by Linda Style
Mac went silent. She didn’t look over, but felt the intensity of his gaze.
Her pulse quickened as she zeroed in on the family below, who were jumping up and down and waving their arms like windshield wipers. “Ready the hoist.”
Double-checking the equipment, he shot her another sidelong glance. “Sure thing, mein capitan!”
She stiffened at the well-deserved gibe. Joking and needling each other was their antidote to the stress of any rescue. Every moment in the air could mean life or death to someone, including themselves, and over the years they’d developed an irreverent banter that relieved the tension and allowed them to stay on an even keel.
Someone else hearing them might be shocked at the tone and their seemingly callous disregard, but it was necessary. Emotions clouded judgment, and cloudy judgment caused mistakes. In the air, there was no room for mistakes.
She released a sigh. “I’m glad you realize who’s in charge.” And then, in almost the same breath, she said, “What are those ground guys doing? I can’t hover all freaking day.”
Then one of the SAR team below waved a flag, directing her to a specific point. She riveted her gaze on the ground crew, depending on them and Mac to guide her into position.
“We’re good,” he said. “Let’s do it.”
The first step was to send down the hoist to lower one of the ground guys into the canyon. He’d hook the people in and send them up, usually a couple at a time. Natalia and Mac had worked SAR together for so long the process was one they could do in their sleep. Yet every time was different—and equally dangerous.
Once they started the rescue, there was no bantering, just the business of saving lives, and they both gave it full concentration.
Two hours later, they’d finished and were winging their way back to the Mountain Air SAR office at Love Field in Prescott. The sun had reappeared, steaming hot through the bubble of Plexiglas surrounding them. Natalia shoved her flight helmet up a little. “God, I’ve never been so tense.”
“Nothing a shot of tequila won’t fix,” Mac shouted from the back, where he was securing the equipment.
The muscles in her shoulders felt like double knots under her skin. She shrugged a few times to relax them. The sunlight magnified through the glass was making her clothes stick to her skin.
Mac came back up front and sat next to her. “You’ve been tense a lot lately. Maybe you should see a doctor. Find what’s really the matter.”
Not a chance. Hearing her symptoms, a doctor would ground her immediately. If that happened, she might as well put a bullet in her brain.
But Mac didn’t know, and despite herself, she smiled. He couldn’t help himself. Fixing other people’s lives seemed to be a part of his DNA.
“It’s not a problem, Mac, so let’s change the subject.” As the words left her lips, sweat broke out on her forehead. She sucked in a deep breath, but it felt as if she’d inhaled fire instead of air. Suddenly the chopper was like a sauna. Sweat oozed from her every pore. When she looked at Mac, she realized it was just her.
Her gut seized. No! Not in the air. It was not going to happen! She wouldn’t let it. Wiping her face with her shirtsleeve and acting as normal as humanly possible, she drew another breath, then slowly let her lungs collapse. She did it again.
Mac stared at her.
“Just a little tension. I know how to handle it.” She pulled herself up and repeated the ritual of rolling her shoulders to get out the kinks—and as she did, she felt the sensation dissipate. She glanced at the controls, her hand still steady on the cyclic, one foot on the antitorque pedal. It was all good.
“Okay,” he said, but she could hear the doubt in his voice.
She wiped her face again, and with the airfield thankfully in sight ahead, she said, “We’re going in.”
Mac folded his arms across his chest. He and Natalia never talked during takeoff and landing, the most dangerous parts of any mission, and she hoped he wouldn’t resume the conversation later. If he did, his words would fall on deaf ears.
All she wanted to do was finish the reports for the job and then take a drive to unwind. “Prescott tower, this is Mountain Air Search and Rescue, Hotel Romeo One. Over.”
WHEN THEY WERE BACK at the SAR office and had deposited their neon-orange vests in the bin, Mac crossed the austere room and stood next to Natalia’s gray metal desk. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his faded jeans. “So,” he said. “Can you talk now?”
She picked up the report papers, sat on the desk corner and started reading. “I can always talk. I just open my mouth and—”
He plucked the papers from her hands. “Part of a conversation includes paying attention. Can you do that for just a minute?”
She stared at him briefly, then crossed her arms and narrowed her green eyes. “Well, I guess I better.”
He stepped back, out of the line of fire. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ve got a problem and I need your help.”
Her eyes widened. “You need—” she placed a hand flat on her chest “—my help? Moi?”
He couldn’t stop the smile.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” But how the hell could he explain quickly? Today she seemed even more antsy than normal. She didn’t like to hang around the airport once a job was over. Neither of them did, preferring to get out and do something to relieve the tension that was common after completing a rescue.
The more dangerous the mission, the more winding down was needed. For him, it was a beer and a game of pool with his buddies. Natalia liked to get in her Mustang and take the switchbacks between Sedona and Flagstaff as if she were trying for a NASCAR slot. When she couldn’t do that, she ran as if training for the Boston Marathon. He had to be quick or she’d be outta here.
“Okay,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously. “Spit it out.”
He sucked some air. If only it was that easy. He still didn’t know how the hell he was going to manage anything. All he knew was that he had to do it.
