On Wings of Passion
Lindsay McKenna
Fiery journalist Erin Quinlan doesn’t want to write the military exposé assigned to her. But the job will give her a chance to hurt the Air Force as it hurt her. Revenge will be sweet—even if it can’t bring back her husband.
Captain Ty Phillips obviously doesn’t relish playing host to hostile Erin, and their tempers clash like steel on steel. But Ty’s cool control in the cockpit earns Erin’s deep respect…just as his powerful embrace sends her spinning into the stratosphere. Then their professional commitments force them to separate…and, heartbroken, Erin faces a bleak future without the man she loves.
DEDICATED TO
The Strategic Air Command 644th Bombardment
Squadron, K. I. Sawyer Air Force Base, Michigan
and
Captain Timothy Krysiak, B-52 H bomber pilot,
my mentor and friend at K. I. Sawyer AFB,
and
Lieutenant Lowell “Brad” Peck, Public Affairs Officer,
K.I. Sawyer, who did a great job for SAC,
and
To the B-52 crews who have lost their lives
protecting our country: we owe you a greater debt
of thanks than can ever be expressed for your unsung valor.
Bless those families who have lost so much. Thank you for your sacrifice.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Also by Lindsay McKenna
About the Author
Excerpt from Down Range
1
“Bruce, I don’t want this assignment,” Erin pleaded with her boss. Her husky voice softened. “Please, you know how much I hate the air force. I can’t be objective about this subject. Don’t you understand?”
Unable to remain still a moment longer, she moved away from the desk and paced the room nervously. Bruce Lansbury watched her with a familiar inscrutable gaze she had come to dislike. It meant that he would have his way in the end. She clenched her hands into fists.
“Look, I’ve worked for Newsday Magazine for seven years and I’ve never turned down a major assignment, especially on a controversial issue. But I can’t stand the air force, Bruce. I wouldn’t give the investigation the fair treatment it’s due.”
“Erin, Erin,” he soothed, putting down his pipe and rising from his chair to his lanky six-foot height. “I know you lost your husband in an air force accident. You’ve got good reason to hold a grudge. But I need your solid investigative abilities on this one.”
Erin pushed a thick strand of dark hair off her shoulder. Usually she could maintain a professional demeanor, betraying no emotion. But this situation was different. It nudged the still-glowing coals of an old, festering wound deep within her heart. She narrowed her blue eyes as she studied her boss.
His hands hanging loosely at his sides, he reminded her of a gawky eighteen-year-old basketball player who was all arms and legs. After she had graduated from college, Bruce had given her this job on one of the most widely read weekly magazines in the country. Since then, she had honed her skills until she’d become a top-notch investigator.
Now she compressed her full lips, studying him carefully. “You can’t do this,” she said. “Why do you want to assign me this story when you know my personal feelings about the air force?”
He shrugged and swept a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Truthfully, Erin, we want an article that is stacked against the air force Triad recommendation that we purchase more B-52 bombers. The publisher feels we ought to concentrate our defense spending on land-and submarine-based missiles, that we should phase out the Strategic Air Command bombers, which form the third leg of the Triad concept. The public would be saved the enormous expense of purchasing one hundred bombers to replace the older B-52’s. I want you to find facts to justify our stand.” He scratched his head thoughtfully. “Go in there and prove we don’t need the bomber wing.” He gave her a slight smile. “Who knows? We might end up saving American taxpayers billions of dollars.”
Erin gave up. “Then it’s final? There’s no way I can gracefully get out of this?”
“Jack assigned it to you at our editorial staff meeting this morning. I tried to discourage him because of your feelings about the air force.” Bruce sighed and gave her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. The job’s all yours.”
He opened the top drawer on the right-hand side of his desk and pulled out a folder, which he handed to her. “You’re booked on a flight tonight for Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, which is located near Dayton, Ohio. Captain Tynan Phillips from the 410th Bomb Wing has been assigned through the Pentagon to be your host. He’ll meet you there.”
Erin let out a shaky breath. “I don’t believe this, Bruce.”
“Erin, I tried to dissuade them.” He squeezed her arm gently. “I’m sorry. I can see the pain in your eyes, but the job has to be done. In fact, you’ve got a real obstacle course to run before you fly in the B-52.”
Her head snapped up, her eyes widening. “What are you talking about?”
Bruce returned to his desk and sat down, folding his frame like an accordion back into the leather chair. “The Strategic Air Command has decided they’d like the publicity we could provide, so they’re giving you the red-carpet treatment. It includes taking a ride on the mighty bomber itself.”
Erin tried to control her dismay. “You’ve got to be kidding!”
“It’s all part of SAC’s treatment of special people,” he assured her.
“Even hostile reporters?” She shot him a fiery glance.
“When I talked to Colonel Cox over at the Pentagon, he seemed to think SAC’s honesty and credibility would change the mind of even the most ardent antimilitary reporter.”
She clenched her fist. “Well, they’re wrong this time.”
Bruce cocked his head. “So you’ll take the assignment?”
“Not willingly.”
“Look, Erin, I’ve said I’m sorry and I am. But the air force can’t bring back your husband. When you stop to think that we’ve got a weekly circulation of six million, you realize how much influence this article could have, how many opinions you could change.”
