smile flashed into place and Emily returned it, despite now knowing how carefully the woman controlled it. “Well done.”
Emily suddenly felt ten feet tall and able to leap small buildings at the slightest provocation. She knew she was smiling foolishly, even though alarms were sounding in a dozen parts of her brain, as well as Daniel’s enjoinder to “watch her back.” The woman controlled what she showed to the world with impeccable care. What lay beneath didn’t appear to be nearly as pretty.
“And tomorrow, I think we’ll take a little journey. Do you miss flying?”
“Desperately.” The word flew out of her mouth before the question fully registered. Less than, she had to think, not yet one full day since her last flight to the carrier. It felt like a year.
“Good. At seven tomorrow you’re to meet with Eddie at the Marine One hangar, wherever that is. He’ll check you up or out, or whatever it is they do. Once you have his stamp of approval—awkward but necessary, I apologize in advance for putting you through this, he insisted—fetch Henry and me on the South Lawn at eleven. I told Eddie not to keep you any longer than that.”
She breezed out with Daniel and the blacksuits in her wake. Only two empty dessert plates remained as evidence. Emily didn’t recall finishing her own. Had Daniel gotten hers when she wasn’t watching?
Who was Henry? And where were they going?
She didn’t care, as long as she got to fly.
She jumped up and fist-pumped the air.
It was the first good news she’d had since being dumped out of her cot by Henderson.
***
Mark knew it was stupid, even as he did it.
There’d been no mission, so he’d spent the night and the morning proving that there was little on this planet more unsuited for sleeping than an army cot when you were in a tossing and turning mood. He’d spent an hour pumping iron, taken two showers, and didn’t even remember the name of either movie he’d watched.
He heard a chopper start winding up out on the field and checked his watch, 7:55 a.m. Twenty-two hours and seven minutes since he’d kissed her. He’d even spun the outer bezel of his watch so that the arrow marked the minute. How was that for sad? He almost spun it clear, but didn’t.
The turbine settled into a warm-up whine. That would be the carrier run. He jammed on his flight suit, kicked into his boots, grabbed his helmet, and arrived at the bird by 7:58. Archie Stevenson had her humming as Bronson and the two gunners secured the last of the outbound bags.
Unbelievable that they’d gotten the bird put back together so fast. Beale ran a seriously hot crew. He really should get them back on the line, and with someone other than Bronson, but today they’d served his purpose.
He tapped Bronson on the shoulder, “Take a breather. I’ve got this one.”
Bronson tried to ask some question, but Mark just climbed into the right-side pilot seat.
First Lieutenant Archibald Stevenson III looked over at him. There was not a lot of warmth in his eyes. Mark could feel Big John and Crazy Tim glaring at his back. He wanted to protest that he hadn’t been the one who’d shipped her wherever she was gone to. That he was innocent.
But he wasn’t. He’d sent one of his finest crews to carrier duty after they’d done one of the bravest things he’d ever seen. And he’d kissed their captain. Good thing they didn’t know that, or he might just happen to fall out of the chopper somewhere over the Arabian Sea.
“Let’s just do it.”
Stevenson watched him a moment longer, then jerked the bird upward hard enough to feel like a slap.
Chapter 15
Too wound up to sleep, Emily went for a walk on the Mall. She moseyed down to visit her old pal Honest Abe, sitting in his pillared marble cabin as he stared out over the Reflecting Pool, and glared at the Capitol where Congress had fought him almost as hard as the South. She parked her butt on Abe’s front porch and watched Washington
Emily suddenly felt ten feet tall and able to leap small buildings at the slightest provocation. She knew she was smiling foolishly, even though alarms were sounding in a dozen parts of her brain, as well as Daniel’s enjoinder to “watch her back.” The woman controlled what she showed to the world with impeccable care. What lay beneath didn’t appear to be nearly as pretty.
“And tomorrow, I think we’ll take a little journey. Do you miss flying?”
“Desperately.” The word flew out of her mouth before the question fully registered. Less than, she had to think, not yet one full day since her last flight to the carrier. It felt like a year.
“Good. At seven tomorrow you’re to meet with Eddie at the Marine One hangar, wherever that is. He’ll check you up or out, or whatever it is they do. Once you have his stamp of approval—awkward but necessary, I apologize in advance for putting you through this, he insisted—fetch Henry and me on the South Lawn at eleven. I told Eddie not to keep you any longer than that.”
She breezed out with Daniel and the blacksuits in her wake. Only two empty dessert plates remained as evidence. Emily didn’t recall finishing her own. Had Daniel gotten hers when she wasn’t watching?
Who was Henry? And where were they going?
She didn’t care, as long as she got to fly.
She jumped up and fist-pumped the air.
It was the first good news she’d had since being dumped out of her cot by Henderson.
***
Mark knew it was stupid, even as he did it.
There’d been no mission, so he’d spent the night and the morning proving that there was little on this planet more unsuited for sleeping than an army cot when you were in a tossing and turning mood. He’d spent an hour pumping iron, taken two showers, and didn’t even remember the name of either movie he’d watched.
He heard a chopper start winding up out on the field and checked his watch, 7:55 a.m. Twenty-two hours and seven minutes since he’d kissed her. He’d even spun the outer bezel of his watch so that the arrow marked the minute. How was that for sad? He almost spun it clear, but didn’t.
The turbine settled into a warm-up whine. That would be the carrier run. He jammed on his flight suit, kicked into his boots, grabbed his helmet, and arrived at the bird by 7:58. Archie Stevenson had her humming as Bronson and the two gunners secured the last of the outbound bags.
Unbelievable that they’d gotten the bird put back together so fast. Beale ran a seriously hot crew. He really should get them back on the line, and with someone other than Bronson, but today they’d served his purpose.
He tapped Bronson on the shoulder, “Take a breather. I’ve got this one.”
Bronson tried to ask some question, but Mark just climbed into the right-side pilot seat.
First Lieutenant Archibald Stevenson III looked over at him. There was not a lot of warmth in his eyes. Mark could feel Big John and Crazy Tim glaring at his back. He wanted to protest that he hadn’t been the one who’d shipped her wherever she was gone to. That he was innocent.
But he wasn’t. He’d sent one of his finest crews to carrier duty after they’d done one of the bravest things he’d ever seen. And he’d kissed their captain. Good thing they didn’t know that, or he might just happen to fall out of the chopper somewhere over the Arabian Sea.
“Let’s just do it.”
Stevenson watched him a moment longer, then jerked the bird upward hard enough to feel like a slap.
Chapter 15
Too wound up to sleep, Emily went for a walk on the Mall. She moseyed down to visit her old pal Honest Abe, sitting in his pillared marble cabin as he stared out over the Reflecting Pool, and glared at the Capitol where Congress had fought him almost as hard as the South. She parked her butt on Abe’s front porch and watched Washington
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