rampant gold Pegasus, the winged horse of the Night Stalkers, dangled negligently from her fine-fingered hand. It had a bullet crease where a round had shot into the Kevlar, probably made the woman poop her pants. Or maybe she’d shot the helmet herself by accident. They stared at each other across a dozen paces of stamped earth.
    Kee stood ready for ire, rage, dressing down. But the woman just stared. The smile that pulled up one corner of her mouth lit the eyes and changed her from pretty to magazine-ad beautiful. She was a knockout! No wonder she’d tripped Major Muscle. But the smile wasn’t for Kee, but rather for some joke only the woman knew. Then, snap! The smile was gone. So gone, Kee couldn’t even picture it in her mind’s eye. Not on that face.
    “I know your name because Major Henderson assigned you to me, Smith. And we’re both going to have to learn to live with that.”
    The Major paused. Long enough for Kee to hear the unspoken second half of that sentence. Beale was most definitely not looking forward to figuring out how to live with her.
    “You’ve got eleven hours and fourteen minutes to briefing, eleven hours and thirty-four to flight. Get some rack time. And lose the goddamn attitude.” She turned away.
    Kee wavered on her feet again, the duffel almost dragging her down to the dirt.
    The Hawk. It filled her vision. They were letting her on a DAP.
    ***
    Archie watched Sergeant Kee Smith from where he lounged comfortably in the shade of Major Henderson’s Black Hawk, just two birds away.
    The tiny woman saluted Major Beale’s back smartly. Enough spite to it that maybe she hoped a sniper was watching and would take out the Major. Then glanced around to make sure no one noticed.
    Fooling yourself again, Archie.
    But he didn’t turn and leave. Couldn’t. Sergeant Kee Smith. Almond eyes. Buffed out the way even most guys couldn’t achieve, but a body that was all woman. Dark skin of the warmest shade the sun had ever kissed, like a permanent, perfect tan. Brown-black hair, with a single streak the color of a golden sun. It made for a saucy statement that lightened what would otherwise be a forbidding beauty.
    With his usual luck she’d be a tramp or a prude or a lesbian, or just want to be his friend, if that.
    He’d never found a way to speak to an attractive woman. Pretty, sure. But attractive, the ones who wrenched at his gut merely walking by, tied his tongue into a Gordian knot. Had he really commented on her chest? It was very nice, and rated somewhere between remarkable and spectacular on his own personal list. He had always been partial to well-chested women and that fact surprised him. It did seem rather crass after all, but true nonetheless. But there existed no First Lieutenant Archibald Stevenson III he knew who would actually say such a thing to a woman. Now he watched her from his bit of shade as if she could fulfill every prurient fantasy he’d harbored as a young boy.
    Sergeant Kee Smith hadn’t acted offended at his comment, but neither had she flaunted her body at the Major as she had for his enjoyment.
    Still she stood facing the DAP Hawk, entranced despite Beale’s departure. Some pixie-sized fairy of mythological origin reborn in this desert wilderness. Careful, Archie. It couldn’t happen of course, he was an officer and she was enlisted. Quick road to a court martial.
    However, that didn’t stop a man from thinking thoughts. He knew himself too well. He could fall for a woman, dream of her from afar for months, and never take action. Never actually speak to her. Too much disappointment lay down that road, one he’d vowed never to walk again. He liked women, enjoyed being with them. But when someone hit the inner ring of his “attracted” button, he became a mute. Patricia in high school. Mary Ellen in college. Most recently, Lorenna, the medevac trainer, who he managed to never speak with directly