On Wings of Passion

by Lindsay McKenna

  It was Erin’s turn to blush. She shot Ty a murderous glance. He sent a wicked look in return, seeming to enjoy the moment immensely.

  “Well,” Ray began, “we sit down on the lower deck of the Buff. The other four crewmen sit up in the daylight and can see the sky. John and I are in a small compartment with little elbow room and it’s really dark. For the entire flight we’ve got the red glow of the navigator and bombing instruments, plus each other. That’s it. We never see sunlight until we step off the Buff at the end of a mission.”

  “Ah,” the co teased. “Tell her why you two are called mushrooms. You’re sidestepping the point.”

  John, who seemed a bit more sedate and mature, spoke up. “Erin, do you know how mushrooms are grown?”

  “Well—” she began, searching her memory.

  “They’re covered with manure and put in the dark to grow,” he explained drily.

  The entire crew broke into hearty laughter, and Erin felt her face grow red.

  “Yeah,” Guns added. “You notice both of them are balding? They’re the only two.”

  “Gee.” The co chuckled. “You guys must be close to reaching maturity.”

  Ray wrinkled his nose. “Drop dead, Co.”

  Erin couldn’t suppress a grin. Ty was right; he had a crazy crew. But their camaraderie was heartwarming. They made her feel accepted and she began to relax beneath their teasing banter.

  Then Ty introduced her to a tall, lean man at least five years younger than Erin. “This guy is our EWO, or electronics warfare officer, Skip Helman. He’s responsible for jamming the enemy’s signals and keeping SAM missiles away from the Buff. Skip’s a very special breed of SAC and without him none of us would survive.”

  Helman had a quiet, intense air. He gravely inclined his head as he shook her hand. She was struck by the heavy weight of responsibility he’d assumed at an early age. The same was true of many of the others. Their youthfulness seemed inconsistent with their image. At last Ty led her to the jovial man at the end of the table. “This turkey is our gunner, Andy Welsh. We always call him ‘Guns.’ He’s the only enlisted man in the all-officer crew, and he’s responsible for keeping fighters or other offensive weapons off our tail.”

  Ty invited Erin to sit down at his left. “How are you guys coming with the planning?” he asked.

  “Another three hours and we ought to have most of it,” the co said, frowning as he punched more numbers on the Apple laptop computer.

  Soon they all settled down to business. Ty explained that they would be flying a William Tell mission, which meant that the bomber was to act as a decoy target for fighters off the Gulf Coast of Florida. “Fighter pilots have to stay proficient at hitting moving targets, so they try to score a hit electronically against the Buffs,” he said, showing her their intended flight path on a map. “We’ll make two low-level passes at three hundred feet just off the coast.”

  “They won’t nail us,” Guns said confidently, breaking into a grin.

  The co snorted softly. “They may not hit us, but they’ll claim a score, anyway. Look at this, Ty,” he muttered, shoving a form under his nose. “All we get is a forty-five-degree bank in either direction in a very limited air corridor. It’ll be hard not to hit us,” he complained.

  Erin glanced at the orders and then up at Ty “What does he mean?”

  “In training exercises like this, where we’re acting as decoys, we’re not allowed to use the full range of evasive action we would under actual war conditions. If one of these fighters was five miles away, hunting us down with heat-seeking missiles, I’d have that aircraft doing some radical maneuvers to throw the fighter off our track. But in this exercise, we’re more or less stable targets for the fighters.”

  “Sitting ducks,” Ray corrected, frowning. “We’re making it too easy for those fighter jocks,” he complained.

  “Hell—” Guns chuckled “—what do you expect of the fighter pilots? They’ve all had frontal lobotomies. We can’t expect them to hit a moving target, can we?”

  The men broke into a collective snicker. Erin gave Ty a questioning look. “Do you hate fighter pilots?” she asked.

  “No,” he answered innocently, trying not to smile.

  “You ever met any, Erin?” Guns asked.

  “No.”

  “Good. You aren’t missing a thing, then,” Ray added.

