by Radclyffe
“What?” Tristan asked, still thinking about what she’d just said. She’d given up. Given up hoping that she’d ever be more to anyone than a great fuck. Jett’s voice had dropped so low she could barely hear her. “What?”
Jett cleared her throat. “I’m sure your special friends think you’re special too.”
What about you, Tristan wanted to ask, but she’d been asking since the first day they’d met and she wasn’t about to beg. Darla thought she was pretty special in bed, she was sure of that. Until Jett, that had been enough. “You start your seven on tonight?”
“Yes,” Jett replied, happy to leave the topic of Tristan’s girlfriends behind. Then she wondered what Tristan would do with the rest of her weekend off. Saturday night. She probably went out on Saturday night. Last night had been an exception, an anomaly. They’d both needed an escape, and they’d run from the death and destruction into twenty-four hours out of time. Now they were nearly back, and life would get back to normal as well. Jett would fly for her pleasure, and Tristan—Tristan would have her special friends.
“Jesus,” Tristan muttered. “Look at the traffic backed up heading east. Glad we’re not going that—” She grabbed at her waist as her beeper went off. She’d barely lifted it to eye level to read the number when Jett’s went off as well. She glanced at Jett. “Trouble.”
Tristan signaled and pulled off the turnpike an exit early so she could park and they both could return their calls. They sat with the engine idling, cell phones to their ears, while they waited to make their way through the labyrinth of hospital operators. Tristan turned slightly away to take her call. When she disconnected she stared at Jett.
“Jesus. They call you in?”
“Yes,” Jett said. “You?”
“Yep.” Tristan gunned the engine and pulled away from the curb. “We’ll take the back roads. I can get us there in ten minutes.”
The secondary roads leading to the hospital were crowded too, and it was closer to fifteen minutes before Tristan pulled into the doctors’ parking lot. She switched off the engine and turned in her seat, finally doing what she’d wanted to do for the last hour and a half. She slid her hand over Jett’s shoulder to the back of her neck and caressed her. “It’s going to be crazy. I don’t know when I’ll see you again.”
“Okay.” Jett tried to ignore the glide of Tristan’s fingers through her hair. She wished Tristan hadn’t touched her. She’d been keyed up in the car, and then the adrenaline spurt from hearing about the disaster had put her nerves on high alert. Now the physical stimulation was almost more than she could take. Still, she didn’t want to pull away.
“I can see it in your eyes,” Tristan whispered, circling her thumb over the base of Jett’s skull. God damn it, she wasn’t a quitter. “Last night isn’t over yet.”
“I have to go,” Jett said, her throat tight.
“I know. So do I.” Tristan yanked Jett toward her and covered her mouth with hers. She needed to be sure Jett didn’t forget her, and she needed part of Jett to take with her. Jett grabbed the front of her shirt and kissed her back, hard, their tongues seeking, searching. Tristan groaned. “Jesus. Jett.”
Jett pulled away and fumbled behind her for the door handle. “I don’t want to go.” She pushed the door open and got out, her legs feeling too weak to hold her up. “Okay? I don’t want to go.”
“Yeah. Okay,” Tristan said, her chest heaving. “Be careful.”
“Always.”
“I mean it.”
Jett backed up, shaking her head. “Don’t worry. I’m always careful when I fly.”
“Remember what I said,” Tristan called after her. “Last night isn’t over.”
Jett turned and jogged away.
*
“You running the show?” Tristan asked when she saw Quinn changing in the surgical locker room. Quinn was chief of trauma, so the normal protocol would be for her to coordinate the hospital’s emergency surgical response.
“Yep. Honor’s downstairs in the ER. They’ll handle triage at that level.”
“Honor?” Tristan banged open her locker, kicked her shoes off, and unbuttoned her shirt. “She okay?”
Quinn shrugged her shoulders. “She’s Honor.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” Tristan pulled off her shirt. “What’s the word?”
“Conflicting reports. A three-hundred-yard stretch of the overpass collapsed just north of the city. Most of it ended up in the Delaware.”
“Jesus. How many cars?”