Erin rubbed her forehead where an ache was beginning to throb. “That’s a lot of people,” she agreed softly. “My husband was killed a long time ago. I guess I should be over it by now.” She lifted her chin and stared out the window at the New York skyline against the blue September day. “I just don’t want to be reminded yet again, that’s all.”
“Nobody ever said living was easy,” Bruce sympathized. “Starting tonight, you’ll be in Dayton for two days. A month from now, you’ll go to a place called Gwinn, Michigan.”
Erin picked up her purse and adjusted it on her shoulder. “Where’s that?”
“Someplace up near the Canadian border. That’s where K.I. Sawyer, an SAC Air Force Base, is located. You’ll have four more days’ worth of investigation there before hopping a flight on a B-52.”
Erin shook her head. “You look like an excited kid, Bruce.”
He grinned. “Can’t help it. As much as I’m against the B-1 bomber, I wouldn’t mind taking a ride on one of those B-52’s.”
“Then you take the assignment and I’ll play senior editor for the next week!”
He laughed. “I wish! Really, I do envy you a bit. I’ve always loved airplanes, especially the big ones.”
Erin grimaced and headed for the door. “Wit
h my luck, I’ll get caught on board when World War Three starts.”
Bruce smiled, relighting his pipe and sucking noisily on it. “Naw, that won’t happen. Just do me a favor and don’t rip that poor captain’s head off. I understand he’s a B-52 bomber pilot from Sawyer.”
Erin stood in the doorway. “If he’s smart, he’ll stay out of my way.”
“Well,” Bruce murmured, puffing forcefully on the pipe, “I hope he’s been trained to deal with strong-willed, temperamental Irishwomen, because he’ll need it for you.” He pointed at the folder under her arm. “Did you see his first name? Tynan. Bet that’s Gaelic. I wonder if he’s one of your countrymen.”
Erin rolled her eyes. “Oh, Lord, that’s all I need—an Irishman for a watchdog. Thanks, Bruce. Thanks a lot. Now I know you really want me to quit.”
“Nope. Just remember—this is a choice assignment and management wouldn’t send just anyone. You’re the best, Erin, and they’re counting on your abilities to find the evidence that’ll stack the deck against the bombers and in favor of the missiles.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t fail them on that point. Maybe you’re right, Bruce. Maybe a little revenge will be healthy for my soul. I’ll be in touch.”
“Fine. Hey, just on the qt, if you do your usual good job, this assignment could probably earn you a nice raise and promotion.”
Her eyebrows rose. That would be a plum. After roving from one end of the country to the other to research hard-hitting stories, she was getting tired of traveling. Bruce had told her that the associate editor’s job would be available in a few months.
She winked at him. “Okay, you’ve convinced me. Just keep New York alive and well for me while I’m gone.”
“I promise. Enjoy Dayton.”
Erin closed the door softly behind her. It was almost four o’clock and her flight left at eight. She’d better hurry home and get ready.
The initial shock of having to fly out at a moment’s notice wore off as Erin packed. She felt comfortable in designer jeans and a warm, bulky, pink sweater.
On her dresser was a photograph of her husband, Steve, in an army officer’s uniform. She paused to study the picture. It had been nine years since his death. She closed her eyes as painful memories filled her. Then the thought that he had been killed while flying an air force cargo plane renewed her anger. She held the picture against her chest, taking deep breaths to control her emotions.
She had married him straight out of high school. In recent years, she had realized she should have turned down Steve’s proposal. They had grown up together in the same community. She had been a gawky, freckle-faced high school freshman, and he’d been a senior ready to graduate. They had fallen in love, but Steve had had the wisdom to wait. If it was really right, waiting wouldn’t change anything, he’d told her. He’d promised to come back for her after college, and he had.
It had come as no particular surprise when Steve joined ROTC in college and went on to become a regular army officer. The sight of him in uniform when he’d arrived home to claim her for his own had melted her heart. At eighteen, she’d been like a young willow, unworldly and sensitive to the demands of being a military wife.
Erin placed the picture back on the dresser and, pushing her memories to a dark compartment of her heart, concentrated on packing.
That night she blinked against the strong light of the Dayton Airport terminal as she emerged from the plane. She had piled her hair on top of her head and changed into a tailored suit of dusty beige and a burnt-sienna blouse of raw silk. She felt mentally prepared to meet the air force officer who was to be her escort.
At ten at night the airport wasn’t very busy and Erin halted, searching the small crowd anxiously waiting for friends and relatives. A slow anger began to burn as she quickly scanned their faces for an air force officer. Just like the military to let her down, she fumed, gripping her leather briefcase tightly.
As she headed down a long corridor toward the baggage area, she sensed rather than saw someone at her side. Before she heard his low, carefully modulated voice, she felt his presence.
“Miss Quinlan?”
She drew in a deep breath and spun around. Her lips parted as she met and held his gaze. His eyes were a warm, inviting blue, and she sensed his care and concern as he stood looking down at her. His eyes sparkled with a hawk-like intensity that sent a shiver through her. His hair was black, and she could see signs of his Irish heritage in the narrow planes of his high-cheekbone face. Despite the creases at the corners of his eyes and mouth, there was a certain youthfulness about him. She guessed he was in his mid-thirties.
