Devious Wingman: A Cocky Hero Club Novel

by Hagen, Casey

  “Oh, shut up. You know damn well you still enjoy attractive women.”

  “I’ll never admit to it,” Graham said.

  “Yeah, no shit.”

  Falcon’s hands moved over the controls. He’d rolled his long black sleeves up to the elbow, his tattoo in full view as he read gauges, flicked switches, and checked a small book in front of him. Every so often he turned to Hawk until he dropped a pair of dark shades over his eyes and slid his headset over both ears.

  He was in me less than twelve hours ago.

  I found myself studying him, looking for some sign he was as affected today as I was, but Falcon—the windows into his soul were like the murky waters of a bayou. Layers upon layers concealing poisonous dangers, blind corners, and old wounds.

  Hawk climbed out of his seat and smiled at us, giving me a friendly wink in particular making my stomach clench.

  I wasn’t made for this. For deception. I couldn’t pretend to be interested in him when Falcon had weaseled out of my bed not even twelve hours earlier. A part of me wanted to admit it, right here, right now. Rip off the Band-Aid, but I bit my tongue, my need for self-preservation overriding the instinct.

  If Falcon happened to glance back here, he’d see me. He’d really see me. The hurt, the confusion, and he’d know damn well I’d cried. Not only the tears I shed with him deep inside me.

  No, he’d recognize that after he left, I went into full on grief mode a whole lot like when Ethan died. I didn’t need him taking pity on me. And he would, until he knew I was fine, and then he’d disappear again.

  “Welcome to Hawk Air. My partner Falcon and I will be your captains for this flight. We’re going to ask you to buckle up for takeoff. We should be in the air in a few minutes. The flight will be about four hours and twenty minutes, and the weather is expected to be sunny for almost the entire trip. The temperature in Payson is a eight-three degrees.”

  He went on about the refreshments and who knows what else while I stared at Falcon, cool confidence rolling off him the same way he oozed angsty sex appeal. I could picture him as though I’d seen him with my own eyes, in a jet, wearing a flight suit and helmet, streaking through the air like some avenging angel with nothing to lose.

  This new side of him, seeing it in person, softened the pit of anger inside me even as I struggled to hold on to it, keep it as a wall between us.

  He’d lived Ethan’s dream. He’d gone into the Air Force to follow his best friend. He’d stayed why?

  To make sure Ethan’s dream came true? Because he’d been lost?

  But what about his dreams? Didn’t he have any of his own?

  With a nod Hawk turned for the cockpit again and climbed back into his seat. He kept it completely professional which I desperately needed.

  My hot skin cooled, and I wiped my damp palms on my linen pants.

  “They’re a bit like the Devil sitting on one shoulder and an angel on the other with the way Falcon’s wearing black and Hawk’s wearing white.”

  Yeah, and for some reason, despite my rather modest upbringing, I thrived off pushing the Devil’s boundaries every chance I got. “Is champagne the strongest thing on this plane?”

  Hawk turned to Falcon for a minute, and I knew what he’d told him by the way Falcon went so goddamned still I felt it in all my places.

  Yeah, those places.

  I sucked in a breath and watched as Falcon swiveled his head painfully slow and looked right at me. Sure he had sunglasses on so I couldn’t meet his gaze, but I didn’t need to. His jaw locked and his lips pressed into an unyielding hard line as he pinned me to my seat. Without even being able to see his eyes, his look blazed full of loathing and heat.

  How the hell did he do that?

  “Fuck,” Soraya muttered. "Forget champagne, y’all need a fire hose. I mean, I’m only a bystander and I’m pretty sure I just got pregnant.”

  15

  The problem with flying a business jet and not an F-22?

  Autopilot.

  You know what autopilot left a lot of time for? Feeling the fucking stare of the woman you were buried in the night before as she jackhammered through the back of your skull with her aquamarine eyes.

  I said goodbye.

  And karma promptly kicked me in the fucking teeth and called me ugly.

