Private Maneuvers (Wingmen Warriors 4)

Chapter 1

First Lieutenant Darcy "Wren" Renshaw flung her flight checklist on the planning room table with a resounding smack. Not much of an outlet for her frustration, but the satisfying thunk on scarred wood made her feel marginally better.

While her siblings pounded dictators in Southeast Asia, she was stuck flying Flipper to Guam.

Restrained anger pinged inside her like antiaircraft missiles. Darcy spun an empty chair and dropped into the seat at the lengthy conference table, eager to start and therefore finish this mission all the sooner.

For once she didn't plunge into conversation with the other aircrew members plotting their early-morning takeoff from San Diego bound for Guam—an island that still haunted her dreams. No need to infect the crew with her rotten mood. After all, transporting marine biologist Dr. Maxwell Keagan and his two bottlenose dolphins to the South Pacific was considered an honor.

An honor for the rest of the C-17 crew maybe, but for her? Darcy knew better. She hadn't earned this cake mission, an embarrassing reality that burned over her with the devouring speed of flaming jet fuel.

How dare her three-star-general father "encourage" the Squadron Commander to yank Darcy's combat slot to Cantou and schedule her as a last-minute substitute on the safer Flipper Flight? She'd worked her boots off to be deserving of the wings on her leather nametag since the first day of pilot training. She wouldn't start quietly accepting gift-wrapped cushy assignments now.

Sounds of Air Force crewdogs at work wrapped around her, the familiar routine offering none of its usual excitement. Rustling charts, clipped banter. Pilots. Loadmasters. Ground support. Every one of them having already pulled their rotation in conflicts around the world. She couldn't allow them to shoulder all her risks as well as their own.

Once she off-loaded Dr. Doolittle and his dolphin duo in Guam, she would confront her commander. If she wasn't qualified for combat in the Cantou conflict, then he should remove her from flying status altogether.

Darcy yanked a bag of sunflower seeds from the thigh pocket of her flight suit and wrestled open the cellophane. Munching away emotions she refused to let rule her, she cracked shells, slowly, one at a time to restore her calm while waiting for Dr. Keagan to arrive. "Anybody seen the dolphin doc around yet?''

Captain Tanner "Bronco" Bennett, the aircraft commander, looked up from his chart. "What's your hurry, Wren? He's got another ten minutes."

"Eight," Darcy answered without checking her watch. "To be early is to be on time."

"Cool your jets. He'll get here when he gets here." Bronco reached into the thigh pocket of his flight suit. "Since we're waiting, have I showed everyone the latest pictures of Kathleen and the baby at the zoo?"

"Yes!" the room collectively shouted.

Bronco held his hands up in good-natured surrender. "Hey, just trying to pass time till the guy arrives."

"I'm starting to wonder if you could fit enough pictures in your pocket for that, Captain." Darcy eased her grouse with a quick grin, drumming her fingers impatiently on the gouged wood.

She hadn't met Keagan yet, having only arrived at the San Diego Naval Air Station from her home base in Charleston, South Carolina, the night before. But the guy must have some heavy-duty clout to warrant military transport for his dolphins.

String pullers weren't high on her list of favorite folks, especially today.

This time General Pops had gone too far with the overprotectiveness. Sure, she'd been kidnapped in Guam as a kid. A terrifying experience for her family, and one she still couldn't dwell on for even thirty seconds without dropping her damned sunflower seeds all over the floor. But it was time to get past it.

Darcy cracked seeds one at time to focus her thoughts and calm her pissed-off senses. Maybe the time had come to confront her father, too. If only she didn't have to confront the inevitable worry on his dear craggy face, as well.

Why couldn't her dad understand that by clipping her wings, he'd always denied her the chance to put that week behind her? Her very nature, inherited from seven generations of Renshaw warriors, demanded she fight back. Like the squadron motto on her patch, she would be ready for Anything. Anywhere. Anytime.

She hadn't expected that to include hauling cetaceans across the Pacific.

Darcy jackhammered another salty seed with her molars.

Bronco spun her chair to face him. "Geez, Renshaw. How about I get you some rocks to chew? Wouldn't be half as noisy."

Bronco's linebacker bulk filled his chair as completely as his teasing filled the room. Darcy shrugged off her irritation and slid into the camaraderie with as much ease as zipping her flight suit. Childhood years spent as a squadron mascot while her classmates earned Scout badges had left her with a slew of surrogate big brothers and the ability to hold her own around any military watercooler.

She sprinkled a pile of sunflower seeds on top of the aircraft commander's chart. "Shelling is an art form, boss man. Didn't they teach you old guys anything when you went to pilot training?"

From across the table, Captain Daniel "Crusty" Baker scooped the shells. "We old guys must have been busy inventing the wheel."

"Old guys? Ouch!" Bronco thumped his chest. "Renshaw deals another lethal blow to the ego. My wife would be proud."

Crusty pitched the seeds into his mouth, swiped his hand along his flight suit and grabbed the bag for a second helping.

Darcy snagged it away, irritation creeping through in spite of her resolve. "Get your own, moocher."