approached it. Pretty amazing, he thought. It appeared as if he was being continuously tracked and monitored. The computerized duty officer knew where he was, anticipated his needs, like unlocking his doors, and did it for him. He couldn’t wait to try it elsewhere and see.
And then he saw that his office was not empty. Inside, sitting at his desk, was Rebecca Furness.
He watched her rise to her feet, her lips parting as if she were going to say something, but then she decided against it, so he took that moment to let his eyes roam.
She was older, of course — so was he. She was tall and still athletic-looking, with plenty of curves that no baggy flight suit — rumpled and well worn, like McLanahan’s — could hide. She was cutting her brown hair shorter now — she’d always kept it long, below-shoulder length, when he knew her before — and it was darker than he remembered, with wisps of gray visible, but her almond-shaped eyes still had that sparkle, that energy.
“Hello, Colonel,” she said simply. Even with such a brief sentence, her voice was still clipped, impersonal. Rebecca Furness had always been, and probably would always be, all business. “I hope you don’t mind my using your office. We’re not exactly set up around here.”
“Hello, Rebecca. What a surprise.” He held out his hand to greet her. She took his hand and shook it firmly. Yep, all business, as usual. She’d once been nicknamed “the Iron Maiden”—maybe she still was; he didn’t know — because of her no-nonsense, businesslike attitude toward most everybody and everything. Still, they did know each other, and, yes, they had a history. But he remembered only one or two tender moments in the short time they’d had together.
He surprised himself by pulling her carefully toward him and turning the handshake into a friendly hug. There was a helmet bag or something on the floor between them — he had to reach out awkwardly to her. He thought it was only going to be a casual hug, one that old buddies might give to one another, so it didn’t matter that they couldn’t get close…
… but that thought faded fast when, before he knew it, the hug turned into an embrace, and the embrace morphed into a full-scale liplock of the kind that Daren hadn’t had much of an opportunity to do in a long time.
But just as quickly as it began, it ended. Daren felt her body and her lips tense, and he knew their personal little reunion was over. He backed away and searched her face. It was back to her businesslike facade, but he looked carefully and didn’t see any hint of anger — there was a little confusion, certainly no joy, but no rejection either. She seemed to accept the pure spontaneity of the act, allowed herself to enjoy it just for a moment, then pushed it out of her consciousness.
“Welcome to Battle Mountain, Daren,” she said, as if she couldn’t think of anything else to say — awkward silence number one. She motioned to a sofa set up against the wall in the office; he sat down and took a bottle of water from her that she retrieved from a small cooler as she took a seat in a chair across the coffee table from him. “Making yourself at home?”
“Rebecca, about Donatella’s…”
“It’s okay. You’re an adult — chronologically, at least — and that place isn’t off-limits.”
“I’ve never been in a brothel before.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“It’s okay, Daren.”
“I didn’t do
“Okay, okay,” Rebecca said. She couldn’t help smiling at his embarrassment, and they both felt the tension slowly dissolve. “You look great, Daren. Really great. Buff, I’d say.”
“Thank you.”
“Stopped hanging out in biker bars, I assume?”
“I ride into one every now and then,” Daren said. “You know, midlife crisis — a guy’s gotta have a Harley. But I cut out the beer and the pizzas. My cholesterol count and blood pressure were racing each other to see which could kill me first.” She smiled and nodded. “You look terrific, as always. I like the short hair, too.” There was the second of what it seemed would be many awkward silences. “Congratulations on getting your star,” he added quickly. “You deserve it. You always did.”
“Thank you.”
Awkward silence number three. Thank God, he thought, for the water bottles. “And now you’re the wing commander here. Congratulations again.” He looked at her seriously. “I must have you to thank for getting me this assignment.”
“Your record spoke for itself.”
“My record is crap and we both know it, Rebecca,” Mace interjected. “My last assignment as a brand-new full bird colonel was running an office that prepared audiovisual presentations at the Pentagon. I had more responsibility when I was a swing-shift manager at McDonald’s in high school.”
“We all have to pull our share of desk jobs.”
“Which one was yours — the bomb squadron in Reno or senior combat air-strike adviser to CINCPAC?”
“What is this — bitterness? Toward the Air Force? You’re not the type.”
“At least you still thought of your friends on your way up the ladder — nine years later.”
“Now we’re sinking into sarcasm and resentment against
He stood but did not move toward the door. She stood and watched him for a few moments. “Rebecca, you know that I’m grateful for whatever you did….”
“All I did was give them a name — the Air Force and General McLanahan did the rest,” Rebecca said. “You may have been stuck in some less-than-thrilling jobs, but you must’ve done something right, because you were picked to come here anyway. General McLanahan handpicks everyone who sets foot on this base. And all I know about you is what you say and what you do, Daren. Sometimes I wonder if I ever knew you at all.”
“I guess you’re right,” Mace said. He gave her a sly grin. “But as I remember it, neither one of us was intent on exploring the other’s feelings. I think we both had only one thing on our minds then.”
Rebecca smiled, despite all her efforts not to let him take her back to that point in time. She never liked to think that she
He also never asked for anything. Consequently, he never got anything. What would he be like, she wondered, if he started demanding respect instead of earning it — like Rinc Seaver?
Rinc was her ill-advised romantic relationship that had filled the void left in her life when she was promoted up and away beyond Daren Mace. Both men were strong, handsome, and intelligent. Unfortunately, Rinc Seaver knew it, and he never let anyone forget it. He had a chip on his shoulder the size of the Golden Gate Bridge, and it would take a nuclear bomb to knock it off.
Unfortunately, that’s exactly what did him in.
“Daren, it’s good to have you here,” Rebecca said seriously. “And it’s good to see you again. But I don’t have the time to worry about your feelings toward the Air Force or me. I’m here to stand up a flying wing, and I picked you to help me. I recommended you because I know you can do the job. You were the de facto wing commander at Plattsburgh when no one else on the entire base knew a thing about generating combat aircraft for nuclear war. You pulled us through that. You did some amazing things at Beale with the Global Hawk wing. Now I need you to pull the Fifty-first through this ramp-up and initial cadre-training phase. I’m counting on you.”
“Rebecca, you know I’ll do it,” Daren said. Again, that was a weird comment. What’s so hard about ramping up a KC-135 unit? The Stratotanker had been around for almost forty years, and it would probably be around another ten or twenty at least. What’s going on here? he wondered. What he said was “Seeing you… well, it just reopened a few old wounds, that’s all. I’m over it.” He nodded, smiled, and added, “The kiss didn’t help — but it didn’t hurt either.”
“Glad to hear both of those things.” She headed for the door. “I’ll show you around. You’re not going to
