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They raised their shot glasses to each other and downed the smooth whiskey, followed by long drinks from their beer.

  Resting the bottle on her knee, Devon said appreciatively, "Wow, that's good."

  The two women sat a few minutes in easy silence, sipping their beer. Finally, Mac spoke, "So, have you talked to Alex?"

  Devon took a long pull from her beer, nearly finishing the bottle before her eyes met Mac's. "No, I'm afraid she'll ask me about our plans and I can't lie to her."

  Mac nodded, "It's hard when it's so personal, I know."

  She watched pain flicker in the blue eyes, but Devon said nothing. So stoic, she thought. What happened to make you so wary of everyone? Mac remembered her first lover when she was in flight school, and how everything had changed so drastically at the first hint of investigations of suspected gays at the school. She suspected something similar had happened to Devon or someone she knew. Mac also knew that the stress of their combat role was more than enough to handle; she didn't need to carry around the added worry about her personal life alone.

  "You can tell me I'm out of line," she began, her eyes never leaving Devon's, "But it's obvious that you two care a great deal about each other. She may be mad about this, but if you give her time, I'm sure she will see that you made your decision partly out of your love for her."

  Devon looked evenly back at Mac wondering for the hundredth time whether she should talk to her about anything personal. It was a lonely feeling to never be certain who to trust and to always keep your feelings hidden from view. She was suddenly grateful beyond measure to have someone to be able to talk to. She hadn't even written to Leigh about anything out of fear that her mail might be censored.

  "Yes, she is very special to me," she said finally.

  Mac smiled broadly, "Well, I knew that the second she walked into the conference room that first day. Talk about sparks flying, I was afraid the entire room was gonna go up in flames."

  Devon blushed and looked down again at her now empty beer bottle. Mac rose and retrieved two more from the refrigerator, handing one to her young friend.

  "I'm no shrink, but I sense that something is bothering you-besides the operation." She shrugged, "But, like I said, you can tell me I'm out of line."

  Exhaling sharply, Devon ran a hand through her hair, shaking her head. She closed her eyes and tried to sort through her rampant thoughts of trust, betrayal, friendship, love, integrity, honor…truth. Looking into Mac's eyes, she saw nothing resembling anything but sincerity and compassion. She decided to trust her instincts.

  "Alex and I have known each other a long time. We were friends in college; actually she was my closest friend. When I got to NSA, I looked her up and we started working on the Intel project together. Then…we became lovers. Now, we're both here, and I'm afraid that my feelings are affecting my decision making." Her voice dropped to nearly a whisper, "The thought of her dropping into that terrorist camp made me nearly lose my mind."

  Mac moved her chair directly in front of where Devon sat, leaning forward to look directly into her eyes. Softly, she said, "I'm sure she feels the same about you being on point for the rangers and in the line of fire."

  "That's not the same." Devon protested.

  "Doesn't matter. Risk is still involved. It's very difficult to love someone who does the kinds of things we all do, Devon. It's scary." Mac paused, and her eyes drifted, recalling some pain from the past. "Our situation makes it that much more difficult because we have to pretend that we don't even care." As she finished a tear slid down Mac's right cheek.

  "Gosh, I'm sorry," Devon put her hand lightly on Mac's knee, suddenly concerned for her friend. "I didn't mean to bring up any bad memories for you. You okay?"

  Mac shook her head and smiled sadly, "You didn't do anything, Dev."

  Devon looked doubtfully at her as Mac went on. "Just promise me that you will talk to Alex before the operation. Don't leave any of your feelings left unsaid, okay? We move in just a couple of days. I don't want either of you to have any regrets."

  #

  An hour later, Devon walked restlessly across the compound. She knew she should be tired at 2330, but she wasn't. She couldn't stop thinking about Alex and where their relationship was going. Did she even dare think of a future with Alex after the disastrous relationship with Jillian? Now, there was even more at stake than just hiding their relationship. This place was truly dangerous. A loud explosion sounded in the distance as if to make her point.

  Still, Devon couldn't deny that she longed for Alex's touch. Alex touched her in so many ways. She loved the way she could debate politics and world events with her. She craved the stimulation, mentally and now physically that was uniquely Alex. It seemed as though Alex was the one right thing in this crazy world. So, what was missing? Had the experience with Jillian scarred her so much that she could never feel that deeply about someone again?

  Soon, she found herself climbing into a jeep and exiting the fenced section of the military portion of the airport compound. She stared toward the city and the separate cluster of buildings housing the CIA personnel, her passion and reason struggling within her. Unable to stop herself, she continued the short trip to the CIA building and entered the housing unit.

  Devon nodded to the guard at the front entrance and made her way to the stairwell and the second floor, following the hallway to the last room at the east end. Remembering the last time she entered Alex's room, she shuddered slightly. Drawing a deep breath, not knowing what the response this time would be to her presence, she knocked and waited.

  A moment later, Alex opened the door just a crack, peering out. The room behind her was dark. "Dev? Is that you?"

