Scotch and Fire

Here we go again with the disclaimers. I don't own any rights to anything regarding the Black Sheep. I'll tell you right up front, dear readers, I know less than nothing about firearms so just humor me throughout this story. Any errors in fact are entirely mine and I embrace them whole-heartedly. Read, enjoy and review if the spirit moves you.

XXX

If you read "Front Page News" you know Jim Gutterman and Sarah Cameron met briefly. If you read "Autumn 1945," you already know they ended up together. This is how they got there.

XXX

Captain Jim Gutterman didn't have much need for women beyond a good time in dark, no strings attached. If a girl wanted to share his bed, who was he to argue, but he sure as hell didn't need anything complicated like a relationship. Staying alive as a member of the hottest fighter squadron in the South Pacific was his main priority. Anything else was just passing entertainment. When U.S. Army Sergeant Sarah Cameron showed up on Vella La Cava, he didn't see why that should change.

She saw things differently.

Chapter 1: A matter of R and R

Rendova, 137 Infantry Division HQ

"You want to go where?" U.S. Army Major John Taylor's pen hovered above the three-day pass on his desk.

"Vella La Cava, sir." Sergeant Sarah Cameron tried to keep the impatience out of her voice. He'd heard her the first time but like every other man in this god-forsaken war he felt obligated to second guess everything she said.

"Are you sure?" Taylor looked at her like she'd been out in the sun too long. Clearly he hadn't gotten used to having her in his unit yet or he wouldn't be constantly surprised that she meant what she said, the first time she said it. "Wouldn't you rather go to Espritos Marcos? That's where most of the men – um, personnel – go for R and R."

"Yes, sir. No, sir. I mean it, I want to go to La Cava." Sarah pushed a strand of copper and gold hair behind one ear and fixed him with a green-gray stare. The no nonsense look usually worked on headstrong dogs and soldiers alike. She hadn't tested it on officers yet but suspected it would have the same effect. She'd found men were generally not inclined to argue with her when she looked at them that way.

It wasn't so much that she wanted to go to the front area island for its resort qualities. The place was kind of the armpit of the war and not any better than Rendova in that respect. But Sarah really wanted to see her sister, Kate Cameron, an Associated Press war correspondent embedded with VMF 214, the Black Sheep, on La Cava.

Sarah hadn't seen Kate for more than a month, since circumstances she'd never imagined found her on the receiving end of a field promotion that had plunged her right into the middle of the war in the Southwest Pacific. Her newly minted sergeant's stripes left her overseeing K9 teams seeking hold-outs on islands formerly held by the Japanese.

After her promotion, she'd spent a three-day whirlwind with Kate and the Black Sheep before joining the 137th Infantry on Rendova. That had been long enough to realize her sister and Major Greg Boyington, the CO at 214, were ass-over-applecart in love with each other, whether either one of them knew it or not. Leave it to her sister to find romance in a war zone, Sarah thought, but Kate had always been one for living on the edge. Sarah thought about doing things. Kate did them.

Sarah had also met Captain James W. Gutterman, a fighter pilot with an ego the size of his native Texas. She was having a hard time getting him out of her head. She'd danced with him, but she'd danced with a lot of the other boys, too. Then there'd been that poker game, which she won – a good thing, since she'd foolishly agreed to stakes she wasn't sure she was ready to pay.

She'd ended up walking on the beach with Jim anyway, the night before she left. Walking wasn't the only thing they'd done and that was the reason she was having a hard time getting him out of her head. The kiss had been a surprise and not an unpleasant one.

It hadn't been anything like the time Tommy Hawkins kissed her after the homecoming dance or when Roy Dietrich kissed her the night before she left for the Army. Jim had kissed her like he meant it, with none of the awkward fumbling she'd come to expect from the process. He'd tangled his fingers in her hair while his mouth took hers, his other hand in the small of her back, pressing her close. It still made her a little light-headed when she thought about it. And she thought about it more than she probably should.

