3. Kai

THREE

Kai

Lieutenant Asshole's voice echoed through the hangar as he postured like a peacock for the SEAL team on the other side. The guy was new to the lieutenant rank in the 427, and how he made it to that level, I didn't know. He was a real piece of work, already on my hit list today for reaming one of my crew for lazy posture—the fuck—and now refusing to listen to reason over my mission-critical input. As soon as the SEAL team entered the space, he was more interested in inflating his ego than ensuring the mission's success and his people's safety. If he had anywhere near the hours at the cyclic as I did, then his opinion might matter, but he hadn't seen the combat I'd been part of. Hell, he'd been fast tracked to LT, and the rumors were that it was to move him off other people's plates, which is why I had to deal with him shouting at me. This wasn't our first run-in, and I was this close to losing my shit.

I didn't respect many people in life, not until they had earned it, but Lieutenant Tramell had never come close to proving he was capable of command, and yeah, I might not handle him as well as I should, but fuck that noise. The guy epitomized everything I despised in a leader—arrogant, stubborn, and devoid of common sense.

What was worse than him making himself look big by belittling me and my crew in front of the SEALs was that this was the same team who'd pulled us out of the desert. They'd already seen me go off-book to protect my crew and the hostages, messing it up for them, and now they'd think I was incompetent on top of that.

Not that the team leader seemed worried as he strolled over to the LT.

As McKenzie and the LT squared off, I couldn't help but size up the SEAL team. Among them, I recognized the tall, muscled redhead who'd dragged me out of a hostage situation and held my hand during the helo exfil. There was something about his piercing green eyes that had kept me focused even as the bleeding got out of control and I'd been dipping in and out of consciousness—an attraction, or a connection I couldn't ignore.

I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about those green eyes occasionally .

Or that the hazy memory of coming on to him made me hot inside.

"Lieutenant Commander McKenzie," the SEAL team leader introduced himself. "How about someone explains what's going on here when we're only fifteen minutes from step-off?"

"I've dealt with it," Lieutenant Asshole said, and as one, the entire SEAL team inhaled. Their LC outranked our LT and McKenzie made a show of peering at the LT's name sewn into the uniform.

" Lieutenant Tramell," he said and waited.

I glanced at the redhead when I felt the weight of his gaze on me. We exchanged subtle nods, and I tried not to stare at his emerald eyes or count the freckles on his cheekbones. He was tall, broad and sex on legs. Dressed in black, he was every wet dream I'd ever had.

"Sir," Tramell offered after a pause, and just like that, he was in his place.

"Lieutenant," McKenzie drawled, as if he wanted to underscore what happened. "The safety and security of my team, along with your team, and the retrieval of the hostages are my responsibility. All operational decisions fall to me as the senior operator." Unspoken was the do we understand each other?

McKenzie took a step closer to the LT, and Tramell snapped his mouth shut, twin flags of anger staining his cheeks, then McKenzie paused, because of course he did—he was a master of this shit .

"Lieutenant?" he prompted after Tramell said nothing.

"Yes, sir," Tramell finally acknowledged. I bet that hurt, and I had to stop myself from smirking.

"Explain what is happening here?" McKenzie asked.

The LT blinked at him, stuck between a rock and a hard place.

I waited long enough for him to answer before I jumped in. "This mission is over before it starts," I said. "Sir," I added as an afterthought.

McKenzie flicked a glance between the LT and me, and I wondered if he understood I was a long way past salutes and shoulders back to Lieutenant Asshole.

Tramell bristled. "Henderson, you are out of order?—"

"Enough!" McKenzie snapped, holding up a hand to stop the LT talking. "Continue, Henderson."

I stiffened, but didn't hesitate. "I can maneuver more effectively to provide support or extract you if we take a lower run to drop off. My LT respectfully disagrees. Only what he's failing to understand is that I've done this before, and there's pressure showing a storm cell in that region that could have unpredictable wind patterns. Flying lower will give us better control over our descent and minimize the risk of being thrown off course by the turbulence." I was on a roll, and McKenzie wasn't stopping me. "If we want any chance of getting your team and mine back in one piece, you'll want to listen to me."

McKenzie nodded, then turned to the LT, who was red in the face as if he were about to explode.

"And your opinion, Lieutenant Tramell?" McKenzie asked in a deceptively calm tone.

Tramell twitched and couldn't quite meet McKenzie's steady gaze. He gestured at me, sneered, then faced McKenzie. "Sir, with respect, Master Corporal Henderson is a loose cannon and?—"

"People will die," I interrupted. Asshole .

"That's enough, Master Corporal," McKenzie said.

I wanted him to listen to me—to respect me—and I reacted on instinct, taking a step forward. Because that was a good move against a highly trained SEAL team, not .

My LT loved this, preening that he'd stopped me from talking. "Mission parameters remain in place," he said, all oily and superior.

"You're wrong. Storm Kira wasn't even on our radar at oh-five hundred and has?—"

"You have your mission, Master Corporal," the LT sneered. "Rotors spinning in ten." Then, with another exaggerated roll of his eyes, he stormed toward the comm, and didn't glance back, all pretense of respect for the SEAL commander gone.

McKenzie turned his attention to me. "You talk to all your commanding officers that way?" he demanded .

"Only the idiots, sir," I said under my breath, and waited for McKenzie to smack me down. I was unpredictable, quick to anger, and passionate for sure, but I knew my skills.

"Eyes on me, Master Corporal Henderson." I met his stare, and my chest tightened. He didn't seem pissed, more concerned. "Are you right about this storm?" he asked.

I wasn't sure I heard him correctly. "Sir?"

"Are you right about the storm and the approach?" he repeated.

"Damn right I am, sir." I lifted my chin.

"Who's the pilot in charge?"

"I'm the PIC, sir." I gestured at the two others near him. "Copilot Bowers, and Crew Chief Crowley."

McKenzie nodded at the other two before gesturing back at the men behind him. "This is my team. You remember us, right?"

I nodded, glanced to my left and focused on my SEAL. My gaze lingered for a moment. "Yes, sir."

"You keep my team and your crew safe," McKenzie said. "We get this family out safe. We come home. Agreed?"

"Yes, sir," I replied. "And my orders?"

McKenzie pressed a hand to my shoulder. "You're the PIC. It's on you to keep all of us alive."

"Yes, sir."

Now, McKenzie was a man I could learn to respect.