Full Throttle & Wrong Bride, Right Groom Page 4

  Okay, and what woman wouldn’t? Kate rationalized. With his muscled shoulders, gleaming blue eyes and come-and-get-me grin, the man was sex on the hoof. Then there was his attitude. So damned cocky and confident. She had to admire his seemingly unshakable belief in his own abilities, even as she felt a growing urge to take him down a peg or two.

  Well, he’d get a chance to show what he was made of tomorrow.

  Rolling over, Kate punched her pillow.

  Her inner alarm woke her well before six. The clock radio beside her bed went off just as she was lacing her running shoes. Killing the alarm, Kate put on a pot of coffee for her roommates and slipped outside to conduct her warm-up exercises. The muscles she’d pulled yesterday morning issued a sharp protest, but the ache eased within moments. Properly stretched and loose, she set out at an easy lope for the gate guarding the compound.

  The MP on duty tipped her a salute. Kate returned it with a smile and lengthened her stride. The dirt road that formed the only access to the site arrowed straight ahead, a pale track in the light filtering through the peaks to the east. The steady plop of her sneakers against the dirt and the rhythm of her own breathing soon took Kate to her special, private world.

  Her morning run was a sacred ritual, one she conducted whenever she didn’t have a flight scheduled or a hurricane to track. The stillness of early morning cleared her head of yesterday’s issues and centered her on the ones ahead. Given her penchant for pizza and greasy cheeseburgers, the long, punishing runs also kept her naturally lush curves from becoming downright generous.

  After her divorce, these moments alone in the dawn had helped her regain her perspective. It had taken her a while to get past the hurt. Even longer to recognize that John’s angry accusation that Kate was too driven, too ambitious, masked his own unwillingness to abandon the niche he’d carved for himself in his world. He didn’t want change—or a wife who thrived on challenges.

  With an impatient shake of her head, Kate put the past out of her mind. This was her quiet time, her small slice where she should be thinking about the day ahead.

  So she wasn’t particularly thrilled when she caught the echo of a loping tread behind her. Most of the other personnel at the test cadre fulfilled their mandatory physical fitness requirements at the site’s small but well-equipped gym. Once a week Russ McIver rousted the marine contingent on station for a ten-mile run. With full backpacks, no less. Aside from that grunting, huffing squad, Kate usually had the dawn to herself.

  When thuds drew closer, she threw a look over her shoulder. Dave Scott caught her glance and jerked his chin in acknowledgment.

  Well, hell!

  An irritated frown creased Kate’s forehead. She thought she’d made herself clear last night. Apparently Captain Scott hadn’t been listening. Her mouth set, she brought her head back around and kept to her pace.

  He came up alongside her a few moments later. “Mornin’, Commander. You sure you should be running on that ankle?”

  She ignored the question and the easy smile he aimed her way. “I thought we reached an agreement last night.”

  “We did.”

  “And this is how you intend to stick to your end of the bargain?”

  “Maybe I misunderstood things.” He sounded genuinely puzzled as he matched his longer stride to hers. “I thought we agreed to focus on business while on-site.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So I’m focusing. Captain Westfall made it clear he expected all military to maintain a vigorous physical-conditioning program.”

  “And you just happened to choose an early-morning run for your PE program?”

  The sarcasm went right past the captain.

  “I figured the rest of the day was going to be pretty busy,” he replied. “I also figured you might want some company. Just in case you went into a ditch and made contact with another tumbleweed.”

  “Sorry, cowboy, you figured wrong. Company is the last thing I want on my morning run. I use the time to clear my head and raise a little sweat.”

  “Not a problem,” he said easily. “I like a little more kick in my stride anyway. I wouldn’t want to push you.”

  She shook her head. As challenges went, that one was about as subtle as a bull moose pawing the ground.

  “If you want a race…”

  She skimmed her glance over the desert landscape now bathed in the reds and golds of morning. A half mile or so ahead, a solitary cactus raised its arms as if to welcome the new day.

