Chapter 12

12

DEAN

I hit the shower first thing in the morning before making my way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. I didn't like rushing around when I started the day. It stressed me out. I liked to have plenty of time to do my thing.

I was a firm believer in a good breakfast. Being in good physical shape was important for my job. People assumed a pilot sat in a seat and that was that. It was so much more. G-forces and the high altitude and lack of oxygen affected your mental focus. So, every morning, I ate a good breakfast, drank my coffee, and prepared my mind for the day. Even if I wasn't going to be doing any flying, it was a habit.

It was the first official day of training, and as expected, Grier asked me to step in and teach a class. As the eggs sizzled in the pan, I couldn't shake the image of Sarah at the bar. There was something about her that intrigued me, a fire in her eyes that matched my own. Despite our brief encounter, she lingered in my thoughts.

I reminded myself she was too young, and more importantly, she was Mo's daughter. I didn't get to have thoughts about her. I was here to do a job and nothing more.

I finished cooking my breakfast and sat down at the table, lost in thought. I knew there was no way to push Sarah through training faster than the plotted course. But maybe there were a few corners I could cut to shorten my sentence. That was exactly what I saw this as. I was sentenced to Columbus to babysit a woman that didn't want it. She was going to give me gray hair.

I finished my breakfast, cleaned up and went to put on my uniform—the flight suit I was so used to wearing. Then I walked to the hangar to get in a little exercise before I started the class. I knew Sarah would be one of the students. I also knew she wasn't going to be happy to see me. That almost made me smile.

I walked past the airstrip lined with jets ready to take off at a moment's notice. The sleek silhouettes called out to me, tempting me with the promise of the sky. I could hear the distant hum of engines as mechanics prepared the planes for the day's flights. I took a moment to appreciate the beauty before me.

The sun had barely risen, casting an ethereal glow on the metallic bodies of the planes. The crisp, cool morning air smelled of jet fuel and freedom. The scent was intoxicating. I inhaled deeply, filling me with a sense of calm and purpose. This was where I belonged.

I watched a jet taxi onto the runway. A pilot going through a typical flight training was inside, likely brimming with nerves and anticipation. I'd been there and knew exactly how it felt. The adrenaline, the excitement and fear. The weight you felt when you handed over control to the throttle. It was like nothing else in the world.

I watched the jet take off. It climbed higher and higher into the morning sky and disappeared from view. The next jet moved on deck and went through the same process. I wanted to be up there, embracing the sky, feeling the unparalleled rush that only a pilot could understand. But here I was on babysitting duty.

I shook myself out of my reverie and turned toward the hangar where I would be giving my first class.

The place was buzzing with activity as mechanics worked on planes and pilots prepared for their flights. I spotted the group of trainees gathered near one of the T6s and knew that was where I was supposed to be. The good old T6. It had been a long time since I flew one, but I hoped it was like riding a bike. This would help me sort out where my students stood and who was going to need the most attention.

I walked over to the group, eyeing each of them. They looked nervous but excited, eager to begin their training.

"Morning, everyone," I said, my voice cutting through the crowd. "I hope everyone skipped breakfast."

A few of them grew pale. I had eaten breakfast, but I was also used to being turned into a milkshake. I could hold my breakfast. But I intended to give these young bucks a run for their money. I wanted to give them a crash course. We were going to see who had it and who might want to consider a different path for their Air Force career.

Sarah stood out amongst the group. Her uniform hugged her curves in all the right places. Her hair was pulled back in a tight knot. My eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary. She was wearing sunglasses, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun streaming through the wide-open doors. I could see the fire within her, the same fire that fueled my passion for flying. She had the right stuff, but it was a volatile combination.

She pulled off her sunglasses and hung them from her flight suit. When our eyes met, she lifted her chin in a defiant gesture. It was a silent challenge that I admired.

Tension crackled between us, but she didn't acknowledge me beyond that initial glance. I scanned the faces of the other pilots, making assumptions about each of them. I might be wrong, but I didn't think so. I'd been a pilot for a while, and I knew a serious face when I saw one. Once these guys got into the cockpit and dealt with some powerful G-forces, there would be at least half that dropped out.

I cleared my throat. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Dean Ryker," I announced, my voice carrying across the hangar. "You can call me Ryker."

Most of them were grinning from ear to ear, eager to begin their journey into the skies. None of them expected to see me here, least of all Sarah, who I could only imagine was seething with irritation beneath her calm exterior. She was not happy to see me. By now, she must have thought I was stalking her. I did seem to be appearing wherever she was. But that wasn't an accident. I knew that, but she didn't.

"I won't be here to instruct all of your classes," I explained, knowing they probably knew who I was and were a little confused about why I was there. "I'll be spending a lot of time in the air with you. Colonel Grier will be overseeing your in-class studies."

The pilots nodded.

"I have high expectations, but I also have confidence in each and every one of you. Don't let me down."

While I spoke, Sarah's gaze never left me. It was as if she was trying to read my mind or maybe send a warning.

"I'm the guy that's going to make you puke," I said. "I'm the guy that's going to show you whether or not you're cut out for the pilot program. I'm the guy that will push you to your limits and beyond. I'm the guy that will make you bleed, sweat, and cry, but I'll also be the guy that will help you soar. Are you ready for it?"

It was a challenge I always relished, a chance to shape the future of young pilots. In my hands lay the potential of tomorrow's aviators, and I wouldn't let them down. I knew I had a reputation, which explained the looks of fear on their faces. They probably heard I was the guy that tried the impossible and escaped death more than once.

"That's what you're here for, isn't it?" I continued. "To conquer the skies? To become the best?" The expressions on their faces became more determined.

Sarah was the first to respond. "Yes, sir!" she replied, confident and resolute. Her voice rang through the hangar, loud and clear. The others followed suit, echoing her response with fervor.

I looked at Sarah once again. "You," I barked, my tone brooking no argument. "Lieutenant Thomas. Move your ass. We're going flying."

To my surprise, she cracked a grin. Amusement danced in her eyes as she stepped out of line and headed toward the nearest T6. This was going to be too much fun. She thought she was going to show off and prove to her peers she was the best. I was here to remind her she was just starting out too. She might be the best in her mind, but there were other people that would decide that. Including me. My opinion was what mattered.

I watched as she prepared to climb into the cockpit, but before she could make her move, I clicked my tongue in disapproval.

"You're sitting in the back," I declared.

"What?"

"Backseat. Shotgun."

Her mouth fell open in disbelief. "Are you kidding me?"

I meet her gaze head on, daring her to defy another order. Slowly, she snapped her mouth closed and begrudgingly climbed into the back seat. With a sense of satisfaction, I slid into the pilot's seat. This was her first lesson in humility. She was going to learn she wasn't the queen of UPT. She was going to have to earn her place in the cockpit. I knew she was going to take it personally, and I supposed that made me a little happy. She was cocky. Not that it was a bad thing, but if she was going to be as cocky as she was, she needed to be able to back it up.

I cinched the straps of my helmet, ensuring it was secure before giving her a quick nod. "All set?"

"Yep," she replied, a certain frostiness in her voice betraying her annoyance, but she kept any further comment to herself. I could see the burning determination in her eyes reflected in the mirror of my visor.

"Good."

With that, I switched on the ignition and the propellers of the T6 began their thunderous hum. I felt the power. Damn, it was good to be back in the saddle.

It didn't hurt to have a beautiful woman as a co-pilot.