It might have gone further than kisses but since Kate had told Jim she'd take him apart if he did anything inappropriate with her kid sister, he'd been a gentleman. More or less. Sarah hadn't encouraged anything else because she wasn't really sure what qualified as inappropriate in Kate's book and she didn't want to give her sister a reason to lose her shit on Jim. Sarah might have the red hair but Kate had the temper. She tended to be a little protective, too, which Sarah found endearing and annoying in equal measure. Both of the Cameron girls were used to taking care of themselves after their parents died. At age 20, Sarah figured she was doing a fine job of it without a big sister looking over her shoulder all the time.

While she was definitely looking forward to seeing Kate, she wasn't sure how she felt about Jim. She figured she'd end up seeing him one way or another. She just wasn't sure how much she'd see of him. Men tended to be more trouble than they were worth even if they kissed like that. Especially if they kissed like that.

Still looking skeptical, her CO signed the pass and handed it over.

"Have a good time, Cameron," he said. "Watch yourself around the Black Sheep."

Folding the pass into her pocket, Sarah headed for the airstrip to wait for the transport. Raider, her military working dog, trotted at her side. He was going with her because no one in the 137 wanted to deal with him in her absence. Actually, very few of the men wanted to deal with him when she was present, either.

After nearly being euthanized back in the States for some less than desirable character traits, the big Alsatian had found his calling in life as a scout dog. Standing 25 inches at the withers and weighing 65 pounds, Raider's off-the-chart prey drive was the key to his success as a scout. He loved to hunt and did so with unrivaled enthusiasm. His ability to alert on concealed humans was uncanny.

If the hunt was successful, he thought it was very rewarding to bite whatever he found. It was the dog's propensity for biting anyone as the mood struck him that had led his slightly terrified former owner to hand his leash over to Sarah at the Dogs For Defense base in Mississippi.

"He's too much for me," the man had said. "He's gonna get a bullet if I have to explain to the neighbor why her son Billy is stuck up in a tree again."

Sarah had privately thought if Billy had stayed in his own yard in the first place, that might have solved quite a few problems. Raider had come with a steep learning curve but after eight weeks of bruises and blood – hers, not the dog's - Sarah had channeled that hunting drive into something formidable.

Raider was the reason she'd come to the South Pacific in the first place. She'd been supposed to hand him off to another handler and then return to the States. Only it hadn't worked out that way and now here she was, like it or not. She would have happily taken the dog and gotten on the first available transport and flown straight back to Mississippi if the opportunity presented itself. When she joined the Army, she just wanted to train dogs. She had no intention of ever serving in a war zone. This is not what I signed up for, she thought at least once a day.

At the edge of the air strip, she tossed her gear bag down and sat on an upturned ammo crate under a palm tree to wait for the plane to La Cava. Raider flopped on the ground beside her. Kate didn't know she was coming. It would be a surprise. This was Sarah's first leave since she'd arrived in the Solomons and she was looking forward not only to seeing Kate but to spending time around other women again. Not that she hadn't been a tomboy practically all of her life but being the only woman on this base nearly drove her crazy at times. The small field hospital nearby was staffed with a few female personnel but mostly it was just Sarah and the male population of the 137.

Once the men decided she wasn't going to melt into a puddle of tears and estrogen the first time she heard a four-letter word or saw them walking around in their skivvies, they'd quit treating her like a hothouse flower and started treating her like one of the boys. That was fine with her, she thought, although she wondered how in the world Kate managed to deal with the Black Sheep 24/7. The testosterone levels on Rendova were occasionally suffocating. Sarah supposed Kate's situation was a little different. She was, essentially, a civilian observer with the 214. And she was in a relationship with the unit's CO. That gave the whole thing a different dynamic.

Sarah's unit had been skeptical of her and the dog at first, but the first time Raider saved their butts by indicating hidden unfriendlies when they were on patrol, the men had stopped making jokes about putting lace curtains in the tents. After that, they started asking her to join them for drinks at the Gryphon's Nest, the watering hole for VMF 149, the Marine fighter wing that shared the island with the 137th Infantry. They also asked her to join them in after-hour poker games. After the first few games, they'd regretted it. Sarah was an exceptionally good poker player.