“A year ago I received a letter.” He reached for the inside pocket of his fatigue shirt. Damn, he’d forgotten to bring it along. “A letter that said…” He eased onto the desk next to her and looked directly into her eyes. “It said I have a kid.”
Not one muscle in her body moved. After a long moment, she blinked, and then, moistening her lips, placed her palms on her thighs and stood. “A kid? You have a kid you knew nothing about?”
He shot to his feet, threw his hands in the air. “Of course I didn’t know. You think I’m the kind of guy who’d just leave my kid out there to fend for himself? Even if I didn’t love his mother, I wouldn’t do that.”
Natalia’s expression was a combination of shock and incredulity.
“It was a short fling, not a relationship. She was pretty…and available.”
Natalia looked away, then picked up the flight reports again. “When?”
“Six years ago.”
“Six years ago you were in Iraq.”
“Right.” He paced. Rubbed his chin. “The woman was working at one of the field hospitals. I was with her only a couple of times before I was transferred out, and never saw her again.”
“And the letter was from this nurse?”
“No, the letter came from my old commanding officer. Apparently the boy’s grandmother had been trying to find me. I don’t have all the details, but the child’s mother disappeared and her mother tracked me through the military.”
Silence. Another frown. “How do you even know he’s—”
“I asked for DNA tests.” Mac dragged a hand through his hair and walked to the window, focused on the chopper as the crew prepared it for the next emergency.
“I had to know,” he went on. “But no way in hell did I expect anything to come of it. Something did, and I have to do what’s right. I can’t leave my kid in an orphanage on another continent when I could give him a great life here.”
“An orphanage? What happened to the grandmother?”
“She died, and there was no one else.”
Natalia’s stunned expression was exactly how he’d felt when he’d heard. Hell, he still felt as if he’d been hit by a grenade.
“There was no one else until six months ago when a great aunt was located, and now she’s trying to get custody. So I hired an attorney to see what I could do, and that’s why I need a wife. Because of the countries involved, it’s almost impossible to cut through the red tape, and the agencies—the United States Citizenship and Immigration Services, Homeland Security and some others, aren’t too hot on sending a child to live with a single guy in another country. Everything has to be perfect.”
She picked up the flight papers again, held them to her chest and scowled at him, shaking her head. “I don’t understand. If this is your child—”
“The woman wasn’t an American,” he interjected, halting the next questions before she got to them. “She was an Iraqi civilian working for the U.S. government. She disappeared while on duty and—” He turned, his throat constricting as he spoke. “A week later they found her body. She was murdered and apparently no one knows what happened.” Hell, it might even be his fault. Militant Iraqis viewed relationships between Iraqi women and soldiers as fraternizing with the enemy. Mac rubbed his eyes. God, he couldn’t even think about that.
“Because it’s Iraq, it’s been a nightmare trying to get guardianship, which I need before I can get him a passport and visa.”
Mac watched as Natalia reached around and removed the band from her ponytail, letting her silky dark hair fall around her face like a frame. It was a ritual that signaled the end of their job—a ritual during which, for just a few moments, his blood surged and he imagined being more than just friends.
She’d run her fingers through her hair—also part of the ritual—and then she’d smile, feeling good about the job they’d done. A feeling they usually shared.
Not today. She got up and came over to stand next to him, feet apart, arms folded.
“You can’t just get a wife, Mac. The agency, or whoever, would realize something was up. And besides, how many times have you told me you don’t want to be tied down again? Did all that change just because you found out you have a kid?”
He raised a hand to get at the kinks in the back of his neck. That had been eating at him, too. He should be feeling something—some kind of fatherly something. But instead, he felt as if his life had been taken over. Again. “No, it hasn’t changed, but it will. I’m responsible. I need to do whatever I have to.”
“But you don’t have to go off the deep end. Don’t you think a child would sense if he’s not wanted?”
Her words were sharp, her tone intense, and unless they were talking about a rescue, religion or politics, he’d rarely seen her react so strongly.
“Well, believe me, a child knows. You can’t fake—”
“A boy. He’s a boy, Natalia. I have a son.”
“But—”
“I’m…his father.”
She didn’t say anything more, but he could see the questions churning in her head. What did this mean for the team? Would he have to leave SAR and get a nine-to-five job? All the things he’d already thought about—and more.
There was school for the boy, and medical stuff. Legal crap, as well. And what if the kid didn’t want to be with Mac? What if he had emotional problems? Part of the process included medical examinations, but how could they predict what they couldn’t see?
Mac’s blood pumped harder just from thinking about it. The only thing certain was that he knew what he had to do. No child of his would grow up without his father. If that meant being married, he was getting on the train.
“So,” Natalia finally said. “What’s next?”
“Like I said…I need a wife.”
Shooting him a dry smile, she said, “Well, good luck with that.”
She started for the ladies’ room, but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. Turning her to face him, he said, “I want you to be my wife, Natalia.”
Her skin paled. After an extended moment of silence, she shook her head and brushed his hand away. “Funny. Very funny.”
“I’m not joking. I’ve never been more serious in my life.”
