Chapter One
"Clear to lift." Weeks of planning, coordinating, training until the team could have pulled this mission off in their sleep was about to pay off. Eight souls aboard and another pilot on their way home.
Out of nowhere shouts of "Missile, Missile, Missile" sounded in Ethan's headphones. Over his shoulder he caught the signature of the ground-to-air-missile. Damn. A kaleidoscope of orange and yellow flashed to his right and the helicopter rocked left. Son of a… The aircraft pitched up and down, then side to side. Not how he'd planned to end this mission. Using the intercom, he called for the other pilot to empty his weapons system, "Fire it out." Making a spiral descent, this bird was going down. Fast. Crap.
Surrounded by difficult terrain, the GPS, radio and emergency beacon probably wouldn't be worth a damn, and time was not on his side. Riding a pissed off bull with his nuts strapped was a piece of cake compared to controlling a helo with its tail boom severed. He had nine men on board. They'd come too damn far not to make it back to their families. You go home with the one that brung ya. Today was not a good day for these men to die. Ethan had brought 'em and he was taking 'em home.
The pounding repetition of gunfire blanketed them like the constant static crackling of a struggling comm system. Smoke seeped into the cockpit and the mountain side grew too damn close. "Not today," he muttered. Flames licked at his aircraft like a lizard trapping its prey. "Brace for impact!"
Ethan's eyes sprang open. Breathe. Calm. He was alive and… not hanging upside down. Blinking hard he glanced down at his hand. No shrapnel, no blood. A bandage. He blinked again and swallowed a hard gulp of calming air. "The men," he muttered before he remembered what was left of the helo had gotten all his passengers on the ground in mostly one piece.
"Are fine, Major." Commander Billings crossed the short distance from the doorway to the bath and emerged with a wash cloth. Not saying a word, she dabbed away the sweat that had settled over his brow and trickled down his face. "I'm told what you did was nothing short of miraculous. Not many people survive helicopter crashes—"
"Controlled hard landing." He didn't want to hear the word crash again.
"Sorry. As I was saying, not many survive a hard landing, never mind an entire crew."
"How fine is fine?"
The pretty doctor frowned and then smiled again. "The other pilot is already patched up and back with your unit."
The fog in Ethan's brain continued to lift. He knew that. Knew his buddy Hammer was okay.
"The majority of the team are recovering from a range of broken bones, minor concussions and lacerations. A few first degree burns from getting everyone to safety. Lieutenant Bishop had to undergo surgery for a ruptured spleen along with internal bleeding, but he's recovering nicely."
Ethan knew that too. "You already told me this didn't you?"
The commander nodded. His forgetfulness must have been what had her frowning before, now she seemed pleased to have him remember. "You're progressing well. Foot looks good. Your hand too."
He wiggled his fingers and his toes. He wasn't sure how many days he'd been here, but he did know he was ready to get off his back. "How long before I return to duty?"
A single brow arched high on her forehead. "Marines," she muttered, softly shaking her head. "That's a serious break. You've had two surgeries and a nasty infection. Your bones need the same six to eight weeks to heal as mere mortal men."
Something about the way she teased made him relax. Reminded him of home. Now he remembered. He'd been looking at the computer, catching up, when he couldn't stay awake any longer. "My family?"
"Yes, well. It seems there was a bit of a paper glitch."
"Glitch?"
"They only received notice of your status yesterday. I understand your father and brother are on their way."
"No." If the doc was planning on keeping him on medical orders for two months, that meant he'd be going back to home station when released. In that case he might as well use up his accumulated leave and get his ass home. If he had to be laid up he'd rather do it on the ranch. Not that going back to Pendleton was a bad thing—it just wasn't home. "That's not necessary."
"The hell it's not." Sean Farraday strode into the room. Over six foot dressed in standard West Texas attire, jeans, button down shirt, first place rodeo buckle, well worn—and polished—boots and of course, his Stetson, the man was an imposing presence. And a bit of an anomaly in Washington D.C. "You're just lucky Aunt Eileen isn't here or she'd be hugging the stuffing out of you already."
Ethan began to chuckle and a pulling pain stabbed at his side.
"Bruised ribs," the doctor explained. He didn’t remember that. Of course, he hadn't had anything to laugh about since arriving at Walter Reed. "I'm Commander Billings," she said as she extended her hand.
"How do you do?" His dad shook the offered hand. "You been taking good care of my boy?"
The woman's eyes twinkled with humor, but she had the decency not to laugh at Ethan being referred to as a boy. "We're all doing our best."
"Good." His father turned, a crease between his brow, and approached his son. "How you feeling really?"
"Like a swim in the creek. Should be nice and high about now."
His dad smiled. "Could be better."
"Not enough rain?" Not all of the brain fog from the post surgery drugs had lifted. He should know the answer.
"Enough," Sean answered, studying his son from head to toe as if he were a brand spanking newborn.
"So what's the other guy look like?" Slipping a phone into his pocket, DJ came into the room and stuck his hand out at the doctor who seemed a bit awestruck at a second six foot plus man in cowboy hat and boots. "I'm Declan."
"Declan?" Ethan muttered in surprise. "You in the doghouse?"
His dad shook his head, smiling. "Seems Becky thinks Declan is a nice name."
So he wasn't misinterpreting the internet posts. "I'll be…"
"If you'll excuse me." Dr. Billings stepped aside. "I have rounds to make. If you have any questions the nurse can page me, otherwise, your son should be on his way back to California any day."
DJ and their dad exchanged a quick sideways glance and Ethan didn't like the look of it. When he'd first discovered the barrage of contacts from his siblings he'd wondered what was up. Once he'd seen the doe-eyed photos of his brother and Becky, he'd figured that's what the messages were all about. The Farraday brothers were dropping like flies. At least he knew for sure not only was Becky a great catch, but he would kick his brother's sorry ass from here to Bagram if he let her down. But that look had nothing to do with lovesick sons.
"So what the hell is going on?"
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