None of the guys in her own unit made passes at her, although she was aware of the covert glances. The 65 pounds of fang and muscle that was usually at her side ensured any inappropriate thoughts stayed that way – just thoughts. The men she served with were like brothers now and besides, it would be against regs to get involved with any of them. Sarah had decided within 15 minutes of landing on La Cava last month that regs were not highly regarded in this part of the war but she still wasn't interested in getting involved with anyone. Her life was complicated enough with patrols, monitoring other K9 teams and the paperwork that never stopped. A man was the last thing she needed in the middle of it.

While her own men treated her with the casual teasing of brothers, the Fighting Gryphons of 149 were something else. It must be a fighter pilot thing, Sarah decided after the first time one of them tried to coerce her into some "recreational activity." Pilots were nothing but trouble. She'd gotten very good at evasive maneuvers in the last month.

Sarah knew she was worth looking at although she didn't spend a lot of time in front of a mirror thinking about it. She was tall, with slender curves, green-gray eyes and wavy auburn hair. Both she and Kate shared the fair skin inherited from their Scottish ancestors. Sarah thought it wouldn't have mattered if she were as big around as she was tall and had a wart on her nose. If they'd had enough to drink, fighter pilots would still hit on her. Apparently it was in their genetics.

The hum of an incoming plane jolted her out of her daydreams.

XXX

Vella La Cava, VMF 214 HQ

"Sarah! Great to see you again! What brings you here?" Lieutenant TJ Wiley greeted her as she stepped off the transport. He caught the mail bag before it splashed into a mud puddle as a corpsman tossed it carelessly out of the plane.

"Hi, TJ!" Sarah was relieved to see he was the only Black Sheep waiting on the airstrip. TJ was just as much of a skirt chaser as any of them but he'd been awfully nice to her the last time she was on the base. The flight from Rendova hadn't been long nearly enough for her to sort through her feelings regarding Jim. She was glad she didn't have to face him ‑ and all the rest of them ‑ the minute she got off the plane. She was here to get away from men, after all. "I'm on a three day leave and decided to come visit your little garden spot. Do you know where Kate is? She doesn't know I'm coming."

"Yeah, she's –" He was interrupted by the crack of small arms fire in the distance. "- Out on the firing range with Pappy and some of the guys. Come on, I'll give you a ride out there. Hey, Raider, how are ya, buddy?"

TJ shifted a little nervously as the dog sniffed his leg. Sarah laughed.

"He doesn't go around biting people randomly anymore."

TJ didn't look convinced.

XXX

The shooting range was about a mile from the base. With the typical Black Sheep ability to create something out of nothing, the boys had arranged empty fuel drums and ammo crates at intervals on an open expanse of ground. A variety of trash gleaned from the base dump served as targets on top of them.

Jim and several other Black Sheep, along with Kate, had been killing time that afternoon with a little target practice. The boys found shooting things that weren't shooting back at them an agreeable pastime. Besides, Colonel Lard was always on them about staying up to proficiency standards and Greg said he could turn an afternoon of blowing things to kingdom come into a marksmanship qualification report.

Now, Jim lounged against the front of a jeep and watched as Kate took aim with Greg's Colt .45. A beer can disintegrated from atop an empty fuel drum 20 yards out, followed in quick succession by several more.

The girl wasn't a bad shot, Jim mused. She'd done just as well as any of the men with their rifles earlier. Actually, she'd done better than some of them. He wondered how in the world Boyle ever hit anything upstairs. He guessed Kate's ability wasn't too surprising since she said she'd grown up shooting a .22 varmint gun on the family farm in North Dakota. Still, she'd handled the .30 caliber M1 Garand with a confidence he found a little unsettling. Weren't women supposed to be the gentler sex? He supposed he should have known better than to let anything Kate Cameron did surprise him by now.

She was still learning to accommodate for the Colt's weight and recoil but she was clearly making up for lost time. Larry Casey had re-set the targets and Greg stepped up behind her to make a minor correction to her stance. The body language between the two of them resonated so loudly Jim could hear it from 40 feet away.

