No Quarter Given (SSE 667) Read Free

her instructor think? Worse, would her eye swell closed? She needed both eyes to learn to fly.
    Women Annapolis graduates were few and far between, and those who passed the rigorous tests to get a chance to earn their wings were even rarer. Dana knew she and her two roommates wouldn't be welcomed with open arms at Whiting. Most of the men saw women as taking flight slots that rightfully belonged to them. Now Dana would be standing at attention tomorrow morning with a black eye—a hell of a welcome to Whiting Field and pilot training.
    Dana felt a strong hand settle on her shoulder. She stiffened, jerking her head up. It was him. The man who had helped her. The eagle. His fingers were long and tapered, his grip gentle but firm on her shoulder.
    "Are you okay?"
    His voice flowed through the chaos of her thoughts. Dana blinked, unable to tear her gaze from his wonderfully warm gray eyes. Her heart opened, receiving his concern. When she didn't answer right away, Dana felt his fingers tighten imperceptibly on her shoulder. He lifted his other hand, and instinctively she winced.
    "Take it easy," Griff soothed, barely caressing the woman's mussed black hair. He saw the sudden fear in her eyes. She was jumpy. Managing a slight, one-cornered smile, he added, "My name's Griff. That was a hell of a tackle, lady."
    "Dana." He was too close, too overwhelmingly masculine. Her heart was beating even more wildly, his touch dissolving her defenses.
    Griff dug into the back pocket of his jeans. "I thought I had a handkerchief," he muttered apologetically. "Oh, here it is." He pressed the clean linen into her hands.
    "Th-thank you." A part of Dana wanted desperately to fall into the shelter of his arms. The injured-animal part of her tasted panic, layered with suffocating fear.
    "I couldn't believe you did that." Griff gently laid his hand on her forearm, turning it over. The flesh had been scraped away. "The ambulance is on its way. Just hang on."
    Dana's black humor always surfaced in a crisis. Her lips curved into a wry twist that could be misconstrued as a grimace. "This isn't the first time I've had a black eye," she offered. "Don't worry about me. What about the old woman? Could you go see how she is? Please?"
    Griff wavered. Dana was small and ultrafeminine, but he felt the smooth firmness of muscle beneath the flesh of her arm. The fear shadowing her azure eyes hadn't ebbed. Why? She was safe now. He knew he had a craggy face, with features that were harsh and unforgiving, but she was reacting as if he were threatening rather than helping her.
    "Well—"
    "Please, she needs help. Go to her. I'll be fine." Did Griff hear the desperation in her tone? Dana wondered as she pulled her arm from his hand. She saw the puzzlement in his eyes. His lips parted to say something, but he changed his mind.
    "Okay. But you stay put. Understand? You're in no condition to go anywhere."
    A hysterical giggle clawed up Dana's throat as he eased to his feet. If Griff had seen her after her father had gotten done with her, he'd have thought she was dying. A couple of times her mother had taken her to the hospital emergency room. When Griff halted and half turned toward her, Dana muttered, "I won't go anywhere."
    Ordinarily she'd have resented a man's order. At Annapolis, especially as a plebe, she'd had to take plenty of stupid, inane orders from upperclassmen bent on driving her out of the academy. Then, as now, she tucked the resentment deep within her. The worry in Griff's eyes was genuine, if she was any judge of the situation. But her track record with men had always been poor, so she feared she could have misread his intent. Still, her heart wanted to accept that Griff was concerned about her welfare.
    Griff crouched by the old woman who was shakily putting her glasses back on. Speaking quietly, he placed his hand on her. Dana's face hovered before him. Automatically, he looked over his shoulder. A police officer was kneeling next to Dana, taking a