Ride the Tiger (3 page)

Gib reached out and settled his hand on Dany's slumped shoulder. How large his hand looked in relation to hers, he thought disjointedly. She was slender, like the tall, thin bamboo that grew in huge groves. Her bones seemed especially small and fine in comparison to his bulk. “Go on, take a drink of it. I promise, it'll do you some good.”

Numbly, Dany did as he coaxed and lifted the snifter to her lips. The brandy hit the back of her throat, and she gasped. Closing her eyes, she gulped the rest of it down. The pit of her stomach felt on fire, bringing renewed tears to her eyes.

Retrieving the glass from Dany's hand, Gib sat down next to her on the couch. The maid came into the room and hovered protectively next to Dany, her hands worriedly kneading Dany's shoulders, her voice soft and shaken as they conversed in Vietnamese. Gib's nerves felt jangled from the mine explosion. Again he wondered if the two women in front of him were enemy or friend.

“Ma Ling, go help our people,” Dany said softly to her
mamasan.
“There are marines out there. Try to get them to leave as soon as possible.”

Ma Ling nodded grimly. “You will be all right?”

“Y-yes. Please, just get rid of the marines. If Binh Duc—”

Patting Dany's shoulder, Ma Ling muttered, “I will take care of it. The doctor will be here soon, and he will take care of
you.
”

Trying to smile and unable to, Dany felt her eyes tear up with love for her maid. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Ma Ling raised her head and glared at Gib, then straightened and left the room.

Leaning forward, Dany rested her elbows on her knees and buried her face in her hands. Her hair fell forward, offering a semblance of privacy from the American marine. Odd to be so near an American, she thought. Her father had been French and proud of it. And, although American-born, Dany's mother had learned to accept her husband's cultivated disdain for all things American, so Dany had grown up believing the American blood she carried in her veins was of lesser value. But when the Americans had landed on the pristine white beaches of Da Nang a few weeks ago, Dany had found herself curious about them. It was easy to dislike them and their intrusive presence, upsetting the fragile peace among the various political factions. Still, she had wondered at odd moments what Americans were really like, since she had never had the chance to see for herself—until now.

There was something disturbing and uncomfortable about this marine's presence, Dany thought, but wasn't sure why. He'd certainly helped her in a great moment of need.

The fire in her stomach gradually ceased, and miraculously, Dany felt her shaking nerves become more stable. Slowly she turned her head to meet the American's gaze. For the first time, she really looked at him. His face was square and generous, as was his mouth and broad brow. His dark brown eyebrows were straight across his hazel eyes, which held the look of a hunter, a predator, in their depths. She reminded herself that he had said to call him Gib. His eyes were hard, she thought, the aura around him coiled and tension-filled.

All her defenses had been shattered, and Dany couldn't have erected her normal French aloofness toward the American if she'd tried. Gib's face was harsh looking, carved out of life's experiences—not what was usually considered handsome. When his mouth flexed into a hesitant, coaxing smile as he held out the brandy snifter to her once again, a sudden warmth cascaded through Dany taking away the coldness of reality. The amiable quality caught her off guard. He was supposed to be a soldier, incapable of compassion. The discovery made her feel even more confused.

“Better take one more sip and you'll really steady out,” Gib urged softly, holding the snifter in her direction. He tried to disconnect emotionally from her, but the look in her eyes shattered his normally insurmountable defenses. Never, in the last two years, had he felt this damned vulnerable. What the hell was going on?

Dany nodded and accepted the glass. She took another hefty gulp without a word. Again, the fieriness of the brandy caught her by surprise. The snifter was once again lifted out of her hands by Gib, as if he were afraid she'd drop it because of her blatant reaction to the liquor.

Color was coming back to Dany's high-boned cheeks, a rosiness tinting her golden skin, making her look hauntingly like a child and not the adult Gib was sure she was. He guessed her age to be around twenty-one; she was so young and fresh looking. And he wasn't at all sure that she wasn't Eurasian. There was a slight tilt to her glorious verdant eyes. Guilt nagged at Gib, and he felt like a trespasser of sorts, because Dany's eyes reflected every nuance, making it easy to read how she felt. Somehow he couldn't control his unraveling feelings and erect the usual fortress around his tightly held emotions. He needed to escape.