He took off his battered cowboy hat, riffled his dark hair and put the hat back on. He sighed. When Kate arrived on La Cava out of the blue four months ago, he figured he'd have her on her back within a couple of weeks. She was a knockout and she was living on the base 24/7. How hard could it be to get her between the sheets? He'd failed, although not for lack of trying. Turned out, the girl was a force to be reckoned with and totally uninterested him. She'd ended up in Greg's bed, which none of the men had seen coming.

From the first time Jim had seen her, he'd figured Kate would be a sweet night's entertainment. Hell, she was a walking fantasy. To his continued irritation, he hadn't been able to get much out of Greg on the subject. It seemed his CO had no intention of giving the detailed play by play that the guys were used to sharing after scoring with the nurses. Although, what little Greg had been willing to give up indicated sweet didn't even come close.

Jim still enjoyed watching her. She was clearly Greg's girl and he knew without a doubt that ship had sailed, but he couldn't help it. Like Bob Anderson said, a beautiful woman was like fine art. It wouldn't be right not to appreciate her when she was right in front of you. It was like a civic duty.

Besides, women were a replaceable commodity. If he struck out with one, he could always find another who would be happy to accommodate him. He took his pleasure where he could and made a clean getaway before any nurse thought she could stake a claim on him. One night stands were just fine. A warm, willing body and a little mutual satisfaction with no strings attached, was the best approach.

It wasn't that he didn't enjoy spending time with women when the lights were on. There was nothing like a little flirting to take a guy's mind off the war for awhile. He loved pursuing a new girl and playing her along until she said yes. When a girl came to his bed, he made sure she didn't leave it wanting. He wasn't that big of a cad and he'd learned early that pleasure given equaled pleasure reciprocated . After all, he had a reputation to maintain. He just didn't plan on seeing one girl exclusively or doing any sentimental crap like holding hands on the beach . . . unless it was likely to lead to some other activity in a very secluded part of the beach after dark.

Hell, there was a war going on. He wasn't about to commit to anything besides looking out for his own skin. No one tried to make a go of any kind of serious relationship in the middle of a war anyway. Greg and Kate seemed to be making it work, he admitted, although he had decided the first day he met Greg Boyington that the man didn't have any use for what most people considered normal expectations, so maybe that was no surprise.

Then Kate's little sister, Sarah Cameron, had walked into the picture about a month ago. She was every bit as gorgeous as Kate but with a kind of innocence he hadn't encountered in a girl out here for a long time. He could still taste the sweetness of her kisses that night on the beach, the curves of her body against his. If he hadn't been so damned sure Kate would have come unglued on him, he would have seen just how far that innocence went. Between Kate and that big dog Sarah always had with her, he'd shown unaccustomed restraint during her brief stay. That was all water under the bridge. He didn't figure he'd see much of her again anyway since she was posted on another island. Funny, though, he'd hit a dry stretch with the ladies since then. None of his usual conquests seemed to hold his interest like they had before he met Sarah Cameron.

On the range, Kate squeezed off a series of shots that sent seven of the nine beer cans flying and put sizable holes in the fuel drums under the remaining two.

Jim turned at the sound of a jeep rumbling up the track from the south. He did a double-take as TJ pulled to a stop next to him. Speak of the devil. He broke into a smile as he recognized the passenger.

"Hey, Little Red! I knew you couldn't stay away from me!"

Her glance was cool but the corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly. He noticed the changes in her immediately. He'd spent three days watching her a month ago and had carried that picture in his mind's eye since she left. After a month in the tropical sun, streaks of copper and gold highlighted her auburn hair. A scattering of freckles dusted her high cheekbones, gold against her fair skin in the late afternoon sun.

Her face was as vibrant as it had been when he first met her but Jim thought she'd lost that stateside look. The wide-eyed amazement that had marked her first visit to the island had been tempered by life on the front lines, as though the war had put a coat of something edgier over that soft veneer of innocence – covering it but not destroying it. It looked good on her, he thought. Anderson would say she looked like a Celtic warrior goddess or some other wild thing. Anderson always came up with the craziest shit to describe women.