  “See that cactus? If I reach it first, you pick another time to run. Agreed?”

  “Agr— Hey!”

  She shot forward, feeding off a rush of pure adrenaline. Kate loved pushing herself to the max. In the air, surrounded by a riot of black, angry clouds and howling winds. On the playing field, whether participating or watching. In her personal life, which she had to admit had taken on an unexpected edge since Dave Scott appeared on the scene all of twenty-four hours ago.

  Unfortunately, most men didn’t appreciate being left in the dust. Kate had learned that lesson the hard way from her ex. She figured now was as good a time as any to administer the same lesson to Dave Scott.

  She almost succeeded. The cool desert air was stabbing into her lungs as she drew level with the cactus. At that moment, Scott drew level with her. They whizzed past the plant side by side, matching stride for stride.

  Panting, Kate slowed her breakneck pace. Scott did the same, his breath coming a whole lot easier than hers.

  “What do you know?” he said, that damned glint in his eye. “A tie.”

  “Did you hold back?” she asked sharply.

  “What do you think?”

  “Dammit, Scott!”

  “Hey, you set the ground rules. You win, I run another time. I win, I run when and where I please. A tie…”

  “A tie means we do it again,” Kate snapped. She didn’t like losing or ending matters in a draw.

  “Okay by me. So how far do you plan to run this morning?”

  “Another mile or so,” she bit out.

  “That works. I need to hit the showers and make a pass through the dining hall before I show up at test ops for my first simulator run.”

  Kate chewed on her lower lip. A few strides later, she offered a grudging bit of advice.

  “You might want to skip the dining hall. You’re going to hit some rough weather this morning. You won’t impress your fellow cadre members if you upchuck the first time you’re at the controls.”

  He gave her a quick glance. “Taking me on a wild ride, are you?”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe, cowboy.”

  As soon as the words were out, Kate wished them back. She couldn’t believe she’d let herself walk into that bit of double entendre. To her surprise, Scott didn’t jump on it with wolfish glee. He looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding his thanks.

  “I appreciate the warning. I’ll go light on the grits and gravy.”

  “Good idea.”

  The warning surprised Dave. Given what he’d heard about Kate Hargrave’s competitive personality, he would have guessed she’d take secret delight in knocking him down a peg or two. She’d certainly pulled out all the stops in their little footrace a moment ago. Dave had burned more energy than he wanted to admit trying to catch her. Once she got back up to full power she was going to give him one helluva run for his money.

  A smile of pure anticipation tugged at his lips. Behind his laid-back exterior, Dave was every bit as competitive as Commander Hargrave. He suspected all fliers had that edge, that instinctive need to beat the odds every time they climbed into the cockpit. But it had been a while since he’d felt the thrill of the chase this keenly. Even longer since he’d been shot down in flames.

  Kate had all but waved a red flag in front of his face last night by insisting on their so-called agreement. Dave wouldn’t break his word. He’d stick to the terms—as he interpreted them. He’d also do his damnedest to convince her to renegotiate their contract. />
  Dave wasn’t quite sure how it had happened, but the challenge represented by Kate Hargrave was starting to rank right up there with that of Pegasus.

  Chapter 4

  The simulator crouched like a giant blue beetle on long, pneumatic legs. The capsule’s front faced huge trifold screens. Once the ride began, the screens would show vivid, dizzying projections of earth and sky. Off to one side a control booth housed the simulator’s team of operators, evaluators and observers.

  Anticipation simmered in Dave’s veins as he climbed the metal stairs to the capsule’s entrance. This was his first time at the controls of a brand-new flying, fighting vehicle. He couldn’t wait to see how it handled in this simulated environment.

  A technician in white overalls with the cadre’s distinctive red-and-blue patch prominently displayed waited for him on the platform.