Quinn shook her head and hooked the trauma and code beepers on the waistband of her scrub pants. “Nobody knows. I’ve heard anywhere from a dozen up to a couple hundred. There’s talk of mobilizing the National Guard.”
“How long before we can expect casualties?” Tristan pulled on scrub pants and reached for a shirt from the pile she kept on the top shelf of her locker.
“Anytime. The Coast Guard is working the waters. I just got a call for physicians and medics to triage on shore.” Quinn slammed her locker door. “Want to come?”
“Hell yeah.” Tristan kneed her locker closed. “I don’t want to stay here squeezing a bag all night. Can I take some respiratory techs with me? If many people went into the river, we’re going to have a lot of respiratory arrests.”
“Just make sure we don’t leave the intensive care units uncovered here. We’re hitching a ride on Healthstar, so limit it to two. Collect your people and meet me on the helipad. You’ve got five minutes.”
“Right,” Tristan called, already sprinting toward the hall and the intensive care units at the other end. Healthstar. Healthstar meant Jett. She was going to see her again a lot sooner than she’d thought. She spared herself twenty seconds to enjoy the anticipation, then she focused all of her attention on what she needed to do.
*
Jett kept a change of clothes in the closet in her on-call room and had just pulled out a clean shirt when a knock sounded on the door. “Come in.”
When Linda entered and shut the door behind her, Jett turned her back and stripped. She hadn’t put on any underwear after showering at Tristan’s, but she figured Linda had seen more than her fair share of bare butts in her time. “What’s up?”
“There’s someone here to see you,” Linda said.
“If it’s another one of those jerks from risk management, tell them I don’t have anything else to say.”
“Even those anal idiots wouldn’t be trying to interview us in the middle of all this.” Linda laughed at the absurd image. “Well, maybe they would, but it isn’t them.”
“Who is it?” Jett zipped her fly and yanked a black T-shirt over her head. She found a pair of socks in the bottom of her flight bag and pulled them on along with her combat boots.
“I think it’s a personal visit.”
Frowning, Jett straightened. “Hell of a time for it. Tell them to go away.” She grabbed her helmet and started out into the hall. “See you upstairs.”
“Okay,” Linda called after her. “Be there in five.”
Jett took the stairs two at a time and pushed through the exit door onto the rooftop. Clear skies, bright midafternoon sunlight. Perfect day for flying. Her aircraft waited within the white lines delineating the landing pad. Just seeing it made her heart beat faster and her mind settle. This was where she belonged. This she understood.
“When I heard what was going on at the waterfront, I knew this was where I’d find you,” a voice said from behind her.
Jett stopped, almost believing she was daydreaming again. She pivoted and blinked as a shaft of sunlight struck her eyes. They watered and her vision wavered, and she still thought she might have conjured the slender figure walking toward her.
“I know you’ve only got a minute,” Gail said, and Jett’s heart stuttered in her chest.
She was in uniform, but not the desert camo Jett remembered. She looked taut and trim in the crisp Army blue service uniform with navy trousers and gray shirt. The oak leaf insignia of
the Nursing Corps shimmered on her shoulder, and Jett barely stopped herself from saluting.
“Major.”
Gail smiled faintly. “Chief Warrant Officer McNally.”
“I’ve got a flight check to do.”
“I know. Your flight nurse told me.” Gail stopped just inches away, her eyes searching Jett’s.
“What are you doing here?” Jett’s throat hurt. Her heart hurt.
“I came back on a patient transport from Ramstein. I’ve got two weeks’ leave.” Gail brushed the tips of her fingers through the hair at Jett’s temple. “It’s getting long.”
Jett forced herself not to flinch at the touch. Instead, she stepped carefully back. “I don’t have any time.”
“Not now. I know.” Gail’s hand fell slowly to her side. “But in a day or two. I’m at the Hilton at Thirty-sixth Street. I want to see you.”
“Gail…” Jett stopped when the doors bounced open on the far side of the roof and Linda and several others came out. “I don’t—”
“Please. Jett, please.” Gail’s voice broke.
“All right,” Jett said hoarsely.