  "Yeah." Devon stood perfectly still waiting for her response.

  The door opened wider and Alex reached out to grasp Devon by the hand, pulling her inside the darkened room. Alex guided Devon toward the bed and reached over to turn on the bedside lamp. She sat cross-legged next to Devon, her knees touching Devon's thigh.

  "I'm sorry to show up so late," Devon said. Alex studied the face she knew so well, seeing a kaleidoscope of emotions swimming in the blue eyes.

  "Something wrong?"

  "No, well…I just wanted to see you."

  Devon was uncertain what to say. She needed Alex to understand what she was feeling, but she knew that her feelings about what should be done would be the opposite of Alex's as far as taking out the terrorists were concerned. What she was much less certain of was trying to explain to Alex how she felt personally, hell she didn't even understand herself.

  "Al-" she was interrupted by Alex's hand reaching into her uniform shirt, pulling on the t-shirt beneath to slide warm fingers along her abdomen. Devon gasped softly at the sensation of her lovers knowing touch immediately sending her blood racing through her veins. Alex leaned in to place soft kisses along her neck, destroying her ability to form coherent sentences. She shifted slightly away, trying to regain her thoughts.

  "Alex, listen…please." Her hand stopped the advance of Alex's fingers toward her breasts.

  Alex shifted so that she could look directly into Devon's eyes. "I know you are going to do what you think the Army should do. I'm going to do what the CIA does. We cannot change that, so there's no point in wasting our energy on things we can't control."

  Her hand resumed its exploration of Devon's torso, sliding up to capture a nipple between her fingers. She squeezed tightly, to accentuate her next statement, "I am only interested in what I can control," Sliding her tongue up until it found a soft earlobe, she pulled it into her mouth.

  Alex's hot breath was directly in Devon's ear, "You and I together. That's all that matters to me."

  Suddenly, the only reality was Alex's body pressed into her. Alex's lips firing her blood with every point of contact on her skin. Vaguely, Devon's brain registered the sound of automatic weapons fire and mortars ex
ploding in the distance as she pulled Alex down on top of her on the bed. The reality of their lives and responsibilities would be there in the morning. Tonight there was only the two of them, lost in the passion of one another. The rest of the world would have to wait.

  Chapter 25

  October 20, 0400 hrs

  "The drop zone will be 500 meters to the South of the target site." Major Kelly pointed to the location circled on the map hanging behind him on the wall. Surveying the room, he noted the intensely determined expressions on the personnel present.

  In addition to Mac, Devon and their ISA team, Captain Armstrong, the Delta Force commander was readying his assault team for the mission. The major continued, "Devon, you and Jeff will be in the air with the DF equipment. We'll take final readings just prior to the drop, and then I'll monitor from here during the operation. Mike, you and Dave will be here downloading the signals from the mobile equipment and monitor the overall radio traffic for enemy responses or unforeseen problems." The group nodded.

  The Delta Force Captain stepped forward. "My team will load up in the Blackhawk with you at 0415, Mac."

  Turning to Devon, he said, "As soon as you get the final fix coordinate to confirm the drop, lieutenant, we will proceed directly to the zone and commence the insertion. We anticipate the time from the drop to target acquisition to be less than ten minutes. Is there any change in the estimated numbers of enemy personnel at the site?"

  "Not at this time, we still estimate the number of armed combatants to be ten to twelve."

  "Fine," Armstrong said, "My men will execute the operation as planned. We take out the combatants and secure any equipment or other documents for intelligence purposes. I will radio you when we are secure and ready for extraction, Mac."

  "I'll be there with your ride," Mac grinned.

  "Okay, people that's it. We move in ten minutes." The major stood to leave, "Good luck everyone."

  #

  Under cover of the predawn darkness, the Blackhawk rose skyward carrying the strike team toward their intended target. Ten minutes later, Mac had maneuvered them into position, lowering the helicopter to twenty feet off the ground. Captain Armstrong looked to Devon, who was taking final readings with the onboard equipment. She nodded affirmatively to the captain.

  Armstrong stood, and gave them a thumbs up, and then stepped out the side of the helicopter followed in quick succession by the rest of his men. The helicopter immediately lifted skyward and banked toward the north.

  "Insertion complete, major." Mac's steady voice advised.

  "Roger that. Armstrong, do you read me?" He called to the Delta Force commander.

  "Affirmative, major. So far, all clear. We are a click away from the compound. I'll get back to you once we're inside." The connection went silent.

  The minutes dragged on as they waited for Armstrong. The sound of automatic weapons fire pierced the night. Devon grabbed a pair of night vision binoculars, training them in the direction of the target. She saw shadowy figures running and muzzle flashes; a figure that appeared to be the first perimeter guard fell to the ground. The team pressed forward. More shots. As they entered the inner perimeter of the compound, Devon could no longer see what was happening. She put the binoculars down and turned to Jeff, who was monitoring the radio receivers for communications.

  "Anything?"

