One Man's War (16 page)

His hand stilled against Tess's shoulder. Pete envisioned waking up every morning like this with her in his arms, sleeping soundly, deeply, against him. Sweet heaven, what would that be like? Opening his eyes, he stared intently up at the plastered ceiling where the fan moved lazily around and around. What did he really want? Tess was redefining his options, what he thought he wanted out of life. Dammit, she
was
his life!

Shaken by that discovery, Pete lay a long time feeling his way through that thought. There were so many fine lines to tread with Tess. Would she believe him if he told her that making love with her had been completely unplanned? Would she see their coming together as an act of commitment and not fulfillment of some plan he'd been working on for a month or more? In that moment, Pete cursed himself for his old habits and ways. Tess was honest about her feelings and emotions, and he hadn't been—until last night, until he'd come in to offer solace against her pain. She'd helped him discover something beautiful and good in sharing another's pain—that it was freeing and uplifting, not necessarily the uncomfortable or messy situation he'd feared.

Pete didn't want Tess to awaken just yet. He felt like a thief, wanting to steal a few more moments with her before the real world, the ugliness of the war and what it did to people, intruded upon them once more. Somehow, he had to make Tess believe he had reformed. Vulnerable feelings he'd never experienced shimmered through him, fragile and new. Having no experience with these delicate, budding emotions, Pete was scared.

One day at a time, buddy,
he warned himself grimly.
Take things one day at a time with Tess. Then maybe she'll come around and believe you've changed.
He formed a fist with his right hand, symbolizing his determination. First things first, though—he had to get the generator for Tess's village and prove he was good at his word. Maybe that would inspire her further belief in the new Pete Mallory and make the old one fade a little bit more from her mind.

* * *

Tess clapped her hands in triumph and laughed as she watched the chugging generator supply the electricity to the village pump. The children, half-naked and barefoot, screeched with delight as water began burbling out of the pipe set up on several blocks of wood. They dashed in and out of the stream of pure water and threw up their hands, scattering droplets over everyone. The villagers had crowded around and watched in silence for several hours while Pete and his helicopter crew rigged up the entire unit.

“Look at them!” Tess said, pleasure in her voice as she stood next to Pete. He wore his flight suit, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, his hands greasy and muddy.

Pete grinned and wiped a film of sweat off his brow. At least thirty children, aged two to twelve, played in the water. His heart burst with joy as he looked down at Tess, who stood at his shoulder. Making love to her had worked a major miracle of sorts between them. He'd begged Gib for the day off with his crew so they could come to the village and set up the equipment for the pump. Gib had smiled and said nothing, approving the orders.

As Tess looked around at the faces of the adults, all of them awed by what was occurring, she took a deep, shaky breath. Looking up at Pete, she said, “Do you realize what this means for them? No more typhoid, dysentery or so many other killing germs.” Tess turned and threw her arms around Pete and kissed him—something she'd been longing to do since their return.

Stunned and pleased, Pete had no time to capitalize on Tess's spontaneous gesture. Her mouth had been warm and lush against his, but just as he tried to capture her in his embrace to kiss her back, she stepped away. Her green eyes shimmered with gratitude.

“You're a very special man, Pete Mallory,” Tess whispered unsteadily. “And you've saved a lot of lives. I hope you know that.”

He smiled self-consciously as his crew grinned proudly over at him. “I'll settle for being special to you. Okay?”

Tess gripped his hand and squeezed it, not caring how dirty it was. “Okay.” Her heart swelled with fierce emotion. Since their intimate moments, first in her hut, then in Saigon, there had been a subtle but powerful change between them. Tess savored the growing feeling in her heart for him. Each day was becoming precious to her as never before—because of Pete.

“Don't you think you ought to come back to the base tonight? Gib's had to carry through with selling Dany Villard's plantation. He was mentioning the VC are getting pretty bold. Intelligence said there's a massing of enemy near the place, and that's not far from here, Tess.”

She didn't want to spoil the moment. “I'll think about it, Pete.”

“Dinner at the O club tonight? Maybe not as fancy as the Caravelle, but your favorite guy will be there waiting for you.”

Her hand tightened around his. “No promises. If I can make it, we'll have dinner together.”

Worried, but knowing Tess's stubbornness, Pete nodded. “Okay, honey, I'll look forward to seeing your pretty face.”

