Gail waited another heartbeat, then turned and walked away. Jett watched her for a few more seconds before climbing into the cockpit to prepare for the upcoming battle. She couldn’t think about Gail now.

Couldn’t think about what she saw in her eyes. Regret. Sadness. Desire.

She couldn’t think about what she’d felt when she’d first seen her face.

Recognition. Anticipation. Desire.

Chapter Twenty-two

The elevator doors opened and Tristan jumped out, nearly colliding with a good-looking brunette in a snappy uniform.

“Oh, sorry.” She grabbed the woman by the shoulders to steady her, surprised by the firm muscles in the lithe frame. “You okay?”

“Yes, fine. My fault. I was crowding the door.” She smiled at Tristan. “Bad habit I have, always being in a hurry.”

“I know what you mean.” Tristan stepped around her, then realized there was no parking on the roof. So if the soldier wasn’t up there parking a car, where did she come from, and what was she doing?

The only thing outside was the flight deck. Suddenly the pieces fell together. The only other soldier, well, ex-soldier but not ex by much, who was likely to be up on the roof was Jett. So this woman—this very attractive, actually pretty hot woman—was there to see Jett. Tristan was two seconds from demanding who she was and what she wanted with Jett before she mentally ordered herself to calm down. She was making some huge leaps of logic, and even if she was right and the brunette was there to see Jett, Jett probably had lots of friends from the Army, most of them women. Why shouldn’t she have a visitor. Perfectly natural.

Tristan narrowed her eyes. “You’re not lost by any chance, are you?”

The soldier turned back to Tristan, a curious question in her eyes, and the elevator doors opened and then closed, leaving her still standing in the small foyer. She pushed the down button again. “No.”

Well then, why are you here, Tristan wanted to ask, but it wasn’t any of her business, and she didn’t have any time left. “Enjoy the rest of the day.”

“You too, and stay alert out there,” the brunette said.

“Thanks,” Tristan said, and ran for the helicopter. Linda, with one hand on the handle of the large side sliding door, leaned out of the aircraft, whose rotors were already spinning. Tristan could make out the rest of the team inside. She ducked her head and vaulted into the cabin. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Linda pulled the door closed and tapped Jett on the shoulder, saying at the same time, “All aboard, Chief.”

Tristan strapped in next to Linda and, keeping her transmitter turned off, leaned close. Under cover of the motor revving, she asked “Who was that?”

“Who?” Linda asked.

“The brunette. The soldier.”

“Oh. I don’t know. A friend of Jett’s, I guess. She showed up in the flight lounge a while ago, asking for Jett.”

Tristan frowned. “And Jett brought her up here?” To our favorite place, she almost said.

“I don’t think so. I think she came up on her own.”

“Pretty fucking good friend,” Tristan muttered, “or a pretty ballsy one.”

“What?” Linda yelled, signaling that she couldn’t hear.

Tristan shook her head. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

Except it did. It mattered a hell of a lot. Because no matter how much Jett said whatever had happened between her and the mystery woman in the Army was over, her eyes said otherwise. Tristan didn’t believe in coincidences, not when they showed up out of the blue and acted like they owned the place. Following Jett to the flight deck. Hell.

She stared past Quinn into the cockpit. She couldn’t see Jett’s face, only her shoulder, one arm, and her hand. She watched Jett’s fingers cradle the stick, reading the aircraft through its vibration and pitch, just as she had read Tristan’s body as she’d clenched and tightened. Tristan had a quick flash of Jett grabbing Mandy, of her hands skimming Mandy’s breasts, and suddenly Mandy became the woman by the elevator. Only this time Jett wasn’t just touching the woman, the woman was touching Jett too. The idea made something inside Tristan coil so tightly she felt herself quiver.

A strong hand gripped her shoulder and broke her reverie.

“You okay?” Quinn yelled.

“Yeah. Fine.” Tristan tore her eyes away from Jett. “Couldn’t be better.”

“It’s going to get hairy down there,” Quinn said, peering into Tristan’s face. “Stay focused.”

“Always am.” Tristan closed her eyes so Quinn couldn’t read them, and blanked her mind. They’d be in the field in a few minutes and lives depended on her being sharp. She didn’t have time to think about Jett, or why the idea of Jett with any other woman made her furious. She wanted to hang a sign on Jett that said mine. What the hell was that about?