  “Ready to fly, Captain?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  The technician grinned. “I’ve got a six-pack riding on you. Try not to crash and burn first time up.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Ducking through the side hatch, Dave strapped himself into the operator’s seat. Pegasus had been designed for one pilot. Driver. Captain. Whatever they called the individual in the front seat, he or she had to know how to switch from land to airborne to sea mode and operate safely in all three environments. No small feat for anyone, even the highly experienced crew assembled here in the desert.

  The tech checked the parachute pack built into the seat, adjusted the shoulder straps on Dave’s harness and conducted a final communications check. Just before he closed the door, he offered a final bit of advice.

  “Your puke ’n’ go bag is right next to your left knee. In case you need it.”

  “Got it.”

  The door clanged shut, leaving Dave alone in the simulator. He’d spent most of yesterday and a good portion of last night poring over a fat technical manual, reacquainting himself with instrumentation that was familiar, studying the dials and digital displays that weren’t.

  He dragged out the black notebook containing the various operational checklists, propped it in the slot designed to hold it and studied the layout of the instruments. The simulator cockpit replicated the actual vehicle exactly. The same defense contractor who’d designed and built the three Pegasus prototypes had constructed the simulator.

  Unfortunately, two of the three prototypes had crashed and burned during the developmental phase. Only one had survived and been delivered to the military for operational testing. The contractor was scrambling to produce additional test vehicles, but until they were delivered Dave sure as hell had better not crash the one remaining.

  For that reason, these hours in the simulator were absolutely vital. Dave had to get a feel for the craft, had to learn to handle it in all possible situations, before he actually took it into the air. He took a last look around and flipped open the black notebook to the sheet containing the start-up checklist.

  “Okay, team. Let’s roll.”

  Captain Westfall’s voice came through the headset. “Good luck, Scott.”

  “Thanks, sir.”

  Suddenly, the tall screens surrounding the front of the capsule came to life. Instead of dull white, they showed a desert landscape of silver greens and browns. Jagged mountains dominated the horizon. A brilliant blue sky beckoned.

  Dave’s gloved hand hovered over the red power switch. He dragged in a deep breath, let it out.

  “Pegasus One, initiating power.”

  “Roger, Pegasus One.”

  Flicking the switch to on, Dave listened to the familiar hum of auxiliary power units feeding juice to the on-board systems. Screens lit up. Switches glowed red and green and yellow.

  His gaze went to the digital display showing an outline of Pegasus. The craft was in land mode, its wings back and turboprop engines tucked away. In this mode the vehicle could race across the desert and climb mountains. Much as Dave would love to take this baby out for a run, his job was to test its wings.

  “Pegasus One switching to airborne mode.”

  “Roger, One.”

  His thumb hit the center button beside the display. Right before his eyes, the shape of the vehicle outlined on the screen altered. Wings fanned out. Propeller blades were released from their tucked position. Rear stabilizers unfolded.

  “Hot damn!”

  “Come again, Captain?” The simulator operator’s voice floated through his headset. “We didn’t copy that.”

  “Sorry. That wasn’t meant for public consumption. Pegasus One, locking into hover position.”

  Like the tilt-wing Osprey currently in use by the military, Pegasus incorporated Very Short Takeoff and Landing technology. With the engines in a vertical position, the craft could lift and hover like a chopper. Dave had logged several hundred hours in the Osprey and was feeling more confident by the moment.

  “Pegasus One, powering up.”

  The familiar whine of engines revving filled his ears. The pedals shuddered under his boots. He took the craft to simulated full power and lifted off. Once airborne, he tilted the engines to horizontal. Pegasus seemed to leap to life.

  They gave him a good hour to get a feel for the controls and build his confidence before the first system malfunction occurred. It was minor, a glitch in the navigational transponder. Dave corrected by switching from direct-satellite signal to relay-station signal.

  A few moments later, his Doppler radar picked up some weather. A thunderstorm, racing right toward him from the west. That was Kate Hargrave’s doing, Dave thought with a smile. Unless he missed his guess, he was in for a rough ride.