* * *

That night, Tess shared her meal of rice and meat with the family of the village chieftain instead of going back to Da Nang. The old man spoke in low tones after the meal.

“Binh Duc, the local VC leader, is angry at all Americans,” he warned Tess. “He plans to attack the Villard plantation. You, Missy Tess, must go to Da Nang, where it is safe. Even though we now have the marine pacification program here, Duc hates all Americans. You are special and we don't want to see you harmed. You must go.”

Uneasy, Tess nodded. “Does Dany Villard know about this?”

The old man shook his head. “No...one of my informants, a young boy, brought this information to me just a little while ago.” He waved his finger toward the north. “Go to Da Nang for the nights, if just for a little while, until Binh Duc finds something that interests him more.”

Tess thanked him for the warning and got up after saying her goodbyes. She walked thoughtfully back to her hut. First thing tomorrow morning, she would catch a marine convoy heading north to Da Nang and talk to Gib about the chieftain's warning. She knew Gib loved Dany and wouldn't want to see anything happen to her.

* * *

Pete was with Gib Ramsey when Tess told her brother of Binh Duc's plans.

“Dammit, Tess, you need to stay at Da Nang each night!” Pete jammed his finger down at the plywood floor of the tent. “No more staying in the village.”

“Pete—” Tess protested wearily.

“He's right,” Gib said as he rubbed his furrowed brow. “Look, Tess, can you drive down to Dany's plantation? I can't do it because of work responsibilities. And if Duc sees a marine vehicle there, he'll lose it and possibly attack her place. You can use that Citroën I borrow from my Vietnamese officer friend. Tell Dany to start packing. I'm going to call her, but I need you to go down and convince her. Maybe you could help her pack in the next couple of days?”

“Sure, I'd be glad to.”

Pete stood aside, angry and concerned. “That's dangerous, too,” he growled.

Gib nodded. “There's nothing about this country that isn't dangerous.”

Holding on to his worries, Pete waited until Tess was done working out the details with her brother. When she turned to leave, he gripped her by the elbow.

“Come on, you and I have some talking to do,” he stated bluntly.

Outside the tent, Pete rounded on her. “Now look, you've got to quit staying in Le My at night, Tess. It's getting too damned hot out there!”

“You're overreacting, Pete.”

“Like hell I am!” He gripped her by the shoulders. “What does it take to convince you? I like you. One hell of a lot! I don't want my woman out traipsing around where she can get her stubborn head shot off! You're close to breaking, anyway. As far as I'm concerned, you've got battle fatigue. Does that get to you, Tess? Is that what you wanted to hear from me?”

She stared up at his taut, angry features. His fingers bit deeply into her shoulders without hurting her. Pete's voice was off-key and filled with undisguised emotion, fear mingled with concern in his eyes. For the first time, Tess understood just how much she did mean to him. Shaken, she took a deep, unsteady breath.

“Listen, I'll come in at night, okay? And I don't have battle fatigue. I've just been wrung out lately, that's all. I may be bullheaded, but I'm not stupid. I'll work with Dany over the next three days and help her get moved out of the mansion and over to the base.”

He gave her a little shake. “And you'll come in every night? To Da Nang to sleep?”

“Yes.”

Relief shattered through Pete. “Good,” he said gruffly. “Tess, you mean a lot to me.”

“I know...”

“Be careful at Dany's place. I've heard of this Binh Duc. He's a cobra.”

“He's sneaky,” Tess agreed. She forced a smile. “Everything will be fine.”

Pete didn't want to release her. His eyes bore into hers. “Tess, we've got a lot to talk about...and dammit, time's not on our side. I...well, you're important to me, okay?”

“Okay.” She reached out and touched his recently shaved face. “You be careful, too, Pete.”

Leaning down, he captured her parted lips. The instant his mouth met hers, he felt Tess tremble. It was a good kind of tremble that told him how much he affected her. As he slid his mouth along hers, testing and tasting her, Pete felt his entire body consumed in a raging fire of need. As Tess leaned against him, her body supple against the harder planes of his own, he groaned.

