His Duty to Protect. Lindsay McKenna

on with Hamilton trying to get you dropped out of the flight program. What no one can know is that Uncle Morgan had a direct pipeline into the general running the program. And Morgan asked the general to release Hamilton. And he did.”

      Rachel sighed. “I was told about it shortly after Hamilton was out of the program. I didn’t realize you didn’t know.”

      Emma smiled tightly. “No one messes with the Trayhern children. Uncle Morgan will see to that.” She reached out. “So, just be aware that Uncle Morgan will be watching the reports being sent to the Pentagon by Hamilton. He’ll be monitoring him like a hawk.” Patting her arm, Emma said, “You have a guardian angel at your back, Cousin. You just haul your share of this load and do it right. The moment Hamilton steps out of line, Uncle Morgan is going to quietly insert himself into the equation and make damn sure he’s booted out of the Army for good.”

      Pleasure and reassurance thrummed through Rachel. “Thank you for the pep talk. I really appreciate it. It makes going over there less nerve-racking for me.”

      “Well, you have to carry yourself with integrity at all times,” Emma warned. “You can’t lower your guard and get angry or throw a temper tantrum around him. You have to be bulletproof, Cousin. Be the officer that you are. You’re a Trayhern and you have honor. If he tries anything, Hamilton will be in a world of hurt. Uncle Morgan needs you to keep your record clean.”

      “Got it,” Rachel said. “This is incredible. My dad filled me with stories of the military and all the Trayherns that have served over the last two hundred plus years … but I never realized until this happened how powerful they really are in the military world.”

      “Thank Uncle Morgan. He’s the head honcho. And like I said, he’s got the ear of every military general in the U.S.A.” She grinned and stood up. “That plus the president.”

      Standing up, she hugged Emma. “Thank you, Cousin.”

      Emma leaned down to pick up her helmet bag. “I hope Hamilton realizes by now he can’t screw around with a Trayhern.”

      Opening the flap to her tent, Rachel said, “We’re going to find out in a couple of hours.”

      Emma slipped through the flaps and lifted her hand. “I’ll be in touch….”

      Turning, Rachel allowed the flaps to fall together. The August heat made the tent stuffy. She wiped her brow and sat back down to continue reading the CH-47 flight manual. A lot of her stomach churning had settled with Emma’s good news. She had even more reason to make this unholy alliance work. But would Hamilton plan on making her look bad again? Or had he really learned his lesson?

       Chapter 4

      Ty Hamilton dragged in a deep breath. The next woman he had to see was the one he didn’t want to ever see again. His clerk had just told him that Captain Rachel Trayhern had arrived. He hit the button on the intercom.

      “Tell her to come in,” he ordered.

      “Yes, sir.”

      Stomach in knots, Ty wondered if she was still pissed off at him for saving her life a week ago. Sitting behind his desk, he saw the door open. Rachel Trayhern looked a lot different today. Her brown hair was caught up in a knot at the nape of her slender neck. Her dark green flight uniform was clean instead of dirty. She wore no makeup, but she didn’t have to, he thought. Willing himself to ignore her natural beauty, he watched her as she turned and shut the door. Then she came and stood at attention in front of his desk, her face unreadable. But her cheeks were red and Ty knew she was upset. Back in flight school, when Rachel was angry, her cheeks were like two red spots on her flawless face.

      “Captain Trayhern reporting as ordered,” she said, tight-lipped.

      “At ease, Captain,” Ty said. He gestured to a chair that sat near his desk, on her left. “Have a seat. We have a lot to discuss.”

      “Yes, sir.” Rachel tried to ferret out how Hamilton really felt about meeting her again. This time, it was on equal footing rank-wise. She wasn’t a newbie to flight school. Heart pounding, she kept a grip on her clipboard and sat down.

      Ty flipped through a sheaf of papers and located her personnel record. As he opened it, he glanced in her direction. She sat at attention in the straight-backed chair. His heart squeezed over the hardness in her golden eyes. There wasn’t a trace of an emotion on her oval face. Her lips were compressed. Okay, he deserved that reaction. Five years hadn’t healed the wound. He got it.

      “Your record indicates that you took CH-47 flight school training four years ago.”

      “Yes, sir, I did.”

      Nodding, Ty kept his voice neutral. “And you have forty hours in them?”

      “Yes, sir.”

      “Well, it’s obvious you need retraining, and I’ve set up flights with my scheduling sergeant. You will assume copilot duties from now on. We’ll be flying every day.” He held her hard gaze. “I’m the instructor pilot in our squadron. But you probably knew that.”

      “I make it a point to know,” Rachel said in a low, tight tone. She searched his face. It would be easy to continue to hate him if he weren’t so drop-dead good-looking. Eye candy for sure, Rachel thought. Tyler Hamilton was the perfect poster boy for an internet ad by the U.S. Army to lure young men who wanted adventure.

      “Of course,” he murmured, looking down at her file. He reached to his right, picked up the squadron patch and dropped it on the edge of the desk nearest to her. “You’ll be wearing the Raven Squadron patch from now on. At least for the six months that you’re assigned to us.”

      Rachel desperately wanted to keep her BJS patch on the left sleeve of her uniform. But she knew she had to relinquish it. Distastefully, she picked up the other patch. It burned in her fingers. She wanted to angrily throw it on the floor but didn’t. The flicker in his eagle-like gaze revealed how carefully he watched her for any reaction. Did Hamilton still have it in for her? Rachel assumed he did. Every day in the cockpit with this bastard would be like being sent to the dungeon for torture.

      “Do you have any questions?” he demanded, feeling as if he were addressing a wooden doll, beautiful but completely detached from him. Ty could have wished for a warmer response.

      The other three women from BJS whom he’d also be training, had been open, smiling and enthused to be here to fly. But not Rachel. A sense of defeat flowed through him. He had hoped five years had buried the hatchet between them. Casting around for a topic, he asked, “Have you been cleared by the physician on your smoke inhalation?”

      “Yes, sir, I have.” She took a paper from her clipboard and dropped it on his desk. “I’ve been cleared to fly and ordered back to duty.”

      “Excellent,” he said. “I’ll speak to my sergeant about putting you on the flight schedule for tomorrow. In the meantime, go out to the Ops desk and get your paperwork filled out. Sergeant Johnson will give you the scoop on what you need as a copilot in our squadron. Welcome.”

      He rose and extended his hand to her. Stiffly, Rachel got to her feet but refused to shake his hand. “With all due respect, Captain Hamilton, I have to be here for six months, and that’s it. May I be dismissed?”

      The iciness in her tone shocked him. It was war, not peace between them. He withdrew his hand. “Dismissed.”

      The door opened and shut. Ty moved from behind his desk. The squadron had arrived just yesterday to replace the other one, which was being rotated home to the United States. He’d been here at Camp Bravo for two weeks with his transport pilots, learning the lay of the land and picking up information from the outgoing pilots. Right now, his squadron was ready to go in one of the most dangerous places in Afghanistan to fly.

      Walking around the desk, hands on his hips, Ty smarted from Rachel Trayhern’s demeanor. She’d refused to shake his hand. Why had he expected the white flag between them? She probably thought he was