  He shook his head, "It appears that we were successful in our surprise move. They would have transmitted something if they knew we were coming."

  Mac continued to hold the Blackhawk in a hover pattern, her eyes scanning the horizon, now just beginning to lighten with the first hint of dawn. She glanced over at Devon and winked.

  Five minutes later, Armstrong's voice strong and clear announced, "All secure. Repeat. All secure."

  "Copy," Mac returned, "Just give the word and we'll be right there to get you."

  "Devon, I have something," Jeff's voice was a tense. Devon pulled the left side of her headset down to listen. A voice was shouting something in an Arabic language in her ear. "He's saying that the compound has been attacked. They're gonna have company soon."

  "Armstrong, they got a message out somehow, they know you're there. We have to get you out," Devon spoke urgently to the captain.

  "Roger, we just need a few more minutes to secure the data."

  "We don't have much time," Mac interjected. She pointed toward the west, where a vehicle was quickly approaching, a cloud of dust rising in its wake. "Dale, you have visitors," she said. "We're coming in. Get your team to the extraction point, now."

  Mac guided the chopper back to the designated rally point, keeping the bird high until she saw Armstrong's team running toward the area. Devon looked out the other side of the helicopter and could see the vehicle approaching was a truck loaded with unfriendly forces that were no doubt heavily armed. Mac set the Blackhawk down as the sound of weapons fire erupted all around them. Devon heard the ping, ping sound as rounds struck the metal exterior.

  "We have to hurry," Mac shouted. As the first members of the team reached the side of the helicopter, Devon and Jeff began pulling them inside. The whirling of the blades was stirring up a massive cloud vortex in the sand, making it difficult to see. As the seventh man climbed aboard, fighters began jumping from the approaching truck, spraying automatic fire in their direction. Horrified, Devon saw Armstrong fall to the ground twenty feet from the chopper.

  "I can't stay down here much longer," Mac yelled.

  The team began returning fire from the other side of the helicopter. He's not gonna make it. Without another thought, Devon leapt from the opening where she had been standing, reminding herself to drop and roll as she landed. Bending low, she ran toward the captain who was now crawling in her direction. As Devon reached him, she could see blood soaking his right pant leg.

  "Come on," Devon yelled as she put her arm around his back under his arm, pulling him to his feet. "We've got to move."

  Mac watched as bullets struck the ground around the pair running, kicking up little wisps of dust as they ricocheted across the ground. She raised the chopper up slightly so that she could turn the aircraft, shielding them as much as she possibly could, while her passengers continued to return fire at the approaching fighters.

  Devon's muscles strained with the added weight of supporting Armstrong as she pushed her legs steadily toward the safety of the helicopter. The bird lifted up into the air as they reached a distance of about ten feet. Looking up, she saw a soldier lean out of the side opening to with an assault rifle, efficiently eliminating two fighters dangerously close to their position.

  As they drew closer, a rappelling rope with a harness fell from the opening above. Reaching up to grasp the rope, she pulled it around both of their waists and stepped through the loop, pulling the remaining strap between her legs and clipping it to her belt. Then she crouched into a sitting position allowing the strap to fully support her body weight, and pulled Armstrong down onto her lap, pushing the first strap through to his belt, securing them together. She pulled twice on the strap, signaling the team to pull them in.

  They ascended into the air with thick clouds of sand threatened to suffocate them. Devon pressed Armstrong's head into her body and placed her forehead on his shoulder to shield their faces. She heard bullets whizzing by them in the air. She kept her eyes closed, concentrating on her breathing and the certainty of the upward pull of the rope inching the pair to the safety of the interior of the helicopter. Moments later, strong hands were pulling them on board and Mac lifted them quickly higher, simultaneously banking to the south, away from the continuous barrage of gunfire. Soon they were out of range and beginning their approach to the landing zone of the airport.

  Mac radioed for a medical team to meet them on the ground. Armstrong's team medic kept pressure on his wound as they flew. As soon as they touched the tarmac, the men swiftly li
fted the captain out of the helicopter to the waiting gurney and he was quickly moved into a waiting ambulance and whisked away to the hospital. Devon sat down on the ground, leaning against the vertical bar of the skid, resting her elbows on her bent knees she cupped her face in her hands listening to the blades of the Blackhawk slowly wind to a stop.

  Devon gathered her thoughts and stood, heading directly to the com center to assess the success of the strike and hopefully, get a sense of the enemy response. They spent the next eight hours debriefing and analyzing the data that the team was gathering from the explosion of chatter and signals intercepted following the team's strike on the compound. Finally, at 1800hrs, Devon told the team to call it a night. She was teetering on the brink of exhaustion, physically and mentally, having had no time to process the close call at the extraction site.

  Mac stayed behind, watching Devon closely. She sensed a growing fatigue and wanted to make sure that Devon had an ear if she needed to talk. Devon felt a hand grasp her upper right arm and looked up to see Mac regarding her with concern. The left side of Devon's mouth turned up in a slow grin. "Thanks for the ride this morning."