She started past him again, but he blocked her path.
Planting her feet, she said, “Okay. I get it. You’re serious. And I think you’re crazy!”
“Just hear me out. Okay?”
Another long moment passed, until finally, she said, “Okay. I’ll hear you out, but can it wait a bit? I have plans for dinner, and I really need to pee.”
“What time will you be back from dinner?”
She circumvented his blockade and headed for the bathroom as if she couldn’t wait another second. “I don’t know. I’ll call you.” She closed the door behind her.
Yeah. She’d call and try to convince him to forget it. Damn. If she’d just freaking listen to his plan, she might change her mind. It was the perfect solution.
Natalia might not want a husband, and Mac for sure didn’t want a wife, but he knew it would work. They were best friends, for God’s sake. They were both dedicated to helping people, they hung out at the same places, with the same people, and they had fun together. It was the best possible scenario. Besides, it wasn’t forever. He just had to convince her.
This wasn’t about being convenient or easy. This was about his son. This was the most important decision Mac had ever made in his life and he had to make it work.
AFTER SHE FINISHED WASHING her hands, Natalia brushed her hair back and then splashed cool water on her face.
A sudden bang made her jump. She started a nosedive to the floor, but caught her image in the mirror. No! No uniform. She wasn’t in Iraq. It was just a noise somewhere outside. A knock on the door, she realized.
Her heart racing, she clutched the edge of the sink and sucked in deep, rhythmic breaths. Damn. She hadn’t had that response to a loud noise in a long time. And she’d never had the beginning of an episode in the air. She leaned forward, shook her head, patted her cheeks, then straightened and looked herself over. The tension in her body eased.
Three years ago, she’d learned how to control what some might see as a debilitating psychological problem. But recognizing the problem was half the battle. Realizing it might never go away was the other half.
It didn’t matter. She smiled at herself in the mirror. It didn’t matter because she was in control.
Another bang. “Natalia, are you okay?”
Mac. The same deep, smooth voice she’d heard in the field hospital in Fallujah as she’d come to consciousness.
She reached over and flushed the toilet. “What? Can’t I even pee in peace?”
He snorted. “I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Fine.” She ran water in the sink. “Give me a call if you get engaged or anything.”
A moment later, she heard a thud—the outer door closing. After a few more deep-breathing exercises, she went out, snatched up her leather jacket, fished her phone from the pocket and, on her way to her car, punched the speed dial button.
CHAPTER TWO
“HEY, SERENA,” SHE SAID when her best friend answered. Within minutes, they had a plan for dinner—wine and salmon steaks on the BBQ at Tori’s place. Tori’s husband, Linc, was in Phoenix, and Cole, Serena’s long-lost love, who owned the Purple Jeep Touring Company, was at the Blue Moon playing pool. Natalia suspected Mac was on his way there, too.
“I’ll swing by at 6:30,” she said, then clicked off, got into her cherry-red Mustang and hit the button to bring the top down. Once on the road to Spirit Creek, she savored the scent of piñon pine that permeated the mountain air like an exotic incense.
From the moment she’d moved to Arizona, she’d felt at home. She was finally in the right place doing what she was supposed to do. That the town happened to have the most amazing scenery ever wasn’t half-bad, either.
The tiny town of fifteen hundred, mo
re or less, sat at the base of a mountain that, with many others, formed the spectacular red rock canyons near the artisan community of Sedona, another small town that became a tourist Mecca every spring. But only seven miles away, Spirit Creek, populated by an eclectic mix of artists, cowboys, old hippies and multigenerational families that had been there since the community’s inception during the silver mining days, stayed pretty much the same. Even the mysterious disappearance of one of the town’s most prominent citizens nearly thirty years ago had long been forgotten. If Natalia couldn’t find peace in Spirit Creek, Arizona, she doubted she’d find it anywhere.
Only right now, even as she took one sharp turn after another, she wasn’t feeling a whole lot of peace. Her nerves jittered and not even the fresh, crisp scent of juniper and ponderosa pines could dispel the heavy sense of dread that filled her—warned her—that something awful was about to happen. Damn. She wished Mac had never told her about his kid.
But he had.
And she owed him.
She owed him everything.
They’d worked together in Iraq, with Mac being one of the ground crew. He’d been discharged a year after she was, and had added physical therapy to his medical skills set. He’d worked in PT in Flagstaff for a couple years, but had said he’d felt something was missing. Natalia knew exactly what that something was. He needed the rush he got working search and rescue.
Flying SAR was like mainlining adrenaline—a triple-dose espresso high that kept you on edge, ready and waiting, living from emergency to emergency. Though she and Mac were total opposites in most ways, they were alike on that part. That and their philosophy about marriage, which meant he couldn’t possibly have been serious about getting married. Not to her, anyway.
But if he was, what could she say to a man she owed everything? He would never ever bring up the subject, but there wasn’t a day that went by when she wasn’t grateful to him.
Gripping the wheel tighter, she moistened her lips and blinked, her eyes dry from the wind in her face. She should’ve listened to him with an open mind. Only she couldn’t right then. She couldn’t let anyone see her when she started to get…off balance.
