by Jen Talty
Liars.
It was hotter than black pavement on bare feet.
They crossed through a parking lot toward the hangar, his hand still touching her back and frankly, she liked it.
A little too much.
As they approached the hangar, she spied a relatively new, bright orange, luxury Bell Jetranger. “Nice ride,” she said.
“Just bought it a couple of months ago.”
“You going to let me fly her?”
“We haven’t even gotten naked together and you expect me to let you fly one of my babies? I think not.” He tossed her a headset he’d snagged from the cockpit.
“And if I took off all my clothes, then could I fly her?”
He arched a brow. “You just want to touch my controls.”
“In your dreams.” She winked, adjusting her mouth piece. “I’m all about the machine, not the man.”
He laughed. “So, you’d get naked just to be in the pilot seat.”
“I don’t need to be when you’ve got duel controls.” She climbed in and adjusted the harness.
“The way you say that, it sounds kinky.” His throaty voice boomed in her ears as he flipped a few switches, which engaged the engine and the blades. Nothing sounded better than the whopping of the hydraulic system kicking into action. The helicopter rattled and her body tingled with anticipation.
Being in the air was almost better than sex.
Almost.
Ramey buckled himself in, gave the thumbs up to the crew on the ground before saluting and taking the controls into his hands. The bird lifted with ease thirty feet off the ground before the nose dipped slightly and Ramey engaged the throttles, propelling the bird upward, and punched forward.
Her fingers itched to take the controls as they flew low and fast across the desert. “Where is your place, exactly?”
“Ten miles dead ahead.”
Chung! Click!
She leaned to her right, glancing over her shoulder. The tail end of the chopper swung left and right as the rotor blade wobbled, vibrating the tail.
“Shut rotor off,” she commanded.
“Done,” he said with a tight voice. “You’ve got comms and navs because—”
A loud popping noise, followed by the aircraft jerking violently interrupted his words. She sprang into action, flipping the dashboard controls to her side of the aircraft.
“Actually, shut comms off.”
“No mayday?” she questioned, though she hadn’t planned on calling it in. Not yet anyway.
“Fuck,” Ramey muttered. “Shut engine one down.”
She didn’t ask why, just did as he instructed. She’d never liked being a co-pilot, because she wasn’t in control, but by the thick, black smoke coming from the engine, she wasn’t about to argue.
“We need to land this bird now,” she said.
“See that building in front of us?”
“I do.”
“That’s home. Let’s do our best to get us as close as we can.”
“You live in a tin hangar?” She glanced around in search of a house, but all she saw was a hunk of metal and desert.
The helicopter bucked left.
“Losing pressure in engine two,” she said. “Shutting it down.”
“Going to be a rough landing,” Ramey said.
The chopper rattled and the only sound that filtered through the desert was the blade cutting unevenly through the air.
“You ever land controlling the blades?”
“A few times,” she said as she reached for the level that controlled autorotation.
Ramey handled the controls with the skills of a master pilot. Even she was impressed and that was hard to do.
“Take it a little slower,” he said as he pulled the nose up, pushing the aft of the chopper down and propelling them into a slight hover. “Feel the shimmy?”
The helicopter bucked left and right, rattling her teeth. She twisted the lever, slowing the spinning action of the blades, the vibration dangerously close to allowing the blades to break from the helicopter.
“Shut it down now,” he said.
She pulled back and disengaged the power manually.
“Brace for impact,” Ramey said calmly.
The ground came up a little too quickly and the skeets bounced off the sand, punching the aircraft back up before Ramey brought it down again, this time, they skidded before coming to a halt.
She twisted, looking at the spinning blades wobble as they slowed. “Rear rotor, double engine failure, and main prop going off axis? You’re either cursed or—”
“Someone is trying to kill me.”
Chapter 2
RAMEY WASN’T SURE what made him more nervous, the fact he’d been in another emergency landing.
Or having a woman in his house.
He pulled back the large metal door to the hangar and his home. It screeched like fingers across a chalkboard, a noise he’d gotten used to over the last five years.
“Ladies first,” he said, stepping aside, waving his hand out in front, just like his father had taught him when he’d gone on his first car date. Ramey swallowed the thick emotion that teetered on the edge of spewing like a volcano every time he thought about his father. “Straight back to that orange door over there.” Ramey had been sixteen and a Junior in high school when his father had died. The date not only marked his father’s passing, but the day he’d received his nomination to West Point.
However, his father died before Ramey could tell him the good news.
“Impressive flying machines you have.” She reached her hand out, letting her fingers glide across the nose of Roxi, his pride and joy. “How long did it take to build this one?”
“Seven months.”
“I’m impressed.” The corners of Tequila’s mouth tilted upward in a sultry smile. “I’m building one now, but I think it will take me a little longer.”
“Nothing better than flying something you made with your own two hands.”
She nodded. “Anyone else have access to this place? Family? Friends? Girlfriends?”
