Cover Me - By Catherine Mann Page 0,109

the full extent of how horribly they’d been manipulated.

For the best, in his opinion. Sunny already had enough pain to carry around, with her brother still missing.

Wade’s boots thudded down the metal ramp and finally the bottlenecked human traffic jam eased. He stepped out onto the tarmac, searching the masses behind the roped off area until finally he saw her.

Sunny.

Her hair loose and lifting in the wind, she wore a floaty green dress and a smile brighter than the Florida rays. A pink stripe gleamed in her hair these days and he loved her unpredictability. Hell, he just loved her.

Dropping his gear, Wade double-timed toward her. The ropes gave way and things got more than a little chaotic. He sidestepped a family of five huddle-hugging and a young couple crying buckets.

He found Sunny just as she found him, meeting him halfway. Before he could speak she was in his arms and he wasn’t sure who was holding tighter. His eyes closed and for the most awesome second he could remember, he just breathed in the scent of her hair that somehow still carried the crisp perfume of wide-open Alaska spaces. The sound of the band and other reunited couples faded away.

Cradling her face in his palms, he kissed her, then kissed her again because he could, and that was something he did not take for granted. Words became jumbled in between, but no doubt they were on the same page. I love you. I missed you. God, I’ve waited so long to hold you again.

A jolt against his leg finally hauled his attention back to the crowded runway. He looked down to find Chewie head-butting his leg, demanding equal time.

“Well hello, big guy. Sorry I didn’t see you there at first.” Wade dropped to his knees, scratching the dog behind his ears. “Thanks for taking such good care of her while I was away, pal.”

The malamute mutt garbled a half-howling response.

A second dog peeked its head around Sunny’s leg. Now that, he hadn’t expected.

Laughing, Wade patted the wirehaired scrap on a leash and looked up at Sunny. “Who’s this fella?”

Sunny scooped up the little terrier mix of some sort. “This is Princess Leia. Or Princess, for short.” She straightened the dog’s patriotic bandanna. “Your mother responded so well to Chewie when I flew out to meet her, your father and I thought a small lapdog might be a good idea. He asked me to pick out a good candidate and suggested we bring it to her.”

That she would reach out to his family on her own, that she would find a way to give his mother comfort… So much emotion welled up inside him he cleared his throat, twice, before he could push words free. “You’re too amazing, do you know that?”

“You’re not a slouch yourself there, superhero.” She pressed a hand to his chest, then his neck, his cheek, as if she couldn’t get enough of touching him in the flesh.

He folded his hand over hers and pressed it to his heart, which damn near thumped through his chest just because he stood next to her. “I don’t take for granted how difficult this move must have been for you.”

“Thank you. I appreciate you saying that.” She sidled closer, a glint of promise in her hazel eyes. “And you can show me just how grateful you are once we get back to my place.”

“Roger that, pretty lady. I’ve got you covered.”

Acknowledgments

While reading an article in National Geographic about kayaking in the Aleutian Islands, I was completely fascinated by this region that Russian missionaries labeled “the place that God forgot.” Upon further research, I realized the Aleutian Islands have a long and fascinating history, in spite of their sparse population. I knew I had found the perfect setting for a book bubbling to life in my brain. While the story may have been inspired by an article and its amazing photographs, the people and the towns I have written about are completely fictional. In telling their tale, I hope to have captured the vast Alaska spirit and the breathtaking bravery of elite pararescuemen. In my hope of doing so, I have had the generous help of many. However, any mistakes, inaccuracies, poetic license, overall stretching the realm of possibility, rests completely on my shoulders!

Thank you, Deb Werksman, a gifted editor with endless energy and wit. I’ll be forever grateful for the day you said, “I have this idea…” It’s a delight to work with you and the entire Sourcebooks team.