Fully Engaged (Wingmen Warriors 12)

Nola shivered. She’d been under the knife so many times during her surgeries. She’d never imagined landing in the hands of amoral animals who cut people for pleasure. “I pretended to be an escaped captive of the other guy. I figured things would go better for me that way since I would have some value as a hostage.”>She nodded, her blues eyes turning paler with the sheen of tears. She flung the drink into a nearby bin with extra force.

He only wanted to reopen a dialogue he’d probably been too quick to shut down yesterday. Somehow he’d gotten sidetracked and hurt her, the last thing he ever wanted to do. Time to detour them again.

Rick cashed in tokens for two medium-sized stuffed monkeys, one pink, one purple. He turned to the two women. “Ladies, pick your prize.”

Lauren rolled her eyes. “How lame.”

He noticed her eyes lingered on the purple, so he passed the pink to Nola and searched for a distraction from the awkward moment caused by his currently bratty daughter.

Dead ahead waited the perfect distraction.

Rick tossed the purple monkey to Lauren and jerked his head toward the bullet drop. “Come on.”

He gathered his crutches from where they leaned against the booth.

“What?” Nola cradled her monkey like a baby.

“If I don’t catapult my body out of something soon I’m going to go freaking nuts.” An understatement if ever he’d heard one.

He hadn’t realized how much he missed the sensation until he looked at that ride, something so damn pathetic in comparison to what he used to do on the job. And here he stood, shaking on the crutches in anticipation of climbing onto a kid’s carnival attraction. Talk about a revelation. He hadn’t left his past behind at all. He’d merely buried it under a mountain of determination to get through one day at a time.

Pausing on his crutches, he pivoted to his daughter, “Lauren, come on. The bullet.”

“Go ahead without me.” She stuffed her monkey under her armpit in a stranglehold and held out her hand in the universal “gimme money” plea. “I want a funnel cake. I’ll sit on the bench and wait.”

Rick considered ordering her to join them, but that would start another eye rolling, slouching, foot stomping, sighing, ad nauseam teenage response of disgust. Why had she crossed multiple states in the first place if she hated him so much? “Fine. We’ll meet you back here in five minutes and I’ll be watching you. Stay by the security guard.”

“Of course. I’ll get an extra funnel cake for you and Nola.” She wiggled her fingers. Money.

“Thanks.”

While Nola settled into the ride, he passed his crutches to Lauren for safekeeping and climbed into the seat. A teenager lowered the safety bars from overhead to lock them in place for the hydraulic lift before they were dropped. He watched Lauren sit with her funnel cake, happily chatting away with a park security guard, then turned to Nola.

Chalky pale Nola? The afternoon sun beating down on them left no room for misinterpretation.

She pulled a wobbly smile. “Have I mentioned that I hate heights?”

“Holy crap, Nola. I just assumed you would like this too. You’re a pilot for crying out loud.”

“I like to land with wings. Not a nylon pillowcase.”

“You should have told me no. I could have ridden by myself—or not at all. I’m not a kid who would pitch a tantrum if I didn’t get my treat.” He looked around for a way to call this off, but the ride was already full ahead and behind them. They were seconds from launch. Still, he cupped his hands around his mouth to shout—

Nola put her hand on his arm. “I want to share this with you. Let it go.”

He’d been with enough newbie jumpers to know distraction worked best, so he started talking, while periodically checking on Lauren. “I love to jump so much, sometimes I forget that others aren’t as addicted to it as I am. My mother vowed I gave her a heart attack when I was only two. She found me on top of the garage, ready to jump. I leaped off fences, swing sets, slides, car tops, balconies…and that was before first grade.”

“Your poor parents.” Her eyes lit as brightly as her grin.

“No kidding. I broke so many bones, they knew me on a first-name basis in the emergency room.” He reached surreptitiously to take her hand. “I’m sure my parents lived in fear of investigation by child services since I got hurt so often.”

“Is that how you came by your call sign? Lurch—like lurching forward?”

The ride jerked as if in tandem with the word lurch. Her hand jerked in his. He linked their fingers tighter.

“I wish. That would be far more dignified.” The capsule started its ascent upward. “On my fifth jump, I started feeling—how should I put it?—too confident. I made my way toward the open hatch, ready to roll, certain I could take the elements…and I knocked myself unconscious heading out the door.”

Her shoulders jerked upward with a burst of laughter.