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has his or her own conception of hell, Alanna. Take yourself: you view this experience as hell. There’s no bed, no hot water, very little food. To me, this is luxury. I’ve spent too many years sleeping on the hard ground, in water-filled foxholes or in trees hiding from the enemy. A wood floor and a sleeping bag seems like heaven.” His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “So you see, hell is a relative term, depending upon your past experiences.”
    “Obviously,” she agreed quietly, gaining new and increasing respect for him, regardless of what the senator had said. He wasn’t trying to cajole her or twist her thinking. And she knew it. Alanna was almost positive he rarely talked this way to anyone, and that knowledge confused her. She was his enemy. She was out to ruin his military career by proving he was a smuggler. Guilt twinged at her conscience as she watched him. There was a quiet calmness that emanated from him as steadily as a beacon shining in the darkness. A depth of peace and a rock solidness that made her feel protected. And if something did go wrong, she knew Matt would do everything in his power to save her.
    She jolted herself back to reality. What on earth was she doing? He was no knight in shining armor on a white steed. Alanna, you’re too old to allow romantic thoughts to sway you from the position you’ve taken, she chided herself.
    “Look,” he said, interrupting her thoughts, “I’m going to try to catch a few hours’ sleep. Are you warm enough with these?”
    “Yes. Will you be warm enough? I mean, you’ve only got one—”
    Matt rose, ambling over to the corner and shutting off the kerosene lamp. “I’ll be fine,” he assured her. “Good night.”
    She snuggled back down into the wiry wool blankets, pulling her legs up and curling into a kittenlike position. She heard him unlacing his boots and setting them on the floor. Soon, quietness pervaded the small room, and only muted voices in the next room and the constant sharp static of the radios interrupted the silence. Some time before she returned to sleep, she thought she heard the softened breathing of Matt Breckenridge and knew he had finally found an edge of peace in sleep.
    *
    Alanna awoke slowly, feeling drugged and groggy. Voices, low and urgent, became intelligible as she struggled out of the stupor. She forced her eyes open. A wedge of light slipped through the partially opened door, and she focused her attention on the whispered conversation.
    “Matt, we’ve got to get up there….”
    “What are the weather conditions, Cauley?” he mumbled.
    A sigh of exasperation broke from the other man. “The same. Dammit, we’ve got three children up there that were just found under a fallen structure. Two are seriously injured, and the third is close to death. If we can get a chopper up there and—”
    “You’re asking me to risk one of only three choppers, plus you, the pilot. I won’t allow it, Cauley. It doesn’t make any sense to lose one-third of our aircraft for an emergency flight in below-minimum conditions. Use your head.”
    “Matt…please…dammit, one of those kids is only four years old! I can fly it. God, how many times did I fly you and your team in and out of worse situations? At least we aren’t getting shot at this time. I can do it. I know I can. Give me the chance!”
    Alanna froze, holding her breath in anticipation of Matt’s answer. She was wide awake now, tortured by the urgency of the pilot’s plea.
    “Cauley, this isn’t war. And I know you’re a crack pilot. What if I lose you? Do you know how long it will take to get a replacement? I don’t have that kind of time. And what if you do crash? I’ll have to take part of my men and search for you. I need every man I’ve got. We’re short-handed and short on time. I can’t afford to lose you, Cauley. If there wasn’t this rotten weather, I’d okay it.”
    The pilot rose. “You owe me one, Matt,” he growled softly. “I’m collecting it