  Ty grew serious. “There’s always been a strong good-natured rivalry between the fighter jocks and bomber crews,” he explained. “They think they’re pretty good, but so do we.”

  “Do they think you’re slow or something?” Erin asked, not quite grasping the source of the rivalry. “You fly a much larger, heavier aircraft.”

  Guns chortled again. “Say, she’s bright. You’re close, Erin. Those jocks have got egos a mile wide. They get all the glory, all the press for heroics. Meanwhile, while they’re buzzing around like gnats in the sky, we’re bringing along the heavy thunder. We can do more damage than any one of them.”

  She sat back. “Sort of like the tortoise-and-the-hare fable, eh?” The crew nodded.

  Erin rested against the door of her quarters. It was nearly 10 p.m., and she felt pleasantly weary. Ty placed his hand against the frame near her head. A sympathetic smile hovered around his mouth as he gazed down at her.

  “You’re tired. But it looks like you enjoyed yourself today.”

  “I did. I loved every minute of it.” She sighed. “And I love your crew. What a great bunch of guys. Now I’m beginning to understand what you mean by your ‘other family.’ You all support and care for one another in many ways.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, they’re all crazy as hell, but that’s what it takes to be in this field and stay sane.” “SAC trained killers,” she murmured, shaking her head. “The image you guys have with the public, and what you really are—they’re as different as night and day.”

  He leaned closer. “Which do you prefer?” he asked huskily.

  Erin craved Ty’s closeness. They had been together all day but always conscious of the need to maintain a proper distance and decorum out in public. At times the urge to reach out and touch him had been almost unbearable. How often had she stared into his strong face, remembering the branding imprint of his mouth on her own? Now she inhaled his male scent and closed her eyes. “I prefer the man who made love with me yesterday,” she whispered. She raised her lashes, meeting his dark gaze. She longed to slip her hand into his, to lean against his solid length.

  Her face must have broadcast her wishful thinking, for Ty’s eyes shone with an understanding glint. “Sometimes, darlin’, it’s better not to think of the past,” he murmured. After touching her cheek in a light caress, he straightened up. “Better get to bed,” he said. “We’ve got a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.”

  She sighed deeply and opened the door reluctantly. “You’re right. Good night, Ty.”

  He stood there for a long moment before turning away. She felt as if an invisible magnet were pulling them together. The excruciating urge to take one step forward and fall into his arms was almost overwhelming. She had seen the same desire in his turbulent gaze. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  But no, it wouldn’t be right. Not while each of them had professional responsibilities to fulfill. Turning, she walked into her quarters and closed the door behind her.

  Erin felt awkward in the green flight uniform. Dutifully, she tucked the rainbow-colored scarf around her neck and folded the ends across her chest, just as Ty had instructed her. She shrugged into the matching green jacket and picked up her camera case. The rain hammering at the window suited her morose mood.

  Just then a knock sounded and she clomped through the living room, finding the required black combat boots very awkward.

  When she opened the door, Ty looked her up and down, pleasure dancing in his eyes. He looked freshly showered and clean-shaven, his dark hair still damp. “Gal, you’re a knockout. You sure give a flight suit new meaning,” he teased, smi
ling broadly. “Ready?”

  The sight of him lifted her spirits. She slipped out the door. It was dark; wind and rain slashed at her face. They dashed to the car and slipped inside, dripping water on the seat. Ty slammed his door shut and ran his fingers down his thighs. Abruptly, he turned and gripped her shoulders.

  “Come here,” he whispered huskily, his breath warm against her cheek. “I wanted to do this all day yesterday.” He pulled her forward, his mouth pressing against her lips, parting them, tasting them with hungry urgency.

  She moaned softly and relaxed against his chest, curving her arms around Ty’s neck. His mouth was warm and enticing, a pleasurable shock to her responding body. The faint smell of soap mingled with the masculine scent of his skin. She returned his kiss as he spread his fingers through her loose hair. Then he gently pulled her away and stared at her with unconcealed passion.

  “You had that coming,” he said, his voice thick.

