Curiosity chased away her irritation. She ignored the last part of his little speech and pressed for her answers now that she had him talking. “Where is she now?”
Mason sat up and draped his arms over his knees, covers tenting over his bent legs. “She’s married to a firefighter in California.”
His bare chest and muscled arms called to her fingers, but she kept her hands twisted along the top of the sheet. “How do you feel about that?”
“I don’t love her anymore, if that’s what you’re asking. Do you really want to talk about this right—”
“Yes, I do want talk about this now. Right now,” she finished his sentence.
He studied her with oddly intense eyes before looking back at stripes on the comforter as if they held some mystic pattern. “Fine. I meant it when I said I don’t love her, but she’s a good person. She was a strong person, could even put up with the dangerous nature of the job—hell, look at how she’s in a successful marriage with a guy who fights California fires, for crying out loud.” Frustration leaked into his voice.
She inched closer to him, feeling closer for the first time since he’d shut her out earlier. “That must have hurt, seeing her move on.”
He looked sideways at her. “I told you. I don’t love her. We made a stupid, young mistake. She couldn’t handle the long separations. She said it felt like she wasn’t even married after a while. Most of the spouses around here would agree the job has that effect on relationships. Have you heard what you want now?”
Mason might as well have left the room for all the emotional distance he’d put between them again. He’d said his piece, and he’d found a way to march through life without dealing with it, without moving on in any real sense. She hurt for him as much as she hurt for herself.
“So that’s it.” She thumped him on the arm lightly. “You have your pat answer in place for why you can’t be a part of any relationship.”
“My feelings are my feelings,” he answered in a flat, emotionless voice.
“Your feelings are a crock.”
“How considerate of you to let me know what I’m feeling.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe I should just sit here, and you can fill in the blanks, since you can finish my damn sentences for me.”
She recognized his rude words for exactly what they were. Mason was a man running scared. “For a suave ladies’ man, you’re really being a jackass.” Jill yanked the coverlet from the bottom of the bed and wrapped it around herself. “You’re right about not talking. Too much has happened too fast. There’s no reason for you to worry about protecting me anymore. I think you should go.”
And damn him, Mason snatched up his clothes and didn’t even argue on his way out the door. She’d always expected things would end this way if she ever dared act on her attraction to him, that her feelings could run deeper. She just hadn’t expected it to hurt this damn much over the possibility of losing something so brief that had rocked her world so hard.
Two days later, Mason stood with his crew in front of the futuristic transport plane that would revolutionize airlift operations. If it went well today, by sunset they could finally put this hellacious week behind them.
Put Jill behind him?
He didn’t know what to say to her. He’d left her a single message, checking, just to say . . . nothing much at all actually. Of course he’d copped out and placed the call at a time he knew she would be working. Damn straight he needed space.
Her questions had dug too deep, too fast. He preferred his life light and uncomplicated—not words he would ever use to describe Jill Walczak.
And he needed to figure out something before much longer, since Jill stood in her camos with Dr. Lee Drummond and the security team guarding this private unveiling of the hypersonic jet for generals from Canada, the U.K., and Australia. The Predator had already launched ahead of them, circling for a bird’s-eye view to ensure no unwelcome visitors. Once they all landed, there would be no avoiding a face-to-face with Jill.
For now, he peered through his sunglasses at the airplane. Until today, it hadn’t often been out in daylight during its testing. He exhaled in awe. He’d almost forgotten how amazing it was. And untraditional.
Real visionaries back in the early stages had stepped outside the box to come up with this one. From the very start, it defied regular expectations. The nose looked more like a wing, even changing its angle and shape to increase aerodynamics as the aircraft reached hypervelocity. The rest of the aircraft resembled the “lifting body” experiments of long ago, with a wide, flat bottom and shorter wings that turned up at the ends.
Damn amazing that they’d made it to this day with so much working against them. But even the horrifying distraction of a serial killer couldn’t stop this mission. It appeared that DNA would link Ferguson to all four of the killings and perhaps even some earlier crimes, including the questionable death of a prostitute that had cast such shadows over the end of Phillip Yost’s years in law enforcement.
As for all the supposed ties the victims had to Mason? They’d known the links were thin at best, and it appeared his friend Chuck Tanaka had crossed paths with the victims as well, which brought them to Ferguson’s attention. The fact that they bore supposed grudges against Mason was apparently irrelevant. Ferguson’s MO had been targeting people with ties to the military, plain and simple, inflicting pain at a higher level than he could as a physical therapist.
Strangely, though, as loose-lipped as Ferguson got when faced with figuring out a way to dodge the death penalty, he still denied attacking Annette Santos. He said he’d gotten the idea to add the alien twist from hearing her discuss her attack with Chuck and when she shared the details about the weird swirl in the dirt.
So who’d attacked Annette?
That was for the likes of Barrera and Gallardo and others in law enforcement to determine. Mason had his own battles to fight. Right now, he wasn’t sure what felt like a more colossal task—flying a mission with the potential to send him pinwheeling through the sky again, or trying to convince Jill they could have a relationship without flaying each other’s emotions raw.
