Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

MEMPHIS

Somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea…

Noah was sitting in the cockpit of his plane and lived for days like this. Clear open skies, the bright deep-blue waters off to his left. This was a sortie where they could stretch their legs for a bit and do a few maneuvers before getting some time off to explore the port tomorrow. Deployment was one of the best and worst things about being in the Navy.

This was a N.A.T.O. cruise.

‘ Need alcohol to operate' - was the running joke among the sailors onboard. Noah loved the travel. Spain, Italy, France, and the Seychelle Islands, and just seeing the globe and experiencing the different cultures was incredible, but ship life wasn't exactly easy sometimes.

Tight quarters, lines for the exchange, the post office on the ship, the mock Starbucks, the cleaners, food, you name it – there was always a line. It didn't matter if you were an officer or enlisted. Everyone had to wait their turn. Sometimes, they would goof off on the ship, but not when port loomed on the horizon. No one wanted to lose their liberty card before actually getting free of this place for a little while.

Focusing, he glanced at his kneeboard once more out of habit and saw the shooters taking their places off to the right of his plane. It was almost ‘go' time. They had gone through the maneuvers during their meetings, and the first time he saw the little sticks with the mock planes on top, he'd snorted with laughter. Away from his commanding officer, he lovingly referred to them as ‘Nuppets' – or Navy muppets.

Getting a signal from one of the shooters, Noah grabbed his yoke and began working it through the maneuvers to make sure there wasn't any play, strange sensations, or tight spots – shoving it forward, back, rolling it, before shifting it left and right like a man putting a stickshift on a car into the neutral position… but this was no car. This fighter jet was a billion dollars of the finest machinery known to man and he was the fortunate soul that got to dance among the clouds on a regular basis.

Checking his gauges once more, Noah signaled to his left, indicating he was ready. He looked to his right, waiting for the shooter to signal him back. The man was waving two fingers on his gloved hand with one arm behind his back, then lifted it and crouched into position. His arm was back, almost like a slingshot poised to fire, and when that signal came, it would fly forward unleashing the beast beneath him.

And there was the signal!

Noah braced himself as the engines on his F-18 Super Hornet surged underneath him, tensing and anticipating the next few moments. He could feel the pop that signaled his imminent launch, causing the jet to bounce slightly as the hydraulic pistons thrust him forward over a hundred miles an hour toward the edge of the flight deck.

He had his hand on the handle of the cockpit, barely a foot away from the controls, waiting. So much was automated to ‘help' the aviator get off the ship safely as they were flung wildly forward toward a possible watery oblivion. But not today, he grinned behind his oxygen mask and helmet.

He felt the sag of his plane as it left the ship, grasping the yoke and immediately veering to the left as he began to climb. Checking his gauges, he radioed in and smiled with ease. He'd done this ‘dance' a hundred times in his head, almost like a conductor. The left hand took the throttle while his right would operate the stick, moving in symphony.

Circle, line up, bank left, pull up, roll…

Yup.

Just a day in the park – and he was ready to play.

The carrier was pulling into port near Alexandria, Egypt tomorrow, and Noah had already booked an M.W.R. tour to see the pyramids. He wanted to see the ruins firsthand since he'd read about them in a few worn out National Geographic magazines floating around on board.

Several of the guys were planning on getting completely wasted or shopping in the souk, but they had all been warned to be careful of customs, pickpockets, or getting charged more than something was worth. Yeah, he wouldn't be doing much shopping because, frankly – he didn't have the space for it; but a few drinks, taking in the sights, and perhaps finding a little entertainment while in town, might be just what he needed.

He felt empty and was glad they were flying today because the thrill of seeing the world over the last few years was wearing off exceedingly fast.

Tired , he thought numbly; my soul is tired, and I need more than just this . The routine, the deployments, the daily meetings, and long evenings in his bunk reading or playing a handheld video game. If excitement was the spice of life, his diet was exceedingly dull and bland.

Three days later, Noah left the ship along with a crowd of other sailors who intended to also explore the area while they could. Some of his friends were staying on the ship, but not him.

Trophy and Orion were hanging back, neither wanting to revisit the stomach virus that hit them last port visit from some bad shellfish. A few of the other aviators, Shellac, Pasteur, Ohio, Moonbeam, and Tic-Tak, were all piling into another van, laughing and slapping each other on the shoulders, talking about how they hoped to pick up a few girls or find a cool souvenir to send back home.

Noah skipped breakfast, determined to take advantage of the opportunity to explore this new environment. The desire to melt into this unusual land was painfully strong, and he wanted to be in the thick of everything. Finding a small café near where the shuttle dropped off several men and women, the group immediately split up .

While walking for several blocks, his eyes took in everything. There were tall buildings with air conditioning units hanging out of several windows. Brightly colorful flags with symbols on them hung from balconies, and the sounds of the world awakening around him beckoned him forward.

Following his nose, Noah darted into a nearby café. Thankfully, the menu was in English and Arabic, so he was able to select something not too far out of his comfort zone. Moments later, a fragrant plate of ful and falafel was set before him, and there was a moment where it felt almost like a dare.