“Thank you...” Dany said softly.

Gib shrugged. “I wish I could do more for you, and I know I can't. When you lose someone you love, it's a terrible thing. You feel helpless.”

“Yes.”

Gib offered her the snifter, but this time she shook her head. He took a drink instead, finishing off the amber-colored brandy. Part of him wanted to stay and protect Dany against what he knew would come on the heels of such a tragic and unexpected loss. But a stronger part sternly reminded him it was time to leave. Setting the snifter on the mahogany coffee table in front of them, he managed a slight, uncomfortable smile.

“Look, there will be a military investigation on this. Your mama's car must have hit a VC land mine just before she got to Highway 14. A marine investigator from Da Nang will have to come out and ask you a lot of questions.” He scowled. “I'll do what I can to see that they respect you in the coming days of funeral preparations. After that...well, I wish I could do more, Mrs. Villard.”

Dany didn't even have the strength to explain she wasn't married. If the marines got involved in an investigation, Binh Duc would be furious and even more distrustful of her neutrality. But who was to say he hadn't placed the mine in the driveway himself? Dany knew full well the VC leader was capable of such savage deeds. Had he done it because her mother was seeing the marine general? Clutching her fist against her stomach, Dany felt queasy.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Gib asked, alarmed at the pain again mounting in her features.

“N-no, thank you.”

Gib nodded, not satisfied. “Look, I'll take over out there and make sure your mama's body is found. I'll contact the local authorities. If there's a priest—”

Dany shook her head. “I'll call them.” Her lips were dry and her mouth felt gummy. “If—if you can just find her—”

“I will,” Gib promised grimly. “Are you sure you're up to making such calls? Can I notify your husband? Your family?”

With a sigh, Dany whispered, “I'm the only one left. I'm not married.”

“Oh. Well, where are your nearest relatives?” Gib asked.

“My mother was adopted, and she never knew who her real parents were in America. My father—” Dany's voice cracked as she dove on. “All my father's relatives are in France. I'll contact them shortly.”

Rubbing his hands against his fatigue-covered thighs, Gib nodded. The desire to escape her overwhelmingly vulnerable presence sheared through him again. He didn't want to be exposed to her tragedy. More to the point, if he was honest with himself, to her reaction to it.

Scowling, he said, “Sounds like all the bases are covered for now. I've got to get going.”

“Of course.”

Getting to his feet, Gib tasted his own panic. Every second spent with Dany was unhinging his crucial, carefully constructed emotional defenses against the horrors of war.

Dany looked up at Gib. She hadn't realized how tall he was until just now. He looked like a giant—but also like the man who had given her precious moments of protection when she'd never needed them more. “Thanks...for everything. I'll never forget it,” she said and meant it.

Gib forced a tight, one-cornered smile. “I'd do it for anyone. Goodbye.” He turned and made himself walk in a controlled manner out of the room. Settling the utility cap back on his head, Gib ran lightly down the wooden stairs. As his feet touched hard earth, he felt some of the panic ease in his chest, and he took a deep, shaky breath. What kind of power did Dany Villard wield over him? With a shake of his head, Gib decided it was just one more crazy response to a wartime situation. Now he could get back to his “safe” rut of running the helicopter squadron.

W
hat the hell did Colonel Parsons want of him? Gib swung up the wooden steps leading to the dark green canvas tent that served as headquarters for the Marine Air Group based at Marble Mountain. The morning air was a combination of scents: aircraft fuel, oil and the salty tang of the ocean nearby. Taking off his utility cap as he entered the large tent that housed the office “pogues”—the clerks and paper shufflers who kept the squadron going—Gib walked toward a dark green metal desk at the rear of the tent.

Colonel Parsons was a lean, narrow-faced marine in his early fifties. Wearing starched green utilities, he sat at his desk, busily reading flight reports. Gib approached and came to attention.

“Reporting as ordered, sir.”