“Not really,” he said, nudging her forward. In the five years he’d lived in this hunk of tin, he’d never had a woman inside, not even his mother, two sister-in-laws, nor his two-month old niece. Of course, living in the middle of a desert where there is only a dusty dirt road or the friendly skies to bring visitors, made it difficult.
Besides, his father would roll over in his grave if he didn’t go home as often as he could and that was something Ramey prided himself on.
“No ex-girlfriends with an axe to grind?”
“You’re the first female to ever see the inside of this joint.”
She glanced toward him as he rested his hand on the curve of her back. Her straight blonde hair flowed over her shoulders like a cascading waterfall of all things beautiful. Her big, hazel eyes carried the kind of confidence and strength that came with hard knocks, something he admired.
“That doesn’t mean there isn’t a scorned woman out there wanting to—”
“The few women I’ve dated where things might have ended on not so good terms, wouldn’t know how to find me.”
“And women you’ve dated from the base?”
“For the record, I’ve dated only one woman in the Military and that was back when I attended West Point.” Bile rose from his stomach, smacking the back of his throat. It had been years since he even uttered her name.
Denise.
His skin prickled.
“Besides, all the incidents happened on base, including the one we just experienced.”
“We don’t know that until we’ve examined all the evidence.”
He lowered his chin as he reached for the door, catching a glimmer in her gaze.
“There are civilian women on the base that could have gained access to your plane.” She cocked her head. “Are you telling me you’ve never had a relationship of any kind with a woman or two on the base?”
“Are you suggestin
g I’m a player?” He unlocked the door that led into the living quarters. He’d bought the hangar and land surrounding it from an old man who’d reluctantly sold it at the begging of his granddaughter.
Ramey couldn’t contain a half smile at the thought. Good looking and a smart woman.
“I know your type,” Tequila said as she stepped into the foyer.
All of a sudden, his pulse raced with something akin to nervousness.
Ramey didn’t get nervous.
Ever.
“And what type is that?” His living quarters weren’t very large with one bedroom, one bathroom, a large family room, and a galley kitchen, but he liked to think he had good decorating skills with his dark brown bomber-leather furniture against a white-washed wood floor. A built-in bookcase lined the back-wall with his collection of Ray Bradbury books and family photos displayed proudly.
“Wow. Nice digs and not what I would have expected from a guy like you.”
“You don’t know a thing about me.” He waltzed toward the kitchen, stomping his feet. Not only did he feel as though his personal space had been invaded by aliens, but he prided himself on being aloof.
If his mother were here she’d grab his ear.
“Wanna bet?”
He was about to tell Tequila no, but she kept talking.
“You’re cocky and arrogant, but you’re also smart. You’re good at what you do, but you constantly push the limits and you like living on the edge. You play as hard as you work, but you don’t do relationships and have never had a long-lasting girlfriend.”
“Wrong,” he said, then snapped his mouth shut, ducking his head into the fridge, pulling out two beers. What was the big deal about letting her think he’d never been in love? Hell, even his own brothers didn’t know about Denise. The only one who knew had been his mother and not until after the fact.
“What do I have wrong?” She held up a picture of him with his brothers taken at Logan’s wedding.
“I’ve been in a serious relationship.” He handed her a beer while he chugged half of his before taking the image from her hand. “My brothers,” he said. “But you’ve meet Logan and Nick.”
“This was recent? I’ve never met your brother’s families or your other brother.” She held up a family portrait taken just a couple of weeks ago.
He tapped the picture with his forefinger. “My mom and next to her is my sister-in-law, Mia, who is married to Logan and that’s their little girl, Abigail. That tall one at the end is baby Dyl, or Dylan. And next to him is Nick and his very pregnant wife, Leandra, who is about to pop any day now.”
“Nick took a bunch of time off work. My boss tells me he’s a nervous wreck about the whole baby birthing thing.”
“He is.” Ramey shook his head.
She took a small sip of her beer. “So, tell me about this long-lasting affair.”
“No.” The word came out of his mouth fast, hard, and cold.
“That explains a lot.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
She shrugged. “You got burned and now you live the life of going from one short-term fling to the next.” She patted his shoulder. “You and are similar. I’ve never had a serious relationship and I never plan on having one, but I’ve never been burned.”
He sat on the sofa and stared at her as she eyed all the books and photos on his shelves. She’d pegged him pretty quickly and the only thing he knew for sure about her was that she was confident and reacted calmly under pressure.
“Don’t you want to get married? Have kids?”
She tilted her head back and laughed. The sound rolled through the air like hot fudge being drizzled over ice cream. “I don’t need to be married to have a child and I don’t see myself getting married because the entire concept of a wedding gives me the willies.”
“I thought all girls dreamed of the big wedding and white dress.”
“Not this girl. Nope.” She sat down in the chair across from him. Leaning back, she crossed her legs. “I won’t be a man’s property and I’m no virgin.”
“What about having a life partner?”
