Morgan's Mercenaries: Heart of Stone by Lindsay McKenna Page B

by Maya.
    Maybe it was the look on Maya’s face that made him breathe a little easier. After all, he was still smarting from her angry words of a couple of hours ago. He cast another quick glance at her. She was gone. How had she moved so fast? Where was she? More than once in the last couple of hours, York had heard Maya’s loyal squadron describe her as “different.” Well, what did that mean? Everyone seemed to tiptoe around the subject. When he asked, they just laughed and said that he would see for himself, and let it go at that. It was clear they loved her, almost idolized her. They seemed to worship the ground she walked on. Dane found that a complete surprise. Usually, a squadron’s C.O. was tolerated, never loved.
    Where was Maya? Worried that he and his men were somehow doing something wrong, without her permission, he told the crew chiefs he was done. They all moved from out beneath the carriage of the Apache. Dane was the last to leave. As he rolled onto his right side, he saw Maya’s black, shining boots. She was standing beside the helicopter now. Swallowing hard, he realized she was waiting for him. He rolled easily away from the nose and got to his hands and knees. She was standing there, hands on her hips, looking down at him intently.
    Rising to his feet, he dusted off his hands. “I thought we’d come over, since there was a crowd already around this helo,” he said.
    “My people have been waiting for days to see these girls.” Maya saw the distrust in his blue eyes. How she wished they could relax around one another. Trust one another. Inwardly, she laughed at her own idealism. York would never give his trust to her. Not untilhe could honestly accept unconditionally that women were as good as men. That would be the day.
    Dane nodded and allowed his hands to rest on his narrow hips. The crew chiefs drifted to the other side of the Apache where the others were, as if sensing Maya and Dane needed to be left alone.
    “They’re a little excited.” He grinned. “I don’t blame them. This helicopter is something else. Beyond your wildest dreams come true.” He reached forward and patted the black panel with affection. “I think once your pilots get into the training program and see all the differences, the ease in handling, it’s going to blow them away. I know it did me.”
    Seeing the glimmer of sincerity in his eyes, Maya relaxed a little more. “I can tell your I.P.s are excited. It looks like they can’t wait to get into teaching mode with my people. I like to see that kind of enthusiasm. It translates positively.”
    Grin broadening, Dane said, “Oh, you mean Commanche Joe? He lives, eats, breathes and snores in Apache. He’s part Indian and that’s what we call him. He’s one of our best I.P.s. Craig is the other.”
    Chuckling, Maya nodded and surveyed the chopper with a knowing eye. “One of my pilots, Akiva Redtail, is Native American. Joe should meet her. They probably have a lot in common. What I’m most interested in is that new radar attachment up there, above the rotor. I’ve been hearing it gives us a huge advantage over the A model.”
    Just getting to talk on the same footing with Maya about the D model helped lessen Dane’s anxiety. Stepping closer to the fuselage, he rested his hand on a panel almost affectionately. Pointing up to the radardome, he said, “Some people call it a doughnut. Others call it a cheese wheel.”
    Smiling, Maya studied the circular radar dome that embraced the rotor shaft assembly. “Leave it to the army to call it one thing, and the troops in the field to get down to basics. I like doughnut.”
    “Then doughnut it will be.” He saw the warmth coming to her green eyes, and the tension leaving her mouth. Feeling on safer ground with her, Dane added, “I don’t know what you call your Apaches, but the guys…and ladies,” he added quickly, “are calling the D model ‘Big Rig.”’
    “Not Firebird?” Maya mocked with a curl of her