Red Tail

Travis Trilogy

Red Tail

TAILSPIN

She’d known the job was hazardous, but the Coast Guard Search and Rescue helicopter pilot Lieutenant Storm Travis learned its true toll when she lost her husband. Suddenly, love seemed an impossible dream.

Then Lieutenant Bram Gallagher, ex-fighter pilot and six feet one inch of brash masculine energy, strode into her life and stole her heart with reckless grace. Flying together, depending on each other for life-and-death decisions, gave them an intimacy soon strengthened by their growing need for each other when they were on the ground.

Bram’s passion unleashed her innermost needs, but Storm knew she was flying blind over dangerous waters…

Red Tail

Lindsay McKenna

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

One

“You shouldn’t be here, Lieutenant Travis,” her flight mechanic said as she walked up to him.

Storm thrust her hands into the pockets of her light beige slacks in response to Merlin Tucker’s growly greeting. The gargantuan helicopter and Falcon jet hangar was semiactive in the muggy Sunday afternoon heat at the Coast Guard Air Station in Miami. The sounds of mechanics working on their helicopters or jets filled the hangar. Only those who pulled duty were around. All except her. Storm drew to a halt, needing the familiarity of the sights, sounds, and smells to give her a semblance of emotional stability.

As she lifted her head and met Merlin’s squinty blue eyes, a rueful smile pulled at her lips. “I guess I just wanted to be around something familiar, Merlin,” she offered in explanation.

Merlin’s triangular-shaped face screwed up into a frown as he observed her drawn features. “Yeah, I know what you mean,” he said gruffly. “Come on over here. I’ll show you what I’m doing.” He looked around to make sure that no one else was near. Five other Search and Rescue H-52 helicopters sat like well-mannered steeds in their assigned positions on the floor of the hangar. Satisfied that no other knowledgeable mechanic was going to accidentally walk by and see his handiwork, he pulled back the cowling.

Storm wandered over, looking up at the turbine engine on the helicopter. “Are you sure you want me to see this, Merlin?” she asked him dryly. There wasn’t another Coast Guard chopper pilot who didn’t envy Storm when she pulled duty with the flight mech. He was the top mech on the base and everyone knew it. They said he had magic in his fingers. And when Merlin and Dave, her copilot, had been assigned to work together, they had always made an unbeatable team.

Her gray eyes darkened with recent pain. Oh, God, Dave…She had to push away all those nightmare memories. Wrinkling her brow, Storm leaned over Merlin’s thin shoulder.

Tucker, who was only twenty-two, compared to her own twenty-eight years, chuckled. Everyone swore it was more like a witch’s cackle. “Now, lieutenant, we’ll just pretend this conversation didn’t happen, okay?” He pointed proudly to the turbine engine on the helicopter. “I’m fine-tuning this bird for your next flight tomorrow morning. She’ll pull a couple more RPMs for you when you need them the most.” He grinned, the gap between his front teeth showing. It was against regulations to make certain finite engine adjustments because even the most experienced helicopter pilots who flew the 52s could overtorque the transmission and cause control problems. But Storm knew the absolute limits of the helo so he gave her the edge. His grin widened.

Storm turned her back on him. “I didn’t see a thing, Merlin.”

He cackled, rummaging back into the engine, grease smeared all over his long bony fingers. “That’s right, lieutenant, not a thing.”

Shaking her head, she gazed across the floor, noticing another person in civilian clothes entering the spacious well-lit hangar. A slight frown knitted her brows for a moment. Who else beside herself would be spending off-duty time here at the base? Everyone else had a family…someone to go home to…share life with. Stop it! You’ve got to stop this, Storm. It isn’t going to do any good brooding about the past. You’ve got enough to worry about now.

“Why don’t you take your day off and go home?” Merlin asked, capturing her attention.

Storm turned back around, resting her shoulder against the clean white surface of the aircraft. “Kinda lonely,” she admitted.

Merlin surfaced for a moment, his normally gruff features softening. “Listen, lieutenant,” he began, “it wasn’t your fault. Lieutenant Walker disobeyed your orders. He should have stayed in the left seat. He had no business leaving the cockpit in that situation.”

