Flying Rescue Read online

  Flying Rescue

  Brotherhood Protectors World

  Mary Winter

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Wild Horse Rescue

  Chapter 1

  Also by Mary Winter

  About Mary Winter

  Original Brotherhood Protectors Series

  About Elle James

  Copyright © 2018, Mary Winter

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  © 2018 Twisted Page Press, LLC ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this book may be used, stored, reproduced or transmitted without written permission from the publisher except for brief quotations for review purposes as permitted by law.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please purchase your own copy.

  Brotherhood Protectors

  Original Series by Elle James

  Brotherhood Protectors Series

  Montana SEAL (#1)

  Bride Protector SEAL (#2)

  Montana D-Force (#3)

  Cowboy D-Force (#4)

  Montana Ranger (#5)

  Montana Dog Soldier (#6)

  Montana SEAL Daddy (#7)

  Montana Ranger’s Wedding Vow (#8)

  Montana SEAL Undercover Daddy (#9)

  Cape Cod SEAL Rescue (#10)

  Montana SEAL Friendly Fire (#11)

  Montana SEAL’s Bride (#12)

  Montana Rescue

  Hot SEAL, Salty Dog

  Chapter 1

  Wings bolted upright in bed, sweat pouring off him. He gulped breaths of air and blinked at the darkened room. Remember what your therapist said. Five deep breaths. Four things you hear. Three things you can touch. Two things you smell. And one thing you can taste. He drew the first deep breath into his lungs, inhaling for a count of seven, holding for six, and releasing for a five count. Again. Again. By the fifth breath his heart rate had slowed to normal. He listened, hearing the distant rumble of a truck going down Eagle Ridge’s main road, the whir of the air conditioner, water running somewhere in the motel, and his own breathing. He smelled his rank sweat and little else, but a trip to the bathroom brought the smell of hotel soap. He tasted the sweat on his lips. After finishing his business in the bathroom and standing naked in front of the air conditioning unit, the panic attack had abated.

  How long had he been here? Three weeks. Yeah, and he still hadn’t gone to see Hank yet about a job with the Brotherhood Protectors. He turned away from the AC long enough to grab a pair of boxers, then he pivoted back to the window, this time pulling the curtains back to look into the dark night. He picked up his cell phone on the table in the corner. Three in the morning. He expelled a harsh breath. He’d thought coming here to Montana maybe the demons wouldn’t follow him. A foolish thought to be sure. He knew guys like him, so messed up from what happened to them that they couldn’t live a normal life. He’d never wanted to be one of them. He’d never wanted to be the fucked up mess he apparently was.

  He held his cell, thinking maybe he ought to text his therapist. At three in the morning? Hell no. Never mind that the young woman had said to contact him anytime and had given him the numbers of some support lines just in case. Maybe he should text one of them? No, he wasn’t that bad off, was he?

  Then again, he’d promised Bull he’d talk to Hank three weeks and two days ago. He still hadn’t gone. What was he afraid of? That if he followed in the footsteps of his friends he’d be admitting his military career was over. He knew that. Had known that as soon as he’d awakened in the hospital with more needle holes in him than his grandma’s embroidered pillows. No, this was something else. His therapist had told him maybe he was afraid of living. He’d dismissed her notion. She had to say something right, with her fancy degree and the thick books on the shelf in her office. In the darkness, watching the headlights and the street lights mingling with lit signs and closed shop windows, he wondered if she might be right.

  A little zippy sports car pulled into one of the parking spaces, something he’d probably have to fold his 6’4” frame into sideways in order to ride in, and just the thought made his entire left leg hurt like a sonofabitch. The door opened, and beneath the street light the first thing he saw were legs, the kind of long, shapely legs a man wanted to have wrapped around his hips. The black combat boots seemed out of place on the bare legs, and even more out of place when the woman emerged wearing short daisy dukes and a t-shirt that even from his view on the second floor he realized had better days. Aviator glasses concealed her eyes, but that mouth. She laughed at something, her teeth flashing white, as she tapped her phone’s screen and tucked it into the pocket of those shorts. Frankly, he was surprised there was enough room. She grabbed a duffel and headed to the front entrance, but not before she did a sweep of her car and the ones nearby, as well as the building.

  His groin tightened and he turned away from the window, letting the curtain sweep back into place. Either she’d been staying here, in which case he was blind as a bad for not noticing her or the car before, or she had just gotten into town. If it was the later, well, perhaps there was hope for their meeting yet. He smiled, his mind focused on something other than his injuries for the first time in a long time and crawled back into bed. He closed his eyes and prayed the nightmares wouldn’t come. One night where he didn’t see his friends blown to bits by a fucking insurgent would be a blessing. Too bad he hadn’t had that yet. Men like him probably didn’t get blessings, they just got blown out the sky.

