by Nova Rain
“I love you, too,” I stated in a thick voice, my lips curling into a blissful smile. “Please, promise me you’ll never let fear tell you what to do.”
“I promise,” he murmured, gazing deep down into my eyes. “You should know you forgot to mention something in your speech.”
“What’s that?”
“The night Hackman was chasing you,” he explained. “It’s funny… You looked right at me when you ran that light, but you don’t seem to remember.”
“You were there?” I squinted up at him.
“Yep,” he affirmed. “I went after him. His death wasn’t an accident. Bryan shot his tire out. I’m guessing he was your supplier.”
“That’s right.” I nodded, my past not preventing my smile from coming back. “I’d taken my cut from the money the girls had paid me. He asked me to give it to him, and said he’d pay me the next day. I didn’t. I ran. Anyway, you could have told me about that. You should have.”
“What can I say? I forgot about it.” He rolled his shoulders.
“So…” I exhaled, running my fingers down to his neck. “You said you’d brought me something else. I can’t wait to see what it is.”
Donny flashed me a cunning look and removed his right hand from my waist. Slipping into his pocket, he produced a brand-new key.
“Move in with me,” he suggested, holding it up in front of me.
“I’d love to!” I cheered, jumping up as my smile widened to a grin. I leaned forward and fell back into his embrace, my cheek bumping into his chest. In a moment though, an idea flashed through my mind. “But…” I leaned back. “Seeing as your apartment is a little small and this place is a lot closer to your boss’s, I suggest you move in with me. How does that sound?”
“It sounds great,” Donny commented with a smile. “I should tell you that…”
“You’re part of his security detail now,” I finished his sentence. “I overheard you guys talking about it out in his yard. That’s wonderful. I’m really happy for you.”
“Welcome back to my life, babe.” His soft voice returned to raise goose bumps all over my body.
“I never left.” I shook my head, feeling a light push on my waist. Before I knew it, his arms were around me, and my head was resting against his chest. I purred in contentment, relieved to be back together with him. He might have allowed his fear to cloud his judgment, but his feelings for me were real. I could see them. I could feel them. His regret showed in his saddened eyes and his broken voice. Experience had taught me what kind of people to hold on to, and what kind of people to ignore. There was no doubt in my mind; Donny fell under the first category. He wasn’t fake. Nor was he trying to manipulate me into anything, the way others had done in the past. He wasn’t a “nice guy,” and that’s what I loved most about him. Those so-called “nice guys” always tried to lead me down different paths than the one I’d chosen. Not Donny. He was there for me, without criticizing my every move. Now, he was ready for a new beginning. His new job entailed far less risks than his old one did. And I would be there to enjoy the stress-free man who had given me a shoulder to cry on. I would savor my moments with him, knowing in my heart that he was mine. The thirty-year old man with the child’s-heart. My friend. My brute. My protector. My love.
Fight or Flight: An Enemies To Lovers Romance (Hate To Love You Book 1)
Chapter One
Jake
The Miami Beach skyline emerged from behind the clouds, filling me with a mixed sense of satisfaction and anticipation. Those myriads of flickering city lights signaled the end of a long, hard day. This was the third time I was flying back to the sunny state in the past twelve hours. I had already flown in from Louisiana and Tampa. My Boeing 777 was completing the last hop from New York. I couldn’t wait to head to my hotel and get some sleep.
Of course, this meant that I would have to forget going out this night. Any plans of me visiting my favorite bars would have to be put on hold. I had no problem with that, though. I would be back here in three days, at an earlier time than 9:50pm, and after the end of a seven-hour shift. I would have more than fifteen hours at my disposal and much more energy to have some fun.
In bed, that is. Bars and clubs in the area were my hunting grounds. My looks lured women in, and my profession finished the job. I am 6’3”, clean-cut, athletic, have a square jaw and a sculpted body; it wasn’t a combination many could pass on. It was amazing, but just mentioning being a pilot had their eyes sparkling, and their libidos… Well, let me put it this way: there wasn’t much talking after that.