Parson looked up. His scowl dissolved. “Gib. Glad you could make it. At ease. Have a seat.” He motioned to the dark green metal chair in front of his desk.

Gib sat tensely. Normally, Parsons wasn't this amiable. His CO must want something from him. “I'm just about ready to take a flight of supplies to Firebase Judy,” Gib said.

“I know, I know.” Parsons leaned back in his chair. “Give the flight to Captain Mallory. I've got something that demands immediate attention, and I want you to take charge of it.”

“Oh?” Gib frowned.

“Yes. You know that report you wrote up on the Villard woman being killed two days ago?”

An uneasy feeling snaked through Gib. “Yes, sir.”

“I'm appointing you investigation officer on the case. It happened on South Vietnamese land, and we're officially charged with the investigation.”

Gib's mouth dropped opened. “What?”

Parsons stared at him bluntly. “You were there. You saw it happen. There's no reason not to be the IO on this, Gib.”

“But, sir, I've got a squadron to run.” Gib's heart started a funny hammering in his chest. He'd have to see Dany Villard again—a number of times, he was sure, before he could close the case. Again that weird panic ate at him. Her vulnerability unstrung him, got inside him, and he couldn't afford that. Not now.

Parsons shrugged and took another report from his In basket. “Look, Gib, I know this is an extra duty you don't really want, but the general was a friend of Mrs. Villard's, and he wants an immediate and thorough investigation. He's upset over this.” His mouth working into a tight line, Parsons growled, “I don't like this any more than you do, but you're assigned. If you hadn't been at the wrong place at the right time, I'd give it to someone else, but you were an eyewitness.”

Gib opened his mouth to argue, but knew it was folly. An order was an order, and a marine followed it. Glumly, he stood. “Yes, sir.”

Parsons glanced up at him, keeping his voice low as he handed Gib a thick file with Villard on the tab. “Look, there are some things I don't want to see in your write-up on the investigation.”

Gib handled the thick folder. “Oh?”

“The general was going to meet Mrs. Villard the day she was killed. He was planning to ask her to marry him.
That
doesn't go in there, understand?”

Hating politics of any kind, Gib nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“The general seems to think a local VC leader by the name of Binh Duc probably is responsible for this murder. Find out. If he is, the general will make sure the little bastard's caught and hung by his—” Parsons waved him away. “Dismissed. When you get the answers, let me know.”

Gib nodded unhappily. “Yes, sir.”
Great. Just friggin' great.
He didn't want the IO status. Nor did he want to see Dany Villard again. As he left headquarters and walked between the long rows of tents toward operations, Gib frowned. A part of him
did
want to see Dany—some crazy-assed, better ignored part, he amended. His head was screaming at him that this whole mess wasn't going to bode well for him emotionally. But he was a twenty-year marine, and if he wanted to continue up the promotion ladder, he had to take assignments like this every once in a while, whether he liked it or not.

His mouth compressed grimly, Gib tucked the file beneath his arm. First, he'd go to operations and hand the flight over to Pete Mallory. Then he'd head to motor pool, requisition a jeep and drive to the Villard plantation. What a hell of a twist to his life.

* * *

Gib couldn't steady the beat of his heart as he slid out of the jeep. Climbing the wooden porch steps—remarkably swept clean of the constant red dust—Gib found himself feeling damned unsure, almost like a sixteen-year-old boy going out on his first date. It was crazy, he decided as he halted to knock on the screen door.

Ma Ling, the maid, appeared silently before he could knock, her dark eyes accusing as she grudgingly opened the door for him.

“Good morning,” he said. “I'm Major Gib Ramsey, the investigation officer on Mrs. Villard's death. I'm here to talk to Dany Villard. Is she around?” Gib hadn't called before coming over, assuming that with the funeral for her mother having been yesterday, she would be remaining close to the house.

Ma Ling's gaze never flinched from his. She jabbed angrily at him. “You in uniform!”

Gib was taken aback by the
mamasan's
fury. “Of course I am.” What the hell was her problem?

Ma Ling bristled. “Major, Villard
neutral.
”