Life on the front lines clearly agreed with the dog in the back of the jeep. He was bouncing from one side to another, about as happy as a dog could get. When Jim met Raider a month ago, he hadn't been entirely convinced of Sarah's claims that he was not into recreational biting, should the mood suit him. He sure as hell wouldn't want to tempt the beast now.

Greg's white bull terrier, Meatball, rounded the jeep with a bark of recognition. The shepherd wagged his tail. Sarah spoke quietly and he leaped out to greet the terrier in a scuffle of sniffing and posturing.

XXX

Go figure. The second person she encountered was Jim.

It was an island after all, and the base wasn't that big. She'd been bound to run into him sooner or later. She had been hoping it would be later. Judging from the way he was looking at her, he remembered her just fine. She liked his smile even though she doubted it was from any honest affection. Let the games begin, she thought.

"Don't take it personally but I didn't come to see you," she said.

"You're breaking my heart, darlin'." If anything, his smile grew broader.

"Sarah!" Kate exclaimed. She handed the pistol to Greg. "I've killed enough beer cans to put the fear of God into Gutterman." She winked at Jim, who shook his head. Kate embraced her sister. "This is a surprise. What are you doing here?"

"Came over to give you marksmanship lessons but looks like I'm too late. They let the press carry weapons now?"

"No, thank God." Greg holstered the Colt. "I can't imagine the body count. Good to see you again, Sarah. What brings you to La Cava?"

"Three days of R and R."

"Things must be pretty bad on Rendova if you're coming here to get away from it all," Kate said. She scratched Raider's ears. The big dog leaned against her hand in obvious delight.

"The company's better here," Sarah said.

"Admit it, you missed me." Jim shifted off the front fender of the jeep. "You couldn't stay away." His eyes traveled over her. She was wearing Army-issue fatigues, T-shirt and boots, practically mirroring her sister. Neither of the Cameron girls put a lot of stock in fashion.

Sarah and Kate both rolled their eyes. Sarah looked at the makeshift shooting range.

"You guys have all the comforts of home here."

Jim sauntered closer.

"Hey Red, are you as good of a shot as you are a poker player?"

Sarah's smile was genuine. She remembered beating him at cards on her previous visit, putting an end to his plans to get her alone on the beach that night. He probably thought she owed him one. Men's egos were such fragile things. Too bad.

"No," she said honestly. "I'm better."

"You sound pretty confident. Whataya say to a little contest, first one to miss buys the drinks?"

"I've watched you boys drink, I can't afford to lose." She eyed the range, calculating distance.

"We could bet something else." His grin was suggestive. Kate gave him a steely look.

"All right, you're on." Sarah pre-empted her sister before Kate could say anything. "Rifle or pistol?"

"Rifle."

"Isn't this range a little short?"

"We'll make it work. It's about 250 yards to the tree line."

She shrugged.

"All right. Standing, kneeling, sitting or prone?"

That clearly wasn't what he expected.

"Standing. We can talk about getting prone later."

"Pervert. Don't you ever stop?" But she was smiling.

XXX

Casey and Anderson drove out with a jeep full of driftwood chunks to use as targets.

"We can't get much beyond 250 yards," Jim yelled as they left, "so start with big ones first. If we need more than one round, then we'll use the smaller stuff."

It was clear Jim thought this was going to be over in a hurry. Sarah swallowed a smile. Having something else to focus on made seeing him again a little easier. Dealing with his arrogance reminded her why she should probably keep him at arm's length. Pilots, she thought. Can't live with 'em, can't shoot 'em.

Over-confidence was a killer but Sarah was a good shot and she knew it. As her unit's K9 handler, she practiced with Raider and several of the base's sharpshooters endlessly during their downtime. Her dog's ability to respond to her commands under any conditions could be a matter of life and death. He was steady under a variety of weapon fire and she worked to keep it that way.

Jim handed her his rifle and a new clip as Casey and Anderson returned.

"Ladies first," he said.

