Tristan jumped out after Cindy. Once she’d secured the patient’s airway, she’d squeezed into the space next to the pilot to give the medics in the back of the aircraft room to work. Cindy was already at the stairs on the far side of the roof. They’d all seen the fireball erupt in the sky not far from them. But none of them knew who it was.

All the way back, all Tristan could think of was Jett. Jett had said she had another run to make. She should be back already, right? Safe. The fifteen-minute flight had been the longest of Tristan’s life. She took two quick steps forward, then abruptly stopped and turned back.

“Babe? Babe!” Tristan grabbed Jett by the shoulders and wrapped her tightly in her arms. “Jesus Christ. I was so scared. You’re all right, right? Jett?” She held Jett at arm’s length. Jett looked shell-shocked, her eyes completely blank. “You are all right, aren’t you?”

Jett shuddered and her eyes snapped into focus. She grasped Tristan’s head and kissed her fiercely. Then she pushed away.

“Yeah,” Jett croaked, her voice sounding rusty and unused. “I’m okay.”

Tristan stared as Jett abruptly turned and strode off, her gait slightly unsteady. What the hell?

“Jett,” Tristan shouted, running after her.

Jett held up a hand, not looking back. “I need some space. You should probably get some sleep.” She pushed through the stairwell doors and disappeared in a clatter of boots on stone.

Tristan hesitated for a second, then shouldered through the door.

“Fuck this.”

Chapter Twenty-four

Tristan caught up to Jett just as she was opening her on-call room door. Tristan didn’t bother to say anything since she didn’t think she’d be getting an invite. She just pushed inside behind

Jett, slammed the door behind her, and locked it.

Jett spun around in the middle of the small, narrow room. “What are you doing?”

“Never mind what I’m doing. What are you doing?” Tristan edged between Jett and the dresser to lock the second door that she presumed led to the lounge. “What the hell was that all about up on the roof?”

“What?” Jett shoved her hands into the front pockets of her plain black pants and leaned against the wall next to her bed, as far away from Tristan as possible, which was only a few feet. Even though she didn’t want to have this conversation, not here, and not like this, she was so glad to see Tristan, she almost didn’t care. When she’d finally registered up on the flight deck that Tristan was there in front of her, unhurt, that Tris had come back, she’d just reacted. She’d kissed Tristan because she was so relieved and because she needed the physical contact to be absolutely certain Tris was safe. Then the enormity of just how much she had needed Tristan to come back had hit her with the force of a machine gun salvo. The memory of that crippling need had sent her running, and she still needed time to regain her balance. “Nothing. Forget it.”

“Fuck forget it.” Tristan stalked over to Jett and gripped her shoulders. “First I find you totally out of it, then you kiss me like you want to swallow me whole, then you tell me you need space and walk away. What the hell, Jett.”

Jett shrugged as much as she could with Tristan pinning her to the wall. Tristan was leaning against her, and with Tristan this close, with Tristan’s hands on her, Jett couldn’t keep from getting excited. She didn’t need that now. She feigned nonchalance. “Reflex. Sorry.”

“Bullshit,” Tristan snapped. “You think I care that you kissed me? You think I didn’t want that?” She kissed Jett roughly, driving her tongue into her mouth, bruising her own lips against Jett’s teeth. “What were you thinking about? What were you doing up there?”

Jett paled. “Nothing.”

“You’re lying.” Tristan’s eyes softened. “Don’t do that, babe.”

“We heard there was a helicopter crash,” Jett said quietly. “I wanted to check on the status of our choppers.”

“Is everyone okay?” Tristan was determined to get all the answers she wanted, but she was worried about the others too.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if Jeremy has checked in yet.”

“We’ll find out in a minute. You didn’t answer me. Why did you kiss me?”

“Look,” Jett said in a reasonable tone. “Everybody’s strung out. Tense. I was worried, I was glad to see you. So I kissed you, okay? Let’s not make it more than it is.”

“Why not?” Tristan slid her hands from Jett’s shoulders down her chest until she cupped Jett’s breasts through the thin black T-shirt. She felt Jett’s nipples harden beneath her fingers. She watched Jett’s eyes as she played with the small tight tips, rolling and squeezing and flicking. Jett’s eyes lost focus, but they weren’t the blank void she’d seen on the landing pad, they were soft and liquid with desire. “Oh yeah. You like that, don’t you.”

“You already knew that.” Jett gasped and clutched Tristan’s hips, her head falling back against the wall.

