Chapter 1

"You're kidding, right?"

Walker Pierce looked at the guy sitting next to him in the cockpit — Booker Hayes. Fellow Flight Concepts' pilot, and the man Walker was sure had lost his mind. Because Walker could have sworn Booker had just announced Walker and Xavier were going to have an old-fashioned dogfight.

Well, as much as two helicopters could dogfight.

Booker grinned. "I thought you'd be excited."

"And I thought we were up here to get this stupid proficiency check over with."

Not that Walker didn't approve of them, but it was the second one since he'd become a participating member of Team Eagle and the Brotherhood Protector's Aviation Division in West Yellowstone.

Booker shrugged. "I know having to jump through all these hoops, again, is a pain, but I understand why Hank wants us all to have our checks due in the summer. However, since we're signing off on each other, I thought… why not have a bit of fun?"

"And a dogfight equates to fun?"

"Please. I don't need to sit here, ticking off all these boxes. You've been flying for twenty years — most of that with Flight Concepts. And after all the tours and equipment you flew in the service, this is pretty vanilla. So, let's up the ante, a bit."

Walker laughed. "I've forgotten how nuts you really are, buddy. But before we get this party started, are you sure Xavier's up for it? I mean, the guy's good, but…"

But he hadn't spent all those years flying special forces into enemy territory. Hadn't learned how to pilot multiple foreign aircraft, or how to avoid the most advanced tracking systems.

Hadn't been behind the controls on that godforsaken mission that had landed them all here.

Booker grinned. "He seems to think we're antiquated. That he's got a leg up because he's younger — more savvy, I guess."

"Is that so? Well, let's put that theory to the test." Walker thumbed at Corbin River sitting in the back. "I assume that's why the kid's along?"

"He's our gunner. We've got laser targeting sensors placed around the exterior. Whoever lights them all up, first, wins. Unless you're worried Corbin doesn't have it in him."

A huff sounded across the comms. "You jerks know I can hear you, right?"

Booker twisted in his seat until he was looking into the back. "Yup."

Corbin snorted. "Now, I know why Callie's always calling you an ass."

"Gretta calls you worse than that, so…"

"That, she does." Corbin waited until Walker gave him a quick side eye. "So, old man. We gonna do this, or what?"

"Again, I'm only ten years older than you."

"And still like a father figure."

Walker laughed. Corbin wasn't wrong. Walker did have more of a mentor relationship with the guy than simply being a best friend. Not full-on father, but he couldn't deny he had an innate need to nurture the kid. Something that had developed over the course of their extended rehab together when Corbin had struggled with losing his career before he'd even turned thirty. And Walker wouldn't change their dynamic, even if the kid did see him as old. Hell, with all Walker had experienced in the service, he felt ancient, sometimes.

Except when he was with Blair Hughes — MI6 agent and Gretta's sister. Blair made him feel like a lovesick teenager — one destined to slowly going insane because Walker had absolutely no idea how to move beyond friendship with her. And it was from more than just his lack of experience in that department. The fact he'd never been in love — had never wanted that kind of entanglement in his life, before. Sure, he'd had his share of lovers, and if sex was all he was interested in, he would have done everything he could to have charmed Blair into his bed.

But for the first time in his life, he wanted more. And he had a bad feeling his inability to wrap his head around how to initiate that next move, stemmed from something deeper. Something he feared was linked to fate. Or maybe faith.

But how could he take a leap of faith when that faith had been thoroughly shattered, along with the right side of his body? And he wasn't convinced the doctors had put it all back together. That, somewhere along the way, they'd lost a few pieces — the important ones. And he was left searching for bits of his soul he doubted he'd ever find.

Blair had changed that. Filled in the empty spaces. A fact that had him questioning if the real reason he was stuck cruising in the friend zone was because somewhere deep inside, he didn't believe he deserved to be happy — to live. But he knew if he didn't decide which side of the fence he was on soon, he'd lose far more than those replacement parts she'd given him.

He'd lose his one chance at finding forever.

Booker cleared his throat, giving Walker a raise of his brow. "Well? You ready?"

Walker groaned inwardly. He'd been getting lost in thought frequently since the accident. The one constant it seemed. Thankfully, Booker understood, better than anyone, how Walker felt. The guilt. The sense of failure. And his buddy rarely called him on it.

Walker admired the way Booker had seemingly put that accident behind him. Maybe not completely, but ever since he'd reunited with Callie Jensen, ex-DEA agent and Booker's new wife, the guy had definitely achieved more of a Zen quality regarding that failed op. The kind of calm Walker strived for but couldn't quite attain.

