Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
There was only one reason a unit spokesman would be that detailed to the press, the same reason they used the deliberate phrasing of going above and beyond the call of duty, and with blatant disregard for his own safety.
Will wasn’t just a pilot, or the guy Morgan was obviously still in love with.
He was a fucking hero.
The kind who got awarded medals that took years to receive.
No wonder she was torn up as hell. She didn’t have to put the guy on a pedestal; he was already up there. Not only that, but the minute she realized what I did for a living, she’d push me so far away that we might as well live on opposite sides of the island. Not that I’d blame her.
I had my own hang-ups about the death of my parents—I couldn’t imagine how Morgan felt about the military, or helicopter pilots in general.
And I was both.
And given what I’d just read, I didn’t hold a candle to that guy.
Awesome.
I’d never been one for inferiority complexes. I was damn good at what I did. Hell, I was the best, and proud of it. I’d graduated top of my major at MIT, top of my class in Flight School, and guaranteed my first duty station pick. I’d completed hundreds of successful rescues—some of which were seen as unwinnable—and yet none of that compared to what he’d done.
For the first time in my life, I was forced into second place in a race I hadn’t been aware I’d been running, and the guy was miles ahead. I was literally losing to a ghost.
Since when did you want to win?
I thought about it for a second, wishing the answer was when she’d come out to the barbecue, when we’d walked down the beach earlier today, or even when she’d had the telltale signs of an anxiety attack at the truck.
But something had drawn me to her the first moment our eyes had locked on the beach and then hooked me the minute I found her dangling through her landing, cool as a cucumber.
Shit, I didn’t just like her—I wanted her, and not just in my bed, but in my life.
And I didn’t have a shot in hell with her.
…
Five days later, the ringer on my phone sounded around ten thirty p.m., and I swiped it open before checking the caller ID.
“Montgomery,” I answered.
“It’s Goodwin. We have a mayday, and the other bird is already in the field.”
“Fuck.” I stood, immediately sprinting for my stairs. “Run up the bird. I’ll be there ASAP.” I hung up, hitting the speed dial for Sarah as I dropped my clothes.
I had it timed to seven minutes flat.
“Mr. Montgomery?” she answered.
“Hey, I hate to do this to you, but I just got a call—”
“I’ll be there in a second! I’m still dressed and everything!” My twenty-one-year-old nanny promptly hung up on me.
I threw on my flight suit and booted up, hit the bathroom, tossed a few granola bars and a Monster into my bag, and opened the door just as Sarah reached the threshold.
“It’s coming down out there!” she said by way of greeting.
“Yes. Thank you. I’m sorry for calling so late.” I hated calling her, forcing her to drop what she was doing.
“It’s what you pay me for! Now go save people.” She waved me off and headed for the living room.
I tossed my rain gear on and ran down the steps.
Exactly seven minutes after I got the call, we took off from the coast guard station with Goodwin as my copilot, Moreno as my mechanic, and Garrett as our rescue swimmer.
As we headed out over the water, into wind and rain, my mind cleared of Morgan, her dead boyfriend, and even Fin, leaving only the bird, the weather, and the mission.
“Time to save some lives,” I said over the com, keeping our tradition.
And we did.
…
The skyline blushed with impending sunrise as I parked my Land Cruiser in the driveway.
Long. Fucking. Night.
The rain had stopped around midnight, right around the time we’d returned from the rescue, three extra passengers heavy. We’d barely gotten the small family off their even smaller boat in time. It had gone down just after Garrett had hauled the father on board.
Their bad day had a happy ending: two living parents, one living teenage boy.
I trudged up the steps, weariness pulling at every muscle in my body. If I got to sleep in the next fifteen minutes, I could get a solid three hours before Fin woke up.
I woke Sarah on the couch and sent her home, then headed toward the kitchen in search of water.
The refrigerator was stocked, and I took a cold one from the second shelf and closed the door with my hip, already twisting the top open.
My cell phone rang from my back pocket, and I paused mid-drink to yank it free, swallowing and lowering the bottle when I saw who it was.