Under Siege (Wingmen Warriors 3)

"Shouldn't you—"

"That's why they make caller ID," he assured her, maybe trying to assure himself as well.

He cricked his neck to the side until his shoulders lowered. "All right. I have to respect your decision, but you have to respect where I'm coming from too. You've been there for my girls, and I want to be there for this little guy. There's no shame in a new mother asking for help."

Zach smoothed a hand along Patrick's back. His hand continued up to palm her cheek.

"Just know you can call me. Anytime. Anywhere. For anything."

She squeezed her eyes shut. Why did he have to pick now to use those words?

With her eyes closed, her senses heightened, betraying her resolve. Zach's callused skin against her cheek reminded her of unsanded oak, rough, natural. Strong.

Just as she weakened, ready to tip her face into the sheltering heat, into the power and strength of his touch, his hand fell away.

The heat lingered.

Her eyes drifted open. He reached for his phone as he turned to the door, military bearing ingrained in his stride.

Once the door clicked behind him, she allowed herself to move. To breathe.

Swaying from side to side to soothe her baby and perhaps steal a little of that comfort for herself, Julia listened to Zach's truck growl out of her driveway. A part of her grieved over ordering him to leave. Another part of her realized that grief and separation would be short-lived.

"Well, Patrick," she whispered in his tiny shell ear. "I may not have known he climbed oil rigs as a kid. But I've learned more than a little about Zach Dawson during the past eight months."

As good as the man was at giving orders, he could be really rotten at following them.

* * *

"That's an order, Lieutenant," Zach barked over the headset to the copilot, his hand steady as he flew the C-17, in spite of his irritation.  Not anger, he reassured himself. Just irritation. Six weeks worth of pent-up irritation building since he'd left Julia's house.

Miles of ocean and sky stretched in front of his windscreen as he piloted the plane back from a two-week training deployment to Guam. He needed to get home to his kids before the sitter lost her mind—and to check on Julia before his head exploded from frustration over her self-imposed exile. "Do you copy, Renshaw? Over."

"Roger, Colonel," answered First Lieutenant Darcy "Wren" Renshaw, the newest addition to his squadron, currently sitting beside him in the cockpit. "But I can pull another hour in the co's seat, no problem."

"I'm sure you can, Renshaw, but you don't have to. An eighteen-hour mission makes for plenty of flight time to go around." His hand tightened around the stick. No yoke steering for the C-17 Globemaster III. The mammoth cargo aircraft possessed the same stick and grace as the A-10 he used to fly. "Head on back to the bunk and sleep. Bronco will relieve you."

Captain Tanner "Bronco" Bennett piped onto the headset from the seat behind Renshaw.

"Hey, Wren, quit grousing and take your turn in the rack so I can have mine next. I'm an old expectant father and I need my beauty sleep."

Renshaw snorted. "I don't think this mission's long enough to help you on that one, Bronco."

"Ouch! Mortal blow to the ego!"

"Yeah, yeah, my heart bleeds for you." She unbuckled and stood. "All yours, Bronco."

Zach waited until Renshaw disappeared through the bulkhead and Bronco strapped his linebacker-sized body into the copilot's seat before pushing the private interphone button.

"How's Wren doing?"

"Good, Colonel. Real good. Makes my job as aircraft commander a cakewalk. She's a damn fine copilot, fits right in with the rest of the crewdogs. If anything, she tries too hard. Probably feels the need to live up to that impressive Air Force pedigree of hers."

"Could be."

Renshaw's father had called to check on his "little girl" just last week, tossing those general's stars around to make sure his baby was being careful in Guam. Zach cared more about his people than stars. Renshaw didn't need cosseting. She deserved the chance to prove herself and advance her career.

Julia's voice echoed in his mind with her insistence she didn't need his help.