Night Maneuvers - By Jillian Burns Page 0,15
hers across the crowd. “May her transfer to Langley be successful, and her exploits while she’s there be numerous.” He gestured to her with his tumbler of Jim Beam and then drank it down.
She tipped her bottle to him and then sipped her beer.
Alex refused to let tears come. She’d resigned herself to thinking of Mitch McCabe only as an old friend. A deeply troubled friend she couldn’t help.
And she’d tried.
His bitterness after his divorce was only natural. But after returning from Iraq his womanizing had escalated to the point where Alex believed it fed his anger. It had become self-destructive.
Of course, Mitch didn’t see it that way. The only time they’d ever seriously quarreled was the night she’d tried to have an honest discussion with him about it. Things had gotten pretty heated. After that night, she’d gone to her commander and requested a transfer. She couldn’t stand by and witness what he was doing to himself anymore.
This change would be good for her. She needed to move on. A fresh start, a new environment, new friends. Maybe she could even find a man to love. She was twenty-six and she’d never had a long-term relationship. She’d like to know what it was like to have a boyfriend.
“Another toast,” Major Grady called out and everyone raised their glasses and bottles again. “To Captain Cole Jackson, who’s shipping out next week.” Grady tipped his bottled water toward their friend Jackson. “Good luck in the sandbox, Captain.”
Glasses clinked, and a few airmen called out, “To Jackson!”
Alex finished her beer, shrugged her way through the pack to Jackson and offered her right hand.
He shook it and pulled her forward for a one-armed hug. “Take care, Hughes,” he said into her ear.
“You, too, Jackson. See you when you get back.” Alex turned to find Mitch beside her. Their eyes met and held a moment before Mitch broke contact to shake Jackson’s hand, telling him goodbye.
Then Mitch turned back to her. “So, what time’s your flight?”
“It’s early, around the buttcrack of dawn.”
“Well, I’ll come pick you up so you—”
“No.”
He pursed his lips and folded his arms. “You’re still pissed about our fight.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I just don’t like goodbyes.”
“But you asked for this transfer.”
She shrugged. “It’s a career move. An opportunity to work with Washington liaisons. I couldn’t pass that up.”
He cocked his head and raised a brow. “So, I guess this is goodbye.”
“I told you. I don’t like goodbyes. We’ll keep in touch…it’ll be fine.” She extended her right hand.
He stared at her hand so long Alex thought he wasn’t going to shake it. When he finally took her hand he yanked her to him and enclosed her in his arms. She felt his chin resting on her head. “I’m going to miss you.”
Determined not to cry, Alex squeezed her eyes closed. She’d told him she didn’t want to do this. She pulled out of his arms. “Geez, McCabe, it’s only a two-year assignment.” She punched him on the shoulder. “I’ll see you soon.” And she turned and strode away.
5
Present day
SITUATION REPORT—DAY NINE: FUBAR.
How had his life gotten so messed up? Mitch slowly ran a hand over his face, then took a deep breath and headed for his jet.
“Eat my afterburn, McCabe.” Hughes knocked into him as she passed him, striding across the tarmac to her F-16. Before she climbed up into her cockpit, she paused and smirked, then yanked on her helmet.
Mitch stopped in his tracks and blinked. This morning, in her bulky flight suit, thick combat boots and helmet hair, his old buddy looked nothing like the siren from the bar last night. And yet, all Mitch could think was, had she always had freckles? Before yesterday he couldn’t have said. But her turned-up nose suddenly seemed sweet and sexy all at the same time.
And God help him, just being near her had him fantasizing about the tightness of her nipples beneath his fingers, and the way her body had molded itself to his.
Snap out of it, McCabe.
This morning was the battle of the squadrons. They were teaching a tricky air combat maneuver to upperclassmen. With the Rolling Scissors, things could get hairy. Just the way he liked it. His adrenaline spiked as he climbed aboard his baby. There was nothing better than streaking across the sky in his F-16. It usually cleared his mind, brought life into focus.
After takeoff, the purple Nevada mountains on the horizon disappeared as he rolled over and headed for the Hoover Dam in