“Tris is staying to check out one of the engine crew,” Quinn said, reaching behind her for her shoulder strap. “Smoke inhalation, and the guy is having a fair amount of respiratory distress. She’s worried he may need to be intubated out here.”

“I should stay and help. Our patient’s stable.” Linda started to climb back out, but Quinn grabbed her arm.

“There are a couple of medics and a respiratory tech with her. She’s got enough help, and I told her to get her butt back to the hospital as soon as this is squared away. She’ll catch the next chopper back to PMC.”

“Okay,” Linda said, settling back down.

Jett scanned the area outside one more time, hoping to see Tristan emerge from the smoke and the dark, but she didn’t. After another minute, she took her aircraft up and left the chaos and Tristan behind.

“We have to move these boarders,” Honor said to Yale, her new head nurse and Linda’s replacement. “We don’t have any treatment rooms open for the incoming patients.”

“There’s nowhere to put them upstairs,” the burly redhead answered, frustration putting an edge in his voice. “All the beds are full.”

“I don’t care if they have to sleep two to a bed on the medical floors. If a patient doesn’t need immediate surgery or intensive care monitoring, they go to medicine. And I mean right now.”

Yale straightened. “Yes, ma’am. I’m on it.”

“Thank you.” Honor pressed both hands to the base of her spine and pushed in, trying to ease the stiffness in her sore muscles.

“Very impressive,” Quinn said, sidling around the doorway into Honor’s small, windowless box of an office. She closed the door behind her. “My residents never move that fast for me.”

“God, I love ex-military nurses. I never have to ask them twice. And they never give me any excuses.” Honor draped her arms around Quinn’s neck and rested her cheek against her shoulder. “You are the best-looking thing I’ve seen in many an hour.”

Quinn stroked Honor’s hair and kissed her forehead. “I’m very glad to see you too, even though you’re not supposed to be here.” She led Honor to the tiny, nearly threadbare couch pushed against one wall, sat down, and eased Honor down beside her. She held her, smoothing her hand up and down Honor’s arm. “How are you doing?”

Honor sighed and burrowed deeper into Quinn’s arms. “I feel like I used to during my residency. After a while you get so tired you forget that you’re tired. Or hungry. Or that there’s even a world outside these walls.”

“You need to go home,” Quinn murmured. She didn’t want to let her go. She wanted to hold her, soothe her. She wanted to carry her all the way home and put her to bed. She wanted to grab the kids and gather their family around them. She wanted the joy and comfort and sanity Honor had brought to her life. “If you wear yourself out, it’s only going to take you longer to get back to work full time.”

“Oh, Quinn Maguire, you are so slick.” Honor rolled her head back and smiled wearily at Quinn. “What were you going to try next if bringing work up didn’t motivate me sufficiently? The children need me at home?”

Quinn grinned. “Not a bad idea, but I was thinking I’d try sex next.”

“Oh really? If I could move, I might actually be interested.” Honor ran her fingers through Quinn’s hair. “What was the offer?”

“That you should get some rest so that when I got home, all worked up and not able to sleep, you could work your magic.”

Honor laughed. “Oh, that’s really bad.”

“How about, I’m worried about you.”

“I know, honey,” Honor murmured. “I’m sorry. I’m going, I really am. Tommy Henderson is on his way. I think he can handle things down here, especially with Yale helping.”

“Thanks.”

“What about you? Are you holding up okay?”

“I’m all right. I’m used to twenty-four-hour shifts.”

“Yes, but you were just on call—” Honor stopped at the sharp rap on the door and moved away from Quinn. “Yes?”

Yale burst through the door. “Sorry. I just heard a report over the radio. A couple of choppers collided and went down. They think one of them’s ours.”

“Oh no.” Honor started to rise. “Linda.”

“She’s all right,” Quinn said quickly, keeping Honor seated. “She came back with me. You stay here. I’ll find out what’s going on.” She pressed Honor back onto the couch and lifted her legs until she was lying down. “I mean it.” She looked over her shoulder. “Yale? If you see her walking around, I want you to escort her back to this sofa.”

“Yes, ma’am. Understood.”

Honor held Quinn’s hand tightly. “Let me know as soon as you hear anything.”

“I will.” Quinn didn’t want to tell her that Tristan was almost certainly on that second Healthstar helicopter.