She arched a brow. “Do you want one?”
At one point in his life he wanted it all.
Then Denise happened.
“Not particularly, no.”
She raised her glass. “Cheers to being single.”
He followed her gesture and took a long gulp. “I have to ask, why’d your parents name you Tequila?”
“My grandmother’s maiden name was Whiskey. She and my dad made a bet on the super bowl the year my sister was born. My dad lost and he had to name his kids after whiskey. My sister’s name is Rum.”
“I think I just fell a little in love with your grandmother.”
“She was something special.”
Any other time or place, he’d be working his charm on Tequila. With her refreshing attitude regarding relationships, he figured they’d have to be compatible in bed.
However, someone was messing with his planes and he needed her help and he never fucked people he worked this closely with.
And certainly not in his home.
“So, are we going to talk about what happened with my chopper an hour ago?” he asked, needing to get his focus off the way she twirled her hair, wrapping it between her fingers, swirling the strands.
“We both saw the cable to the rotor and how clean the tear was, so I believe it was no accident, but we’ll know more once my equipment gets here and I can run some tests.”
“But you can’t run those same tests on the Government planes.” He scratched the side of his face, the growth of five days of not shaving tingled across his fingertips. While he didn’t spend a lot of time with the crew and his co-workers, he got along with everyone. He treated those who serviced the plans with the utmost respect.
They deserved it.
He went out of his way to be kind and considerate to everyone on the team because his life depended on them. Contrary to popular belief, he didn’t have a death wish, only teetering on the edge made him feel more alive than anything else. His two older brothers had found a balance in their lives with their wives, filling a void created by tragedy. Logan described it as coming home. Nick described it as finding himself again.
Ramey didn’t feel lost. Or broken. Or disconnected from himself. He did feel a restlessness that nothing, not even flying, filled.
His senior year at West Point, that sensation dissipated in the form of a warm female classmate. Denise had made him feel alive in ways he didn’t know existed until she left him standing in the courthouse with a marriage license in his hand. It had taken him a long time to get over Denise, and he was over her.
But he’d never put himself in such a vulnerable position again. It just wasn’t worth it.
“Probably not, but I’m going to set up interviews with the crew members that worked on both planes. I’m a good read on people.”
He had to give her that.
“We’ll need to request the security—”
“I already asked for the cameras on the tarmac, but seriously that cable could have been cut two days ago before the rotor came apart.”
Again, she was right.
Nothing sexier than a smart woman.
“What another beer?” he asked.
She nodded. “And maybe something to eat? I’m starving.”
“I can make you a turkey sandwich.”
“Perfect.”
Now he was making a woman food in his house. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be showing her his bedroom.
Now that was a scary thought.
“And what about those notes? The entire reason you brought me here,” she said as she glided across the room like smoke floating through the air.
“I’ll get them in a second.” He pulled out a bag of turkey, lettuce, tomato, cheese, mustard, and mayo out of his fridge along with two more beers. “Unless you want to make us a couple of sandwiches and I’ll go get my files.
“Wo
rks for me,” she said.
He wasn’t about to argue considering his stomach gurgled with hunger. “I’ll be right back.”
His bedroom was used for sleeping and work while the family room was where he relaxed. He knew that didn’t make sense, since sleeping was the finest form of rest, but it worked for him to have a desk and no television in his room.
He flicked the switch and immediately his room lit up. Even though he’d never had a woman in his bedroom, always spending the night with them, he kept his room tidy and clean. His king size dark cherry bed perfectly made with the corners tucked in just right like his mother had taught him, stared back at him under the skylights.
After Denise, he’d never brought a woman home. One of his many odd rules, but it kept him from falling so hard for a woman he couldn’t see straight. And yet, here he was, with an incredibly beautiful woman, named Tequila, and his only thought was how nice she’d look naked in his bed.
He blinked a few times and then snagged the files from his desk. He turned and walked right into her.
“What are you doing?” he asked, the folder falling from his fingers tips as she wrapped her glorious fingers around his neck.
“Getting this out of the way so we can work together to find out who is trying to kill you.”
Before he could blink, her soft, pink lips brushed against his. Her tongue pushing into his mouth, probing every inch. He grabbed her by the hips and broke off the kiss.
“Getting a kiss out of the way? Or is it more like me tossing you on that bed and lets really get it out of the way.”
“I’d say the latter is good.”
Chapter 3
EVERYTHING ABOUT RAMEY sent a warm sizzle across Tequila’s body like butter melting on hot toast.
He grabbed her thighs, hoisting her up as she wrapped her legs around his waist, clasping her ankles together and stared into his lustful eyes. Her chest heaved up and down with each breath. Her stomach flipped and twisted as if she were being tossed around at Mach-five.
Following him into his bedroom had been a crazy impulse.
Kissing him, pure insanity.
But, as he pressed her back against the mattress, his hard body between her legs, she surely knew she’d lost her marbles.