Any other sort of fun didn’t pique my interest. I loved what I did; it had been my boyhood dream. I needed a clear head to fly this massive jet. Getting drunk out of my mind or snorting cocaine would endanger my passengers and me alike. I knew that if I was ever caught flying under the influence of alcohol, I would lose more than my job at United. In truth, I would never be able to fly again. No airline would want to hire a pilot with a taste for alcohol.
“So, what are the best bars in Miami Beach?” Ted Barnes, my first officer asked, his eyes on me.
“What are the busiest times in a cockpit, Barnes?” I rebutted, unable to believe his attitude. This was just his second month on the job, and he was distracted.
“Takeoff and landing,” he was quick to respond. “I’m just asking, because I’ve never been to M…”
“I don’t care!” I interrupted him, turning my head right to face him. “You’re supposed to be monitoring the instruments, you idiot. Instead, you want to find out where you can party?! Are you serious right now?”
“Everything’s under control, Captain Turner,” he assured me, shifting his attention back to the flight deck. In a split second however, his assumption was proven wrong. A loud warning from the cockpit speaker pierced my ears, turning an ordinary cruise across the skies into a life-threatening situation.
Pull up. Terrain.
Pull up. Terrain.
The violent shaking of the stick shaker caused the control yoke to vibrate, as if we’d just drove into the bumpiest road on earth. My stomach chilled in fear as I threw a glance at our airspeed. The indicator read 130 knots, which was well below landing speed. To make matters worse, the altimeter was at 9800ft and was dropping fast. Furthermore, the miniature aircraft on the artificial horizon wasn’t parallel to the horizon bar. It had pitched slightly up, indicating that the plane itself was in a “nose-up” position.
“Barnes, we’re in a stall,” I remarked, gripping the yoke tighter while I scanned the flight deck for any indications as to why this was happening. It didn’t take long to discover the reason. The two, thrust reverser lights were green, which meant that my rookie first officer had made a monumental blunder. “You activated the thrust reversers?!” I exclaimed, tossing a nasty glare over at him. “We’re still six miles from the airport for God’s sake! Deactivate them now.”
“Yes, sir,” Barnes spoke in a panic-ridden voice, leaning forward.
“Don’t panic,” I urged in a stiff tone, my gaze on the altimeter. It had just dropped below 9200ft. “I’ve got this.”
I was confident for good reason. First of all, I had recovered from a stall twice before. Second, we had enough altitude between the ocean and us. Had this occurred at 4,000ft, I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. I’d just put my hands together and pray to survive the impending crash.
Noticing the disappearance of the thrust reversers’ lights, I pushed the stick forward. I had to reduce the angle of attack, and hence the drag. Second by second, the miniature aircraft leveled off, coming back to its normal position. The altimeter read 6400ft, but now, it wasn’t dropping as fast. We were falling at a rate of a hundred feet per second; maybe less. Having brought the nose of the aircraft down, I kept my attention on the airspeed indicator, waiting for that magical sound of the engines. Now, it had stabilized at 132 knots.
“Come on, baby.” I whispered, catching a glimpse of the moon’s reflection on the ocean. The Miami skyline was getti
ng closer. In fact, our bird was so close to the Panorama Tower that I even spotted two lights going out, almost at the exact same time. Just then came the noise that tore any notion of fear to shreds. The two, General Electric engines spun faster and louder, providing the necessary thrust to my 777. I watched as the airspeed started to increase, the altimeter reading 3700ft.
“Oh, God…” Barnes sighed in relief, leaning his head on the headrest. “Thank you,” he muttered, reaching over to me.
“Take your hand off of me, you stupid bastard,” I grumbled. “You almost got us killed because you were not thinking with your head.”
He swallowed hard and yanked his hand off me. “I’m very sorry. It won’t happen again.”
Unwilling to continue this argument, I pressed the “Forward” button on the intercom to communicate with the cabin crew.
