“I don’t follow.”

Tristan grinned wryly. “I’m sure it would take years of intensive therapy to unravel it.” Jett laughed, and the sound of her laughter lightened Tristan’s heart even as the sadness washed through her. “Somewhere along the way I guess I stopped wanting to be special. To anyone.”

Jett couldn’t imagine anyone not thinking Tristan was special.

She was amazing—bold and brave and honest. Beautiful. Sexy.

Remembering the way Tristan felt in her arms that morning, in her mouth the night before, inside her a few hours ago, she was swamped with so many unfamiliar feelings. Tenderness, gratitude, wonder. Her heart ached. Her clit got hard and she wanted to touch Tristan again.

She looked out the windshield because she couldn’t keep looking at her, not and think. Not and keep her hands off her. “You’re special.”

“What?” Tristan asked, still thinking about what she’d just said. She’d given up. Given up hoping that she’d ever be more to anyone than a great fuck. Jett’s voice had dropped so low she could barely hear her. “What?”

Jett cleared her throat. “I’m sure your special friends think you’re special too.”

What about you, Tristan wanted to ask, but she’d been asking since the first day they’d met and she wasn’t about to beg. Darla thought she was pretty special in bed, she was sure of that. Until Jett, that had been enough. “You start your seven on tonight?”

“Yes,” Jett replied, happy to leave the topic of Tristan’s girlfriends behind. Then she wondered what Tristan would do with the rest of her weekend off. Saturday night. She probably went out on Saturday night.

Last night had been an exception, an anomaly. They’d both needed an escape, and they’d run from the death and destruction into twenty-four hours out of time. Now they were nearly back, and life would get back to normal as well. Jett would fly for her pleasure, and Tristan—Tristan would have her special friends.

“Jesus,” Tristan muttered. “Look at the traffic backed up heading east. Glad we’re not going that—” She grabbed at her waist as her beeper went off. She’d barely lifted it to eye level to read the number when Jett’s went off as well. She glanced at Jett. “Trouble.”

Tristan signaled and pulled off the turnpike an exit early so she could park and they both could return their calls. They sat with the engine idling, cell phones to their ears, while they waited to make their way through the labyrinth of hospital operators. Tristan turned slightly away to take her call. When she disconnected she stared at Jett.

“Jesus. They call you in?”

“Yes,” Jett said. “You?”

“Yep.” Tristan gunned the engine and pulled away from the curb. “We’ll take the back roads. I can get us there in ten minutes.”

The secondary roads leading to the hospital were crowded too, and it was closer to fifteen minutes before Tristan pulled into the doctors’ parking lot. She switched off the engine and turned in her seat, finally doing what she’d wanted to do for the last hour and a half. She slid her hand over Jett’s shoulder to the back of her neck and caressed her. “It’s going to be crazy. I don’t know when I’ll see you again.”

“Okay.” Jett tried to ignore the glide of Tristan’s fingers through her hair. She wished Tristan hadn’t touched her. She’d been keyed up in the car, and then the adrenaline spurt from hearing about the disaster had put her nerves on high alert. Now the physical stimulation was almost more than she could take. Still, she didn’t want to pull away.

“I can see it in your eyes,” Tristan whispered, circling her thumb over the base of Jett’s skull. God damn it, she wasn’t a quitter. “Last night isn’t over yet.”

“I have to go,” Jett said, her throat tight.

“I know. So do I.” Tristan yanked Jett toward her and covered her mouth with hers. She needed to be sure Jett didn’t forget her, and she needed part of Jett to take with her. Jett grabbed the front of her shirt and kissed her back, hard, their tongues seeking, searching. Tristan groaned. “Jesus. Jett.”

Jett pulled away and fumbled behind her for the door handle.

“I don’t want to go.” She pushed the door open and got out, her legs feeling too weak to hold her up. “Okay? I don’t want to go.”

“Yeah. Okay,” Tristan said, her chest heaving. “Be careful.”

“Always.”

“I mean it.”

Jett backed up, shaking her head. “Don’t worry. I’m always careful when I fly.”

“Remember what I said,” Tristan called after her. “Last night isn’t over.”

Jett turned and jogged away.

“You running the show?” Tristan asked when she saw Quinn changing in the surgical locker room. Quinn was chief of trauma, so the normal protocol would be for her to coordinate the hospital’s emergency surgical response.

“Yep. Honor’s downstairs in the ER. They’ll handle triage at that level.”

