Chapter 11

11

SARAH

" D id you just flip off my girl?"The man that had been in my face earlier came back for more.

He looked angry and entitled and he acted like he owned the joint. Like he and his buddies were the gatekeepers to this dive. I squared my shoulders, refusing to back down in the face of his aggression.

"That's my cue," Kylee muttered before slipping away into the crowd, leaving me to handle the situation on my own.

I could feel the eyes of the entire bar on us, the tension thick in the air as they waited to see how this confrontation would play out.

I took a step forward, meeting the man's gaze head on. "She can handle herself just fine," I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins. "She started this shit."

"You've been giving her dirty looks since you walked in here," he growled. "You think your shit don't stink."

I squared my shoulders, meeting his challenging gaze with one of my own. "I don't give a damn about your girl or her fragile ego," I retorted. "And as for my pride, well, let's just say I'm not the one starting fights in bars over a glance."

The man's face turned an alarming shade of red. His fists clenched at his sides as he took a threatening step closer. I could practically taste the violence in the air, the tension escalating to a breaking point.

"You stupid little bitch," he hissed. "Someone needs to take you down a few pegs."

I pulled back to punch him, but someone caught my elbow and put my arm behind my back. "Hey!" I shouted, kicking and squirming against whoever had a hold of me.

I was dragged outside and tossed on my ass. I came up spitting mad, ready to kick some serious ass. But the person I was about to knock the shit out of turned out to be Dean Ryker. That took the wind out of my sails.

My eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?"

"Do I look like I answer to you?" he retorted.

I brushed off my butt and glared at him. "What the hell?" I spat. "How are you here?"

"My truck." He shrugged.

"Don't be a smartass. Why are you here, at this bar in Mississippi?"

Dean seemed to be conveniently in the right place at the right time a lot. What was with that? My temper was practically vibrating through me. I got all worked up and then had my release taken away from me. Now, I looked like the idiot being dragged out of the bar when everyone else was still inside.

"I'm here because I can be," he replied. "You are walking a fine line. You're acting like an entitled brat. No one likes nepotism. No one wants to see someone like you get promoted and get the cushy jobs because of who your daddy is."

"Fuck you," I hissed.

The words stung more than I cared to admit. His words felt like a physical blow, the truth behind them leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable. I had always known that my father's position had raised eyebrows and stirred resentment among my fellow pilots, but to hear it voiced so blatantly by someone I respected really hurt.

I wasn't one to take anything sitting down and I was certainly not going to start now. I stepped closer to Dean, our faces mere inches apart. "You don't know anything about me," I spat. "You have no right to judge me or my abilities based on who my father is. He didn't get me here. I did. I worked my ass off."

He shook his head, not giving an inch. He looked down his nose at me. "Your daddy isn't going to protect you," he hissed. "He can't protect you in the Air Force. Not even the President of the United fucking States can stop what will happen if you continue pulling stunts like this. Sooner or later higher-ups are going to notice, and they're going to give you the boot. You're too reckless for your own good."

"They won't kick me out after they see me fly," I said, lifting my chin defiantly.

"Entitled, bratty, and cocky. What a mix. It gets you nowhere."

I did a curtsy. "Thank you."

His jaw flexed with irritation, which made me proud that I had gotten to him. "No one will respect you. You think this is all fun and games. If you manage to get through this program and if you somehow manage to find yourself in the cockpit in a high-stakes situation, you're going to discover just how important it is to have the respect of your fellow pilots. Without a good wingman by your side, you might as well be flying blind. You're not just risking your life up there. You're risking the lives of everyone else around you."

I clenched my fists at my sides, trying to push down the surge of emotions threatening to bubble over. "I don't need a lecture from you," I shot back, my voice trembling slightly despite my best efforts to appear unaffected. "I know what I'm doing."

Dean's gaze bored into mine, unwavering and intense. "Do you?" he challenged. "Because the way you're going, you're going to crash and burn. And the last thing I want on my conscience is to have to drag your sorry ass out of flaming wreckage. So, either shape up or ship out, because I won't hesitate to report your reckless behavior to the higher-ups if I have to."

I bit back a retort. His words were sinking in. Dean was right. Maybe it was time to start taking things more seriously, to prove not only to others but also to myself that I deserved to be here.

With a clenched jaw, I tried to step around him. "Don't put hands on me again unless you want me to kick your ass," I hissed. "I'm going to go back to my friends."

"No, you aren't," he said and stepped in front of me.

"Forgive me for sounding like an entitled, bratty kid, but you are not the boss of me."