“How are things back there, Linda?” I asked my senior flight attendant.
“A bit messy, but everyone seems to be okay, Captain,” she informed me. “Is it me or did you just recover from a stall?”
“I did,” I admitted. “We’ll talk about this later. Prepare for landing.”
“Landing checklist,” Barnes announced, producing a thick, white dossier with the blue, United Airlines logo on the cover.
I went through the checklist with him, my heart still thumping against my ribcage. Yes, I was confident that I could save those three hundred souls on board, but there was no guarantee. If anything had gone wrong, the massive jet would have slammed against the side of one of those high-rises, destroying everything and everyone in its wake. And God knows how many people would have perished in such a tragedy.
Chapter Two
Penny
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking. We ran into a short technical problem, but we’ve been able to resolve it. We’ll be landing in Miami International Airport in a few minutes. We apologize for the inconvenience, and hope to see you again on our next flight. Thank you.”
The passengers all around me burst into loud applause and cheers, right about the time when this so-called pilot finished saying the word “minutes.” Clenched fists rose up in the air, joining woo hoo’s and comments like “the guy’s a hero.” Every single one of the three hundred or so people in the cabin was delighted and relieved that we had cheated death. They didn’t seem to care that two trolleys full of empty cups, sodas, and juices had hurtled along the corridors and smashed against the cockpit door. Neither did they mind that they had bruised quite a few arms during their short trip through the cabin.
I’m sorry; did I say “everyone”?
I meant everyone except me.
I was afraid to fly. I’d only been on a plane once; on a flight from New York to Buffalo, nine years ago. It was a high school graduation present from my mom. So, when Walter Collins, my editor, told me I was going to Miami to do a story about invasive species in the Everglades, I had to do something to overcome that fear. I didn’t appreciate the idea of going anywhere near pythons. Those huge snakes scared the crap out of me. Still, this was my first chance at covering something bigger than fundraisers and other boring material.
I spent two weeks going over crash statistics and watching documentaries on National Geographic. Within that time, I became familiar with aviation terms, possible pilot errors, and engine and component failures. Okay, I didn’t become an avionics expert, but I had done enough research to recognize certain situations. And when a plane as sophisticated as a Boeing 777 plummets to the ground after a three-hour flight, it says a lot about the pilots. One of them or even both of them had screwed up: Big Time. Someone had to get their asses kicked for the terrorizing few minutes we endured over Miami. If I had anything to do with it, their mistakes wouldn’t go unpunished. I intended to write a story about this case as soon as possible.
Despite my frustration, when I got out of the cab, I was in for a pleasant surprise. The Kimpton Surfcomber Hotel was just fifteen yards from the beach. I could hear the waves splashing on the sand. The starry night was so clear that I could see the foam forming and retracting. A sea breeze was blowing through my hair, providing me with a sense of tranquility. Dozens of palm trees were rustling in front of a large pool, serving as a—great—welcoming committee.
I left New York’s cold November for this. I guess that’s something.
I checked in and headed straight to the bar. The landscape outside might have been fantastic, but I needed a drink to calm my jangling nerves. Soft, piano music was playing from the speakers, drowning out the ambient buzz. I hopped onto a stool and leaned my forearms on the counter, the barmaid walking in my direction.
“Double scotch. Neat,” I ordered, tapping my fingers in impatience.
“Rough day?”
“Rough flight,” I replied, running my fingers through my hair. “I almost plunged to my death today.”
“Then you should be celebrating,” she suggested, unscrewing a bottle of scotch. “Not many people survive air emergencies.”
“I know, but that doesn’t make me feel any better,” I told her, watching the beverage colorizing a tall glass.
“You wouldn’t happen to fly United, would you?” she asked, pitching her voice higher.
“Yeah,” I said with a nod. “How do you know?”
“United has an accommodation contract with Kimpton Surfcomber. One of their pilots just walked in,” she informed me, casting a quick glance over at the entrance behind me. With the scotch moistening my lips, I turned my head around. Indeed, a tall man in his navy-blue uniform was greeting some people at the tables, wearing a polite smile. “That’s Captain Turner, aka Captain Incredible.”