Tears scalded her eyes as she stared at Merlin, who was a couple of inches shorter than her own five feet eight inches. Her fingers trembled as she rubbed her forehead, a deluge of emotions surfacing. Why couldn’t she cry? Get it out once and for all? The bitterness of the answer nearly choked her: because she was still recovering from the death of her husband, Hal, a little over a year ago. “I—I know that, Merlin.”

Merlin grimaced and climbed down from the helicopter to rummage around for another tool. He straightened up, resting one greasy hand on his hip as he faced her. “Look, I’ve been in Search and Rescue for three years, lieutenant,” he said, “and it’s not uncommon for a drug smuggler to use any ploy or distraction in order to escape. That poor little kid just happened to be the bait. The smuggler was smart. Not only did Lieutenant Walker climb out of the chopper and try to rescue him, but so did those two Customs agents.” He lifted his shoulders apologetically. “Lieutenant Walker traded his life for that little kid’s. Quit blaming yourself because it happened. Hell, I’ll lay you odds that if you had been the copilot instead of the aircraft commander, you’d have done the same thing he did!”

Pain was lapping at her temples again. She always got headaches because the tears wouldn’t come. The tears just sat there, clogged in her throat, swimming in her eyes. But none of the animallike grief that clawed within her chest would burst forth, relieving her of the horrible anguish over the loss of her copilot and best friend, Dave Walker. “I went over to see Susan and the boys this morning,” she said, her voice cracking.

Merlin’s brows rosé. “Yeah? How are they doing?” he asked.

Storm tucked her lower lip between her teeth, staring down at the concrete. “Not very well.” She closed her eyes, drawing in a ragged breath. “They’re like family to me, Merlin.”

Merlin’s blue eyes filled. “Yeah, I know they are, lieutenant. And you’ve become a part of everyone’s family here at the base.” He offered her a coaxing smile meant to raise her spirits. “I’ve been in the Coast Guard since I was eighteen, and I think the best thing they ever did was bring women pilots into SAR.”

Storm looked up. Merlin was an unmerciful tease when he knew she was up for it. But one look at his open features and she knew he was leveling with her. She was one of three women in SAR at the air station. The other two women flew the sleek medium-range Falcon jets while she flew the helicopters. Merlin had been her flight mech off and on for two years and never said a word about this until now.

“What are you talking about?” she mumbled, brushing the unshed tears from her eyes.

Merlin grinned. “Hey, ever since you got assigned here, lieutenant, this place has really become a tight-knit family. You broke the ice, being the first woman pilot here. Not that we didn’t have a family feeling before. But having women of your caliber around has made a real difference. We all took pride in our birds before, but when you got assigned to this duty section and I got to fly with you, everyone was dying of jealousy. And I mean envy with a capital E.”

Storm forced a broken laugh. “Oh, come on, Merlin!”

“No, I’m tellin’ you like it is. Now just stand there and hear me out, will you? Maybe I shoulda said something sooner. Maybe you need to hear this so you realize how important you are to all of us poor enlisted slobs. The way a male officer treats a situation is different from how a woman officer treats it. A man might bull his way through a situation that requires a little finesse. A woman seems to automatically sense that a softer word will do it better.” Merlin grinned happily. “And I gotta tell you, lieutenant, we all like your touch. There ain’t a crewman here at the base that doesn’t love flying with you. They all know you’re tops.”

Storm felt heat rushing to her face. My God, she never blushed! Completely embarrassed by Merlin’s sudden praise, she became flustered. “That’s strange. I have a reputation for shooting straight from the hip.”

“Yeah, you ain’t one to mince words, lieutenant. But we all value your honesty. Just listen to me—what happened to Lieutenant Walker wasn’t your fault. You’re the best pilot here. You got a touch with a helo that no one else has. Why the hell do you think the commander is assigning the new guy to your duty section? He could have given you a seasoned copilot from another section.” He gave her a satisfied look. “So there! You just stop and think about that before you start nose-diving again. Commander Harrison wouldn’t be giving you a green copilot if he didn’t believe you could teach the young pup the ropes of SAR!”

“Excuse me,” a male voice interrupted, “I’m looking for Lieutenant Travis. Can you point him out to me.”

