ly joke.
“Let’s sit and I’ll tell you.” Christian pulls me over to
the couch, and everyone sits down, all eyes on Christian.
He takes a long draft of his beer. He spies Taylor hovering
at the entrance and nods. Taylor nods back.
“Your daughter?”
“She’s fine now. False alarm, sir.”
“She’s fine now. False alarm, sir.”
“Good.” Christian smiles.
Daughter? What happened to Taylor’s daughter?
“Glad you’re back, sir. Will that be all?”
“We ha一ve a helicopter to collect.”
Taylor nods. “Now? Or will the morning do?”
“Morning, I think, Taylor.”
“Very good, Mr. Grey. Anything else, sir?”
Christian shakes his head and raises his bottle to him.
Taylor gives him a rare smile—rarer than Christian’s, I
think—and heads out presumably to his office or up to his
room.
“Christian, what happened?” Carrick demands.
Christian launches into his story. He was flying with
Ros, his number two in Charlie Tango to deal with a
funding issue at WSU in Vancouver. I can barely keep up
I’m so dazed. I just hold Christian’s hand and stare at his
manicured fingernails, his long fingers, the creases on his
knuckles, his wristwatch—an Omega with three small
dials. I gaze up at his beautiful profile as he continues his
tale.
“Ros had never seen Mount St. Helens, so on the way
back as a celebration, we took a quick detour. I heard the
TFR was lifted a while back and I wanted to take a look.
Well, it’s fortunate that we did. We were flying low, about
two hundred feet AGL, when the instrument panel lit up.
We had a fire in the tail—I had no choice but to cut all the
electronics and land.” He shakes his head. “I set her down
by Silver Lake, got Ros out, and managed to put the fire
out.”
“A fire? Both engines?” Carrick is horrified.
“Yep.”
“Shit! But I thought.”
“I know,” Christian interrupts him. “It was sheer luck I
was flying so low,” he murmurs. I shudder. He releases my
hand and puts his arm around me.
“Cold?” he asks me. I shake my head.
“How did you put out the fire?” asks Kate, her Carla
Bernstein ins
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