“I want you all over again,” he rasped thickly against her wet lips, “I want you so damn much, Tess, I ache. We're right for each other. I know we are....” As he drowned in her heated offering, the thought of the war lurked in the back of Pete's mind. No matter how tightly he held Tess, how deeply he kissed her, he couldn't escape the fact that the war was beginning to impinge on them in the most highly personal way possible—he feared losing Tess in a firefight. Whatever wall was left around his guarded heart shattered. For the first time in his life, Pete Mallory felt nakedly vulnerable.

He loved Tess. It was that simple. The discovery was frightening—exhilarating. Her goodness, her trust in her own heart and feelings had torn down any last vestiges of self-protection. As he tipped her head back and framed her face with his hands to share his heat, his own unspoken love for her, Pete felt a fear so numbing and terrifying that he could barely breathe. What could he do to combat the terrible sense of helplessness that stalked him?

“C
aptain Mallory! Captain Mallory!”

Pete jerked up, hit his head on the hood of the jeep and cursed. He was working with a marine corporal, repairing one of the motor pool jeeps. If he could fix it, he could have it at his personal disposal because the gunny sergeant had already written off the cantankerous vehicle to the scrap heap. He'd scrounged the parts from the air force—in fact, he'd spent the last two weeks working on the beast.

“Ouch, dammit.” He rubbed his scalp as he saw his gunner, Lance Corporal Randy York, galloping toward him, waving his arms above his head.

Running up to Pete, the gunner was sobbing for breath. “Cap'n, you gotta come quick! Major Ramsey's alerting the whole squadron. Miss Villard's plantation is under attack!”

Pete froze, his eyes narrowing on the straw-haired youth of twenty. “What?” The word came out strangled. Tess was over there helping Dany pack on this third and final moving day. His heart slammed against his ribs double time.

“Yes, sir! We gotta wind up! The major says we need all the firepower we can muster. It's a daytime attack by the VC!”

Cursing under his breath, Pete grabbed a cloth and wiped his greasy hands as he sprinted out of the motor pool area, the lance corporal hot on his heels. With every stride he took, he thought of Tess—and Dany. They were women alone, unable to defend themselves.

“What's the VC throwing at them?” Pete shouted over his shoulder to his gunner.

“Dunno, sir!”

It could be mortars—or worse, rockets. And if Binh Duc had heavy machine guns, the helicopters could become targets, too. Ground fire from rifles aimed at them would be bad enough.

“Is ordinance loaded on board our helo?” Pete wanted to know. They ran hard, surrounded by frantic activity at the landing apron.

“Yes, sir! We're fueled, armed and ready to go. Mr. Taylor is revving up the chopper right now. All we need is you!”

Good.
Pete was pleased with his new crew. They were not only responsible, but reliable in the heat of a crisis. His mind and heart revolved quickly back to Tess. He knew she was a Texas woman. She could shoot a pistol or rifle as well as any man. But never had Tess had to defend herself against the Vietnamese people she loved. Pete slowed just enough to leap up on the lip of the helicopter deck. That might be the deciding difference between the two women being killed and staying alive, Pete thought grimly—if only they could reach them in time.

The Sikorsky shuddered as Pete manipulated the controls for takeoff power after he'd picked up a squad of marines. Ahead of him, in a line of six choppers, he saw Gib take off first. Then each helicopter in succession lifted into the humid late-morning sky cobbled with white clouds. Pete's aircraft was the last to take off. The line of dark green helos churned steadily toward its target twelve miles southwest of the base.

Pete's mind raced with possibilities, emergency procedures, worry for his crew's safety and, most of all, a frightening realization that Tess was down there under fire. He felt as if a part of him died because, as he craned his neck, squinting through the tinted visor toward the horizon, he could see a telltale column of dark smoke rising lazily into the pale blue sky. It had to be the plantation on fire.

As they arrived on station at the Villard plantation, the groves of rubber trees—hundreds of acres in long, neat rows—were scattered with VC running toward the main house to capture the occupants inside. There was no time to think, only to react. Gib gave orders for the squadron to begin laying down a blanket of fire to force the VC back away from the house, which they now surrounded. It required precision flying. Gripping the controls, sweat running down his body in rivulets, Pete flew as he never had before. If his door gunner was sloppy, if he banked the helicopter a little too steeply, the stream of machine-gun fire would stitch right through the plantation house, perhaps wounding or killing the women inside.
If
they were inside. Pete had no idea where they were hiding.