Chapter 3
Adam
The hangar felt smaller with her in it.
Raine Carter stood like she was welded to the floor, every inch of her telling me she’d rather be anywhere else. Those hot, steamy nights with her in my bed made my blood boil. But then she was gone. Two months with her, and then she disappeared.
“Logan,” I said, breaking eye contact first, “is your bird still pulling a clean lift with the extra fuel rig?”
“Barely,” he said. “Depends who’s dangling off it.”
“Cute,” Raine muttered.
I set my bag on the table next to her dripping helmet and forced a smile. “I’m not here to step on toes. Command asked for outside coordination. I coordinate.”
“You control,” she shot back.
“Semantics.” I scanned the whiteboard: red grease pencil sectors, magnets showing who hadn’t come back yet. “We’re behind. If the river crests again, half of Sector Foxtrot will be gone.”
Her jaw flexed. “We know.”
“Then let’s move,” I said, tapping the board. “I’ll take Foxtrot and the northern levee breach. You stay in the air—eyes, not hero. We’re losing time to miscommunication.”
“You don’t give me orders, Stoker.”
I stepped closer, lowered my voice. “I’m not trying to. But I’m not letting you die either.”
Something flickered in her eyes before she turned away toward the weapons cage. “Briefing in five. You’re late.”