  His hip twinged and he took deep breaths to get through it. What he needed was some pain medicine, but he hoarded what little he had until things got too bad. The doctors had already made noises about his not needing it and the more they cracked down on opioids the more it hurt good men and woman like himself. They didn’t care. Like the higher up brass, as far as they were concerned, he and his pain were expendable. He wished he’d thought to rub some Icy Hot on his leg before coming back to bed. Taking deep breaths, he worked to focus on something other than the pain and as much as he didn’t want to, he fell back asleep.

  Cali glanced around the breakfast nook, taking in the twin boys waiting with a gentleman for the waffle maker to finish, a woman with a baby in her arms sitting at the only big table, and a lanky man with enough stubble to be sexy rather than scruffy sitting with his back to the wall, facing the door. She pegged him as military, probably discharged or on leave, maybe even here for the same reason she was. To talk to Hank at the Brotherhood Protectors. Only she was looking for someone like him to watch her six.

  She rubbed the bridge of her nose, prayed the eggs at the free breakfast bar weren’t too watery, and added a cup of yogurt to her plate. Another cup of passable coffee and a glass of orange juice on her tray and she pronounced herself ready for breakfast. She sat at the small table next to him so she could watch the door. Right now, she couldn’t be too careful. Though she’d landed at the airport without incident, there’d been just one too many coincidences for her to think it was nothing. A botched takeoff where she almost collided with a private jet, mechanical issues that didn’t manifest themselves until she was in the a
ir…even the Gila monster she found in her bed in Arizona, though that one seemed a bit too theatrical.

  A wariness surrounded the man at the table next to her, and I don’t want to be bothered vibe that she totally understood. And yet, she found herself catching glimpses of him out of the corner of her eye. He ate slowly, methodically, as if each bite of food were a chore. Maybe that was why he was whipcord lean, but with the promise of muscles beneath the t-shirt and jeans he wore. A jacket with military patches hung over his chair. A pair of aviator sunglasses sat on the table next to his tray.

  “If you want something better than this tomorrow the cafe in town has excellent food,” he offered with a nod of his head and a salute of his coffee cup. “Pretty decent coffee, too.”

  “That’s good to know. Not sure how long I’m going to be here though.” She finished the last of her juice. “Just flew in last night.”

  “Flew in? You a pilot?” Admiration filled his voice.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m in…used to be a PJ.” At her curious glance. “Para Jumper. AFSOC. We jump in so that others may live.”

  “Wow. That’s…tough work.” She struggled to find the words, knowing guys like this didn’t need, or want, the hero worship. Usually their egos were bigger than the Montana Sky. “Well, I do take some jobs so if you want to jump, just let me know.” She grabbed a business card from her wallet and handed it across the space separating their tables. Might as well try to get some work while she was here, especially if she had to put down roots for a while.

  He took the card and slid it into his phone case. “Thanks, but I don’t jump out of planes anymore. Don’t fly either.” He took the last bite of his bacon and eggs.

  “That’s too bad. I bet it’s a rush.” She pulled the foil lid off her yogurt. He must have had a medical discharge, still touchy about it. Well, it wasn’t like she planned on staying around here too long and he’d probably be gone by tomorrow. Either passing through or off on the next mission. She knew too well it’s what guys like that lived for—the next mission.

  He grunted and picked up his tray, carrying it to the designated place next to the trash can. He moved with a limp that spoke of plates and screws holding bones together, maybe even reconstructed joints. She’d seen it a lot growing up on the base. Her father had jumped out of planes over Germany, and she’d lived with him while he’d been stationed there. It’s where the airplane bug had bitten her. He’d talked her out of going into the military, mostly because her father had told her there were greater opportunities for female pilots in civilian life. She’d earned her license, started working for a small puddle jumper carrier, before moving back to the states.

  Where things had been going so fucking well until a few weeks ago. She sighed as the door swung closed behind the solder. Forced out of her regular clients, allegations of impropriety, and then she’d taken the wrong charter job and now some nut wanted to kill her. Hell, she hadn’t heard anything in the cockpit. She worked freelance for one of the private jet companies, didn’t care who she ferried across country or to Vegas. Apparently her former client thought she cared. It wasn’t her fault the feds were waiting when they’d landed. All she did was file the flight plans as was legally required. She raked her fingers through her hair, realizing she was pulling it out of the pony tail. She took a moment to straighten the unruly sandy color strands, then took her tray. Suddenly, she’d lost her appetite.

  A fellow pilot told her if she needed to hire security than the Brotherhood Protectors were the best. She slung her bag over her shoulder and headed to her rental.

  She followed the directions she’d pulled up on her cell phone last night and had no trouble finding the building. A rental car she recognized from the hotel sat in an empty space. She parked two spaces down. A few moments later, she stepped in, gave her name, and was directed to a comfortable seat and offered a cup of coffee that smelled ten times better than what they served in the hotel. She took it with thanks, then sat down to wait.