Erin couldn’t tear her gaze from his intelligent expression. As much as she wanted to dislike him, she couldn’t. Her eyes were drawn to his mouth. It was well chiseled and strong and the corners turned up in an appealing manner. Just looking at him, she could tell he had a sense of humor, and for some reason that thought made her feel less threatened by his nearness. He stood straight, his shoulders broad, his stance relaxed. His smile widened as he removed his hat and inclined his head toward her.
“Since I’m an expert at detecting the Irish, you must be Erin Quinlan.”
Something in his tone—or perhaps it had to do with the tingle his deep voice sent down her spine—aroused Erin’s anger. Her nostrils flared and she stepped back from him. His masculinity overwhelmed her. “I’m Erin Quinlan,” she said, her voice low with fury. “And don’t try to pretend to know me just because we’re both Irish.” She placed a hand on her hip and watched for his reaction. She wouldn’t let him sweet-talk her into writing anything but the truth about his lousy air force.
His eyes darkened and he studied her with new interest, surprise registering on his clean-cut features. Replacing the hat, he said, “I’m Captain Ty Phillips.”
“Obviously,” she drawled, turning abruptly and heading down the hall. Her behavior surprised her. She was acting—and feeling—like a mesmerized eighteen-year-old. Ty Phillips was incredibly male in every sense of the word and her head was spinning from their brief encounter. More than anything, she wanted to get as far away from him as possible.
As she tried to shake off his effect, she became aware that he was walking at her side, easily keeping pace. “Do you always greet strangers with such kind words?” he asked with just a hint of sarcasm. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.
Erin pressed her lips together to stifle her retort. She could see he wasn’t going to take anything sitting down. Well, that figured. She couldn’t expect someone from the air force to be diplomatic! “As far as I’m concerned, Captain,” she said through gritted teeth, “anyone from the air force doesn’t deserve better treatment.” She halted, turning around and glaring up at him. “If you expected some sweet little lady from the big city who would giggle like a schoolgirl, you were very much mistaken.”
Ty Phillips raised his eyebrows and regarded her closely. “I hadn’t expected you to be so openly hostile, Miss Quinlan. Where I come from, a little courtesy goes a long way. I certainly wouldn’t treat anyone with the rudeness you’ve just exhibited.”
Erin’s lips parted as she stared back at him. “Why—”
He gripped her arm, turning her around and forcing her to start walking. “They told me you were an antimilitary reporter,” he went on. “That I can live with, Miss Quinlan. But I won’t put up with a shrew who pretends to be a reporter.” She shot him a scathing look, but he continued, unperturbed. “Now that we’ve made proper introductions and know where we stand with one another, let’s pick up your baggage.”
Erin jerked her arm away. “I thought all you public-affairs officers were supposed to be smiling, two-faced liars.”
Ty Phillips grinned self-confidently. “First, I’m not a public-affairs officer. Second, I was assigned this job, Miss Quinlan, in addition to my normal flight duties at K.I. Sawyer Air Force Base. Third, I don’t like people who form ideas about other people before they’ve completed a proper investigation
. And last, I’m not all sweetness and light. Public-affairs officers have diplomacy. I don’t.” Erin marched ahead, her jaw set. “That’s obvious!” she retorted.
“Why don’t you make this easy on both of us and just be civil?”
She halted, anger making her voice tremble. “Captain, I was forced to take this assignment, just like you were! I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to have to spend one extra minute around you. I don’t want anything to do with your damned air force!”
He stood tensely, hands on hips, eyes darkening thunderclouds. “Someone ought to teach you some social manners.”
Erin smirked and stepped onto the escalator. “Wishful thinking, Captain. I suppose in my investigation of the air force I’ll find you’re all wife beaters, too.”
“I’m sure you’d like to think that,” he answered, his voice barely above a growl. “You probably have your husband completely cowed.”
Erin marched off the escalator and immediately spotted her luggage on the baggage turntable. “I’m widowed, Captain, so it’s a moot point, isn’t it?”
Ty Phillips walked easily at her side. “I’m sorry,” he said, the tenseness coming out of his voice. He tried to change topics. “I suppose it is, but a good-looking woman like you had better watch her step.”
She grimaced at him. “I learned one thing about Irishmen a long time ago, Captain. They’re so full of bluff that it’s laughable. You have the wonderful job of escorting me around for the next two days. You don’t like it and neither do I. You’re such a typical macho male it makes me ill. Go talk to some other woman who will believe your blarney.”
Her heart pounded violently as she saw and felt his reaction. He reached out, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh of her upper arm and he gently pulled her to a stop. He was so close she felt his hot breath against her cheek. His once-kind eyes had turned bluer and predator-like as he glared down at her. “Now, look,” he rasped softly, “you may be a grown woman, but if you continue to act like a spoiled brat, I’ll take you in hand, darlin’. You either begin acting civilly, or we’ll have it out right here in the middle of this airport.”
On Wings of Passion Page 1