He went through the steps in his head. Strap into the seat. Put on the headset. Flip the master switch and ensure all the instruments came on. Fuel check. Start the engine.
Panic clawed at his stomach.
Engage the rotors. Build speed.
The sensation shot upward at high trajectory into his chest…then his throat.
He gulped.
“Crew.” Gabe’s voice sounded as though he was calling him from a mile away.
He wiped his damp palms on his jeans. “I promised Willow I’d get back and tend the horses.”
He couldn’t read Church’s eyes behind the dark sunglasses he wore, but he didn’t give a damn what the guy thought. Before Gabe could speak, Crew pivoted on his heels and strode away.
As he jumped into the pickup, he battled the flood of memories—the rush of wind as he ejected from the cockpit, shooting upward when the parachute deployed.
The ball of flames spiraling through the sky in an oily smear of smoke and debris.
His eyes burning as he searched the sky for a second chute.
He smashed his fist into the steering wheel. “Fuck!”
He wasn’t ready to leave the Black Heart yet. Had no idea what he would do with his life when he did.
But as he sat there, breaths coming hard and fast, another memory slipped in.
Fern’s arms around him, her body swaying toward him as he plundered her mouth and gathered all her sweet little moans.
He wasn’t ready to fly again. Hell, he might never be ready.
But he didn’t want to be broken anymore.
* * * * *
Fern woke with a jolt, her heart hammering against her ribs. Sunlight streamed through the gap in her curtains, painting stripes across her comforter.
She flopped back against the pillows with a groan. Last night, she’d tossed and turned, replaying her kiss with Crew on acontinuous loop. The taste of him. The heat of his body pressed against hers. The way he gripped her hips like he never wanted to let go.
Her thighs clenched at the memory, and she rolled onto her side with another groan. She had work to do. Plants to water. A side job that was turning into something bigger than she ever imagined.
After a quick shower that did nothing to cool the heat still simmering in her veins, she dressed in jeans and a soft green tee that made her feel like she blended in with her beloved plants. She grabbed her purse and headed for the door.
The moment she stepped outside, she froze.
A truck sat parked across the street. Dark blue. Unfamiliar.
It was there last night when Crew left. And she’d noticed it again when she stood at the bathroom window that morning, watering her plant babies.
She knew every vehicle in her neighborhood and had never seen this one until yesterday.
Her pulse thudded in her ears as she stood on her small landing, keys clutched in her fist. The truck’s windows were tinted, and she couldn’t see anyone inside. But it was there. Right there.
She forced herself to walk to her car, her legs stiff and jerky. As she unlocked the door, she shot another glance at the truck. It didn’t move. No one got out.
Maybe a neighbor had a visitor. Maybe she was being paranoid.
Chris’s voice whispered through her mind.You’re always overreacting. Making something out of nothing.