  Chapter 2

  The woman in the hotel was running from something or someone. He knew the signs because he acted the same way. He sat across the desk from Hank, an older gentleman with just enough of an edge to let you know he could be a hell of a mentor or a hell of an enemy. He hoped for the former. The rest of his team—Mustang, Domino, and Bull—all spoke very highly of him. And the fact that they’d all settled here and made the Brotherhood Protectors their career was promising.

  “So tell me again why you’re here. Other than looking for employment,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “I see you have your medical clearances.”

  And he’d had to push to get those. “To live the motto. So that others may live, sir.”

  “Appreciate the respect, but there’s no need to sir me here. You have excellent recommendations. I’d be honored to have you on my team. Welcome aboard, Bolton Jeffries.” He offered his hand and Wings stood and shook it.

  “Wings. Please call me Wings,” he replied. He hadn’t gone by his given name since he’d been an enlisted man, and he certainly wasn’t about to start now. Being named after a 90’s crooner certainly had brought his fair share of teasing over the years.

  “Of course. In fact, if you can stick around, I might have an assignment for you. If you haven’t had breakfast yet, the cafe is good.”

  “Thanks. I’ve already eaten. I might just take a walk.” His leg ached this morning and walks often stretched it out.

  “Don’t go far though I’ve got your cell. I’ll text when I’m ready if you’re not back.”

  “Thank you.” He stopped himself before adding a sir. With a nod he stood and left Hank’s office, already feeling better about the decision to follow his buddies here. A job might be exactly what he needed.

  He stepped into the waiting area just outside the office, surprised to see the woman from the hotel there. Interesting. He kept his game face on until he got outside, then grinned. She skimmed something on her phone, her nails painted a pale blue color he hadn’t noticed in the hotel. She wore a t-shirt with a saying on it, though her arms and phone blocked most of the words, her sunglasses hooked into the collar, and he didn’t want to be caught staring at her breasts. Denim-covered long legs were crossed at the ankles and she wore the same combat boots she had last night. She was looking to be hired or to hire someone herself. Either way, for her he’d be willing to get over his fear of flying.

  He walked until he no longer felt the stiff catch in his leg, thinking he probably ought to hit the hotel’s small gym. Even some time on the elliptical or maybe swimming laps in the pool would be good for his rehab. He turned around and was coming back to the Brotherhood Protector’s building when his phone buzzed. The text from Hank indicated that he should come and meet his new client, if he wanted to. Considering that the new client was most likely the woman from the hotel, that was a hell yeah, and he jogged most of the way back. His leg didn’t even protest.

  Twenty minutes later, he drove back to the hotel newly employed and curious about the woman he now knew as Cali. Turned out their rooms were three doors down and across the hall—not close enough for him to hear anything—and he vowed to rectify that situation first thing. He stood outside her room and knocked once.

  She opened the door. “Come in.”

  It was the mirror image of his, with two beds, the one by the window clearly claimed by her in spite of the perfectly made bed. Housekeeping hadn’t come by yet, but he recognized perfect corners on the bedding. Interesting. Either she was a neat freak or had some experience in the military. Her bag sat on the luggage rack, and a sneak peek as he passed the bathroom showed very little clutter on the vanity.

  “Hank mentioned that you think someone’s trying to sabotage your plane. If you don’t mind, I’d like to hear more.” Great, he’d given up jumping out of the sky for a living and now he’d landed right back into a situation where he might have to.

  She explained what had happened, the coincidences that probably were
n’t, the fact that another pilot had mentioned Hank and just so happened there was a job to bring her here.

  “What’s his name? He seemed a bit too helpful,” Wings said.

  “That’s what I thought. Jerry Jacoby. He’s based out of Kansas City, and I have no idea where he could be now. I could see if the messenger service we use could reach him.”

  “The same service that gives you jobs?”

  She nodded.

  “Not sure I want to tip anyone off that we took his advice.” He jotted down the name on the note app on his phone, then asked about her last client, the one that the feds had picked up. Hank had already mentioned he had some of his guys working on trying to get the information from the feds, find out who the guy really was and what he was wanted for.

  She nodded. “Good point. So what do we do? Sit around and see what Hank comes up with?”

  Wings shook his head. “I think first we need to talk about sleeping arrangements. If someone is after you, it’s best that we share a hotel room. I’m too far down the hall to hear anyone. Love a place that has good soundproofing.” He winked. “But it doesn’t help when you’re trying to protect someone.”

  Color spread across her cheeks, then faded just as quickly. Good to know she wasn’t wholly unaffected by him. Not that he’d sleep with her. That was a bad move. “There are two beds,” she said. “We’re adults. It does make sense.”

  “I’ll take the one closest to the door. Looks like that’s not the one you’re using and it’s better anyway. I’ll check out later. We’re past checkout time anyway, so I might as well keep the room for tonight. If you snore too badly, I’d like to have a place to retreat to.” He grinned and she threw a pillow at him.