Christmas at Peleliu Cove by M. L. Buchman

Author:M. L. Buchman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Buchman Bookworks, Inc.
Published: 2015-11-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Clint had found it hard to watch his guys go aloft without him. But the more he’d thought about Gibson’s suggestion, the better he’d liked it. Not only for personal reasons, but because it gave him a chance to have his three squad leaders perform a critical task without him hanging over them. Each man was responsible for nine other men which had neatly worked out to be a rope each.

Practically choking on his held breath, he’d forced himself to climb up to the command station and watch as his men did the difficult maneuver without his interference. He hadn’t thought of the change until they were all on deck, so it was a chance to observe how adaptable they were on receiving new, last-minute orders. Being good Rangers, they took it in stride and they delivered flawlessly.

He’d been both proud and sick to his stomach.

Nika’s statement that Rangers were crazy wasn’t news to him. Had to be a little whacko to be one, and more than a little to perform a fast-rope insertion and a SPIES extraction on the deck of a racing LCAC.

But a few minutes later, when his team reported safe back aboard the Peleliu, he could finally breathe. Now the debrief and the rest of the night’s training would be up to the squad leaders—definitely good practice. And again, he was left with nothing to do but watch.

After the exercise, there was nothing but the soporific calm of the hovercraft skidding over dark ocean. After the adrenal surge let go, it was almost enough to put Clint to sleep. After all, it had been a rare commodity lately.

But watching the smooth confidence of Nika Maier as she guided the craft had the opposite effect. He’d sat in this exact seat on dozens of missions, watching Chief Stowell perform these tasks. While he could see that Nika didn’t have his expertise born of long practice, she revealed her own form of smooth grace with every motion.

He barely looked up as they arrived among the vast ships of the carrier strike group. The George H. W. Bush never traveled alone. She always had along a trio of destroyers and at least one big cruiser offering protection and heavy firepower. A fast combat supply ship raced about with food, fuel, and ammunition. A pair of fast-attack Los Angeles class submarines would also be lurking nearby in a defensive perimeter. Even at night it was a spectacle worth watching, perhaps especially tonight as the carrier air wing was performing night operations. He could hear the jets roaring by, even over the noise of the LCAC itself.

But Clint couldn’t drag his attention away from Nika Maier. He was in such deep shit. One kiss was not supposed to warp a man’s mind. One meal of teasing each other. An air hockey game which had led to the best sex of his life. Which had led to a dozen nights of heaven and was now bordering on madness.

Damn Gibson for suggesting he stay aboard the LCAC.

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