  Sure enough, the turbulence proved too big to go around and too high to get above. Within moments, thunder crashed in his headset and lightning forked across the wide screens surrounding the capsule. Violent winds set Pegasus bucking and kicking like a wild mustang. Dave needed both hands and feet to maintain control. The wild jolting caused another malfunction. A blinking red light signaled an oil leak in engine one.

  His pucker factor rising, Dave shut down the engine and fought to keep the craft in the air while diagnosing the source of the leak. He’d just narrowed it down, when a bolt of lightning slashed across the screen. Bright blue light filled the cockpit. A loud alarm sounded at the same instant another red warning light began to flash.

  Hell! Number two engine took a hit. The damned thing was on fire.

  Gritting his teeth, Dave flipped to the engine fire checklist. He had to restart engine one before shutting down two, though, or he’d fall right out of the sky. He got the starboard engine powered back up again, killed the other and activated the fire-suppression system.

  At that point, the situation went from bad to downright ugly. The damned fire-suppression system didn’t work. If anything, the fire appeared to be burning hotter, and electrical systems were shutting down faster than small-town storefronts on a Saturday night.

  Too late, Dave remembered the pylons securing the engines to the wing were made of a magnesium alloy. The alloy was strong, light and flexible—all highly desirable qualities in an aircraft. But when magnesium burned, it produced its own oxygen and thus created a fire that was totally self-sustaining. Chances were this one would eat right through the wing and hit the fuel lines.

  In any other aircraft, the pilot would bail out at this point. Dave was damned if he’d punch and lose the only Pegasus prototype left, even in a simulated situation. Sweating inside his flight suit, he tried every trick in the book and a few that had never been written down to save his craft. He was still fighting when his instrument panel went dead.

  “Pegasus One, your flight is terminated.”

  Cursing under his breath, Dave slumped back in the seat and waited for his heart to stop jackhammering against his ribs. He glanced to his right, saw a grim-faced Captain Westfall standing behind the controller in the operator’s booth. Kate was next to him, her hair a bright flame in the dimly lit booth. The other o
fficers ringed her.

  His mouth set into a hard, tight line, Dave keyed his mike. “Let’s conduct the postflight critique. Then we’ll try this little exercise again.”

  In the next two days Dave battled everything from wind shears and microbursts to turbulence that almost flipped over his craft and maintenance-generated crossed wires that caused his instruments to produce faulty readings.

  On one flight, he lost cabin pressurization and discovered his oxygen mask wouldn’t filter the carbon monoxide he exhaled. On another, an engine stuck halfway between the vertical and horizontal position. He almost crawled out of the simulator after that particular exercise. Both arms and legs ached from using brute physical strength to wrestle with the controls of the wildly gyrating vehicle.

  As a result, he wasn’t in the mood for another critique of his flying skills when he joined Kate for a run the morning after that particular experience.

  She’d come to accept his company with resignation if not an abundance of enthusiasm. Impatient, she paced the dirt just outside his trailer. Her hair was caught up in a ponytail, her body encased in slick-looking hot pink. Dave’s stiff movements as he exited his quarters had her quirking an auburn eyebrow.

  “Sure you want to run this morning?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Better not overdo it. That last ride was a bitch.”

  “I was there, remember?”

  His curt tone arched her eyebrow another notch. “Suit yourself.”

  Propping her foot on a rock, she stretched her calf muscles. The sight of all that hot pink bending and curving didn’t help Dave’s mood. He’d spent the past couple of nights mentally reviewing each phase of every simulated flight. When his mind wasn’t churning over the effects of wing icing and emergency high-altitude landings, his thoughts had a distinct tendency to veer off in a direction that left him in even more of a sweat.

  He’d replayed the kiss he and Kate had shared a dozen or more times in his mind, kicking himself each time for wimping it. He’d promised her the next one would not be slow and easy, and he was ready to deliver on his promise. More than ready.