Risk Taker Read Free

Ethan growled, sauntering out into the bright sunlight. The canteen was in the center of Camp Bravo. To his left, Ops and the runway. He heard a C-130’s whistling engines as it came in for a landing. The smell of kerosene aviation fuel used by the helicopters was everywhere; the wind carried it in his direction. Overhead, the June Afghan sun bore down on him like a heat lamp out of control. Already Ethan was starting to sweat again. The eight-thousand-foot mountain where the FOB was located was dry and freakin’ burning up under the heat. He was from Anchorage, Alaska—he loved the cold and hated desert infernos.
    Ethan quickly walked down the avenues of camouflage tents sitting on concrete blocks with plywood floors. The dirt was fine and dusty and got into every crack, pore and crevice that a human being owned, not to mention his M4 rifle and the SIG pistol he always wore.
    The sky was a light blue as he walked alertly down several other avenues, heading for the showers. There were only forty SEALs on this black ops FOB. They were a small but mighty contingent on this 24/7 base.
    He turned down toward the main supply building, an area clear of tents and a shortcut to the men’s showers.
    “You sonofabitch! Get off me!”
    Ethan wheeled around toward the woman’s angry voice. His eyes widened when he saw Blue Eyes down in the dirt with an enlisted Army sergeant on top of her, groping at her flight suit. The sergeant’s big hand reached down and ripped open the front of her uniform. He held her down with his other hand, fingers closing around her throat.
    Blue Eyes weighed a good hundred pounds less than the guy, but, as Ethan ran swiftly and silently up behind him, she was giving a damned good account of herself. The man’s nose was broken and bleeding, and he sported a black eye. SEALs made a living out of being shadows. With one swift movement of his fist, he coldcocked the unknown assailant in his left temple. The man went flying off her, knocked unconscious.
    Ethan turned. “You okay?” he asked, kneeling down. She had blood on her cheek, and her nose was bleeding heavily.
    “That stupid bastard,” she breathed angrily, trying to pull her torn uniform closed at her neck.
    Her eyes were blue fury. Ethan glanced over his shoulder—the stranger was out cold. “He won’t bother you again,” he murmured, giving her a concerned look. Her hair was dirty, and blood ran down her lips and dripped off her chin. Digging out the dark green bandanna he always wore when out on patrol, he said apologetically, “It’s dirty, but maybe you can use it to stop your nose from bleeding?”
    She gave him a mutinous look, grabbed it and pressed it against her nose. “Thanks,” she mumbled, rolling over to her hand and knees.
    “Are you hurt? Can I get you over to the dispensary?” Ethan held out his hand, but she refused it.
    “I’m all right!” She tried to rise, but her knees buckled beneath her.
    Ethan moved swiftly, catching her before she hit the ground again. “Okay, look,” he coaxed in a low, even voice. “You aren’t in any shape to be going anywhere just yet. Did he hit you?” Dumb question: he could see she’d been struck. He was trying to talk her down so she’d become reasonable.
    “Hell, yes, he hit me!” She glared up at him, breathing hard, gripping her uniform closed so he couldn’t see her bra beneath it.
    “Where?” Ethan asked quietly, as if he were talking to a fractious horse he was trying to settle down. He knelt near but kept his hands off her. He didn’t want a broken nose.
    “The head. He jumped me from behind, the sonofabitch!” She glared over at his unmoving body.
    Ethan looked at her dust-covered brow and noticed swelling on her right temple. “He tried to knock you out.”
    “Ya think?”
    Ethan nodded, knowing Blue Eyes was in shock. Her hand trembled, and there were tears in her eyes. “Well, he won’t do it again,” he promised her. Assaulting any officer was a major