Gail waited another heartbeat, then turned and walked away. Jett watched her for a few more seconds before climbing into the cockpit to prepare for the upcoming battle. She couldn’t think about Gail now. Couldn’t think about what she saw in her eyes. Regret. Sadness. Desire. She couldn’t think about what she’d felt when she’d first seen her face. Recognition. Anticipation. Desire.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The elevator doors opened and Tristan jumped out, nearly colliding with a good-looking brunette in a snappy uniform. “Oh, sorry.” She grabbed the woman by the shoulders to steady her, surprised by the firm muscles in the lithe frame. “You okay?”
“Yes, fine. My fault. I was crowding the door.” She smiled at Tristan. “Bad habit I have, always being in a hurry.”
“I know what you mean.” Tristan stepped around her, then realized there was no parking on the roof. So if the soldier wasn’t up there parking a car, where did she come from, and what was she doing? The only thing outside was the flight deck. Suddenly the pieces fell together. The only other soldier, well, ex-soldier but not ex by much, who was likely to be up on the roof was Jett. So this woman—this very attractive, actually pretty hot woman—was there to see Jett. Tristan was two seconds from demanding who she was and what she wanted with Jett before she mentally ordered herself to calm down. She was making some huge leaps of logic, and even if she was right and the brunette was there to see Jett, Jett probably had lots of friends from the Army, most of them women. Why shouldn’t she have a visitor. Perfectly natural. Tristan narrowed her eyes. “You’re not lost by any chance, are you?”
The soldier turned back to Tristan, a curious question in her eyes, and the elevator doors opened and then closed, leaving her still standing in the small foyer. She pushed the down button again. “No.”
Well then, why are you here, Tristan wanted to ask, but it wasn’t any of her business, and she didn’t have any time left. “Enjoy the rest of the day.”
“You too, and stay alert out there,” the brunette said.
“Thanks,” Tristan said, and ran for the helicopter. Linda, with one hand on the handle of the large side sliding door, leaned out of the aircraft, whose rotors were already spinning. Tristan could make out the rest of the team inside. She ducked her head and vaulted into the cabin. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
Linda pulled the door closed and tapped Jett on the shoulder, saying at the same time, “All aboard, Chief.”
Tristan strapped in next to Linda and, keeping her transmitter turned off, leaned close. Under cover of the motor revving, she asked “Who was that?”
“Who?” Linda asked.
“The brunette. The soldier.”
“Oh. I don’t know. A friend of Jett’s, I guess. She showed up in the flight lounge a while ago, asking for Jett.”
Tristan frowned. “And Jett brought her up here?” To our favorite place, she almost said.
“I don’t think so. I think she came up on her own.”
“Pretty fucking good friend,” Tristan muttered, “or a pretty ballsy one.”
“What?” Linda yelled, signaling that she couldn’t hear.
Tristan shook her head. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
Except it did. It mattered a hell of a lot. Because no matter how much Jett said whatever had happened between her and the mystery woman in the Army was over, her eyes said otherwise. Tristan didn’t believe in coincidences, not when they showed up out of the blue and acted like they owned the place. Following Jett to the flight deck. Hell. She stared past Quinn into the cockpit. She couldn’t see Jett’s face, only her shoulder, one arm, and her hand. She watched Jett’s fingers cradle the stick, reading the aircraft through its vibration and pitch, just as she had read Tristan’s body as she’d clenched and tightened. Tristan had a quick flash of Jett grabbing Mandy, of her hands skimming Mandy’s breasts, and suddenly Mandy became the woman by the elevator. Only this time Jett wasn’t just touching the woman, the woman was touching Jett too. The idea made something inside Tristan coil so tightly she felt herself quiver.
A strong hand gripped her shoulder and broke her reverie.
“You okay?” Quinn yelled.
“Yeah. Fine.” Tristan tore her eyes away from Jett. “Couldn’t be better.”
“It’s going to get hairy down there,” Quinn said, peering into Tristan’s face. “Stay focused.”
