Emerald Death by Bill Craig

reached the Mission.
    An unconscious smile cracked her determined expression as she continued pretending to tinker with the engine. Yet beneath the flutter of her heart, there was another voice spinning dire alternatives. Hannigan might not even reciprocate her feelings; she might be nothing more to him than a conquest and a night of distraction.  He was an adventurer, looking for excitement and buried treasure, not a lover or wife.  Indeed, she wasn’t competing with another woman for his affections; her rival was the Emerald of Eternity.
     
                                        *****
     
                “So do you still think Degiorno can be trusted?” Hannigan asked, wiping the sweat from his brow.
                “That is a very good question, my friend.”  Gregor shrugged.  “Once, I trusted him implicitly.  Now… well, I do not know.  I am tempted to say ‘not at all.’  He wants the treasure, so he will be as honest as he needs to be to get it.”
                “I had a feeling you were gonna say that.”
                Gregor spread his hands.  “You asked.  I gave you the truth.”
                “That doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.”
                “There is a proverb, my friend.  'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.'”
    Hannigan scratched his light brown mane.  “Which is Degiorno?”
                “Exactly.  We will keep him very close; close enough that he will not be able to stab us in the back.”
                “I'm still more worried about those Nazis.  After all, they have the original map.”
                “Good news, boys,” Bridget Ellen O’Malley said as she walked up to them.  “I’ve checked the plane over good.  Except for some scratches along the top edge of one wing, she’s unharmed.”
                “That’s good to know.” Hannigan replied earnestly, not taking his eyes off of her.  He seemed on the verge of saying something more, but instead his speechless stare grew into an uncomfortably long silence.
               
    Bridget blushed beneath her freckles, unable to match her green eyes to his blue. For his part, Hannigan felt his pulse start racing; he hadn't felt this nervous since just before the big high school dance.
                Shotsky rolled his eyes.  “How long before we can take off?”
                “We can take off any time we want, but the moment we do, we'll be waving a red flag.  That zeppelin will spot us for sure, and if they pick us up, it's a good bet they'll send more fighters after us. If that happens, I don’t think we can afford to count on Mike to shoot them down this time.  Surprise and dumb luck can only carry you so far.” Bridget's tone stopped just short of disparaging Hannigan's earlier heroics.
     
                “Mike there has done okay.” Shotsky grinned, recognizing the (probably subconscious) motive for her diatribe.
                “Mike is lucky he isn’t dead!”  Bridget replied, her cheeks flushing and her voice rising.  “Lord knows he should be.  What happened up there was about the only good luck I have seen him have.”
                “Actually, I've one other piece of good luck,” Hannigan intoned.
                “Really?” she asked, arching one eyebrow at him.  “What was that?”
                He took her shoulder and gently turned her until they were face to face.  Then he slid his arms around her and drew her body against him, feeling her curves molding to his body as his lips found hers in a long passionate kiss.  When he broke the kiss, they were both left gasping for breath.
                “Wow!” Bridget gasped, staggering slightly.
                “Wow is right,” Hannigan agreed. 
                “You two