He could feel eyes on him, looking up at the waiter and nodding, before diving into the hearty breakfast and smiling politely. The sharp tangy tastes combined with the fragrant breads were heady but good – and hearing laughter, he was clapped on the shoulder as a bottle of some sauce was pushed toward him.

"Thanks," Noah chuckled, sprinkling some of the sauce along the top, before diving in again. Yeah, it didn't matter where you went, people were all the same. They wanted to see the foreigner eat something weird, waited for a reaction, and when it didn't gag you or insult them, you were suddenly accepted. No, this wasn't going to be his first choice on a menu, but it was delicious and filling, so that was all that mattered.

Glancing at his watch, he quickly shoveled in a few more bites before leaving several Egyptian pounds under his plate and waving at the man. His tour was leaving soon, and he still needed to get to the building that had been circled on the map when he booked his excursion. After the tour, he still had three days in town, affording him a little time to take in the world around him.

Egypt was a strange mixture of old world and modern times. He could see ancient buildings in the distance, dotted among old apartment buildings with rundown balconies. Strange-looking vans, like the one he was on now, sat several people and darted in-between traffic wildly, some of that traffic still being carts and donkeys.

Everything was so raw and chaotic – but beautiful. The smells of exhaust, animal, and dirt were painfully reminding him that this was a very poor country. He was out of his element, a city boy from Tennessee, which was how he'd landed his call sign. Noah had a heavy southern drawl that he got teased about several times over the last few years.

He saw vendors along one street, with cages of rabbits – and some with chickens. Other merchants had slabs of meat nearly as big as a yardstick hung from hooks out in the open. No health code inspectors here, he mused as flies darted in the air in places where the lines for food at the vendors hinted that this was not a place to be missed. It was ironic that gastro-heaven could be judged by the line and not the sterile environment, and he'd used that as a tool for a while now. If the locals lined up to eat there, ignore the other things that your mind screamed at you to ‘ back away slowly.'

Colorful baskets of vegetables dotted the tables that lined the streets. Clothing, hats, and jewelry were on other displays, behind signs he could not read, and everyone was looking, watching – and smiling.

That was a good sign, right?

He spotted the tour bus already in front of the building loading up. Cursing softly under his breath, Noah jogged forward – and twenty minutes later, he was on his way to Giza.

Traffic was a nightmare and even he had flinched several times. Random patterns of honks from a horn seemed to communicate to other cars what their intention was, as a mash of vehicles seemed to swell and dissipate along the bumpy roads. The driver yelled something back to them and was surrounded by a few uncomfortable voices talking.

"What did he say?"

"Is something wrong?"

"This is all part of the tour. He knows a shortcut."

The small bus with pyramids painted along the side of it suddenly made an abrupt right turn down an impossibly narrow alley, honking wildly as the driver gestured and yelled something again.

For a moment, Noah wondered if the man would mow down some poor, unsuspecting soul in the streets, but then he began to slow down. This gave him a chance to look around instead of being a helpless victim careening wildly, waiting for impact and caught his breath.

Noah couldn't help but stare as he spotted a woman standing near a building, talking with a few other people. She stood out almost as much as he did… and she looked his way.

He'd heard of two people ‘clicking' magically, a sudden shift within a person, and thought it was garbage – until now. Everything seemed to slow to a crawl in his mind. She held his gaze and he couldn't help but stare in wonder.

Bright, intelligent eyes met his, and the woman tucked a strand of hair behind her ear almost shyly as the corner of her lip turned upward in an enigmatic smile. Her hair was golden brown with a slight wave to it, and she was utterly lovely in a classic manner. Not that painted, heavily made-up look that seemed to be all the rage when you went into town or bars, no ‘fake bake' or garishly red lipsticks, just a healthy glow that screamed vitality and happiness.

He liked that— a lot.

Raising a hand at the window glass as if to silently say ‘Hello,' Noah gave a slight smile and met her gaze, only to feel the bus jerk forward once again as traffic cleared.

She obviously laughed as she looked away, the moment broken slightly. He turned bodily to keep her within his line of sight a little longer and couldn't help the grin that touched his face as her eyes held his boldly until she disappeared from his sight.

Turning slightly to return to his forward-facing position, he chuckled slightly and felt like a fool. He was an aviator in the Navy, on deployment, visiting Egypt, and she was a perfect stranger.

That woman was probably on vacation from some unknown location with her husband or something. It wasn't unusual for women to approach men or strike up a conversation, especially in ports of call or Naval towns where men in uniform were an easy target. Everyone loved a sailor's uniform, except the guy wearing it. He was dressed in jeans today and a NAVY T-shirt, trying his best to sort of blend in and failing miserably.

There was no such thing as fate, love-at-first-sight, or destiny. He was on a two-hour tour bus to the pyramids – and then heading back toward Alexandria. Even if he came this way again, he would never ‘find' that woman in a city full of millions of people… and if he did?

What did it matter?

Nothing would change the fact that the carrier was pulling back out of port in seventy-two hours, and he would be on it. He had a job to do, and a life back home in Mayport, Florida. This was all just a fanciful moment, a blip in time. He imagined that he felt something shift within him like the movies and television shows claimed – and should know better than to dream or imagine something so crazy.

Things like this didn't happen.

… Or did they?