Page 70 of Keeping Laryn
The flight that morning had been uneventful, at least according to Tate. He and the other Night Stalkers had gotten some good intel about the terrain they couldn’t get from simply looking at maps and charts.
They’d all been pretty amped up at the late lunch they’d shared. Laryn loved that she was included in their group now. It might have been her imagination, but she also could’ve sworn that she was treated differently this deployment by the other sailors around her, as well. Night Stalkers had an impressive reputation, and it appeared that being in their inner circle made her more than a simple mechanic.
She should be irritated at the revelation, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew how the world worked. Blue-collar workers weren’t held in as high esteem as their white-collar colleagues. But when push came to shove, they were probably more valuable. There was a huge shortage of all kinds of blue-collar labor in the US. Positions no one wanted to do but were needed desperately. Linemen, plumbers, carpenters, welders, truck drivers, and so many more.
One of the sailors working in the area brushed against her, making Laryn jump. She was on edge; she always was when Tate was about to head off on a mission. She’d always managed to keep her feelings to herself, but she wasn’t sure how she’d be able to keep from showing her concern this time.
It was different now. Much more personal. She’d gotten even closer to Tate, and the thought of anything happening to him made her want to puke. She had a feeling she was being extra abrupt and short with anyone who tried to talk to her, but that was the only way she could keep a handle on herself.
Making her way to the top deck for last-minute inspections,Laryn purposely kept her distance from Tate and the others. She was also getting to know his team on a more personal level, and that made watching them climb into their seats and fire up the engines harder, as well. Knowing they were about to put themselves in danger, and thought doing so wasfun, was extremely distressing. But they were professionals, as was she.
As if she could feel Tate’s gaze upon her, she lifted her chin to look through the glass behind which he was sitting.
He gave her a small smile and a thumbs-up. With a shaky hand, she returned the gesture, praying harder than she ever had before that he’d return safe and sound.
The pilots started their engines and the rotor blades began to turn.
Then shit went sideways.
She could see Tate and Pyro having an intense conversation, complete with hand gestures. Then someone on the flight deck yelled her name and motioned for her to move closer to Tate’s chopper.
Frowning in concern, Laryn jogged over to the side of the machine. The man took off his headset and jammed it onto her head. Surprised—asthathad never happened before—she heard Tate’s voice in her ears.
“Laryn? Are you there?”
“I’m here,” she said into the mic in front of her mouth.
“There’s a fucking light on. The FLIR. It’s flickering. Why is it fucking flickering?”
Laryn was shocked. The Forward-Looking Infrared light should definitely not be flickering. It was working perfectly both before and after their flight that morning. And they couldnotgo on this night mission without it. It allowed the pilots to essentially see in the dark.
“Incoming intel from boots on the ground. They’re surrounded and need immediate extraction,” another voice said through the headset.
“Damn it! Laryn, can you fix this or not?”
She could. And she would.
Turning to the man hovering next to her, she gestured for him to put his hands together to make a step for her. He looked confused but did as she ordered, and before she knew it, Laryn was inside the chopper. She hurried toward where Tate and Pyro were sitting and threw herself between them, reaching for the panel that protected most of the switches and wires that connected the multimillion-dollar electrical equipment used on the chopper.
She frantically searched for any kind of loose connection, praying it was a simple fix and the team could be on their way.
“My FLIR is out as well,” Edge said through the headphones.
“Motherfucker,” Pyro swore.
“I’m good,” Buck added.
“Laryn?” Tate asked, amazingly sounding calmer than just a moment ago.
“There’s a loose wire. I’m going to wrap it with some tape. That should fix it.”
“Should?” a new voice asked through the headphones. “You have to go.Right now. If you don’t get out there, those SEALs are as good as dead.”
Laryn should’ve felt flustered or anxious. But her hands were steady as she reached into one of the pockets of her coveralls and pulled out a roll of electrical tape. She quickly wrapped the wire for the FLIR to another one to stabilize it. “Tate? Is it back?”
“Back,” he said, relief and satisfaction in his tone.
Laryn hurried to put the panel on and backed out from between the two men. She turned to leave, but Tate’s next words stopped her.
