CHAPTERONE
QUINCY
There wasnothing better than the feel of the stick between my thighs. Okay, maybe there was a different kind ofstickthat felt pretty good in that location. And maybe only onespecificstick I preferred at that.
I would never forget the glory of that one. Long and thick, I barely got my fingers around it. Steely hardness beneath heated velvet. And the guy it belonged to?
A mixture of sweet sin and ruthless danger to both my heart and body.
To the enemy? They never knew the cause of their last breath.
But Chase Berghart, call sign Kennedy because he’s the ladies’ man, wasn’t here.
His talented dick wasn’t about to sink into my eager pussy.
No, I had a different kind of thrill I was taking for a ride today.
“Returning to base. Heading zero-six-two.” The comms unit built into my helmet transmitted my message to the guys who were closely following my position.
The helicopter tipped to the right as I pulled on the cyclic control stick.
“Copy that. Everything looking good.”
I glanced at the radar on the display and confirmed because the weather was holding and so was the visibility. For now. Storms blew in with record speed in Montana, and some were expected.
“Watch your six.” It was a different voice than usual. Taft’s casual but focused response was replaced by another. One I was all too familiar with. One who had spoken in my ear before with that deep, dark tone.
Kennedy.
It made me wet then offered all kinds of carnal promises. They had definitely been fulfilled. That first time happened two years ago at the base in Qatar after a SEAL mission. Our adrenaline had been pumping and needed an outlet. We’d found it in each other. I’d known he was a man whore, but I hadn’t minded. We’d fucked. He’d fled. Sent on a mission I hadn’t been privy to.
We were working together again—this time not in the military—but with Alpha Mountain Security. There were no rules, no protocols or laws to stay within.
I glanced at my radar again. “I’m good.”
“Get back to base,” he practically growled.
I rolled my eyes. I’d flown helicopters my entire military career. There were very few women combat fighter jet pilots in the Navy. Starting out, my options had been limited in comparison to my brothers. I chose helicopters because they got me behind enemy lines. I helped my fellow soldiers, including the SEAL teams who needed to be extracted.
I was the best they had. Until I quit. Now I was Alpha Mountain’s best. And only in this small corner of the world. Which meant I was the person who was called on for anything involving a helicopter, including searches and rescues.
“Lay off, Kennedy,” I snapped. “I’ve got this. The guys were dropped off and are on their way to the lost hikers. I’m a few miles off the targeted landing area. But no issues.”
“You’re not out of there yet.”
“I’m well aware of where I fucking am.” I wasn’t behind enemy lines. Or on an Alpha Mountain mission that, on paper, didn’t exist. That never happened.
“It’s not just you at risk this time,” he reminded.
Those words gave me pause and explained his crankiness. Yeah, it wasn’t just me that needed protection on this run. But I wouldn’t be grounded. Not yet and not by him.
And not for a simple Search and Rescue team shuttle.
“You need to–”
Alarms blared, and my dash blinked red.
I cut off my words and focused, not on Kennedy and his possessiveness, his concern for me being up in the air, even this close to base, and being coddled and protected like a child. I had bigger problems than a bossy ex-SEAL who gave me shit.