She took the M1, the stock warm in her hands, the weapon's familiar weight shifting her mind into a narrow focus.

"Eight shots," she called, stepping to the line. On her quiet verbal command, Raider dropped into a crouch at her side. He liked this game. Sometimes, when the shooting was over, there were people who needed biting.

Sarah loaded the clip, chambering the first round. She clicked off the safety, nestled the butt of the gun against her shoulder and tipped her face to line up the sights. Concentrating, she found her balance and focused on the twist of driftwood sitting atop a 50-gallon drum almost at the edge of the surrounding jungle. Everything else faded away, the sun, the heat, the almost physical sensation of Jim's eyes on her back. Exhaling slowly, she squeezed the trigger. The wood flew skyward.

Without pausing, she adjusted for the next target, her motion smooth, breathing controlled, constantly aware of Raider crouched at her feet. Behind her, the small audience of Black Sheep was silent.

Seven shots later, none of the targets remained and the empty magazine ejected with a soft click. A round of applause brought the world back into focus. She released Raider. He looked disappointed that no potential bite-ees were forthcoming.

She handed Jim the rifle.

"You're pretty good," he said, reloading as he stepped to the line.

Sarah was sure he'd stopped just short of saying "for a girl." She leaned against the jeep next to Kate.

"Is he any good?" she whispered.

"I don't know," Kate replied. "He's got a hot hand upstairs. All I know about him on the ground is don't turn your back on him. Beyond that?" She shrugged.

Jim answered her question, sending eight chunks of driftwood flying with almost casual effort.

He handed Sarah the rifle and another clip. He winked at her. Her heart gave an unwarranted little flip.

Casey started the jeep. Anderson had collected an armload of odds and ends from the dump for the next targets. He held up a cooking oil canister and a powdered egg tin.

"Those will be fine," Sarah said. Jim arched an eyebrow.

"Not too small, darlin'?"

"Not my first rodeo, Tex."

"Funny. Your sister said that to me once."

Sarah stepped up, dropped Raider next to her and sighted on the first target. Letting out her breath, she eased the trigger back. The cooking oil canister arced gracefully upward before crashing to the ground. Another oil canister, two powdered egg tins, a rusted bucket, two small wooden ammo boxes and a coconut followed in short order.

"You're a regular Annie Oakley," Jim muttered, taking his rifle back.

"Did she tell you she can do that from horseback, too?" Kate asked brightly.

"You gotta be kiddin' me." He glared at her. She beamed at him.

Jim reloaded and took aim. Sarah studied him, letting her eyes wander over his backside. He was tall and nicely proportioned, she thought, lean without being skinny. The khaki fatigues hung loose on his rangy frame, shirt stretching taut across his shoulders as he raised the rifle. A smile played on her lips. Next to her, Kate coughed discreetly and arched her eyebrows. Sarah shrugged and grinned back. On the range, the rifle cracked with methodical precision. One after another, eight targets exploded.

Jim turned back, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

"Sure you don't want to just call it even, Red? We can both walk away and you won't get your feelings hurt when you lose the next round."

"Not a chance, Gutterman." Sarah slid off the hood of the jeep.

"Have it your way, then. One more time." He tossed a dented canteen cup in the air. "All right with you?"

"Perfect." Sarah eyed the cup. At 250 yards that was going to be a stretch.

"I'm getting a powerful thirst out here and it's gonna taste even better with you buying. Four shots each this time."

"Hope you just got paid." Sarah grinned. He was arrogant as all hell but cute in a boy-next-door kind of way. Except he didn't kiss like the boy next door. She knew because she'd kissed the boy next door at home and it hadn't been anything like that night on the beach with Jim. She shook that image out of her head. She wouldn't be able to hit the broad side of a barn if she started thinking about that.

Casey and Anderson drove out again to place the targets. Jim handed her the rifle. Raider sank into position by her leg as she loaded it. She could hear the men muttering behind her. She thought she heard Boyle say, "I've got 10 bucks on Sarah to win this. Anyone else want in?" A low-key buzz of men's voices followed but she didn't turn around to look.

