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hours to shit, shower, shave, and pack. I suggest you get to
it. Am I clear?"
    "Sir,
yes, sir!" The team yelled in unison.
    "Dismissed."
    The
team fell out and ran for their vehicles.
    "Nothing
like buggin' out on short notice," Cory said as he jogged alongside Tuck
toward his vintage '67 Mustang. "It's probably just as well. I'd hate to
be stuck here, coolin' my heels waiting for O'Connell to get back with her
answer." He stopped beside his Mustang. "I don't know. I'm thinking
she might say no." He shook his head. "You think she could love a man
like me?"
    "I
know she loves you. Question is like what ?"
    "What
do you mean like what?"
    "Does
she love you like a lover, a brother, or a friend?" Hell, Tuck knew, but
why burst the guy's bubble now?
    Cory's
brows dove together. "What did she tell you?"
    "I
heard what you heard. She'll think about it." That still angered him. She
could have come right out and said no.
    Cory
exhaled a long breath as he pulled out his keys and jammed them into the lock. "I
hope that's a good thing. Means she wants to think about it. I hope by the time
we get back from the desert, she'll say yes. As it is, I don't know if I can
wait that long."
    "Guess
you'll have to."
    "She
give any clue as to where she's headed?"
    "You
know this stuff is classified." Tuck glanced at a spot over Cory’s
shoulder.
    "Yeah.
But I was hoping she'd trust us enough to tell us, or scuttlebutt would get
back to someone on the team."
    "I
wouldn't ask. No sense puttin' her in the position."
    "You're
right. Guess you're the better man. I'd have asked, if she hadn't run out so
fast. And she didn't answer her cell phone later. Lord knows I tried to call
her ten times."
    A
wash of guilt tightened Tuck's chest. Her phone had been in the kitchen, the
ringtone specific to Cory ringing several times.
    They'd
ignored it.
    Tuck
had a fifteen-minute drive to get back to his house. He made it in ten, grabbed
the bag containing his deployment gear, extra uniforms, boots, undergarments,
and toiletries that he kept stowed in his hall closet. After a quick look
around, he left everything as is. The less anyone knew about his movements, the
better. He didn't know where in the sandbox he was going or how long he'd be
gone.
    He
hoped and prayed he'd be close to wherever Delaney had deployed. Only made
sense for those who trained together to deploy together.
     
    The
call came in a week after she and her unit had boots on the ground at Camp
Leatherneck. Her crew, consisting of her co-pilot and two door gunner crew
chiefs, was called into the Tactical Operations Center, where TOP SECRET maps,
photos, and intel lined the walls. Briefed on where they were headed and the
number of people who'd be along for the ride, they were given the weather
conditions, personnel movements, coordinates of their pick up and drop off, the
number of men they would be carrying from the pickup point, and the amount of
fuel they would be taking. The rest was on a need-to-know basis. Delaney was
the Pilot in Command, or PC.
    Delaney
checked her flight bag for her HGU-56/P flight helmet, NVGs, maps marked with
the roads and landmarks she could expect, and her electronic kneeboard, the Air
Warrior EDM Tablet with data downloaded. She carried the memory card to be
uploaded into the aircraft's radios and GPS. All data could easily be destroyed
in the case of a crash, or if the aircraft was compromised. She threw in a
bottle of water and stepped out of the ops center onto the flight line where
her Black Hawk MH-60M stood. After a thorough inspection of the exterior and
verification of the fuel levels, she climbed aboard, slipped on the helmet,
downloaded the memory card, and began her checks on the interior controls.
    Her
copilot, Lieutenant K-9, settled in beside her and helped her complete the
pre-flight inspection and checklist.
    "Mac,
Jones, ready?" Delaney spoke into her mic.
    "Mac,
ready," the senior of the two door gunners, Sergeant McKenzie,