Both of them turned as if they had rehearsed the synchronized movement a hundred times before. Their looks of surprise were identical as they surveyed the stranger.

Storm had to look up. It was the same man in civilian clothes she had seen at the entrance of the hangar earlier. Her heart took an unexpected beat when she realized he was staring down at her with more than passing curiosity. Myriad impressions cartwheeled across her mind as she took stock of him.

He was tall and broad-shouldered. Or at least taller than she; he was probably around six-one. His massive chest and breadth of shoulders told her he could easily carry the weight of the world around on them if he chose. Her gaze ranged upward from the languid grace of the hands resting on his slim hips to his face. Midnight blue eyes coolly met her inquiring gaze. His face was square, holding a moderately strong chin and a nose with a bump on it that told her, from the looks of him, that he had gotten into a fight at one time and broken it. But it was his sensual mouth with one corner curved into a slight smile that made her pulse race. It was a face molded by experience, with featherlike lines at the corners of his eyes telling her he enjoyed laughing. Lines across his broad brow broadcasted the fact that he concentrated unerringly on given tasks. It was a face hewn from more than thirty years of life and yet, handsome in an unconventional sense.

Merlin chuckled, appraising the stranger dressed in a pale green short-sleeve shirt and a pair of jeans. “Him? This is Lieutenant Travis right here,” he said, jerking his thumb in Storm’s direction. Merlin chuckled again and gave Storm a merry look, climbing back up on the helicopter to complete the task of tuning up the engine.

Disbelief widened the stranger’s eyes as he stared down at her. The sudden thinning of his mouth placed her on guard. Pulling out a set of papers from his shirt pocket, he opened them, the frown becoming pronounced on his brow.

“The Operations officer assigned me to this duty section to be Lieutenant S. Travis’s copilot,” he growled.

She wanted to laugh but had the good grace to curb her burgeoning smile. It was a commonly made error that she tolerated with ease. She was used to being an oddity among the male populace of SAR. And who was this man assigned to her? Commander Harrison, the Operations officer, had said a green pilot fresh out of helicopter school was going to be assigned to her. She had expected some twenty-four-year-old boy. Her gray eyes became somber as she stared back at him.

“I’m Lieutenant Storm Travis. Who are you?”

His eyes flared with utter disbelief. “There’s got to be a mistake,” he growled.

If he weren’t so upset, Storm would have laughed. But right now his looks were turning thundercloud-black and she had no wish to provoke him further. In a gesture of defensiveness, she crossed her arms. “There’s only one S. Travis on this base, mister, and you’re looking at her. Now, who are you?”

He swore softly, looking down at the orders in his long spare fingers. “I don’t believe this. Somebody’s made a mistake.”

Merlin peered across his shoulder, then ducked back to his work, realizing it was a safer place to be at the moment. If that big guy thought he was going to start giving Storm a hard time, he’d better watch his step. Grinning, Merlin kept one ear keyed to the deteriorating conversation behind him.

“Mistake on what?” Storm demanded throatily.

He shoved the papers under her nose. “Here are the orders they cut for me out of helicopter school. I’m Lieutenant Bram Gallagher, the new copilot assigned to Lieutenant S. Travis’s duty section.”

Taking her time, she coolly read the orders and then looked up at him. What an arrogant macho male—

“No one’s assigning me to fly with a damn woman.”

Storm glared at him. “Too bad, Lieutenant Gallagher. The Coast Guard in all its infinite wisdom has done just that.”

Gallagher stared down at her, fists planted on his hips. He had come in a day early before having to check in to find out the lay of the land. At Base Security, he had gotten his new I.D. and decided to wander over the hangar area. This would be his new home for the next three years of his life. A woman? A damn woman was his aircraft commander? Of all the stupid, asinine things! He had heard the Coast Guard was moving to open more slots to females. But he never expected this! His nostrils flared.

“How many women pilots are stationed here?” he demanded.

“Three. And only one in helicopters. Me. Aren’t you lucky?” Storm chastised herself. Dammit, she was behaving like a brat toward him. This wasn’t the first time she had weathered grief from a stricken male ego bruised by her appearance.

He appraised her coldly. “There’s got to be a mistake,” he repeated unhappily.

