Collateral Damage

On the ground below them the vehicles from the wave they’d stopped in its tracks lay burning, clouds of black smoke streaming into the clear air. She had no idea how in hell the attack had even happened but there had to be some sort of catastrophic breakdown of security to result in such a thing.

“More targets approaching from the northwest.” Liam’s voice was calm and unhurried as he swung them around and headed in that direction. A few moments later he spoke again. “At least one triple-A in sight.”

Honor’s heart rate jacked up. A vehicle-mounted anti-aircraft gun, capable of shooting down bombers and fighters…as well as big, slow-moving Chinooks. Her hands sweated inside her gloves as she shifted her weight and adjusted her stance, thumbs still hovering over the twin triggers. They had to destroy the AAA before it fired at them.

The crew chief called over his shoulder at her and Ipman. “I got nothing yet. You?”

“Negative,” they both responded.

The pulse from the powerful twin rotors beat against her eardrums despite her ear protection, the big aircraft vibrating as it flew toward the new threat. She shoved back the alarm trying to rise inside her, refused to allow herself to be afraid. Liam was one of the most skilled and experienced pilots in the United States military. She had to trust his ability to get them close enough to take out the AAA without becoming a target themselves.

“Got a visual of the target,” the crew chief suddenly a

Honor didn’t bother glancing back at him, too intent on locating the target. Liam turned them again and at last she spotted the AAA. It was old, probably left over from the Russian occupation, and likely Chinese-made. The crew chief opened up his weapon on it just as Honor took aim as well.

Something streaked toward them.

“Incoming,” Liam warned, and put them into a climb so steep Honor had to grab at her harness tether to stay upright. She winced as the straps dug into her flesh wound. The sudden increase in G-forces made it feel like her stomach had been shoved down into her abdominal cavity. Before she could do more than grit her teeth and hold on, someone in the cockpit fired the chaff and flare launchers on the Chinook’s fuselage.

Streams of white smoke and bright white light streaked through the air in front of her. The lumbering Chinook pitched hard to port, dropped, then rose suddenly in another steep climb. Honor gripped the handle on the doorframe and held on, praying the evasive maneuvers were enough. Nothing exploded, which she took as a good sign and then the crew chief opened up again with his minigun.

As the helo leveled out Honor grabbed the rear of her weapon and searched for a target. The instant she saw the AAA she hit the triggers, unleashing hell on the mounted weapon. Between her and the crew chief, the AAA disintegrated in a matter of seconds. Torn to shreds by the hail of fire it exploded in a fireball.

A wave of satisfaction raced through her. Yes!

Liam turned them to the starboard this time and maintained their altitude. Honor glanced toward the tail. Out the opening above the closed loading ramp Honor could see another Chinook and two Black Hawks engaging other targets, already burning in the distance.

“Heading back toward base,” Liam a

“No other targets reported,” Liam said. “We’re returning to base.”

Honor uncurled her fingers from around the handles of the minigun and let out a deep breath of relief that it was over. But then biology took over.

Now that the threat was neutralized and she knew she was safe, the adrenaline that had been flooding her system began to wear off. The wound in her shoulder started burning like someone had aimed a blowtorch at her skin and her headache came back full force. Her breathing was shallow and she could feel the slight jerking of her muscles as she began to shake a little.

She stayed silent, struggling to get a grip on her nervous system and even managed to flash Ipman a thumbs-up when he called over to her. She became aware of the warm, sticky blood still leaking from her shoulder, of the throbbing in her battered elbows and already stiffening hip. She’d definitely need at least a band-aid once they were on the ground. Outside her window the dun-colored scenery passed by in a blur, a slight numbness begi

She’d just killed people. Probably dozens of them. Sure it had been justified but she’d never taken a life before and—

“Girard. You good?”

It took her a moment to realize the other crew chief was speaking to her. She turned her head to look over her shoulder at him and gave him a thumbs-up as well. He was gri

Honor forced a smile and turned back to stare out her window for the remainder of the flight. While hovering over the base she could see the emergency crews dealing with the fires the rockets had caused, and others rushing the wounded toward the hospital. She knew they’d taken casualties in the attack, she just hoped there weren’t many. She’d have someone look at her shoulder when things calmed down.

Warm air rushed through her window. Within a few minutes they were coming in to land on the tarmac near the hangar she’d been in when the attack had started.

After hovering for a few seconds just above the ground, the wheels touched down. Then one of the pilots hit shut down and the sound of the engines immediately changed as the big rotors began to slow. Ignoring how clumsy her hands were, Honor undid her safety harness and removed her helmet. Her hair and face were damp with sweat. The pounding in her head seemed to double.

She rubbed the back of her neck to ease the tension there and turned toward the aft of the aircraft as the crew chief lowered the ramp, wanting to get out of there as soon as humanly possible. She didn’t want to see Liam, wasn’t up to another awkward conversation at the moment.

The acrid smell of burning metal grew sharper as she moved stiffly across the deck. There’d be a debriefing and paperwork and God knew what else to complete. She might even catch hell for doing what she’d just done, though she was pretty sure they’d go easy on her due to the circumstances.

She couldn’t handle facing Liam again though. Not while she was dazed and shaken and off her game.

Ipman was waiting for her at the bottom of the ramp when she stepped onto the tarmac. He ran a concerned gaze over her. “You okay?”

She nodded and kept walking, wanting to put as much distance between her and Liam as she could before he climbed out of the cockpit. She’d go see Erin at the hospital soon enough, have her friend look at her shoulder, maybe check her head to make sure she wasn’t concussed. She felt a little fuzzy. “You?”

“Yeah, good.” He ran a hand through his sweat-slicked black hair. “Man, that’s something to tell my kids when they’re older, huh?”

“Yeah.” It was certainly something she’d never forget.

He eyed her as they headed for the hangar. “So how was the minigun?”

“Efficient,” she murmured, trying not to think about it because every time she did the images of those pickups exploding into flames seemed more vivid.

His mouth stretched into a wide smile. “Fucking-A.” He chuckled under his breath, staying at her side as they stepped out of the sunlight and into the blessed shade of the open hangar.

“Girard.”

She cringed at the sound of Liam’s voice calling her name and stopped. Shit, no avoiding him now.

Bracing herself, she took a deep breath and turned around to face him. He stood near the lowered ramp with his two fellow Night Stalkers, hands on his hips and helmet still on, commanding and strong and still the most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen. She dreaded his next words.