Jett studied her approach through the wide windows of the glassedin cockpit. Even from a few miles away, signs of the devastation were clearly evident. The air surrounding the site of the freeway collapse was cloudy with particulate matter, probably concrete dust, resembling what she’d seen in Baghdad after buildings had been reduced to rubble by missiles and bombs. She tensed, half expecting incoming fire, automatically preparing to begin evasive maneuvers. Despite the internal climate control on the aircraft, she was sweating. The closer she got, the more the ground action looked like a war zone. Huge slabs of concrete were standing on end, resembling a jumble of giant dominoes haphazardly tossed about. A section of the overpass had accordioned down onto the highway below. If the collapse had occurred even a half a mile in either direction, there would have been houses buried in the rubble rather than just vehicles.

“Oh my God,” Jett heard Linda say over the radio. “There are cars everywhere. In the water…oh my God.”

Cars floated upside down in the Delaware River, kept afloat by air pockets inside the vehicles. Jett figured there had to be dozens more beneath the surface. At one spot where two block-long sections of the highway formed a funnel, cars and trucks lay piled at the bottom of the vee. Coast Guard cruisers and smaller boats littered the waterways.

Emergency vehicles jammed the side streets in all directions. A news helicopter drifted into view. Jett disliked sharing her airspace with news choppers. Even experienced emergency helicopter pilots occasionally crossed paths midair, but the news pilots tended to be too busy jockeying for camera angles and exclusive shots to adhere to strict safety protocols. Risk takers. Jett might take chances, but she knew her limits. They didn’t.

“This is Healthstar 3, two nine nine PMC. Request LZ site.” The FAA would have set up a temporary flight restriction above and around the disaster area, so the TV and radio news choppers weren’t likely to come any closer. Just the same, Jett slowed and circled, keeping an eye on them while waiting for clearance to land on one of the designated landing zones. The firecrews on the ground would direct her to one.

“Roger Healthstar 3. Your LZ is the Marina parking lot. You have power lines at the southwest corner. Land between the trucks.”

“Roger.”

Jett set down in the parking lot on the river side of the destroyed highway, a few hundred yards from the center of the rescue activity.

She climbed down from the cockpit to help unload the emergency equipment.

“Try to work as a team,” Quinn instructed the medics. “If another crew requests assistance, go ahead, but let me know where you’re going. We don’t want to lose anyone out here, and these situations can be unstable. Don’t take any chances.”

Jett edged through the people toward Tristan, who was offloading equipment. She had been surprised to see Tristan climb aboard, but her overwhelming response had been pleasure. Pleasure and relief. Gail—Gail who was no longer part of her world—had just appeared out of

nowhere and then disappeared just as quickly, and Jett didn’t want to think about her, couldn’t think about her now. And when she’d seen Tristan, Gail’s face had faded. Instead she’d remembered waking up with Tristan in her arms and the feeling of peace like none she’d ever experienced. All the while she’d been in the air, she’d thought about Tristan. Tristan, who never seemed afraid to talk about anything, who could get Jett to talk, to feel, even when she didn’t want to. Tristan, who wasn’t afraid of Jett or what she wanted. Jett replayed how Tris’s hard, strong body had softened with desire and how her tight, powerful muscles had trembled on the brink of orgasm. Thinking about caressing Tristan, of making her cry out with pleasure and release, fueled the hunger that had never ebbed, and Jett had to fight not to touch her. Like an addict, she craved more.

“You doing search and rescue now?” Jett asked, cramming her hands in her pockets because she didn’t trust herself.

“Being out here beats sitting back at the shop waiting.” Tristan kept dragging equipment out of the cabin. She was still thinking about the brunette. About who she was and why she’d come looking for Jett.

It bugged her that she wanted to know so badly, and she didn’t know how to ask, and she didn’t know how to stop thinking about her with Jett.

“Look,” Jett said hurriedly. “I’m going to be transporting casualties to any available hospital, and from the looks of things, we’re going to be out here for a while.”

Tristan stopped what she was doing and finally looked at Jett.

“Yeah. A very long night. Be careful.”

Jett grinned. “I was just going to say the same thing to you.”

“I’m always careful.” Tristan went back to what she was doing, stiffening when she felt Jett’s hand close around her upper arm. Even that casual contact sent her pulse into overdrive. Then Jett moved closer and their legs touched. Tristan started shaking, and for a terrifying second, she thought she might actually fall. She locked her knees and gritted her teeth. She needed some control, and she needed it fast. This thing with Jett, whatever the hell it was, had her so completely turned around she didn’t recognize herself.