Merlin chuckled and hunched deeper into the engine. Gallagher glared up at the flight mech and then turned back toward her.

“The only mistake is your attitude, Lieutenant Gallagher,” she reminded him sharply.

Bram took a step back, trying to adjust to the shock. Under any other circumstance, she would have been worth looking at. When he had been walking up to where she and the mech had stood talking, he thought she had nice well-shaped legs. Like a willow, maybe. And when she had turned toward him, her dove-gray eyes had taken his breath away. They were wide and vulnerable-looking, with a hint of darkness in their depths. He had thought there was an aura of sadness surrounding her, but she had swiftly changed her expression, hiding her real feelings. Her nose was straight and clean; face square, holding a jaw that warned him she was nobody’s patsy. Her mouth was decidedly her finest feature, expressive and slightly full. Just right to kiss. But right now her lips were compressed into a stubborn line, and her gray eyes blazed with silver flecks of anger.

In a characteristic gesture, Bram combed his fingers through his short black hair, pushing back several strands that always dipped across his brow.

“Look, I’ve just finished helicopter flight school in Mobile, Alabama,” he stated. “I graduated at the top of my class, lieutenant. And I’m sure as hell not going to be relegated to a woman to help fine-tune my knowledge of flying SAR.”

Storm relaxed slightly. At least he was honest. That was in his favor. She was glad to hear that he was at the top of his class. He wasn’t a slouch at the stick, then. And judging from his penetrating eyes and aggressive stance, he was cut out for SAR. It took more than a very competent pilot, Merlin often told her, to fly well. It took guts. One wrong touch on the cyclic or pull on the collective, and mere inches could mean the difference between life and death. Storm smiled to herself. She liked Bram Gallagher’s hands. They were long and artistic-looking, with large knuckles. Hands that proclaimed his flight ability. Almost every pilot she knew possessed those “flight hands,” and she was no exception.

She grinned. Maybe she shouldn’t have, but Storm couldn’t help herself. “Tell me something, Gallagher. Why aren’t you an ensign or a JG, coming out of flight training? You’re a full lieutenant according to your transit orders.” Besides, he was too old for flight school—past thirty. Her grin widened—two more years and she’d be over the hill herself. Suddenly Storm realized she was actually enjoying herself—at Gallagher’s frustrated expense; but he looked as if he could take a few blows to the chin and live to tell about it. And her heart raced every time he gave her that look. It was a look charged with interest, ferreting her out, examining her, stroking her with his midnight blue gaze. She found herself drawn to him for no reasonable explanation she could think of. So far all he’d done was insult her.

His brows knitted. “Not that it matters to you, Lieutenant Travis, but I just happen to be an Air Force Academy graduate, with nine years of fighter pilot flying under my belt.” He gave her a warning look. “And I was also a major in the Air Force, one rank above you before I left.”

“Then what are you doing here?” she asked, disbelief in her voice. An ex-fighter pilot? This was getting more and more interesting by the moment. Even Merlin popped up and gave Gallagher an incredulous look and then dived back to his work like an ostrich sticking his head back into the sand.

Bram gave her a bored look, noting the confusion registering on her face. She wasn’t pretty in a classic sense. Tall, yes. The ginger hair framed her face in a pageboy that barely brushed her shoulders, and it gave her an outdoorsy look. And she wore no makeup. That wasn’t a detriment in his eyes. No, the natural golden tan of her skin made her gray eyes look like beautiful diamonds. Eyes that he could get lost in if he allowed himself to…. Shoving away all those feelings, he capped his torrid thoughts and brought himself back to her tart question.

“I was assigned by the Air Force to do a study on Coasties a couple of years ago. I got involved in your SAR flying and decided you guys had a hell of a lot more action going on saving lives than I did riding an F-16 around in the sky playing fighter pilot. I quit the Air Force and got a direct commission in this service and learned to fly helicopters. I don’t know how I did it, but I only lost one pay grade. That’s why I’m a full lieutenant and not a JG. It’s one step down from major, in case you didn’t realize it.”

She frowned, immediately disliking his insinuating tone. “I’m not some child that has to be taught military subjects by you, Lieutenant Gallagher.”

