“This was never my bird,” Beale said softly. “MH-60 Black Hawk, then a too-short five years in a Night Stalkers DAP Hawk. After that came the Firehawk, the wildland firefighting config. Still the same bird.”
“Front of the fight.”
“Not anymore.” Beale’s voice was so wistful it almost hurt.
Abby looked ahead. She couldn’t imagine a day when she wasn’t flying. Could Derek imagine a someday without The Unit filling every available moment? Probably no more than she could.
Still Beale hadn’t moved, but Abby didn’t want to simply abandon her.
“I’d better go find Derek and have him load up his gear before we start taking my baby apart,” she reached out to pat the console.
“He’s not here.” Beale said it like the sky is blue.
“When will he be back?” Abby sat up straight and fully turned to study Beale’s profile.
She didn’t say a word.
Abby slammed against the back of her seat at that gut punch. It knocked the wind out of her more thoroughly than being butted by a full lobster trap swinging in a rough sea. Yes, it had been a crazy mixed-up couple of days. His not joining Miss Watson’s trip to 10 Downing Street had simply struck her as Derek keeping a Delta-low profile. Honestly, she’d been so careful to keep inside her military box after the takedown of the MI6 team that she hadn’t noticed him missing from the group.
But that he was gone?
Without a word?
“Where the hell did he go?”
Beale still didn’t look her way as she said, “Stirling Lines in Credenhill, Herefordshire. The British SAS base.”
Perhaps an emergency call for assistance as the Delta teams were already local? It didn’t seem likely.
A cooperative training exercise? Arranged on no notice like their own journey to RAF Brize Norton. And she knew only two people who could have arranged it.
“Gibson?” Though she already knew the answer.
Beale simply shook her head.
Derek! He was suddenly avoiding her. “Didn’t he see how transparent that was?”
This time Colonel Beale turned to look at her. “He’s male. Therefore I’m guessing…nope.” Damned woman was smiling at her own joke.
She hadn’t chased Derek away like so many men before him. She’d seen the look in his eyes after they took down the MI6 team. They’d operated together tighter than any transmission’s synchromesh. He had…
“No.” She couldn’t believe it.
“Yes.” Beale said with that same damn smile.
“He turned chicken on me?”
Beale’s look said plenty.
Abby slapped on Charlene One’s electronics and tapped the screen for the Warm Start Checklist. With a flick, she routed it in front of Beale. “Read!”
Beale began reading down the list almost as fast as Abby was doing the steps by rote.
Ethan ran up toward his side of the aircraft. Beale closed the door in his face. “I’m not going to miss this.”
Sam stuck his head into the cockpit.
Abby didn’t even give him a chance to ask what was going on. “Everyone off. I need at least one crew chief. You’re it. You have thirty seconds to clear them out.”