Whiskey flew right out of my nostrils at the end of her sentence as I recalled his introduction over the cabin PA system. “What?!”
“Yeah,” the barmaid chirped. “He’s one, cocky bastard. He acts like he owns the place and everyone in it.”
“You sound like you know him well,” I remarked, bringing my attention back to her.
“That’s because I do,” she added, dropping her gaze to the floor. “I made the mistake of sleeping with him, about two years ago. The next time he showed up, he took a ballet dancer up to his room, and didn’t even look at me. What a loser…”
“Evening, Crystal,” I heard his baritone behind me. “Who’s the pretty lady you’ve been talking to?” he wondered, leaning over towards me. Boy, that son of a bitch looked good – short, black hair, strong cheekbones, straight nose, angular jawline, and his eyes? They were a shade lighter than honey, seeming even fairer in the bright illumination.
“Penny Green,” I introduced myself. “I’m one of the unfortunate souls who happened to be on board your flight.”
He snorted in amusement. “Unfortunate? What makes you say that?”
“You almost got us killed, jackass,” I groaned, my face hardening. “What the hell happened in that cockpit, huh? Were you and your co-pilot locked in a penis-measuring contest?”
“Where are you now, Penny?” He posed a question, a smile of smugness spreading across his face.
“In my hotel,” I responded, my tone firm.
“Precisely.” He gave an emphatic nod. “You’re not floating in the ocean. None of my passengers or crew are either. You’re all safe and sound, thanks to me. Now, can I buy you a drink?”
“Let me buy you one,” I grumbled, wrapping my fingers around his glass. Without much thought, I splashed it all over his face, fuming with rage. I couldn’t believe the nerve of that moron. He had put everyone in harm’s way, and was bragging about correcting his own mistake? I hopped off the stool, feeling bystanders’ eyes on me. For once, I couldn’t care less. I wasn’t going to feel guilty of expressing my anger. No matter how good he looked, I wouldn’t play his game, especially after the barmaid’s revelation about him.
Chapter Three
Jake
Feisty? Hot-tempered? Or was it “crazy”?
Whatever Penny was, she forced me to return to
my original plan and go straight to bed that night. Seeing her feminine figure on that stool had made me reconsider. I didn’t have to go anywhere, because we stayed at the same hotel. And I would have loved to have spent the night with that curvaceous brunette. She ticked all the right boxes. Her big breasts were busting out of her top. That long, brown hair was reaching well past her shoulders. Also, there was one good thing about what she did to me the night before: I got to see her shapely legs in denim shorts as she stormed out of the bar. Nevertheless, this was the only good thing that came out of our random meeting: a short feast for the eyes. I had more chances of getting hit by lightning in my room than going out on a date with her.
The next morning, I went out to the pool. My flight back to New York was at noon, and I wanted to soak up some sun before returning home. To my pleasure, most of the umbrellas and sun chairs around it were empty. Although I liked being in crowded places at night, I needed some time to relax, and I wouldn’t be able to do that with children running around.
Facing the beach, I put on my shades and lowered myself into the cool water. I splayed out my arms over the edge of the pool, the sweet moisture engulfing almost my entire body. I felt the water tickling my Adam’s apple and tipped my head back, savoring the experience. Not even the click-clacking of heels on the tiles could ruin the moment. It picked up volume, making it clear that the owner of those shoes would soon parade in front of me.
“I didn’t introduce myself properly last night,” a ladylike voice rose above the gentle sound of the waves. Her figure halted right next to me. “Penny Green, Brooklyn Bulletin.” She assumed a businesslike tone, holding her cell phone over me. She looked even better in daylight. She had a white blouse on and black pants, whereas her hair was gathered in a ponytail. “Captain Turner, can you explain to our readers what happened on flight 1603 from New York to Miami Beach last night?”