“Why were you worried?” Tristan murmured, her mouth against Jett’s ear. She spread her fingers over Jett’s breasts, nearly covering them with her hands, and squeezed. Jett’s hips bucked and Tristan’s vision narrowed until all she could see was Jett’s face. “Why?”

“The choppers…the crash.” Jett groaned when Tristan caught her earlobe in her teeth. “I was afraid. Afraid you might be hurt.”

“You don’t have to be afraid. I’m right here.” Tristan yanked Jett’s T-shirt from her pants and drove both hands underneath, skimming hot skin and finding soft breasts. She fondled her breasts, teased her nipples, and kissed her way down Jett’s neck. Then she replaced her fingers with her mouth, and bit down on a hard nipple.

Jett arched her back, her head rolling convulsively from side to side. “Tristan.”

“It’s all right, babe.” Tristan rested her cheek against Jett’s breast and reached down to open her pants. “I know what you need.”

Jett jerked as if she’d been shot and grabbed Tristan’s wrist, twisting it into a defensive wrist lock. “No.”

Tristan cried out more in surprise than pain, and Jett immediately loosened her grip.

“I’m sorry,” Jett gasped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. But you have to stop. We have to stop.”

“For now.”

Jett shook her head. “No. We have to stop this thing between us.”

Tristan braced her arms on either side of Jett’s body. She knew Jett wanted her. It was written in her eyes, on her face, in the way her body responded. She loved the way Jett responded to her. She loved the way Jett made her feel, what Jett unleashed in her. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted more than Jett’s desire, she wanted her heart, and her wanting made her desperate and foolishly brave. “Why?” She kissed Jett. “Why do we have to stop?”

Jett looked at Tristan and saw Gail. She blinked and forced the image away, but she couldn’t force away the pain.

“Oh my God, what are you doing,” Gail moaned, shoving Jett back with both hands against her shoulders.

Jett was so lost in the sweet taste of Gail’s skin and the softness of her body, she couldn’t decipher the words. Had Gail said no? Jesus, she must have said no, but Jett hadn’t heard. She hadn’t stopped. Jett stared in confusion, trying to make sense of what Gail was saying. She couldn’t think, she could barely breathe. Gail’s blouse was open. A button was missing and her breast was outside her bra, as if a hand had lifted it free. Had she done that? Gail’s nipple was dark purple in the muted light, rigid and erect, and Jett had a faint memory of kneading it against her palm. Or had that been another woman? Another night?

“Gail, I…I…” Jett shook her head but she still couldn’t think. Gail had kissed her, hadn’t she? Or had she kissed Gail? I know what you need. Gail’s hands on her back, on her ass. I know what you need. Jett’s clitoris throbbed. Gail had gripped her crotch while they were kissing, hadn’t she? Or had she imagined that too? Was that just a memory from all the nights she’d made herself come thinking about Gail caressing her? I know what you need. Jett lifted her hand to touch Gail’s cheek.

“Stop it.” Gail pulled her head away. “I don’t want you to touch me. I’m not a lesbian.”

“You kissed me,” Jett said numbly. Hadn’t she?

“No, Chief McNally. I did not.” Gail skirted out from between Jett and the shower wall, rearranging her clothing with trembling hands. “You’re mistaken. I think it best if we just forget this.”

Jett grabbed her before she could walk away. “I can’t forget this. Gail, I love you.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Why? We can be careful.”

“You don’t understand. I’m not a lesbian.” Gail wrenched her arm free.

Jett followed her. “Is it something I did? I scared you, didn’t I? I’m sorry.” Jett reached for Gail’s arm again, then hesitated. “I just needed to touch you so much. I’ll be more careful. I’d never hurt you.”

Gail spun around. “Listen to me. I don’t want you to touch me. I don’t want you that way at all. If anything like this ever occurs again, I’ll be forced to report you.”

“I’m sorry,” Jett whispered, but Gail was gone.

Nothing that had ever happened to her had been as bad as watching Gail walk out of her life—not her father’s beatings, not her brothers’ tauntings, not the loneliness and isolation of so many years alone.

She’d learned not to care about anything except flying. But she’d let Gail into her heart, and now she’d driven Gail away. When Jett’s knees gave way and she fell to the slick wet floor, her eyes were dry. Only her soul cried.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Tristan demanded harshly. “It’s because she’s back.”

“No,” Jett said quickly, because that wasn’t the reason. Gail’s unexpected appearance had brought all the uncertainty and pain Jett had so carefully buried right to the surface, like an abscess being lanced. She’d lost Gail because she’d wanted her too much, and she was terrified of wanting Tristan.