Grayson's Surrender (Wingmen Warriors #1)

Grayson's Surrender (Wingmen Warriors #1) Page 5

Hesitation could kill them. He chose words he knew well would fire her feet and distract her while they ran. "Why couldn't you have stayed home and baked cookies?"

"Fat chance." Her chest pumped for air as she shouted over the latest whistle. Explosion. Trees falling, burning. More running. "There's no one around to eat them."

Her accusation sprayed him like shrapnel. He'd fired her more than he could have hoped. Restraints fell away on his control in the madness of the moment. "You walked. Not me."

"I just," she gasped, cradling Magda's bandanna-covered head to her breast, "got to the door first."

And Lori was right.

His feet found purchase on the load ramp. More relief than he wanted throbbed through him. He plopped the toddler in a seat, then reached for Magda. She plastered herself to Lori, bandanna and Barbie secure.

"Stubborn women." Gray twirled Lori by the arm onto the red webbing. She sat, still and poised, with Magda in her lap. Both sets of wide brown eyes promised one great big distraction.

He jabbed a finger in Lori's face. "No more saving the world today, lady. Sit. Don't move until we get this plane off the ground."

Not waiting for any argument, he shouldered through the swell of bodies crowding onto the aircraft.

Lori's whisper dogged him all the way to the cockpit. Be careful.

Operating through life solo was a hell of a lot easier.

Gray stared out at the night stars blanketing the sky beyond his windscreen. The bombing in Sentavo was a world away. Or at least ten hours past.

Lori, little Magda, everyone had made it out unharmed. Gray didn't let himself dwell overlong on those seconds he'd stood horrified, watching Lori sprint into a shower of shrapnel. He focused on the plane, stick in hand, rudder pedals beneath his boots.

Only the fluorescent glow of the green instrument panel lit the confined space. Bronco sprawled to his right in the copilot's seat reading a paperback. The aircraft hummed contentedly across the Atlantic.

Forget autopilot, he loved to fly.

The sky had been his salvation for years. As a child he'd dreamed of flying with his bomber gunner father. Later Gray's dreams had shifted to piloting a rescue for his POW father, easing the strained lines around his mother's eyes, bringing back her smile.

But he couldn't.

He'd settled for earning her smile in other ways. He was good at that, joking, keeping things light.

After his father's return, his mother still hadn't smiled. No one did. Before long, Gray traveled the skies in his mind to escape.

He was good at that, too. Running.

Gray called in a position report. In the homestretch, they only had three more hours before landing in Charleston. The children would be whisked away to their sponsor families. Lori would go home and find some great man, bake cookies for him, make babies with him.

The thought soured in Gray's brain, not at all comforting. As a matter of fact, it was damned depressing.

Gray reached to tighten his bandanna tied around his calf over the mortar nick. The bleeding was minimal, his need for a Band-Aid nothing compared to the other pilots' need for sleep. Air safety came first.

Forget the dull ache. Ditch the morose garbage. It had never been his style. He needed a few of those smiles for himself.

One thing he could always count on, crew dogs thrived on a good laugh, even in the middle of combat. Especially in combat.

Gray pivoted to Bronco. "Well, my friend, payback time."

"Payback?"

"Payback." Gray flipped a CD between his fingers and nodded to the makeshift CD player hookup he'd rigged into the interphone. Damn but he enjoyed flying with these guys. He would miss them when he transferred. "I feel like giving you boys a concert."

Bronco flinched. "Couldn't you limit your revenge to the physical?"

"Not a chance. You deserve my full retribution, and now that the squadron commander is snoozing away in the bunk… Well… Hey, Tag," he called into the headset. "Hear that, my traitorous crewmate? Time to pay up for your little scheduling stunt. What will it be? Eagles, Elvis, or Beatles?" Gray popped in the CD and depressed the interphone button on the stick. John, Paul, George and Ringo's crooning blasted through, Gray joining in two seconds later.

Tag and Bronco's groans flooded his headphones, followed by light chuckles. Gray gripped the stick, flew his plane, sang. Escaped.

Just behind Gray, Lori leaned her head against the bulk-head and stared at him silhouetted by panel lights. The children settled, she could afford a moment to go up front and talk with Gray. Numbing exhaustion from adrenaline letdown left her languid and mellow.

Vulnerable.

God, he was gorgeous. Mud-splattered boots braced on the pedals, he relaxed in his seat, stick in his hand, in control. But on his terms, growling out tunes as he flew. His jaw and shoulders kept the beat. Bronco drummed percussion on the panel. Gray flipped switches, sang, piloted the aircraft.

So competent. Never serious. Always gorgeous.

Not that she'd come to check out the view. She just thought he would appreciate an update on Magda.

At least that gave her enough reason to be there so she wouldn't have to dwell overlong on the need to see him and reassure herself he hadn't been injured in their sprint to the plane.

"Gray," she called once, twice, before he stopped singing and looked over his shoulder. His eyes glittered an emerald echo of the fluorescent cabin lights.

He flipped his headset mouthpiece to the side. His thumb popped off the button on the stick. "Hi. Problems with one of the kids?"

"No, I just—" Her gaze flickered to Bronco, then back to Gray.

Bronco disconnected his headset and shoved to his feet. "Think I'll step back to the head."

