3
TOMCAT
It had been two days since I'd last set foot on the airfield, but club business had required my attention, pulling me away from the one place I actually wanted to be. However, when the prez said jump, we all went as high as possible without question.
As an enforcer, I was tasked with protecting its members and the club rep. This particular not-so-legitimate operation had required my expertise, so it had been unavoidable.
Fortunately, today was a scheduled test flight, which meant I didn't have to come up with some flimsy excuse to be back here, watching for a certain honey-haired archivist.
Fallon, another club enforcer and my best friend since we met at Top Gun over twelve years ago, had accompanied me. It always helped to have another pilot's perspective when working on a prototype, so I’d often recruited him as an additional consultant on a project.
He’d noticed I was distracted, but when I just grunted in response to his inquiry, he let it go. For now. I knew he’d interrogate me later. I’d deal with that then.
I adjusted the collar of my flight suit, scanning the area with what I hoped passed for casual disinterest, even though my gazekept returning to the admin building’s office windows, hoping for a glimpse of Linden.
Jason approached, clipboard in hand, flipping through a stack of forms. “Checklists look good. Maintenance cleared it yesterday. You should have smooth sailing today.”
I nodded absently. “Thanks.”
He followed my gaze, then shot me a knowing smirk. “Looking for something specific, Tomcat? Or maybe someone?”
Fallon was in the cockpit, and his head popped over the side at Jason’s last question.
I ignored him and kept my expression neutral, but Fallon knew me better than anyone. The slight twitch of my jaw gave away more than I wanted. “Not sure what you’re implying.”
“Yeah,” Fallon drawled with a grin. “What are you implying?”
I shot him a look and muttered, “Stow it, stick monkey.”
Fallon laughed at the insult—a term used to imply a pilot merely manipulating the control stick like a programmed monkey—and flipped me the bird.
Turning back to Jason, I grunted before returning to my task.
Jason huffed out a laugh, shaking his head as he turned back to his forms. “Whatever you say, man.”
Ignoring him, I circled the jet, running my hand along its sleek skin. I checked every panel, rivet, and inspection point as methodically as ever, but today it felt more like going through the motions.
Because truthfully, my attention kept drifting back toward the admin office windows, frustration building in my gut when I didn't see her. I mentally replayed every detail of our last encounter. The catch of her breath when she tripped, the soft flush on her cheeks when I asked her name, and the way her gentle voice sounded as she spoke. Hell, I'd even dreamed about her—waking to the image of her beneath me, those wide greeneyes looking up at me with a shy, sweet trust that made my chest ache.
Finally, I caught movement from the corner of my eye, and my pulse kicked up instantly. Linden was there, partially visible through the office window. But the warmth that had flooded me at the sight of her quickly cooled, replaced by a sudden tension that clenched around my heart.
She looked different today. Not relaxed like before, when she’d seemed quietly curious about her surroundings. Now she looked anxious. Stressed. Her shoulders were stiff, the delicate lines of her frame taut with a worry she couldn’t conceal, even from this distance. I frowned, shifting slightly to get a better view.
Her head dipped low, but her gaze darted around her frequently. Her fingers tapped restlessly on her desk, betraying an uneasy agitation. My stomach knotted, instinct telling me something had gone wrong.
I watched her carefully as she stood and gathered a stack of folders into her arms. Then she left the office, and I saw her through the glass door, coming down the short hallway toward the tarmac. My entire body tightened, something fierce and protective roaring to life in my chest.
She emerged from the admin building, walking along the edge of the flight line—the same path she’d taken the first time—but her stride was hurried, her footsteps quick and clipped. Her posture was tight and uneasy. Her bright eyes didn’t lift to meet mine. Instead, they flitted nervously around, scanning her surroundings.
My lips twitched when I saw her bright yellow flats that had a rhinestone strap across the top of her foot. The thought occurred to me that I might like to fuck her while she was wearing a pair of her surprisingly sexy shoes.
Then I caught sight of the slight tremor in her hands as she adjusted her grip on the files, her knuckles white around the edges. She kept glancing back over her shoulder as though she expected someone to be following. I didn’t like the way fear sharpened her features and worry tightened her soft mouth. She looked over her shoulder again, even though there was no one there, her breath quickening in her chest.
Her obvious anxiety sent my protective instincts roaring to life. Whatever had happened since our last meeting had left Linden rattled and afraid. The sight of her distress hardened something fierce and unyielding in me.
At that moment, I knew one thing for sure. I was going to find out who’d put that fear in her eyes. And I was going to make sure they regretted it.
“Linden,” I called out, my voice carrying just enough to cut through the quiet of the airfield without startling her too badly.