“Always am.” Tristan closed her eyes so Quinn couldn’t read them, and blanked her mind. They’d be in the field in a few minutes and lives depended on her being sharp. She didn’t have time to think about Jett, or why the idea of Jett with any other woman made her furious. She wanted to hang a sign on Jett that said mine. What the hell was that about?
*
Jett studied her approach through the wide windows of the glassed-in cockpit. Even from a few miles away, signs of the devastation were clearly evident. The air surrounding the site of the freeway collapse was cloudy with particulate matter, probably concrete dust, resembling what she’d seen in Baghdad after buildings had been reduced to rubble by missiles and bombs. She tensed, half expecting incoming fire, automatically preparing to begin evasive maneuvers. Despite the internal climate control on the aircraft, she was sweating. The closer she got, the more the ground action looked like a war zone. Huge slabs of concrete were standing on end, resembling a jumble of giant dominoes haphazardly tossed about. A section of the overpass had accordioned down onto the highway below. If the collapse had occurred even a half a mile in either direction, there would have been houses buried in the rubble rather than just vehicles.
“Oh my God,” Jett heard Linda say over the radio. “There are cars everywhere. In the water…oh my God.”
Cars floated upside down in the Delaware River, kept afloat by air pockets inside the vehicles. Jett figured there had to be dozens more beneath the surface. At one spot where two block-long sections of the highway formed a funnel, cars and trucks lay piled at the bottom of the vee. Coast Guard cruisers and smaller boats littered the waterways. Emergency vehicles jammed the side streets in all directions. A news helicopter drifted into view. Jett disliked sharing her airspace with news choppers. Even experienced emergency helicopter pilots occasionally crossed paths midair, but the news pilots tended to be too busy jockeying for camera angles and exclusive shots to adhere to strict safety protocols. Risk takers. Jett might take chances, but she knew her limits. They didn’t.
“This is Healthstar 3, two nine nine PMC. Request LZ site.” The FAA would have set up a temporary flight restriction above and around the disaster area, so the TV and radio news choppers weren’t likely to come any closer. Just the same, Jett slowed and circled, keeping an eye on them while waiting for clearance to land on one of the designated landing zones. The firecrews on the ground would direct her to one.
“Roger Healthstar 3. Your LZ is the Marina parking
lot. You have power lines at the southwest corner. Land between the trucks.”
“Roger.”
Jett set down in the parking lot on the river side of the destroyed highway, a few hundred yards from the center of the rescue activity. She climbed down from the cockpit to help unload the emergency equipment.
“Try to work as a team,” Quinn instructed the medics. “If another crew requests assistance, go ahead, but let me know where you’re going. We don’t want to lose anyone out here, and these situations can be unstable. Don’t take any chances.”
Jett edged through the people toward Tristan, who was offloading equipment. She had been surprised to see Tristan climb aboard, but her overwhelming response had been pleasure. Pleasure and relief. Gail—Gail who was no longer part of her world—had just appeared out of nowhere and then disappeared just as quickly, and Jett didn’t want to think about her, couldn’t think about her now. And when she’d seen Tristan, Gail’s face had faded. Instead she’d remembered waking up with Tristan in her arms and the feeling of peace like none she’d ever experienced. All the while she’d been in the air, she’d thought about Tristan. Tristan, who never seemed afraid to talk about anything, who could get Jett to talk, to feel, even when she didn’t want to. Tristan, who wasn’t afraid of Jett or what she wanted. Jett replayed how Tris’s hard, strong body had softened with desire and how her tight, powerful muscles had trembled on the brink of orgasm. Thinking about caressing Tristan, of making her cry out with pleasure and release, fueled the hunger that had never ebbed, and Jett had to fight not to touch her. Like an addict, she craved more.
“You doing search and rescue now?” Jett asked, cramming her hands in her pockets because she didn’t trust herself.
“Being out here beats sitting back at the shop waiting.” Tristan kept dragging equipment out of the cabin. She was still thinking about the brunette. About who she was and why she’d come looking for Jett. It bugged her that she wanted to know so badly, and she didn’t know how to ask, and she didn’t know how to stop thinking about her with Jett.