It was his turn to grin when he realized he had managed to probe beneath her cool unruffled exterior. So, she didn’t like to be patronized. Good, he’d keep that piece of information under his hat. “Don’t like the shoe on the other foot, eh, Travis?”

Glaring from beneath her dark lashes she muttered, “It’s likely to be the other way round real soon, mister.”

“Not if I have my way. Come tomorrow morning at 0800; I’m going to be in that captain’s office asking for a duty section change. No offense, lieutenant, but I’d much rather ask you out for a date than have you as my AC.”

Storm’s lips parted and she felt heat rising to her cheeks. The nerve! She met his laughter-filled blue eyes. “Tell me,” she spat out, “are all ex-Air Force fighter jocks the same? Overconfident male chauvinist—”

Bram laughed heartily, folding the paper up again and stuffing it back into his shirt pocket. So, she was human after all. Decidedly human. He allowed his eyes to slide across her tense form. Nice full breasts, slender waist, and beautifully curved long thighs. Not bad. Not bad at all except for that vinegar personality of hers. Still, she was interesting. Damned interesting. He’d never run across a woman like her during his service career. Well, maybe after he got his orders changed, he’d make a point of knowing her better. There was no wedding ring on her hand.

“See you later, sweetheart. No offense to you, but I’m going to go find a male pilot to train with. Women should be left to what they do best, and that isn’t flying helicopters.”

Storm gasped, openmouthed. Before she could find a decent derogatory retort, Gallagher turned on his heel, walking away from them. “Why—” she whispered angrily, “that—”

“I’ll add a few more to that list you’re making, lieutenant,” Merlin said, extricating himself from the engine and watching Gallagher walk away. There was nothing apologetic in the pilot’s stride or the way he squared his shoulders and carried himself.

She clenched her teeth, fighting back a few more choice epithets. “Arrogant swelled-headed jock!” she sputtered.

Merlin scratched his curly blond head. “Man, has he got a surprise coming. Old Man Harrison ain’t gonna let him swap duty sections.” He gave Storm a conspiratorial smile. “Cocky bastard’s gonna learn his first lesson of becoming a Coastie—you get put with the best when you’re training.” He winked. “And that’s you.”

Storm groaned, pacing back and forth for a moment. “I don’t know, Merlin. Maybe Gallagher would be better off with a man. At least he’d have more respect for him. Besides, I don’t think I’ve got what it takes to put up with his brand of chauvinistic brutality right now.”

The mech wiped his hands off with the rag he carried in his back pocket. His face was serious. “Look, lieutenant, we’ll back you all the way if he tries to pull any smart stuff. It’ll be a cold day in hell if that bastard starts aiming for you.”

She gave Merlin a weary smile. “Thanks,” she whispered, meaning it. “God, when is my string of bad luck going to end?”

Merlin gave a philosophical shrug of his shoulders. “They say things always come in threes, lieutenant. First, your husband dies in an accident, then Lieutenant Walker, and now it looks like you’re gonna get saddled with a first-class know-it-all who’s ex-Air Force and thinks he’s better than all of us put together.” He gave a sad shake of his head. “Well, don’t worry, lieutenant. We’ll be there to help you weather this.”

* * *

Storm drove slowly down the avenues of Opa-Locka beneath the hot July sun. The city embraced the Opa-Locka airport where the Coast Guard station was situated. She had put down the top on her dark blue MG, needing the fresh air and the wind against her face. Anything that reminded her of freedom. She felt as if she were standing in a square room with the walls moving in on her. A cry uncurled deep inside her and she felt like screaming. But nothing happened. Her gray gaze darkened with anguish and tears pricked the backs of her eyes.

Bram Gallagher filtered back into her mind. She felt a moment’s relief from the depressive grief and trauma. His arrogance bordered on the unbelievable. She had worked with pilots from all the various armed forces at one time or another. Fighter jocks all seemed to be cast out of the same mold—that raucous sense of humor, blended with a self-assured ego. Her own brother, Cal Travis, was a Marine Corps fighter pilot assigned to a naval carrier, and he personified those traits. And Gallagher was certainly no exception. Plus, he had the swaggering walk to go with it. Well, Gallagher, you’ve got a few lessons coming, the hard way.