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the office,” Laura said brightly, climbing onto the fuselage to inspect the rotor shaft. She slanted Jenna a small smile, reading the direction of her thoughts. “For what it’s worth, I’m sure the VIPs have no clue about who’s piloting which helicopter. It’s not personal.”

      Jenna shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here to do a job, not suck up to some general who happens to be riding in my jump seat.” She cast another dark look across the tarmac to where Captain Kevin “Mongo” McLaughlin was checking out his tail rotor. “But I know he’s going to gloat over this later, and that just bugs me.”

      Laura was only half listening. Her attention was fixated on the other side of the tarmac, where a group of five soldiers were making their way toward the helicopter. Even as Jenna bent to look through the open cabin doors for a better view, Laura scrambled swiftly down.

      “Forget Mongo and his gloating,” she hissed, pretending to fiddle with the sliding door of the cabin while her dark gaze remained riveted on the men. “Check these guys out!”

      Jenna frowned. Heat shimmered over the asphalt, distorting their figures as they strode closer, and for a moment she was reminded of the iconic Hollywood scene from the blockbuster movie Armageddon, when five heroic astronauts made their way in slow motion across the flight line on a mission to save the world. Only, instead of orange space suits, these guys wore desert camouflage and carried army-issued duffel bags. But beneath the rim of their helmets, their sunburned faces sported several weeks’ worth of beard, and each wore the same don’t-fuck-with-me expression.

      “Another special ops team,” mused Jenna. In the two months of her deployment, she and Laura had transported dozens of special ops commandos from one location to another. While Jenna knew the likelihood of running into Chase Rawlins was slim, her heart did a small flip of anticipation each time one of them climbed aboard her helicopter. “Looks like they’ve been outside the wire for a while.”

      “Oh, yeah,” murmured Laura in an appreciative tone. “Looks like they could use some serious R and R, and I know just the person to give it to them. Come to Mama, boys.”

      Jenna laughed softly, no longer shocked by anything that Laura said. She knew the other woman was mostly talk and almost no action.

      As the men drew closer, conversing with each other in low tones, Jenna’s eyes narrowed. There was something about the guy on the far right. He was tall and lean, and walked with an easy, loose-limbed grace that reminded her of—

      “Holy crap!”

      Laura’s gaze flashed between her and the group of men, and back again. “What? You know one of them?”

      Quickly, before the group got any closer, Jenna spun out of sight and pressed her back against the side of the helicopter, adrenaline surging hot and hard through her veins.

      “Don’t let him see me,” she whispered fiercely.

      “Who?” Laura craned her head so that she was looking through the open doors of the cabin, just as the first man climbed up through the opposite door and into the helicopter. She straightened abruptly and snapped out a salute. “Afternoon, sir,” she said in a no-nonsense military tone. “I’m Warrant Officer Costanza, your copilot. As soon as we’re refueled, we’ll depart.”

      Jenna heard the low rumble of a reply, and then Laura stepped smartly away from the door and made her way toward the front of the helicopter, dragging Jenna with her. “Is that who I think it is?” she hissed, incredulous. “Is it the guy from Shooters?”

      “Yes. No! I don’t know! I can’t be sure.” Jenna’s heart was slamming so hard in her chest that she was sure Laura must hear it. “I didn’t exactly stop to read his name tag! God.

      But when she pressed her fingers against her closed eyes, she could see him clearly and knew that she hadn’t been mistaken. And what were the freaking chances that she would run into Major Chase Rawlins out here, a gazillion miles from Fort Bragg, in the middle of freaking no-man’s land? There was no doubt in her mind that it was him. Even with half his face covered in scruff, his eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, she’d recognize him.

      She’d thought of him more often than she’d care to admit—even to herself—during the past two months. The one night she’d spent with him was as fresh in her mind as if it had been only yesterday. What would he do when he saw her? Would he even recognize her? Did he ever think of her?

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