He snorted, rolling his right shoulder to loosen the tension that seeped into all the screws and plates holding everything together, then smiled. "I hope Xavier's ego isn't too delicate because the man's about to get schooled."

Booked grinned, gave Xavier the green light over the radio, then nodded at the control panel. "All right, Walker. Let's see how far you can push this baby before she breaks."

Corbin coughed. "Wait, Walker. You're not actually going to break… Shit."

Walker tipped the machine forward, gaining some speed before banking hard to the left. He got a bead on Xavier as the guy slipped in behind him, shadowing his movements. But if Xavier thought Walker was going to make it this fight easy, the man was in for one hell of a ride.

Walker slowed, allowing Xavier to close the distance just a bit before he peeled off — pegged the machine at some insane speed as he headed for the tree line. No fancy zigzagging, no hesitation. Just the nose aimed at the pines, and the wind whistling through the cockpit.

Ten seconds in, and they were screaming — quickly eating up the air between the chopper and the trees. Another five, and he had the machine tipped over as he skimmed the tops, the blades just missing the branches. Needles whizzed past the bubble, the occasional leaf fluttering against the plexiglass before flying off.

Corbin muttered something in the back, but Walker ignored it. This was his calling. Regardless of how the accident had affected him — the nightmares and flashbacks he pushed aside — this was still the one place he felt in control. Where, for as long as the flight lasted, he believed he was enough.

A blast of static sounded over the radio before laughter filled the cockpit. "Jesus, Walker. You don't have to go completely insane. It's only a game."

Xavier. Though, Walker wasn't buying the casual tone. The guy was more than competitive, and Walker knew it.

He chuckled, dropping them into an opening in the trees before snaking his way along a river. "It's never just a game, buddy. Regardless, it's one I intend to win. Catch me if you can."

He clicked off the mic, then activated the internal comms. "Corbin, please tell me Xavier is above us and off to the right."

Corbin snorted. "Nailed it. He's counting on you following this river."

"And we will… for a bit."

Walker kept the bird low, swinging her back and forth around the tight bends, all the while sensing Xavier following him. Staying on his six but waiting until Walker was forced to climb to initiate any kind of attack. What would make Xavier's positioning ideal, except Walker wasn't going to climb the way the other man thought. In fact, he planned on going on the offensive.

A few more bends, then Walker was banking her over. Not quite rolling her as he climbed and reversed his direction, but as close as he could get while maintaining positive G's. What would prevent the blades from simply shooting off. He finished nearly level with Xavier's machine, his chopper on a collision course, still going that insane speed.

Not the typical game of chicken, but it counted. And Walker hadn't lost a round, yet.

Xavier held on longer than Walker had figured, dodging right at the last moment. And that was all the opening Walker needed.

He peeled over, nearly rolling her, again, while opening up Corbin's side. "Hey, kid. Pull yourself up off the floor and show us what you've got."

Corbin mumbled something about how Walker was certifiable, and that he wasn't sure he wanted to fly with him, anymore, before shouldering his weapon.

He took a couple of seconds to gauge his trajectory, then fired. Lighting up four of the laser targets on Xavier's helicopter.

Xavier countered, diving down as he banked the machine hard to the left, coming up behind Walker when he had to ease back to avoid getting too close to a few outcrops. And skimming the side of the moutain would have definitely had Walker crossing over to the other side of crazy when it really was just a game. But he hadn't been joking. He'd failed once. He wasn't about to fail, again, real or not.

Xavier's gunner got off a few shots, activating one of the targets. Nothing close to ending the game, but Walker vowed it was the only hit the other team would get.

He headed for a narrow pass between two outcrops. More of a long chasm, really, just large enough to sneak through. He held the machine steady, dismissing Corbin's rough inhale that sounded over the comms. True, it was probably a bit risky for a training mission, but Walker knew, firsthand, that if he didn't push himself here and now, he'd back down when their lives really were on the line. And he'd sworn he'd hang up his wings long before that happened.

Twenty feet back, and Xavier was talking over the radio — telling Walker it was too dangerous. That he should back down. Some bullshit about not dying. But Walker had already faced death, and compared to the accident on the aircraft carrier, this was that vanilla crap Booker had been talking about.

A few more feet, and Walker had the machine tipped over — was skimming it through the opening. It only took a few seconds to squeeze the chopper through, but it felt longer. Minutes. Hell, hours with the rock walls looming in close, only a few feet between the sides of the chasm and the machine. What could have easily killed them if he'd lost his concentration or worse, his nerve.