  So I didn’t say it out loud, but I’d made the decision to walk away and stay away this time. Especially after the ongoing performance from her the night before. I’d even left my shirt behind because I’d never be able to see it or touch it without thinking about it wrapped around her body, and life was goddamned hard enough without taking on a four-hundred and seventy-eighth way to torture myself.

  Yeah, I pulled that number out of thin air. If I were really to take a hard look at it, I probably had thousands of torture devices in my arsenal when it came to crucifying myself for the past.

  Done racking up betrayals, I hit the road last night. Especially after the way she rejected everything from me but my body, shutting me out, and erected impenetrable steel walls between us even as she fucked me.

  Yeah, that’s a lot of me, me, me.

  Believe me, I’m sick of myself at this point. As much as I hated what she did to me, I hate more what each impersonal thrust did to her. She deserved better than being some woman I got a nut off in. I couldn’t live with letting her reduce herself to a casual fuck.

  I’d tainted her enough.

  “You’re quiet, man. Are you still pissed that I locked us in on this trip?” Hawk asked, casting me a quick glance before sweeping through to check all the gauges again.

  Hyperaware from our days in the Air Force, we eyed our controls far more than the average pilot, but the habit was so damned ingrained in us, to change it would be asking us to relearn how to fly.

  Our way was safer.

  After all, there was no autopilot in a fighter jet. It was all under our control… all the time.

  I slid the cuff of my headphones back on my ear, obliterating the dull roar of the Cessna as we glided through the sky, piercing the occasional thin cluster of clouds.

  Hawk needed to scan the instrument panel a thousand times per flight, but me, I needed to covet the smooth whir of a fully-functioning, efficient engine. That hum served as constant reassurance that my ass would be staying firmly in the air. We all had our security blankets in the sky, and the reassurance provided by the smooth thrum of the plane was mine.

  “You know how I feel about surprises, but I get why you did it. Morgan doesn’t look like the kind of guy who’d take no for an answer,” I said into the microphone brushing my bottom lip.

  Morgan had been formidable and shrewd when dealing with us, an attitude I imagined he wielded in business with great success. I could appreciate that. With Soraya and Emory, his shoulders relaxed and humor colored his features as he turned on the charm. The few times I’d looked back, I spotted him refilling their drinks, grabbing them food, and throwing away their garbage.

  I had to give it to the guy, he looked comfortable in both roles, his confidence infallible.

  Hawk’s lips twitched. “He’s pretty hardcore, but then, he reminds me of someone I know, so I respect that.”

  I shifted in my seat, never sure how to take a compliment. I had two real friends in this life and both of them never hesitated to throw kudos my way.

  It felt a whole lot like running butt ass naked into a barbed wire fence with a sunburn.

  How did I know that particular pain?

  An unfortunate weekend trying to drown out memories with grain alcohol and fast women in bikinis. It was a wonder that sun poisoning, puncture wounds, and a tetanus shot were all I ended up suffering from that weekend. I managed to stop myself short of dying, but not by much. If it hadn’t been for that barbed wire, I’d likely have kept going with the alcohol until my body completely shut down. Seemed like the appropriate way to go, all things considered.

  At the time, my head muddled with liquor and pain, I wanted to die. I wanted to
pay for my sins, and death seemed like the only price big enough for what I’d done.

  A life for a life.

  “Any idea what to expect on this trip?” I asked to change the subject, using the conversation as a lifeline to keep me from sliding into old memories ready to tear me apart from the inside out.

  Hawk shrugged…something he usually did before he dropped bombs.

  The slick bastard.

  “It’s a wedding venue so who knows.”

  I dug at my temples and winced, hoping I’d heard him wrong. “A wedding venue?”

  “Yeah, there was no way I was telling you that part until we were in the air.”

  “When you say a wedding venue…” I began.

  “The Hideaway on Sunflower Hill. It’s a pretty big resort type wedding destination. They’re gearing up to open in the next month. I guess they’re schmoozing wedding planners to drum up business.”

  The beginnings of one hell of a headache brewed behind my eyes, the dull throb settling into a pulse of its own. I didn’t even need to ask which one of our wonderful passengers was the wedding planner.