Head back, eyes closed, Jett stood under the ice-cold spray as the sharp needles drove the fatigue and sadness away. Per regulations, if she slept for four hours she could fly again, and the way things were looking, she would need to. She and the other pilots had staggered their shifts so that only one of them would be down at a time. She might not sleep, but at least she could lie down and de-stress for an hour or two.

Then she’d be ready to go again.

She fumbled for the soap, found it, and rubbed it automatically over her body, her mind drifting back to the night before. She’d been making love to Tristan at just about this time last night. Just thinking about it caused her clitoris to rise. She’d come undone with women before, losing herself in sensation, driving them and herself to the limits of endurance until they both collapsed. Those times, she’d been nearly mindless, blind and deaf, propelled by some urgent primitive need to connect, to declare her presence in a world that ripped life away with heedless indifference. When she lost herself in a woman, she never felt more alive. All of that had been true for her the night before, but for the first time she could ever remember, she was completely present. She heard every one of Tristan’s soft moans, every plea and exhortation, every cry of pleasure and release. And because it was Tristan, Tristan, she had found something beyond passion. She’d found she wasn’t alone.

“Tris,” Jett murmured, replacing the soap and turning the water to hot. She brushed her fingers over her clitoris and her hips jerked beneath her hand. She leaned her shoulders against the shower wall, closed her eyes, and imagined Tristan kneeling between her legs. She—

“Jett!” Linda banged on the bathroom door. “Jett!”

Jett shut off the water, jumped out of the shower, and scanned for her weapon. It took her another second to realize she wasn’t under attack. She grabbed a towel, slung it around herself, and pulled open the door. Linda stood on the other side, wild-eyed and breathing as if she’d just finished a marathon.

“What?” Jett demanded.

“Two helicopters…” Linda gripped the doorjamb as if to steady herself. “Two helicopters collided—”

Jett grabbed Linda’s arm. “Ours?”

“We’re not sure. Everything’s so garbled. It’s crazy. God, Jett…”

“I’ll be right there. See if you can raise our aircraft.”

Linda nodded wordlessly and hurried away.

Jett tossed the towel aside and pulled on a shirt and pants over her still-wet skin. She kicked into her boots without bothering to put on socks. She was through her door and into the lounge in under twenty seconds. Linda, Juan, Mike, and two flight nurses were crowded around the radio. All Jett could hear were voices talking over one another, shouting names and call numbers of aircraft.

“Who do we have out?” Jett called loudly.

“Cindy and Jeremy,” Mike said, referring to two of the other pilots.

“Have we heard from either of them?”

“No, but there’s so much chatter, it’s hard for anyone to get through. And ground control has diverted a lot of aircraft to other hospitals because so many are full. We don’t know who’s going where.”

Jett gripped the back of one of the metal chairs that ringed the round Formica-topped table in the middle of the room. She’d been in this limbo a dozen times before. Wondering if her fellow pilots, her friends, were coming home again. If anyone had asked her a month before, she would have said she was prepared to lose anything. She’d been wrong.

Tristan was out there. Jett couldn’t even let the possibility that Tristan wasn’t coming home into her mind. When her thoughts veered in that direction, a loud noise filled her head, like a klaxon roaring, and her stomach threatened to empty what little she’d eaten in the last day.

She held on to the chair as hard as she could because she knew her hands were shaking, and she didn’t want anyone else to see. Tristan couldn’t be hurt. Because if she was, Jett simply didn’t know what she would do.

“Wait,” Linda shouted, pointing at the radio. “There. There. Those are Cindy’s call signs, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” Mike said. “Thank God. She’s okay. She’s coming in!”

Jett turned and ran for the stairs. She reached the roof just as the helicopter landed and she didn’t slow until she’d reached the aircraft.

She grabbed the handle on the side door and yanked it back. A medic she didn’t recognize blocked her view and she was forced to step back as a stretcher was handed off bearing a dark-haired woman with a cervical collar immobilizing her head and severe burns to her face and both arms. For a second, Jett thought it was Tristan and her knees wobbled.

She caught herself against the side of the aircraft and fought back another urge to vomit. A second medic jumped out, this one a nurse she knew. The rotors slowed and Cindy climbed down from the cockpit.

They were still one aircraft short, and Tristan was still missing.

An enormous chasm opened on the horizon of Jett’s heart, threatening to swallow her alive. She closed her eyes.