Lori twisted sideways as he squeezed his bulk past. Alone with Gray, she willed herself not to fidget.

He slid a CD free from a player and gestured to the vacated copilot's seat. "Go ahead and sit."

Lori sagged wearily. Her fingers twined in her lap to keep from touching the countless buttons and switches in front of her—and to keep from shaking.

"What's up?"

"I thought you'd like to know our little pal Magda just drifted off. Her fever's down. She quit tugging her ear an hour ago. Her cough's still pretty harsh, but at least she's comfortable."

"Good. Thanks for the update. I'll check on her again when I'm through here." He nodded, eyes trained on the small holographic display above the console. "Is she saying anything yet? Communicating at all?"

Lori grasped the safe topic with both hands, although not sure what she hoped to accomplish by talking with him, anyway. "I tried to teach her a couple of basics like yes and no before she goes to her sponsor family. Who knows if she understood me."

Silence and dark hummed around her.

What now? If only she could will her feet to carry her back to her seat. But the cabin was so warm, dark, soothing, and she was beyond tired. Her temple settled against the copilot's headrest as she caved in to the temptation to spend a few more minutes with Gray. How could she resist the intimacy too reminiscent of another time?

Lori pointed to the small Plexiglas screen with holographic images floating across it. "What's that?"

"The HUD, heads up display, duplicates the instrument panel along the bottom of the windshield. It enables me to monitor the readings without taking my eyes off the sky."

More than a little awe swept over her for the extent of his technical training in two differing career fields. "Cool."

A familiar grin kicked up the corner of his mouth. "It sure is."

He had such a great smile and a real talent for making her smile as well—even when she wanted to club his thick, gorgeous head.

Memories crackled along the air like popcorn in oil, heating to life. Dancing at the Officer's Club. Beach picnics with the crew members. Stretching out together under a blanket of stars.

"And that sky." She gazed through the windshield. Regular stars she viewed every night glowed vibrant shades of orange, red, green, even an arctic blue. "Is it always this incredible?"

"Oh, yeah." He pointed right. "See how much larger the planets are? The red one there is Mars, and the green one over there, that's Jupiter."

Lori slumped in the seat and savored the beauty. She'd seen some of the world's greatest works of art growing up, had met the artists firsthand and watched them create, watched her own artist parents pour their souls onto canvas.

This beat it all, hands down. "Thank you for dragging me out of there today so I could see this."

"You're welcome."

Silence returned, heavy and full, pulsing syrupy need through her veins. The tiny quarters, dim lighting, scenic night sky, and her weary defenses didn't help one bit.

Gray flipped a switch before easing his hand from the stick. The plane glided on smoothly. "Why did you really come up here, Lori?"

He knew her too well, and that swirled a mix of alarm and excitement within her. "To thank you. To say goodbye without a big audience."

Gray looked away and tapped the CD resting beside him. "And now that you have?"

He slipped the disk on his finger and spun it with an almost exaggerated focus. As if he couldn't face her. She understood that well enough. Seeing him made reasonable thought tough enough.

Instead she watched a streak of light across the sky. Northern lights, perhaps? She stared and whispered, "How do I wake up in the morning and forget we spent the day together?"

Her words hung between them like the stars, vibrant, alive, hot.

"The same way we've gone through every day this year." He stopped the disk, set it aside, and flipped two switches on the instrument panel. "Except I'll be sitting on Bronco this go-round."

Confusion pushed through her exhaustion. "Bronco?"

"So he and the rest of the crew won't pull another stunt like this one."

"Stunt? Help me out here. Sleep deprivation must be making me slow. I'm not understanding what you're saying."

"The whole scheduling change." His jaw flexed. "They set us up."

Her body tingled, her ears echoing with the first thrummings of realization. "Set us up."

"Oh, yeah. They're probably laughing their a—" he glanced at her "—laughing their butts off over this one."

Hurt, anger and too many emotions she didn't dare explore churned overtime. She straightened in her seat. "This whole day has been a big joke."

He whipped the CD off the console and slapped it into a case. "Crew dogs never miss a chance to pull one over."

"And of course you think this is funny." Her voice tightened. Her eyes stung.

"Hell, no."

She continued as if he hadn't spoken, "Of all the immature BS I've ever heard."

"Hey, simmer down." His mouth kicked up with a pacifying smile.

Major Smiles-and-No-Confrontation-Please would just have to suck this one up. "Don't defend their sixth-grade prank." She blinked back the weak tears. "All good intentions aside, they meddled in my life, and I don't appreciate it. And neither should you."

"I don't. But it's over and done with. Working yourself into a frenzy doesn't change a thing. Lighten up, Lori."

"Grow up, Gray." She snapped without thinking. But then that was the whole point. Arguing was instinctive for them. She pressed two fingers to her temple. "Sorry. That sort of remark pretty much negates my thanks. I guess old habits are hard to break."

Gray's hand fell to rest on her knee with the familiarity of old lovers, his eyes gentle as his light squeeze. "At least we've made it a little easier to get up in the morning."

And forget? The heat of his hand on her knee made a lie of his words. Her body refused to forget the gentle rasp of his hands along her bare skin, the caress of his mouth against the vulnerable curve of her neck, the shimmer while unraveling in his arms.