‘She doesn’t need it.She gets to fly with me.’
‘So, she’s your co-pilot and therapist?’
‘Romy is myeverythingand all the above.’Stone grinned widely, like he was winning a game she didn’t even know she was playing.
‘So, you weren’t officially interviewed for this position, and you’re not on the payroll either?’She glanced down at the receipts.‘Yet you carry a federal badge, as a consultant who invoices for airtime and fuel?’
‘Correct.And I make damn sure those invoices are inflated.’Another wink.
She went to press further—
But he cut her off, eyes sharpening just slightly, his tone serious.‘I also log heat signatures, irregular flight paths, road train activity, and land access patterns across fifty square k’s, every time I’m in the bird.’But then he leaned back, tapped on the table wearing that cocky grin again.‘You know, when I’m not playing part-time crocodile wrangler and full-time sweetheart, wrestling crocodiles, or delivering beer.’
‘Is that what you do for fun?’
‘That’s what I do for love, lady.Crocodile conservation.Protecting land, stock, and the odd people rescue or two.Oh, and I moonlight as a tour guide for my lady—Romy’s filming a documentary.We’re inseparable.’
‘A documentary about you and your helicopter?’
‘Nah.The crocs.’
Taryn paused, her pen hovering over her notes.‘Right.Because nothing says romance like a cold-blooded predator with better skin than you.’
‘Don’t be jealous.She’s got great teeth, too.’
Who was he talking about now?‘Did Finn hire you for the comedic comebacks?’
Stone grinnedwider.‘Finn knows talent when he sees it.’
‘So you’d know what he does for fun, too?’
Stone didn’t miss a beat.‘Polishes his handcuffs and stares off into the outback horizon.It’s very broody.You’d love it.’
She chuckled.‘Shall we add that to the file notes: Sergeant Wilde also enjoys long walks on the crime scene and emotionally repressing things.’
Stone laughed as he slapped the tabletop like he was applauding her.‘I heard you were sharp.And yet you got done by Mickey—which means we share the same enemy.’
‘Who?’
Stone crossed his arms and rested them against the table.‘Mickey,the master of all things mechanical.The airport mechanic who runs the town’s airstrip like its Area 51.’
‘Grey hair, grey overalls, has that Popeye squint.’
‘The one with the God complex.Smells like WD-40 and old grudges.I heard he made you walk the long way around the airport.’
She gave a sharp snort.‘What did Mickey do to you?’
‘Won’t let me land my chopper on his airstrip.’Stone pointed to the back wall in the direction of the airport.‘That old fart said there’s only one heliport, and that’s for hospital emergencies only.’
‘Did you ignore him?’Because Stone seemed the type.
Stone tried not to grin.‘I may have attempted a stealth landing on the tarmac once.’
‘Let me guess, Mickey blocked you with that big golf buggy of his.’
‘Worse.That grumpy prick towed my chopper away.Towed it!’
‘I’d believe it.I’m just surprised he didn’t weigh it down with a dozen chains padlocked to his tall radio tower.’
