Her Healing Touch. Lindsay McKenna

rock wall as the helo moved through, noting how it glistened wetly from the mist—that’s how close they’d come to it.

      It was only when the chopper began to land on a rough slab of black lava inside the cave that Burke let out that breath of air. He had on a set of headphones, so he was privy to the chatter between the pilots and the ground crew. From their conversations, he could tell they weren’t at all concerned about flying through that hole like he was. Marveling at the size of the cave, he felt his eyes widen even more as he looked around and grasped the enormity of this operation. What an incredible place! His respect for the base, and the people who ran it, mushroomed.

      “Okay, Sergeant Gifford, you can breathe now,” the pilot said with a chuckle.

      Gifford managed a sick smile. “Thanks, Chief Mabrey,” he said to the woman they called “Snake,” as she twisted around to look at him with a huge grin.

      “Our pleasure, Sergeant. I warned you that the Eye would get your attention.”

      “It did, ma’am. My undivided attention.”

      Chortling with delight, Snake unharnessed herself as the Bell helo powered down. The blades were turning more slowly now. No one could leave the helo until they stopped spinning.

      “You’ll get used to it after a while,” the copilot said.

      Gifford saw the other woman remove her helmet and fluff up her blond hair, which had a red streak running through it. Snake called her “Wild Woman.” That fit. Again he wondered what kind of crazy world he was entering. This was an essentially all-female black ops. He knew there were a few men assigned, but not many. For once, he was in the minority. Not something he’d encountered in his well-ordered world at the U.S. base where he taught. This was a complete turnaround.

      “Ah,” Wild Woman said, pointing through the cockpit window, “there’s the Angel of Death, Sergeant. She’s waiting for you. See her? Over there? She’s the one with her arm in a sling, looking very unhappy. Can’t miss her.”

      Unhooking his seat belt, Burke moved forward, bracing his hands on the metal walls behind the pilots’ seats. Eyes narrowing, he studied the bustling activity on the lip of the cave below. Though the lighting was poor, he noted a woman in camouflage fatigues and black boots, her arm in a dark green sling, standing to one side with a frown on her coppery face.

      “Yes, ma’am, I think I see her.”

      Wild Woman smiled, taking her knee board off her thigh and tucking it into the oversize pocket on the right leg of her uniform. “Sergeant Angel Paredes. She’s saved more lives than we can count. You’re lucky to be working with her for the next six weeks, Sergeant. She’s an incredible person. She’s got that sour look on her face because of her shoulder injury, which she got by lifting too heavy a box. Angel doesn’t like being sick.” Wild Woman laughed. “She’s a lousy patient, believe me.”

      “That’s what I heard,” he murmured, trying to see her more clearly.

      “She’s a legend in her own time,” Snake agreed, pulling off her own helmet.

      “That’s why I’m down here—to learn from her.”

      Snake grinned at Wild Woman. “Well, Angel is a pistol, Sergeant. She shoots straight from the hip and takes no prisoners. Treat her right or you’ll find yourself on her bad side.”

      “Not a good thing,” Wild Woman said seriously. “A pit bull without a muzzle or leash.”

      “Thanks for the warning.” Burke saw that, under Angel Paredes’s army cap, her short black hair framed her oval face. He knew from her personnel jacket that she was a Peruvian Indian, and her high cheekbones testified to the fact. She was short and compactly built, although even the bulky fatigues she wore could not hide her womanly assets. He could see she was curved in all the right places.

      “Nope, you don’t mess with the Angel of Death,” Snake murmured good-naturedly as she sized up the Special Forces sergeant. “Respect her and you’ll live another day.”

      The blades stopped turning. Immediately, a crew hooked up the nosewheel of the helo to a transport vehicle and pulled the craft deep within the cave. Once the helo was taken to the revetment area, the blades were tethered and tied down. Burke heard the door on the cargo bay slide open. One of the crew women looked inside.

      “Welcome to BJS, Sergeant. Want to come with me?”

      “Sure.” Thanking the pilots who’d transported him, Burke turned and made his way through the stacks of supplies to the door. When he’d leaped lightly to the cave floor, the crew woman pointed toward Angel. “That’s her, Sergeant—your sponsor. Take off and we’ll see that your duffel bag is brought to your quarters.”

      “Thanks.” Burke nodded and headed where she’d pointed. Focusing on Sergeant Paredes, he felt his heart suddenly begin to clamor—a completely unexpected reaction, as far as Burke was concerned. As he approached, he realized that Angel Paredes, although short, didn’t really seem to be. She seemed larger than life to him. Maybe because he’d read so many of her mission reports.

      More than anything, he liked her large, dark brown eyes, which seem to glimmer like a moonlit night. They were slightly tilted, giving her an exotic look he hadn’t expected. Her face was broad, her eyes wide set, with a fine, straight nose that gave her an aristocratic look. She was probably no more than five foot six, Burke realized, towering over her from his own six-foot height. His gaze dropped to her mouth—a lush, full mouth, the corners tucked upward, indicating she laughed a lot.

      He liked her. More than he should, he realized. She was exotic. Mysterious. And in the Peruvian army, presently on loan to the U.S. Army. An eclectic mixture that drew Burke strongly. Instantly, he slammed the door on his heart’s interest. His personal feelings had no place in this formula. Nor did his burning curiosity to know everything about her.

      Angel looked up into Gifford’s craggy, cold features as he approached. The sight of him in civilian clothes—a pair of well-worn Levi’s and a dark blue polo shirt that clearly outlined his powerful chest and firmly muscled body—made her gulp. Why on earth was she being drawn to him like this? Was it his cool gray eyes, assessing her like a predator might its quarry? That mouth, so thinned in the picture, but now relaxed and surprisingly strong? In person, this man had dynamic charisma, something that hadn’t been obvious in his photo.

      Tensing, Angel felt her pulse race erratically. He moved like a jaguar, his body lean and tight. He missed nothing with those alert eyes of his. She saw his gaze flit around, felt him absorbing the energy and atmosphere of the cave and the ops activity going on around him. Her own radar was working flawlessly, and she sensed he was curious and eager. His curiosity made her feel a little too vulnerable at the moment.

      Two days ago, she’d injured her tendon once again in a silly movement. This time, Elizabeth put her arm in a sling to protect her from herself while it healed. Though she was relatively pain free, so long as she didn’t move her arm much, Angel hadn’t expected to be overwhelmed by this Special Forces guy. But she was. And he was approaching her far too quickly for her to make sense of the array of feelings and sensations moving through her. Confused, Angel tried to pretend she was at ease and casual.

      “Sergeant Paredes? I’m Burke Gifford.” He stopped and held out his hand to her.

      “Welcome to BJS, Sergeant.” Angel proffered her own. His hand was large, lightly furred with dark brown hair on the back and thick calluses on the palm, along with a lot of small scars here and there. Gulping, she slid her much smaller hand into his, hoping he wouldn’t give her a bone-crushing shake. He didn’t. To her surprise, Gifford monitored the amount of pressure he exerted. He knew she had a shoulder injury, and simply squeezed her damp fingers warmly before releasing them. That implied he had some sensitivity. That was good.

      “Thanks. This is quite an operation. I’m really impressed. I had no idea….” Burke liked, too much, the feel of her strong, soft hand in his. Her fingers were cool and damp. Was she nervous? He perused her upturned face. She was arrestingly attractive