Screaming out the other side intact had him grinning, nodding at Booker when the guy shouted, "Hell, yeah," into the comms. Walker chanced a glance back at Corbin, but the kid merely glared at him, shaking his head before chuckling.

Corbin shouldered his weapon, again. "Jackass. Stop patting yourself on the back for not killing us, and get me in position so I can hit those last sensors."

Walker banked the chopper to the right, dropping over the top of one outcrop and into a valley on the other side. "Don't get snarky because you didn't get all six when I practically served Xavier up on a platter for you."

"I went four for four."

Walker shrugged. "And yet, there're still two left."

"Is that your way of saying you can only line his chopper up once?"

"Oh, how you'll eat those words." Walker followed the rocky hill around to the right, popping out behind Xavier's machine, just like he'd hoped. "This close enough for you, or should I get lover close like you and Gretta?"

"Just hold it steady, wise ass."

Two shots, two hits, as the last remaining sensors lit up, signaling a win.

Corbin snorted. "You were saying…"

"An ace would've only needed one shot."

"And, if we were using bullets, I could have bounced one."

Walker laughed. "Fine. I guess you haven't lost too much, after all. I was getting worried for a moment. Thought maybe Gretta had brought you over to the dark side. Had you throwing as many shots at a problem as possible instead of finessing it."

"I'm going to tell her you said that and see just how savvy she can be with a rifle aimed at your ass. Betting she'll only need one bullet, old man."

Walker raised one hand. "Easy there, kid. I'm not ashamed to admit Gretta scares me, just a bit."

A blast of static sounded through the cockpit followed by a long sigh. "I take back all the things I ever said about Booker because Walker, you are hands down, the craziest pilot I've ever known. I can't believe you actually flew through that crack."

Walker laughed. "It was a sizeable gap, and you do realize you just challenged Booker to a dogfight, right Xavier?"

"Oh, no. I didn't?—"

"Oh, yes, you did." Booker nodded at Walker as he took ahold of the controls on his side of the machine. "It's my turn. So, reset those targets, brother. I'll give you sixty seconds head start, then, the hunt is on."

It was only a couple hours before sunset when the men finally called it quits, joking and shoving each other as they walked across the helipad and headed for their vehicles. Somehow, they'd managed to conveniently forget they were late for a gathering at Booker and Callie's house. Though, Walker had a feeling Booker had subconsciously planned it that way. That he knew Walker still didn't do well in large groups, where the prospect of the carrier accident was bound to surface. And he'd be left backpedaling, trying to brush off any comments about how he'd done well saving as many lives as he had. That somehow, he wasn't to blame.

That his greatest failure had earned him a medal.

Booker understood. Had a similar velvet-lined box stashed somewhere in his house, gathering dust.

Corbin jumped into the passenger side of Walker's truck, motioning to the road. "You gonna get this baby rolling, or are we going to sit here and wait until everyone's too drunk to get under your skin?"

Walker shook his head. "Why are we best friends, again?"

"Because no one else can stand you."

"Jackass."

"Drive, grandpa."

"Now, you're pushing it."

Corbin grinned, dodging the swing Walker aimed at his shoulder, mumbling something about Walker being too slow, before Walker revved the engine then headed out. Corbin understood Walker's reservations, too. Which was why the kid was joking around. Goading him so Walker would forget about his demons long enough to enjoy the barbecue. Especially if Blair was there.

Which she should be, unless Gretta had decided the guys were taking too long and had dragged her sister off to the gun range. Walker wasn't sure how a Brit had developed such a passion for weapons, but there was no denying both sisters excelled at their jobs. Even if the prospect of Blair heading back to London gutted him.

Of course, he hadn't exactly given her a reason to stay. Instead, he'd spent the past five months agonizing over the fact he was out of his element — had fallen for her without even realizing it until the prospect of it ending before it had even begun was slapping him in the face. He should have been showing her there were viable options for her, right here, in West Yellowstone. That Gretta wasn't the only person hoping she'd stay.

Sure, Blair had been recovering, at first, from a gunshot wound she'd sustained when she'd uncovered a mole inside MI6 and had sent Gretta a series of cryptic texts. What had gotten Corbin and Walker intertwined with Blair, to begin with. But she'd recovered enough Walker could have asked her out long before now. The fact her medical leave was quickly coming to a close was proof that he'd been stalling.

More regrets he could add to his list.

Corbin didn't talk during the short drive from the hanger to Booker's place, simply staring out the window until Walker had parked his truck as far back as possible. His failsafe in case the noise and the people got to him, and he needed to make a quick exit.