  Her breathing was shallow and erratic, like her heartbeat. He took her breath away. He’d stolen her heart and he held it captive in his strong and gentle care. “Tell me what I did to provoke that, and I’ll do it again,” she teased.

  But he ignored her invitation. Although he allowed his hands to slip from her shoulders, he continued to hold her gently for a long time. His expression grew serious. “I’ve got some bad news, Erin,” he finally said.

  Her euphoria vanished in an instant. She frowned, concerned. “What’s wrong?” Her throat felt tight and the words came out squeaky and high-pitched.

  He squeezed her hand firmly. “Eight hours after I finish this damn flight today, my crew has to go on alert.”

  She gave him a confused look. “I don’t understand.”

  “It means, beautiful lady, that our time together is almost over,” he whispered huskily.

  Her stomach twisted into a hard knot. Pain curled through her and an ache began in her throat. She swallowed convulsively, tearing her gaze from his anxious face, staring blindly out the rain-streaked window.

  “Look,” he began hoarsely, “it wasn’t originally planned this way. But there’s been a schedule change. The squadron leader contacted me late last night. Lieutenant Campbell will escort you around the base tomorrow.” He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I didn’t want it to end this way.”

  She turned slowly back to him. “End?” Her voice wobbled. “Is that all this relationship means to you?”

  His face hardened, his eyes grew darker. “No, damn it. Lord, don’t look at me that way, Erin. It’s enough to tear my guts out.”

  She dashed away a tear. “I’m sorry,” she apologized thickly.

  He reached over and gripped her shoulders. At first she resisted. “Don’t fight me,” he warned. “Come here. Come here and let me hold you.”

  She capitulated. Falling into the safety of his arms, Erin rested her head on his broad shoulder. He kissed her hair. “This isn’t the end,” he growled softly. “We met and crashed into one another, Erin. From the first moment I saw you, it was as if I had known you forever. Two days…for just two lousy days we were thrown together at Wright-Patterson. I felt torn apart by the month-long separation that followed. We’ve been able to reestablish something very special in the last several days.” He embraced her tightly. “Beautiful, unforgettable days, Erin. We need the time, darlin’, and we just aren’t getting it. Somehow we’ve got to find time to get to know one another better, and under less pressured circumstances.” Erin pushed herself into a sitting position, her hair in tangled disarray around her face. She met his concerned eyes, her heart constricted with pain. “I want the time, Ty,” she admitted. “It all happened so fast. It wasn’t supposed to…I mean…” She groped for words to describe indescribable feelings. Releasing a shuddering sigh, she added, “I’m afraid, Ty. So afraid.”

  He caressed her cheek. “Why afraid?” he asked gently. “We need time, that’s all. There’s nothing to be afraid of, darlin’.”

  “But don’t you see?” she cried, her voice strained. “The article.”

  “What about it?”

  She sniffed and, accepting the handkerchief he offered, dabbed her eyes. “At first I was ready to write a blistering commentary on SAC and why we should get rid of the bombers. But as I got to know you, talk with you, I saw the other side of the story. The more facts I gathered, the more convinced I became that I couldn’t write against the bombers. And then, Ty, these last few days. These men and their families put up with so much to defend our country. I’d feel like a traitor if I capitulated to Bruce’s demands and wrote something I didn’t believe in.”

  Ty held her. He spoke in soothing, hushed tones and stroked her hair. “Erin, you have to separate feelings from facts, you know that. You’re a damn good reporter. If the facts don’t back up what your editor wants, then don’t write the article.”

  She raised her head and stared at him. “I got a phone call last night, too,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “From Bruce.”

  “And?”

  She twisted the handkerchief in her fingers. “He wasn’t at all happy with my analysis of the situation.”

  “Facts are facts,” Ty reiterated. “What does he want if the facts don’t fit the story he’s after?”

  “He—accused me…” She shut her eyes tightly. “Oh, damn, I did it to myself,” she whispered.

  “You’re not making sense,” Ty growled. “What did he accuse you of, Erin?”

  She gestured helplessly. “At first it was all business. Then Bruce said he noticed that every time I mentioned your name, my voice changed. He asked if you meant something more to me than just an escort. I couldn’t lie,” she admitted, “so he accused me of being persuaded by a decoy to write a different article on SAC.”

