Blind Fire Read Online Free
maintained radio contact with the pilot. They might need a fast getaway soon.
‘Any sign of that ECM aircraft yet?’
‘Still on our own at the moment, Major.’ ‘OK, let me know the moment it’s on station.’ Hell, they were on their own alright. A full major, and his command consisted of six men, seven if he counted Kurt -and he wished he didn’t have to - and Andrea.
Another week and he’d have been putting together his new Special Combat Company, but this had come along first, a task more suited to a regiment than a squad. The rain was easing at last, that was something.
Away to his right he could see Sergeant Hyde, his face locked to the tripod- mounted Hughes sight-and-command box. Black threads of cable snaked from it in all directions, to the various launchers and missiles scattered across the ground between them and the road. Kurt lounged beside the sergeant, smoking, with one arm draped nonchalantly over an M60 machine gun.
Libby was off to the major’s left, manning the command box for the decoys, and down the slope from him were Clarence and the girl. Andrea had her favourite M16, with a grenade launcher clipped under the barrel. Through his binoculars, Revell could see her jacket pulling in at the waist and stretching tight over the backside it didn’t quite cover. Yes, she was quite something. He’d not told the colonel of his suspicions about her being the one who’d incinerated the Russian prisoner; though if he was honest with himself, he knew that they were more than suspicions. Lippincott would have privately applauded the action, but for the sake of appearances he’d have been forced to hook her out, and into a POW camp.
He couldn’t help himself, Revell was fascinated by her. Not just because she was so incredibly beautiful, not even because her aura of hardness made her such a challenge; it was something else, something much deeper. Maybe it was a reflection of a submerged facet of his own make-up. If they ever should make love, however willingly she did it, he could imagine it being a fight. His body confirmed what his mind wouldn’t admit - the prospect excited him.
That bitch of an ex-wife of his had never been prepared to explore new ways of making love. How many times had he offered to do anything she wanted? It must have been hundreds, and she’d called him a pervert. There had been a time, in the early days of the marriage, when he’d have happily been the bitch’s slave, done anything to please her, but all she’d ever wanted, and he’d suspected not even really wanted, was sex rarely, quickly and cleanly.
She’d always kept a box of Kleenex by the bed, and almost before he’d withdrawn she’d thrust a handful at him, telling him to ‘wipe yourself, you’re dripping on the quilt.’ Seconds later she’d cork herself with more of the same and disappear into the bathroom for half an hour.
It was no more than wishful thinking, but he could imagine it being very different with Andrea...
There was another dull boom followed by a ripple of minor explosions, closer this time. The Russians were clearing another pattern of mines. He had perhaps five more minutes to himself. It seemed that it was only in the last moments before an action, when everything had been done and checked and all there was to do was wait, that he ever really got the chance to spend a few minutes exploring his own thoughts.
His gaze flickered to the mortar, and Dooley and Burke. An unlikely pair: Dooley, the big mercurial scrounger from New York, and Burke, the oldest member of the squad, from an unfashionable part of London, who had a complaint for every occasion and an excuse for avoiding work just as often. Still they got on well enough. Pity the whole of NATO couldn’t manage such harmony. If they could, then weapon standardisation would be progressing faster, and the M60s might get changed for the excellent British light support weapon.
Again he saw Andrea. She’d shifted position slightly,
‘Any sign of that ECM aircraft yet?’
‘Still on our own at the moment, Major.’ ‘OK, let me know the moment it’s on station.’ Hell, they were on their own alright. A full major, and his command consisted of six men, seven if he counted Kurt -and he wished he didn’t have to - and Andrea.
Another week and he’d have been putting together his new Special Combat Company, but this had come along first, a task more suited to a regiment than a squad. The rain was easing at last, that was something.
Away to his right he could see Sergeant Hyde, his face locked to the tripod- mounted Hughes sight-and-command box. Black threads of cable snaked from it in all directions, to the various launchers and missiles scattered across the ground between them and the road. Kurt lounged beside the sergeant, smoking, with one arm draped nonchalantly over an M60 machine gun.
Libby was off to the major’s left, manning the command box for the decoys, and down the slope from him were Clarence and the girl. Andrea had her favourite M16, with a grenade launcher clipped under the barrel. Through his binoculars, Revell could see her jacket pulling in at the waist and stretching tight over the backside it didn’t quite cover. Yes, she was quite something. He’d not told the colonel of his suspicions about her being the one who’d incinerated the Russian prisoner; though if he was honest with himself, he knew that they were more than suspicions. Lippincott would have privately applauded the action, but for the sake of appearances he’d have been forced to hook her out, and into a POW camp.
He couldn’t help himself, Revell was fascinated by her. Not just because she was so incredibly beautiful, not even because her aura of hardness made her such a challenge; it was something else, something much deeper. Maybe it was a reflection of a submerged facet of his own make-up. If they ever should make love, however willingly she did it, he could imagine it being a fight. His body confirmed what his mind wouldn’t admit - the prospect excited him.
That bitch of an ex-wife of his had never been prepared to explore new ways of making love. How many times had he offered to do anything she wanted? It must have been hundreds, and she’d called him a pervert. There had been a time, in the early days of the marriage, when he’d have happily been the bitch’s slave, done anything to please her, but all she’d ever wanted, and he’d suspected not even really wanted, was sex rarely, quickly and cleanly.
She’d always kept a box of Kleenex by the bed, and almost before he’d withdrawn she’d thrust a handful at him, telling him to ‘wipe yourself, you’re dripping on the quilt.’ Seconds later she’d cork herself with more of the same and disappear into the bathroom for half an hour.
It was no more than wishful thinking, but he could imagine it being very different with Andrea...
There was another dull boom followed by a ripple of minor explosions, closer this time. The Russians were clearing another pattern of mines. He had perhaps five more minutes to himself. It seemed that it was only in the last moments before an action, when everything had been done and checked and all there was to do was wait, that he ever really got the chance to spend a few minutes exploring his own thoughts.
His gaze flickered to the mortar, and Dooley and Burke. An unlikely pair: Dooley, the big mercurial scrounger from New York, and Burke, the oldest member of the squad, from an unfashionable part of London, who had a complaint for every occasion and an excuse for avoiding work just as often. Still they got on well enough. Pity the whole of NATO couldn’t manage such harmony. If they could, then weapon standardisation would be progressing faster, and the M60s might get changed for the excellent British light support weapon.
Again he saw Andrea. She’d shifted position slightly,
Readers choose
Charles Barouch
Megan K. Stack
Oscar Pistorius
Leo Bruce
Anthony Francis
Jane Hamilton
Jody Lynn Nye
Stephanie Keyes
Nikki McCormack
Amalie Vantana