That, or if he was able to convince Blair to go for a long drive to stargaze. What might be the perfect opportunity to finally make his move.

Corbin shook his head, glancing at the driveway snaking off in front of them. "Still parking in the back nine, huh."

Walker shrugged. "The walk is good rehab for your back."

"Pretty damn sure it's not my back you're thinking about." Corbin arched a brow. "Is this so you can make a quick getaway if everyone starts talking about the aircraft carrier incident, or so you can finally grow a set and spirit Blair away?"

"Shut up."

Corbin grabbed Walker's arm when he tried to step out. "I realize we're all still dealing with that day. And I'm the last person who'll ever tell you to just get over it. I know the toll it's taken. The guilt and blame. But you're better when you're with Blair. You know that, right?"

"It's—"

"Not complicated. You're stupid in love with her, and she's smart, but somehow equally stupid in love with you."

"Whoa. We're not even dating, so pull back on the whole ‘love' thing. We're friends." He swallowed the bitter aftertaste of the lie as the words formed on his tongue, doing his best to push forward. "Close friends, but…"

"You've spent the past few months practically glued at the hip. Just because you haven't actually made it to a bed doesn't mean your feelings aren't real. And before you start listing all the ways I'm full of shit, I've had a front-row seat, as has Gretta."

Walker glanced at Booker's home off in the distance, rolling his right shoulder to ease the tension that had crept into it as soon as Corbin had called him out. "I care."

"Walker." Corbin waited until he made eye contact. "Why is it so hard for you to admit you're crazy about her? I realize this is uncharted territory for you — that whole bullshit love is like a pizza analogy you once gave me, and how bad pizza can stick with you for life. But you just flew a chopper through a freaking crack in the mountains. Admitting you're in love with Blair seems pretty benign by comparison."

He closed his eyes for a moment, willing the anxious roll in his stomach to ease. "This has nothing to do with uncharted territory or crashing and burning."

"Then, what?" Corbin narrowed his eyes, glancing at the entrance to Booker's backyard. "The accident?"

"Ignoring the fact a dozen soldiers lost their careers that day, there were eight men who never made it out of those two choppers alive because of me. And yeah, I know. The machine failed. It wasn't really my fault. I followed protocol, but…" He stared down at his hands, hating the way they shook. "How is it remotely okay that I have the chance to be with someone as amazing as Blair when they…"

The truck fell silent, nothing but the weight of his words hanging in the air between them. The truth he still hadn't come to terms with — might never come to terms with because he was alive, and they weren't.

Corbin finally sighed, opened the door, then stepped out. He made his way around to Walker's side, leaning against the front panel as Walker slipped out of the vehicle. "If you want to spend the rest of your life seeking the kind of redemption you can't possibly find, I won't stop you. And if you want to let Blair slip away back to London because you don't think you deserve to be happy — to have a life beyond work — I'll keep my mouth shut."

He pushed off the truck and started down the gravel driveway, pausing several feet out as he glanced back over his shoulder. "But you might want to look around at some of those casualties you seem to think you caused because the rest of us are fine. Sure, our lives are different, but that doesn't automatically equate to them being worse. Look at me. If I hadn't been on that damn chopper — hadn't lost what I thought would be the rest of my life — I never would have found Gretta. And it might sound cliché, but I wouldn't trade a lifetime's worth of missions for the next fifty years with her. Which is crazy because I never thought I'd have a family until I was an old man… like you."

He stared as Corbin continued down the driveway, disappearing behind a row of trucks. Shouts and hoots sounded in the distance followed by music drifting along the breeze.

Because the rest of us are fine…

He hadn't really thought about it that way. Hadn't stopped long enough to really take stock — realize that, while Corbin was right and everyone's lives were different, his teammates weren't unhappy. Weren't moping around, lost in their own horrors. In fact, Walker was the only one that seemed stuck in the past, afraid to move on.

He wanted to move on. Wanted more than just missions and training to occupy the hours. To have the kind of future his teammates were creating.

And he wanted it with Blair.

He just didn't know how to bury the memories. Silence the screams and cries that echoed inside his head whenever he let his guard down. To look in the mirror and not see what the wreckage had left behind. And it was more than the scars and the metal holding him together. It was the men he'd left on the carrier's deck. Their faces. Their pain.

Their sacrifice.

And despite everything Corbin had said, Walker wasn't sure he could push it all aside. That he could be the guy he pretended to be when his teammates were watching. The one who never backed down. Who flew a chopper without hesitation or fear.

If it was possible to be anyone other than Walker Pierce — the man who'd failed.