Risk Taker. Lindsay McKenna

Tolleson said, “You and the thousand other dudes here. I’m married, so I’m not interested.”

      “I was thinking of going over to her squadron at Ops and snooping around, getting some dope on her. Find out if she’s really single or not.”

      “She’d see you comin’ a mile away, bro. A SEAL snooping around Ops? You don’t fly—you hitch rides. And she’d know in a heartbeat if you were scheduled out there on a patrol with a banana or not.”

      A banana was the odd-looking CH-47 Chinook helicopter, their main air transportation around Afghanistan. Ethan finished off his beer. “You’re right. I’ll probably just keep a tab on her here and see what gels over time. I have a lot of patience.”

      “Uh-oh,” Tolleson muttered, gesturing toward Blue Eyes’s table. “There goes a Delta dude thinkin’ she’s gonna swoon when he walks over to her table to dazzle her with his one-liners.”

      Ethan watched as a tall, muscular red-haired Delta operator strutted toward Blue Eyes’s table. He had on all his gear, probably just came off an op like they had. It was the arrogance in his walk, which was typical for a Delta type, meant to impress her. Ethan had a hunch it wasn’t going to do anything except piss her off.

      Ethan leaned toward Tolleson. “What does she do when this happens? Shoot the dude in the balls?”

      Tolleson laughed. “No, but close. She has a black belt in karate. I heard one time a CIA case agent invited himself to her table. He sat down, and she told him to leave. He didn’t. She warned him that if he didn’t go on his own accord, she was going to throw him out of the chair he was sitting in.”

      Ethan grinned. “And?”

      “She threw his sorry ass about five feet away and he landed on the floor, his pride hurt.” He grinned. “Blue Eyes might look sweet and sad, but she packs a punch, so be warned.”

      Ethan didn’t think he’d try that ploy on her. The whole bar quieted as the Delta dude swaggered to a halt in front of her. He gave her a big grin and put his hands on his hips. Ethan was amazed at how everything went silent in the canteen; all eyes were riveted on the confrontation.

      “Sweet cheeks, what do you say I buy you a beer? You look like you need another round.”

      Ethan rolled his eyes. Women hated lines. Not that he hadn’t thrown a few at them, too, but it almost always backfired. Judging from the narrowing of Blue Eyes’s gaze, Delta’s line was about as popular as a fart in a sleeping bag.

      “No, thank you.”

      Delta shook his head. “Come on, honey. Just one for the road? I’ll buy.” He gave her a leering grin.

      “Here it comes,” Tolleson warned him in a whisper.

      Blue Eyes’s relaxed face went hard. Military hard. And those wide, gorgeous eyes of hers narrowed even more and became laser intense on Delta. Her luscious mouth curled into a slight sneer, and Ethan knew she wasn’t going to sit still for this kind of macho nonsense.

      “I really don’t want to embarrass you in front of your guys, Captain, so why don’t you leave while you can? That way, your pride will remain intact.”

      Delta jerked his head, mouth opening and then snapping shut. His eyes rounded, as if stunned by her response. His cheeks colored, and he started breathing hard, angry. “Who the hell do you think you are, bitch? I was being nice was all.”

      She gave him a cool, cutting smile. “Get over yourself. You black ops types are all alike. You think you’re God’s direct gift to women. I got news for you—you aren’t.”

      Her voice was low and controlled. Ethan looked up toward the bar to see three other Delta operators watching and frowning. Would they be as stupid as he thought they were going to be? Jump into this little tempest in a teapot? And then, sure enough, all three of them started toward her table, as if on cue.

      “Dammit,” Ethan breathed, standing. All he’d wanted was an ice-cold beer and to sit and recharge after a fourteen-hour ball-busting patrol in the more than one-hundred-degree heat in that furnace of a desert. Not get into a fight with other operators.

      “Yeah,” Tolleson growled, following him. “Good odds for SEALs...”

      They walked across the plywood floor and met the three Delta operators, stopping them before they could reach Blue Eyes’s table.

      Ethan confronted them. “Hey, guys, let’s ramp this down, shall we?”

      “Get the hell outta our way, tadpole,” the tallest operator snarled.

      Tolleson held up his hand. “Hey, come on. Name callin’ isn’t gonna help resolve this situation.”

      The big blond Delta operator sneered. “Why don’t you two frogs go back to your friggin’ lily pad and sit this one out? You weren’t invited to this party.”

      Ethan glared at them. SEALs were a pretty laid-back group, generally speaking. They didn’t strut around like roosters in a hen yard. They were night shadows, kept a low profile. They didn’t start fights, but they sure as hell finished them. “Since when,” he asked, raising his voice so everyone in the canteen could hear him, “does it take four Delta guys to pick on one Black Hawk pilot who just happens to be a woman?”

      All three Delta operators colored with embarrassment as jeers, hoots and insults erupted from the rest of the men and women in the crowded canteen. They threw their middle fingers up in the air in response. The catcalls increased in volume.

      Tolleson tried to calm them down. “Look, take a time-out, okay? The lady doesn’t want company, so leave her alone.”

      Ethan looked like he was casually standing in front of the three Delta guys, who were now angry. But looks were deceiving. There was a commotion behind him. He turned to see if Blue Eyes was in distress.

      “Why don’t all you boys grow up?” Blue Eyes snarled as she halted and glared at them. “You’re an embarrassment to the human race!”

      With that, Blue Eyes spun around on her booted heel and marched angrily out the door.

      More hoots, hollers and laughter broke out. The Delta dude who’d tried to pick up Blue Eyes brushed by them and went back to the bar with his buddies. Ethan looked sheepishly over at Tolleson and shrugged his shoulders.

      Ethan ambled back to their table. Tolleson was grinning.

      “A little excitement,” he said, sitting down.

      “We get enough excitement out on patrols without this,” Ethan muttered. He pulled his black baseball cap out of his pocket and settled it on his head. “Later. I’m off to the showers to get this grit off my skin.”

      Tolleson tipped the chair back, still smiling. “I’m right behind you. I’ll bet Blue Eyes thinks you’re a knight in shining armor, coming to her rescue. You were the first dude to stand up to stop those Delta guys.”

      Snorting, Ethan shook his head. “Doubtful. She lumped all of us into that comment. Or did you not get that?” Judging from her demeanor and coolness under fire with the Delta guys, she didn’t need any hero to protect her. Nope, she was a Black Hawk driver and she risked her life, day in and day out, landing in hot landing zones, RPGs being thrown at her helo, to rescue wounded men or women who desperately needed medical help or would die in the battlefield. If anyone was a hero...it was her. “Later,” he murmured to Tolleson.

      “We got mission planning at 0800 tomorrow,” the LPO reminded him.

      “I’ll be there with bells on,” 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