“Sir, here they come,” Mason said out of the corner of his mouth to Colonel Scanlon, nodding toward the blue SUV nearing the craft. The vehicle transported the visiting generals for their up-close.
“Look sharp, boys,” Scanlon said softly, prescription aviator shades shielding his eyes. “No grab ass, and don’t go all chatty if they ask questions. Keep it short, and let’s move things along.” He made eye contact with the crew, one man at a time.
The blue SUV pulled up in front of them. A driver and an aide in uniform jumped out and opened the back doors. Out stepped the commander of the Air Force Flight Test Center and air vice marshals from Canada, Australia, and the U.K.
“Damn,” Mason mumbled, “that is a shitload of flag officers.”
Jimmy and Vince hid smirks behind their hands. Scanlon shot them a quick, stern look. Strangely enough, after all the emotion the colonel had shown when saving Livia Cicero, the woman was nowhere to be seen. Colonel Scanlon had simply informed them she’d left for southern Florida to recuperate from the trauma. His closed expression had brooked no further questions about any relationship with the Italian singer, even for guys used to needling each other about women. Some lines you just didn’t cross.
The colonel stepped forward, saluting each general in turn. “Welcome to the desert, gentlemen.”
The officers returned his salute, but they weren’t staring at him. Their eyes were all pinned on the bizarre gray aircraft behind him.
Scanlon smiled for the first time. “She is a little odd-looking, but she really gets the job done fast.”
The Australian officer replied, “It better, because this sheila will surely never win a beauty contest.”
Scanlon chuckled. “No, I suppose not. If you will follow us, my crew and I will give you a walk around.”
Twenty minutes and about a million questions later
, they had completed the viewing with the VIPs. The American general gave the crew a nod as they got back into the SUV.
Colonel Scanlon turned to the crew and said, “Mount up, boys. Time to earn that flight pay.”
Mason hefted his flight bag and stole one last look at Jill in the same uniform she’d worn when she’d taken him down after his hellish descent into the desert. While he certainly hoped this mission would finish on a more positive note than when he’d been nose-first in the sand with a gun at his back, he wasn’t so sure he and Jill would end up any better off.
And the hell of it all? He stood a better chance at understanding how to work this multibillion-dollar test craft than he did at navigating his way back into the good graces of this one particular woman.
Tired, confused, and a little overwhelmed by the magnitude of what she was seeing, Jill stood on the tarmac with Dr. Lee Drummond, who’d apparently been a major part of the testing team from the civilian angle. History was being made. Mason was making history. And she grieved that things were so messed up between them, they couldn’t even look forward to celebrating this awesome moment together.
She and the stylish engineer, Dr. Drummond, stood off to the side. Other security forces were posted strategically throughout the viewing area. The four generals confabbed a few feet away, protocol somewhat falling away. They couldn’t hide their awe as the unrelenting sun showcased the large gray beast.
She still couldn’t believe her own luck at having viewed this aircraft, something the regular public wouldn’t even know about for years to come. Ab-so-freaking-lutely amazing. And her heart ached so much, she couldn’t even enjoy the wonder of the event.
Other than a select few present and ground crew, the flight line was totally deserted and silent. Even the normally busy airspace above stayed empty but for a couple of birds. Air and land had been cordoned off to keep prying eyes away.
She leaned toward Dr. Drummond. “This must be such a proud moment for you.”
Dr. Drummond smoothed back a strand of wind-whipped hair. “Plenty of people had a hand in this over the years.”
“Still, I admire the genius you’re reputed to bring to your job. Those different insights from civilian science help fuel military progress at the most competitive level. I really respect that kind of cooperative effort to propel technology forward.”
Dr. Drummond’s eyes took on a faraway look as she watched the aircraft . . . no, wait. Her gaze seemed to be following Mason as he boarded the aircraft. She toyed with her silver necklace. “Some are more committed than others. It all comes down to who is the most dedicated to perfecting the science and carrying it through, as opposed to those who are more concerned with flitting through their lives with no regard for other people’s contributions.”
Something about the fire in her voice, the bitterness in the upturn of her lip combined with the enmity in her glare at Mason set off alarms in Jill’s mind as the engines roared to life, more of a low-drone whisper actually. This woman had a serious grudge beyond just professional tension.
And it appeared directed squarely at Mason.
Jill sifted through what she’d learned about the woman. Not much. The doctor was noted to be a genius and worked closely with them on secret test projects, such as this one. Dust swirled on the tarmac, gusting over them as the jet taxied toward the runway, lined up, hitched to a stop, and then. . . .
Whoosh, the plane swept up and into the horizon. Exhaling, Jill tried for a neutral, more conciliatory tone with the woman standing transfixed next to her.
“At least everything is coming together well today, so we won’t have a repeat of that awful accident last week.”
Dr. Drummond dusted off her clothes, even though she looked darn near perfect, given the gritty outdoor viewing area. “Sometimes it’s a win to discover the flaws in a test plan, even if it means the project fails.”
“I guess I understand in theory. But isn’t there a point when good is good enough?”
“Imperfections must be weeded out with all due diligence.” She adjusted her necklace obsessively again. “Nothing short of perfection is acceptable. You have to understand it’s all about precision. It’s my job, my mission to ensure every detail lines up. I right wrongs. I bring logic and balance to life.”
