Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Either way, I included both versions in the small stack of reports I scanned, making a mental note of where they were saved. I had scanned thousands of pages today alone, so it was easy to bury these inside a folder nobody would ever look twice at. Except me.
Then I packed up my things and stopped at Jim’s office to drop off the reports. “Here you go.”
He took the documents from me, scanning the one on top before lifting his carefully blank gaze to me. “Holbrook.” It was a statement, so I wasn’t sure how to respond.
Before I could reply, he waved toward the door and turned back to his computer, effectively dismissing me.
I stopped by the employee break room to grab my lunch leftovers before heading out to my car, wondering about his use of my last name since he'd only ever called me Linden before.
The parking lot lights hadn’t fully kicked on yet, and halfway down the second row, I felt a subtle prickle between my shoulder blades. The unmistakable awareness of being watched.
I kept going, forcing myself not to look until I reached my car. A man stood near the far edge of the lot, partially obscured by a truck. All I could make out was that he had his phone in his hand.
He could’ve been waiting for someone or scrolling through emails. There were a dozen reasonable explanations.
But that didn’t stop me from getting in my car faster than usual, locking the doors right away, and driving ten over the speed limit all the way home.
3
TOMCAT
It had been two days since I'd last set foot on the airfield, but club business had required my attention, pulling me away from the one place I actually wanted to be. However, when the prez said jump, we all went as high as possible without question.
As an enforcer, I was tasked with protecting its members and the club rep. This particular not-so-legitimate operation had required my expertise, so it had been unavoidable.
Fortunately, today was a scheduled test flight, which meant I didn't have to come up with some flimsy excuse to be back here, watching for a certain honey-haired archivist.
Fallon, another club enforcer and my best friend since we met at Top Gun over twelve years ago, had accompanied me. It always helped to have another pilot's perspective when working on a prototype, so I’d often recruited him as an additional consultant on a project.
He’d noticed I was distracted, but when I just grunted in response to his inquiry, he let it go. For now. I knew he’d interrogate me later. I’d deal with that then.
I adjusted the collar of my flight suit, scanning the area with what I hoped passed for casual disinterest, even though my gaze kept returning to the admin building’s office windows, hoping for a glimpse of Linden.
Jason approached, clipboard in hand, flipping through a stack of forms. “Checklists look good. Maintenance cleared it yesterday. You should have smooth sailing today.”
I nodded absently. “Thanks.”
He followed my gaze, then shot me a knowing smirk. “Looking for something specific, Tomcat? Or maybe someone?”
Fallon was in the cockpit, and his head popped over the side at Jason’s last question.
I ignored him and kept my expression neutral, but Fallon knew me better than anyone. The slight twitch of my jaw gave away more than I wanted. “Not sure what you’re implying.”
“Yeah,” Fallon drawled with a grin. “What are you implying?”
I shot him a look and muttered, “Stow it, stick monkey.”
Fallon laughed at the insult—a term used to imply a pilot merely manipulating the control stick like a programmed monkey—and flipped me the bird.
Turning back to Jason, I grunted before returning to my task.
Jason huffed out a laugh, shaking his head as he turned back to his forms. “Whatever you say, man.”
Ignoring him, I circled the jet, running my hand along its sleek skin. I checked every panel, rivet, and inspection point as methodically as ever, but today it felt more like going through the motions.
Because truthfully, my attention kept drifting back toward the admin office windows, frustration building in my gut when I didn't see her. I mentally replayed every detail of our last encounter. The catch of her breath when she tripped, the soft flush on her cheeks when I asked her name, and the way her gentle voice sounded as she spoke. Hell, I'd even dreamed about her—waking to the image of her beneath me, those wide green eyes looking up at me with a shy, sweet trust that made my chest ache.
Finally, I caught movement from the corner of my eye, and my pulse kicked up instantly. Linden was there, partially visible through the office window. But the warmth that had flooded me at the sight of her quickly cooled, replaced by a sudden tension that clenched around my heart.