Her world narrowed to her first target. Sweat trickled between her shoulder blades. She ignored it. The breeze sent a wisp of hair tickling against her ear. She put it out of her mind. The cup became the sole focus of her existence. On her next exhale, the rifle cracked and the cup flew. She squeezed off the next three shots without conscious thought, letting the hours of practice take over her mind and body. When the last target, a chipped porcelain coffee mug, disintegrated, she lowered the rifle and released Raider to heel off the line with her. The dog looked positively frustrated at the lack of anything to bite.

She handed the rifle to Jim, enjoying the half-annoyed, half-impressed look in his dark eyes as he brushed past her.

He raised the weapon, aimed and sent a cracked enamel canteen sailing off an ammo crate.

"So, are the two of you going to pick up where you left off?" Kate asked her quietly.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Sarah feigned innocence.

Jim's second shot blew a small wooden box to splinters.

"Don't give me that. He seemed plenty happy to see you again."

"Mmmmmm," Sarah made a noncommittal noise. "He put a gun in my hands in less than five minutes. What does that tell you?"

A bed pan flew into the air briefly before crashing back to earth. Sarah thought that was a bit larger than any of the targets the boys had set out for her.

"Apparently, that he trusts you." Kate shook her head. "But seriously, what do you see in him?"

"He's got a nice ass."

The words came out louder than she intended and hung on the warm air. Horrified, Sarah clamped her hand over her mouth. Too late.

Jim's last shot went wide, leaving the coffee mug perched solidly atop the fuel drum.

The men whooped. Sarah looked over to see money changing hands at a rapid rate.

Jim looked disgruntled as he stalked back to the jeep but he stuck out his hand to shake hers.

"My ego can't take much more of you, Red," he said. "Every time I see you, I get my nice ass kicked. Is there anything you aren't good at?"

Sarah knew she was blushing as she grasped his hand. Damnit, she had not meant for him to hear that. His grip was strong and his eyes held hers with a little more intimacy than she thought was entirely necessary.

Suddenly self-conscious, she let go of his hand and turned to Raider. She pulled a slightly ragged piece of rolled and stitched canvas out of her gear bag in the jeep. Gripping each end of the tug, she held it parallel with the ground, away from her body. With a word, she released the dog, who came up off his crouch like he was spring loaded. The shepherd hit the canvas with enough force to knock her back a step when his jaws connected. Sarah locked her elbows and lifted the dog off his feet, using centrifugal force to spin him airborne in a circle before letting him drop.

"Out," she said. He immediately let go and backed off, dancing on his hindquarters in anticipation. She adjusted her grip on the toy and released him to it again. The shepherd clamped onto the canvas with an audible chomp. Several of the Black Sheep stepped back.

"You win," she told the dog, releasing it. He capered happily with his prize, then shoved it back at her and relinquished it. The toy was more fun when it put up a fight. Sarah grabbed the ends, presented the tug and when he gripped it, whirled him around in another circle before ending the game.

"He just needed something to bite," she said, seeing the men's dubious looks. "It's his reward for good behavior."

They didn't look convinced.

Jim saw TJ tucking a roll of bills into his pocket.

"What the hell? You bet against me? You're supposed to be my wingman, what happened to having my back?" he snarled.

TJ shrugged.

"It was a fair bet – she's Kate's sister and Kate's taken down Lieutenant McNeal, Sergeant Overton and Colonel Lard," TJ ticked off on his hands, recalling some of Kate's more spectacular adventures with the Black Sheep. "Plus, she's already beaten you in poker. I figured she had a good chance."

Jim snorted.

"C'mon, ladies." Greg threw an arm around each girl's shoulders. "Since Jim's buying, let's go have a drink and Sarah can tell me about the Fighting Gryphons. Their combat record is almost as good as ours."

"I don't think I can tell you much," Sarah said. "I spend most of my time trying to get away from them."

"Good," Kate said drily. "Then you'll be in practice for the Black Sheep. If you think you're going to get any rest and relaxation here, you came to the wrong place."

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