Night Maneuvers. Jillian Burns
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her energy for an opportunity. They had to put her down at some point. But her heart was pounding triple time.
“Back in Memphis we call boys who pick on girls punk-ass cowards,” a deep voice called from behind them. His smooth Southern drawl made it seem as if he were just having a nice conversation.
The upperclassmen holding her halted and switched their attention to the young cadet, and so did Alex.
With his arms folded across his chest, he leaned against the lockers with a nonchalance that bordered on cocky.
“What’d you say, boy?” one of her captors asked.
The Memphis madman pushed off the lockers and unfolded his arms. “I believe I called you punk-ass cowards.” He raised a cocky brow to match his grin.
“Boy, you get the hell out of here and mind your own business,” warned one, but his hold on her feet loosened as he spoke. This was her chance.
She kicked backward with her steel-toed boot and heard the satisfying crack of one captor’s knee, and his howl of pain. As he let go of her mouth, she turned and head-butted his nose as hard as she could. Yes! He was down.
She turned to see Memphis man had the upperclassman on the ground, beating his face to a pulp.
“Okay, that’s enough. Hey!”
Finally Memphis looked at her, his dogged expression dissolving into a blank look of confusion. He glanced back down at the bloodied face he’d almost pulverized and then back at her. “You okay?”
Alex blinked at the pure beauty of the man. Even in his desert camo fatigues and a buzz cut, he was all golden hair and light blue eyes.
“Can you untape my hands?” She hated that her voice shook. It was just adrenaline kicking in, but she despised sounding weak in front of a classmate.
“Sure thing, darlin’.” He flashed a smile that included dimples and Alex’s insides kind of flipped. Pulling a Swiss Army knife from his boot, he cut the tape open.
Great. She hadn’t even been here a week and her hopes of being treated equally were fading fast. How could she win the respect of her classmates if she couldn’t fight her own battles? She had to be independent. She didn’t want some guy with a savior complex running interference for her just because she was female.
As soon as the tape was cut she ripped off the rest of it, and started marching back toward the main building’s foyer.
“Hey, wait up.” He jogged to catch up to her.
“Don’t ever do that again.”
“Do what? Rescue you?”
She stopped and faced him. “First, you didn’t ‘rescue’ me. Second, I don’t need you to meddle in my problems. I can handle myself.”
He glanced behind them. “Don’t get me wrong, you did great, but I don’t know about you handling two of them.”
Despite herself, she shivered. “You may be right.” She tightened her lips and folded her arms. “Thanks.” Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin. “But I need to take care of myself.”
His brows rose. “Okay.”
“Just remember that and we’ll get along fine.”
He nodded and held out his right hand. “Mitch McCabe.” He was still smiling, still flashing white teeth and dimples. Despite the danger of what had just happened, his grin snuck past her carefully built defenses.
After a moment’s hesitation, she shook it. “Alex Hughes.”
As soon as she got back to her room, she sank down against the door with her arms around her knees and shook for half an hour.
SHE THOUGHT SHE’D made herself clear to Sir Lancelot then. She didn’t need anyone. And despite her efforts to ignore the guy, it seemed like every time she fell behind on the obstacle course, or had to take an extra minute to get back up from falling down, he was there. Not offering a hand, but…just waiting with her.
She told him not to. To go on, leave her alone. She was fine. Finally, he seemed to get the message. Twelve weeks in, between the rigorous military training, the academic curriculum and the killer athletics program, she was exhausted and almost ready to quit. Though she’d die rather than admit it, the strain was getting to her.
After a worse than grueling day, when she’d failed at everything, she spent longer than usual in the shower, letting the hot water pound her sore muscles. When she got out, she wrapped up in a towel and padded out to the dressing room. She opened her locker and folded neatly in place of her panties was a pair of clean and pressed white men’s boxer shorts.
She scanned the area, but she was alone. Someone had come in while she was showering and left again. Instead of creeping her out, the realization made her feel safe. Whoever it was, if he was going to harm her, he would’ve.
Rumor had it if a female cadet found a pair of men’s underwear in their stuff she’d been officially accepted as one of the guys.
As she unfolded the shorts a playing card fell out. It was the king of spades. But the back was a picture of Elvis. The card was from a Graceland souvenir pack.
Alex smiled and shook her head. The king? Elvis? Memphis?
McCabe.
He was telling her she could do this. She was as tough as any man. And he had her back.
If she hadn’t already, in that moment, Alex Hughes fell hard for Cadet First Class Mitch McCabe.
United States Air Force Academy, Colorado Springs, CO May 2000
ALEX STOPPED AT McCabe’s door. Good, there was light underneath. She gave a brief knock and then let herself in. “Hey, Memphis?”
“Hughes! Thank God.”
A warm glow filled her chest at the delight in McCabe’s voice and face. To see her.
He sat with his ankle crossed over his knee, banging a pencil on a spiral notebook like a stick on a drum. “Is that pizza?”
“Our favorite, Mexican fajita with extra jalapeños.”
McCabe tossed the spiral onto his desk, shot out of his chair and grabbed some barely used paper plates off the floor. “Let’s eat.” He set the pizza box on top of the spiral and seized the largest slice.
The man was too distracting in a plain white T-shirt just tight enough to hug the contours of his chiseled chest. And was she crazy to find camo pants sexy? She had to stop thinking about him like this. He had a girlfriend.
“You’re studying?” She hopped onto his desk, set the box down and snatched a slice for herself.
He nodded. “Trying to memorize all those dates.” He gestured at the notebook under the pizza. “God, I hate all this history stuff. Who cares about some Roman emperor who ruled a thousand years ago?”
She leaned forward to pull the notebook out from under the box. Trying to read the chicken scrawl on coffee-stained notepaper was a challenge. “Is this Western Civ? I like that class. The stuff about the Hapsburgs…? Totally revealing.”
He frowned. “Hapsburgs?”
“Yeah, women were just a means to gain power to them, the pigs.”
“I must’ve slept through that part.”
From the other side of the wall behind his desk came loud moaning and a rhythmic banging.
McCabe groaned. “My neighbor obviously has no anxiety about getting kicked out.”
She scoffed. “And you do?”
“I have to get at least a ninety on the final exam or I’ll flunk this class. If that happens, I’m out.”
“That won’t happen. We’ll associate each date