Taking Cover (Wingmen Warriors 2)

An explosion thundered across the desert.

The percussion blast slammed his back. Launched him forward. He twisted just in time to cushion Kathleen's fall with his body.

Damn, but the desert floor was harder than AstroTurf. Stunned from the fall, he struggled to clear the fog.

Kathleen.

Her body sprawled across his. Her soft br**sts pressed against him with her every steady, reassuring breath.

She was alive, warm and breathing against him. His arms twitched around her. He cupped the back of her head and gave himself two seconds just to hold her, breathe in the scent of her to chase away the stench of smoke and fear of her dying.

The flames swelled and popped with a secondary explosion. Tanner's fingers tangled in Kathleen's hair, sand and blood mixing in the loose strands shielding her face.

Gently he rolled her from him onto her back. Her ashen face leeched relief from him.

"Kathleen? Kathleen!" He patted her cheeks, snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Wake up, honey. Come on. Don't scare me like this. Wake up or I'm gonna have to carry you all the way out of this desert and it'll screw up my back. Do you hear that? I'll end up in the infirmary, and you can be sure I'll blow off half your instructions."

She stirred under his touch, a small but damned welcome sign be grasped with both hands.

"That's right. Come on, honey. Please wake up."

"Tanner?" she mumbled, her eyes still closed.

"Yeah, it's me." Relief almost knocked him on his butt, but he channeled his thoughts toward her. "Don't move. Lie still until we figure out if you've broken anything. Does it hurt anywhere besides your head? Help me out here, Doc. What should I be checking?"

Her lashes fluttered open, revealing cloudy, unfocused eyes. "Don't wanna be Doc."

Kathleen's cranky grumble brought him laughter along with all that relief. "Not much choice, Doc. We're pretty short on options."

"Hate being Doc. Doc, Sneezy, Grumpy, so Sleepy…" Her head lolled.

Relief took a fast flight out. "Kathleen!"

She blinked up at him. "I want a real name. And a keg party. Like the others."

What the hell was she talking about? But at least she was talking. "Okay, hon. You got it. One keg party coming up."

"Thank you." Her lashes drifted closed.

"Kathleen! Damn it, O'Connell, wake up!" Tanner shouted the hoarse order. He leaned his face inches from hers. "No way! You're not checking out on me now."

His forehead fell to rest on hers. "You don't have to be Doc. Just wake up, Sleeping Beauty, and tell me where it hurts."

He couldn't stop himself from brushing a kiss just beside the purpling bruise. Her lashes flickered open, and he stifled the urge to cheer for good ol' Grimm's fairy tales.

Of course he wasn't much of a prince for this warrior goddess. At the moment he was shaking in his deck shoes and he didn't like the feeling at all. Emotions never got the better of him, at least not since his sister's death. He prided himself on his steady hands in the air and reliable laugh on the ground.

Except he couldn't dodge the notion that he could have done something. He'd let his guard down, surrendered control, and that could have cost a crucial second. Hell, if he'd been the one driving…

He wanted his objectivity back. He did not want this roaring in his ears every time he thought about Kathleen bleeding. And by God, he would shut it down before he let it distract him again.

Keep it light. Keep it simple. Above all, stay in control.

Kathleen looked up at the looming double shadows swaying above her. Tanner crouched over her, his chest a large blue blur in the polo shirt.

Her head pounded with what had to be a hangover headache of mammoth proportions, and she hadn't even enjoyed the party. She winced, blinked fast, her vision becoming blessedly clearer. "Tanner?"

The hard planes of his face sharpened. His eyes stared down at her as intently as when reading any mission chart. "Yeah. Talk to me, O'Connell. Are you all right?"