  “Damn him!” Ty’s eyes blazed. “You know that isn’t true, Erin.”

  “I know. But he’s prepared to write an article accusing me of being brainwashed if I don’t take the slant he wants!”

  Ty gave her a guarded look. “Blackmail?” he demanded, his voice a dangerous whisper. “He’s blackmailing you into writing it or he’ll mention your name in print?”

  “Mine? I don’t care about mine!” she cried. “It’s your name, Ty! Now that I know how important your career is to you, I can’t jeopardize it. An article on me would embarrass you and all of SAC. I can’t risk that.”

  He leaned against the seat and stared angrily out at the rain. His mouth became a thin, hard line, but he remained silent. Finally, he turned to her and said, “What do you want to do? How can I help?”

  Her heart opened with love for him. He wasn’t going to abandon her! She felt a new protectiveness toward him; she wanted to shield him from public embarrassment. “Nothing, Ty,” she whispered faintly. “This is something I have to do on my own.”

  “No, it isn’t, damn it!”

  Erin jerked her chin up, startled by his outburst. He gripped her hand. “That’s part of your problem,” he said earnestly. “You’re so used to surviving by yourself that you’ve forgotten how to work as part of a team. Well, this issue involves both of us. Even if I didn’t care for you the way I do, I’d still try and help you solve it. What he’s trying to do is wrong.”

  Her lower lip trembled. “He’s got me boxed in on all sides, Ty.”

  “I could alert SAC headquarters to his tactics. Maybe I could wangle some leave to fly to New York and meet him on his own turf.”

  In that moment Erin loved him fully. She could no longer deny what she had felt for him all along. He was proving himself to her as no one ever had before. He was willing to risk his career to protect her.

  “No,” she whispered. “Just let me handle it in my own way. Maybe, just maybe, I can convince him to change his mind.”

  Ty gave her a skeptical look and released her hand reluctantly. He glanced at his watch. “We’ve got to get over to the squadron, Erin. We won’t have a chance to talk about this during the mission. After debriefing I’ll have a few minutes
alone with you. Maybe then we can come up with a satisfactory answer to this dilemma.”

  9

  Erin gratefully drank a cup of hot coffee as Ty picked up the crew members and drove them slowly through the wind and rain to C ramp. The gloomy weather lowered Erin’s spirits still further as she stared out the fogged-up window to see great gusts of rain flung into distorted shapes by heavy winds. Guns sat in the seat behind her and supplied her with information about the base and the Buff they would soon be flying. He seemed the most lighthearted member of the crew; the others were unusually quiet and serious.

  Finally, the bus pulled to a halt in front of one of several Buffs painted in camouflage. Everyone scurried toward the dropped hatch door beneath the belly of the bomber.

  “Go on up, Erin,” Guns shouted into the wind.

  Soaking wet from the brief jog to the plane, Erin climbed shakily up a narrow ladder. After clambering onto the metal grating of the lower deck, she hesitated. It was dark, and a chilling cold invaded her body. Groping blindly, she found the rung of the second ladder, which led up into the small, cramped cabin area. Bending over, she walked to the bunk, which was located on the port side of the Buff and sat down, trying to stay out of the way of the crewmen who were boarding.

  During the next five minutes gear of various sizes and shapes was lifted up the ladders. Erin helped Guns stuff bags containing helmets and oxygen masks on the bunk.

  Other equipment was stowed in odd nooks and crannies between huge panels of instruments, which were located on either side of the narrow passageway leading to the cockpit. The light was dim within the main cabin area and everyone’s breath formed moist, white clouds, giving the interior an alien atmosphere. Finally the co climbed aboard, took the right seat and switched on the heat.

  Ty was the last person to board, after having made a final check of the outer surfaces of the aircraft. He was soaked. His face glistened and water dripped from his jaw and chin as he edged past Erin. He turned his head slightly, as if to make sure she was all right. She noticed that his eyes looked different; they seemed to hold a new intensity.