“Honor?” Tristan banged open her locker, kicked her shoes off, and unbuttoned her shirt. “She okay?”

Quinn shrugged her shoulders. “She’s Honor.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” Tristan pulled off her shirt. “What’s the word?”

“Conflicting reports. A three-hundred-yard stretch of the overpass collapsed just north of the city. Most of it ended up in the Delaware.”

“Jesus. How many cars?”

Quinn shook her head and hooked the trauma and code beepers on the waistband of her scrub pants. “Nobody knows. I’ve heard anywhere from a dozen up to a couple hundred. There’s talk of mobilizing the National Guard.”

“How long before we can expect casualties?” Tristan pulled on scrub pants and reached for a shirt from the pile she kept on the top shelf of her locker.

“Anytime. The Coast Guard is working the waters. I just got a call for physicians and medics to triage on shore.” Quinn slammed her locker door. “Want to come?”

“Hell yeah.” Tristan kneed her locker closed. “I don’t want to stay here squeezing a bag all night. Can I take some respiratory techs with me? If many people went into the river, we’re going to have a lot of respiratory arrests.”

“Just make sure we don’t leave the intensive care units uncovered here. We’re hitching a ride on Healthstar, so limit it to two. Collect your people and meet me on the helipad. You’ve got five minutes.”

“Right,” Tristan called, already sprinting toward the hall and the intensive care units at the other end. Healthstar. Healthstar meant Jett. She was going to see her again a lot sooner than she’d thought.

She spared herself twenty seconds to enjoy the anticipation, then she focused all of her attention on what she needed to do.

Jett kept a change of clothes in the closet in her on-call room and had just pulled out a clean shirt when a knock sounded on the door. “Come in.”

When Linda entered and shut the door behind her, Jett turned her back and stripped. She hadn’t put on any underwear after showering at Tristan’s, but she figured Linda had seen more than her fair share of bare butts in her time. “What’s up?”

“There’s someone here to see you,” Linda said.

“If it’s another one of those jerks from risk management, tell them I don’t have anything else to say.”

“Even those anal idiots wouldn’t be trying to interview us in the middle of all this.” Linda laughed at the absurd image. “Well, maybe they would, but it isn’t them.”

“Who is it?” Jett zipped her fly and yanked a black T-shirt over her head. She found a pair of socks in the bottom of her flight bag and pulled them on along with her combat boots.

“I think it’s a personal visit.”

Frowning, Jett straightened. “Hell of a time for it. Tell them to go away.” She grabbed her helmet and started out into the hall. “See you upstairs.”

“Okay,” Linda called after her. “Be there in five.”

Jett took the stairs two at a time and pushed through the exit door onto the rooftop. Clear skies, bright midafternoon sunlight. Perfect day for flying. Her aircraft waited within the white lines delineating the landing pad. Just seeing it made her heart beat faster and her mind settle. This was where she belonged. This she understood.

“When I heard what was going on at the waterfront, I knew this was where I’d find you,” a voice said from behind her.

Jett stopped, almost believing she was daydreaming again. She pivoted and blinked as a shaft of sunlight struck her eyes. They watered and her vision wavered, and she still thought she might have conjured the slender figure walking toward her.

“I know you’ve only got a minute,” Gail said, and Jett’s heart stuttered in her chest.

She was in uniform, but not the desert camo Jett remembered.

She looked taut and trim in the crisp Army blue service uniform with navy trousers and gray shirt. The oak leaf insignia of the Nursing Corps shimmered on her shoulder, and Jett barely stopped herself from saluting.

“Major.”

Gail smiled faintly. “Chief Warrant Officer McNally.”

“I’ve got a flight check to do.”

“I know. Your flight nurse told me.” Gail stopped just inches away, her eyes searching Jett’s.

“What are you doing here?” Jett’s throat hurt. Her heart hurt.

“I came back on a patient transport from Ramstein. I’ve got two weeks’ leave.” Gail brushed the tips of her fingers through the hair at Jett’s temple. “It’s getting long.”

Jett forced herself not to flinch at the touch. Instead, she stepped carefully back. “I don’t have any time.”

“Not now. I know.” Gail’s hand fell slowly to her side. “But in a day or two. I’m at the Hilton at Thirty-sixth Street. I want to see you.”

“Gail…” Jett stopped when the doors bounced open on the far side of the roof and Linda and several others came out. “I don’t—”

“Please. Jett, please.” Gail’s voice broke.

“All right,” Jett said hoarsely.