  Because why the hell would she be anything else?

  Emory had all the sides. Professional, kind, intuitive, brazen, confrontational, defiant, and so damned smart. She could shift gears in any situation. Practical and calm when shit hit the fan, but so much passion bubbled over when she was in her element. If she cared about you, she’d go to the ends of the earth to show you.

  What better use of those skills, of her genuine caring spirit, than managing family drama and coordinating thousands of details in the single most important event in a couple’s life?

  She gave great fucking memories, that girl.

  Even now, pissed, still hurt—I cringed just admitting it to myself—and feeling pretty damn stupid, I couldn’t deny my underlying pride.

  “So what are we supposed to do at this place anyway? We’re hiding, right? Tell me we’re hiding.”

  Hawk laughed. “Well, there’s free food and drinks. Plenty of outdoor shit to do. Cities aren’t that far out of the way if we want to take off for a while. There’s hiking. Relic Creek, Red Rocks…you name it. You’ve been clenched pretty tight for the past couple weeks, man. I thought you could use the break.”

  When it came down to it, I really didn’t have a choice. The Cessna technically only needed one pilot, but we erred on the side of caution and always flew together on these longer trips. The chances of something going wrong were so damn slim, but if they did, backup was right there.

  Most corporate jets had a flight attendant and a pilot, but then, most corporate jets weren’t flown by trained single seat fighter pilots. Calculating risks and making life or death decisions in seconds had been hammered into us. Turning into habit, it bled into our civilian lives, into our business, and we used it at every turn to eliminate unnecessary chances.

  Our business…

  Christ, it really was ours now. I was locked in.

  So what the hell was I doing sabotaging the one thing I’d wanted and could attain, when it was finally in my grasp?

  “Breaks are good,” I said, my chest tight and my brain reeling.

  Smooth Malone. Real smooth.

  If only the break didn’t put me in direct proximity to the source of being clenched. And worse, clenched under Hawk’s watchful eye while I simmered with below-the-belt desires where Emory was concerned.

  If I were smart, I’d lock myself in my room and only come out at mealtimes. Hell, not even then. I could survive on water.

  “Plus, we have to figure out how we’re going to cover this new contract. We’re going to need to bring in at least three more pilots to keep up with the current schedule and whatever Morgan needs. I know one off the top of my head. You have any ideas?” Hawk said with a complete lack of awareness for the way I flirted with a nervous breakdown right next to him.

  Business…I could focus on business. I grabbed at the lifeline Hawk hadn’t even known he offered a drowning man.

  “Yeah, get Penn’s ass back in the cockpit,” I said, checking our coordinates.

  “He’ll get there.”

  “Yeah, I’m not so sure about that,” I muttered.

  “You said at your place that he was talking about it.”

  I said that shit to get him out of my colon, the entry point he’d chosen to climb inside my psyche. That was just an ounce of self-preservation on my part…a mode I frequented lately.

  “Yeah, well, that might have been wishful thinking. I know Raquel’s looking to get out of the ComJet. We could probably lure her away if she’s willing to put up with us,” I offered.

  Hawk straightened in his seat and adjusted his headset. “Except Penn fucked her.”

  I cocked my head and bit back a laugh. “Mmm, I’d say she fucked Penn. One and done. She’d keep it professional.”

  “Yeah, but would he?”

  “Yup, he’s spooked. Rubber broke with his last conquest. He won’t be looking to dip his wick anytime soon. We’ll be on the ground shortly. We can grab some food and start putting together a plan,” I said.

  “Sounds good. We can Skype Penn so he’s in on that shit too. Have you noticed how he manages to slide out of all the difficult decisions?”

  “Shit partner. Doesn’t have to call the shots, doesn’t have to fly the planes. Why do we keep his ass around again?” I asked.

  “Those mechanic skills,” we said together and laughed.

  “He’s definitely getting his ass on video. It’s the least he can do since we’re going to be here for four nights taking grenades in wedding hell while he steals your desk and rewatches Game of Thrones,” I said.