Okay, Jill was starting to get a little creeped out. This woman was seriously wired too tightly, her need for perfection obviously going beyond precisely slicked-back hair and a perfectly centered silvery charm necklace.
“I should go check in with the rest of security to see, uh, if there are any updates.”
Dr. Drummond clutched Jill’s arm in a skeletally thin grip. “Honestly, I used to admire Mason, not romantically, but as a decent human being. He never led anyone on. It’s obvious he’s still torn apart over his divorce.”
Surprise stalled her. “How do you know about his divorce?”
No one else around here had ever said anything about Mason being married before, which must mean they didn’t know, or she certainly would have heard the gossip.
Dr. Drummond arched a thinly plucked brow. “Apparently he told you. Now, that should tell you something.”
The observation stopped her cold. She’d been so caught up in what he hadn’t said, she hadn’t considered that for Mason, he’d already said a boatload more than he’d told others. “How did you find out?”
“Google, of course. Sometimes the simplest answer is the smartest. A good portion of his life is there on the Internet, thanks to his wealthy parents’ frequent appearances on the social pages. He’s rich, you know.”
“His parents are wealthy. He doesn’t take anything from them.” She admired his proud independence. She admired a lot about him.
Lee rolled a shoulder dismissively. “Giving away all that money from his folks? I guess he’s not so smart after all.”
Something more than curiosity kept Jill from walking away. Professional instincts perhaps? Or just a genuine defensiveness for Mason when someone judged him so harshly? Too harshly. “If he didn’t hurt you romantically, what did he do to make you dislike him so?”
Dr. Drummond’s blasé facade faded in a flash as she turned venomous eyes toward Jill. This wasn’t dislike. It was downright loathing. “He tried to torpedo my work a year ago.” Her chin lifted with condescension. “I can’t share all the details with you because of the classified nature of our work. Suffice it to say, I had invested my heart and soul into the project, and if my name’s going to be attached, it damn well better be perfect. It’s not fair they wouldn’t listen to me.”
Not fair? Lee sounded more like a six-year-old who got a smaller piece of cake at a party. Could all those brains and advancement ahead of time have left her emotionally stunted? Jill got the unavoidable sense that Lee’s adult genius had become a dangerous weapon when paired with childish pettiness.
Jill’s eyes hitched on the necklace, a round charm with circles etched smaller and smaller with a diamond in the middle. A swirl. Like circles in the sand.
She resisted the urge to bolt the hell away.
A coincidence, right? Just a fluke that this woman wore a piece of jewelry with a pattern so similar to a signature marking Ferguson used. A marking he said he’d stolen from a random attack on Annette Santos. God, could Dr. Lee Drummond have been the original attacker? Annette had worked as a contractor in the same test squadron with Mason and Dr. Lee Drummond.
The brilliant engineer dropped her charm, keen discernment glinting. “You can stop spinning your theories around, and don’t bother denying what you’re thinking. I’m smarter than that. I can see perfectly well when someone has decided they’re out to get me.” Her smile curdled. “Like you are now.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jill stalled, inching away, her hand sliding to her gun holstered to her waist. There were people all around them, even if they were too far away to overhear what was being said. They were on a military base, for heaven’s sake. There were security forces every
where—granted, they were all more than twenty yards away, busy guarding generals and machinery. But it wasn’t like Lee Drummond could just up and leave. This woman couldn’t harm her.
Could she?
Dr. Drummond closed her arms over her tightly belted turquoise leather jacket. “Go ahead and try to call for help to stop . . . whatever it is you think I’ve done, using my secret clearance, a clearance that allows me to go anywhere, touch anything.” She leaned closer, her perfume thick and cloying. “And even if I had done something sinister like tamper with that imperfect plane so it won’t complete the testing, even set up an explosion perhaps, do you really think anyone would stand a chance of tracing it back to me? I am so much smarter than any of you.”
A bomb—in Mason’s plane. Her stomach plummeted to her boots.
She forced her voice to stay steady. “I can’t believe you’re telling me this.” Other than the fact that she’d seen crazed killers who reached a point where they needed an audience for their crimes. But it didn’t seem wise to mention that right now.
“Why wouldn’t I tell you? It’s your word against mine, hearsay, actually. In fact, if you run to the police and try to implicate me, I’ll vow it could just as easily have been you who set this up. Maybe you’re a crazy stalker striking back at him for all those years he didn’t notice you.” She smiled evilly. “Again, you forget who has the real brains here.”
And how damn horrifying to think the woman’s plan could actually work. Jill had to hope that need for an “audience” would cause some kind of slip. “How did you manage this?”
Dr. Drummond tapped the ID dangling from a lanyard around her neck. “Thanks to this, I can access anywhere, anytime, unsupervised. By the time the ‘incident’ is sorted through and they rule out terrorism, the evidence will point to Mason having screwed up. After all, look how he botched that drop a few flights ago. Very coincidental, don’t you think? He really should have gotten out of the way a year ago when I tried to tell them craft wasn’t perfect yet.”
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