"But I am." He smirked. "I outrank you. Also, I'm one of the owners of this bar. You're out. I don't want your bullshit here. You and your friends need to leave. I don't need you trashing my bar."

I blinked. "What?"

"What part confused you, Thomas?" he barked, using my last name like he was actually my CO.

"This isn't your bar."

"I would show you the deed, except, oh yeah, I'm your superior, and I don't need to do shit."

I seethed, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks. Dean was enjoying this far too much. I glanced toward the bar, noticing the curious gazes of my friends who were undoubtedly waiting for my next move. With a deep breath to steady myself, I straightened my shoulders and locked eyes with Dean.

"Fine," I said through gritted teeth. "We're leaving."

I was suddenly aware of just how strong he was, how tanned his skin was, how electric his eyes were, and how close we were. I could smell him. I wanted to tell him off, but my words got stuck in my throat.

My gaze dropped to his lips. They were fuller than a man should have. Very, very kissable. His jaw was too square. His shoulders too broad. The T-shirt he wore was stretched across his chest that was too muscular.

Dean leaned in closer, his gaze unwavering as if daring me to challenge him. My heart pounded in my chest. Adrenaline mixed with an unfamiliar thrill that coursed through me. His closeness was suffocating yet strangely exhilarating.

"You don't give up easily, do you?" he murmured, his voice low and dangerously seductive.

Tension crackled between us, a magnetic pull that I couldn't deny. I was ready to take him right then and there. He was looking at me like he wondered what I tasted like, so I suspected he might be thinking the same way.

Or maybe it was wishful thinking.

The moment broke when he took a step back. He had way more self-control than I did. "Get back to base," he ordered. "The first week is no joke. You should be resting, not drinking and getting into fights with locals."

I pulled my shoulders back, trying to regain some semblance of composure. As much as I wanted to continue this dangerous dance with Dean, I knew he was right. The first week was crucial, and jeopardizing my training over a petty argument was stupid.

With a curt nod, I turned on my heel and made my way to the car where Kylee was already waiting. She had fled there when things started flying inside the bar. My new friends fell into step behind me. The night air was cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the heated exchange.

As we drove back to base in silence, I couldn't shake the memory of Dean's intense gaze or the way my pulse had quickened at his proximity. It was as if a dormant part of me had been awakened by his presence, stirring up emotions I hadn't realized were lying beneath the surface. As we approached the base, the familiar sight of the barracks and training grounds loomed ahead, reminding me of the challenges that awaited me in the coming days.

"Thanks for a good time," one of the guys said.

I grinned. "Anytime."

Kylee and I walked toward our dorm. She was quiet. I could feel her judgment. "You disappeared back there," I said.

"I can't afford to get in any trouble," she said. "I have a clean record and I plan to keep it that way."

"You don't have to worry about me," I assured her, feeling a twinge of guilt. Kylee was quiet. She wasn't here to rock the boat. I had to respect that. Few people were like me, which was a good thing. She was a good airman and here I was getting into a spat at a bar with a commanding officer on the eve of our grueling training. "I'll be more careful from now on."

She gave me a small smile. "Just remember why we're here. We have a chance to prove ourselves, to make a difference. Let's not jeopardize that over some bull shit."

"For the record, I didn't start that fight," I said with a laugh.

"Maybe not, but I have a feeling you're the type that insists on finishing it," she said with a shake of her head.

I chuckled at Kylee's insight, knowing she had me pegged more accurately than I'd care to admit. As we reached the entrance to our dorm, I told myself I needed to be more careful. I was here for a reason, to prove myself and show that I belonged among the elite ranks of the Air Force.

I wasn't in the academy where my biggest concern was getting stuck scrubbing a toilet with a toothbrush. This was my entire future. If I got kicked out of the pilot training program, I was done. I couldn't see myself doing anything else in the Air Force. And I was committed for the next six years. I did not want to end up at a desk or being stuck on the sidelines while everyone else got to fly.

I prepared for bed, the events of the night swirling in my mind. As I lay on my bunk, staring up at the dark ceiling, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had taken root within me. Kylee's words echoed in my mind. I didn't want to be known as a troublemaker. I sure as hell didn't want to be known as the general's daughter who got away with everything and skated by because of who my father was. Even worse, if I got cut from flight training, it would prove all the doubters right.

I closed my eyes and focused on the upcoming challenges. The intense training regimen, the demanding instructors, the looming evaluations. They all required my complete dedication and unwavering commitment. I couldn't afford to let anything or anyone jeopardize my chances of success—including me with my temper.