  “Jesus, he needs to get over that ending already,” Hawk said with a shake of his head.

  “Never going to happen. Dany is his dream woman. Personally, I don’t know how he didn’t see that coming.”

  “Yeah, you’re a sick shit like that. You would have sunk a dagger in her heart just like Jon did, wouldn’t you?”

  Bad shit happened in real life all the time so plunging a dagger in the heart of a tyrant, even if I loved her?

  Actually, it was a whole lot easier to imagine me being the tyrant and Emory ending the bloodshed. “Had to happen.”

  “But would you have felt it the way Jon did? That’s the question.”

  “Sure.” I felt it every single time I plunged a dagger into Emory’s heart, so yeah. I would have felt it… the painful guilt of hurting someone you’d die for was a fucking life sentence I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

  “Man, do you feel anything after that chick?” Hawk asked, clearly not believing me.

  This is what I got for telling him about Emory all those years ago. Not that I used her name. Instead, I’d relegated her to “someone” and “this girl” because even whispering her name alone in the dark knocked the wind right out of me. “I feel plenty.”

  “You know, wherever she is, maybe it’s time to find her. Moving on doesn’t seem to be working out so well for you.”

  “It’s ancient history,” I said quietly.

  “Yeah, sure it is,” Hawk scoffed.

  “What about you?”

  “Who knows, four nights and five days with Emory, anything could happen,” Hawk said with enthusiasm that had me gnashing my teeth.

  “You wanna get close to the wedding planner…you looking to settle down?” I asked with a subtle jab at giving up his bachelor status.

  “No, but she’s fun so might as well have a good time, and hey, who knows, maybe it’s time to start thinking about getting serious.”

  “Or Tate chasing you out of Rigby’s, your date going bust, and this being a business trip for Emory are all signs that it’s not going to happen.”

  “Or signs I need to work a little harder for this one,” Hawk countered.

  “Is that what you want? Really what you want?”

  I needed him to say no. If I were a good man, I’d move out of the way and let nature take its cours
e. But I wasn’t. Selfish and possessive, one greedy thought kept playing in a constant loop in my head as much as I resented its intrusion.

  If I couldn’t have her, he couldn’t have her either.

  “Fuck if I know. You ever just feel like your life doesn’t fit anymore? Like opportunity is right there and you can’t quite see it.”

  I nodded as his words landed a sucker punch right to my sternum. Only I could see it clearly, but I just couldn’t reach for it. Not without coming clean with the truth. And when I did, I’d lose her anyway.

  At least this way I had her.

  In some fucked-up way, I had her.

  “I’m looking for something. I don’t know what, but I keep looking for the answers in the random encounters. Like I’m afraid I’ll miss it when it’s right in front of me. I thought I was looking to grow Hawk Air, and I am, don’t get me wrong, but now I wonder if what I’ve been looking for might have been something personal all along.”

  “You sure this doesn’t have something to do with Tate? She popped up and you’ve been restless ever since. Maybe it’s time to see what she wants.”

  “She’s a scam artist just like her mother. I don’t care what she wants,” he said, his voice hard.

  Except something had happened between them. I’d bet Hawk Air on it.

  Hawk hadn’t said one damn word, but I recognized that anger. Tate’s mother betrayed Pop Steele. We all had feelings about it, but Hawk held onto a frigid sliver of hate when it came to her.

  But this grudge Hawk harbored against Tate in particular? That had intimate written all over it. Tate was younger than Hawk, his aunt by marriage for maybe five minutes in the grand scheme of things, so I’d place my bets on intimate having something to do with naked.

  No crystal ball needed for that shit. I’d become a pro at recognizing those entanglements since I’d been trapped in one for well over ten years. Now if you ask me how to disengage from one, I’ve got nothing.

  If Hawk had some sort of hang up with Tate, he needed to stay the hell away from Emory. Getting involved and walking away after some sudden epiphany that the whole time he wanted another woman meant I’d have to kill him.