The Tortured Rebel. Alison Roberts

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      Oh … man. Did that memory have to surface again now, as well?

      Of course it did. It had never been buried all that well, had it?

      Jet had to break this train of thought. He sent a sideways glare at the cause of this mental turbulence. Becca was still staring resolutely straight ahead, seemingly confident of being in control. He couldn’t even see that much of her head with that helmet on and it was helpful to remember that she was nothing like the way she was in that memory of that party night.

      Now her hair was as short as a boy’s and, as far as he could tell, she was wearing neither jewellery nor make-up. And what had her boss called her?

      Bec.

      The shortest, sharpest diminutive of her name possible.

      What was wrong with her old nickname? Was Becca too feminine now? Too soft?

      What had happened to that girl?

      Jet had to swallow hard. As if he didn’t know.

      And he didn’t want to remember, anyway, did he? He hadn’t seen this woman in a decade. They were strangers now. Besides, maybe it wasn’t so out of character, now that he came to think of it. Jet felt a corner of his mouth lifting. He couldn’t help it. He actually snorted with amusement.

      ‘What?’ Becca turned towards him. The helmet seemed too big for her and it made her look younger. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips almost pursed with annoyance. ‘You have a problem with something? Like the fact that I’m in charge here?’

      ‘Not at all.’

      ‘What’s so damn funny, then?’

      ‘It just reminded me of something.’

      ‘What?’

      ‘You. Cheating at Snakes and Ladders.’

      ‘I didn’t cheat.’

      ‘No. You just made up your own rules. What was it? Throw an odd number and you got to go up the snakes instead of down?’

      ‘I was eight years old. A lifetime ago.’ Her tone was a warning. ‘Keep your memories to yourself, OK?’

      ‘My game, my rules,’ Jet murmured.

      It was probably coincidence that they happened to hit some turbulence at that precise moment but he glared suspiciously at his pilot anyway. He might have no choice about her being in charge right now but he didn’t have to like it, did he?

      Damn it!

      She’d just begun to think that this wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

      Jet had always been the brooding type. An intrinsic part of the group but inclined to listen more than speak. To be there. Often leading the action, in fact, but fully informed and able to watch everyone else’s back at the same time.

      Powerful. With an edge of darkness that had intrigued her from the word go. She’d been scared of him on that first meeting, as any eight-year-old kid would have been, but then she’d finally seen him smile and chasing down that rare occurrence had become her mission. Learning that she could tease and coax him, as easily as her big brother, into doing exactly what she wanted—like playing Snakes and Ladders her way—had been a bonus.

      Becca was checking every single dial and switch on her control panel. Altitude and power. Fuel supply and speed. RPMs of the main and tail rotors. Checks that were only necessary right now due to her desperate attempt to focus on nothing more than the job in hand.

      Yeah. It had been going fine while her passenger had been sitting there quietly. She’d been a bit too aware of him, of course. His size and the sheer … maleness he had always emanated. The tension had been noticeable but manageable, as well. Becca was only too happy to put up with a silent, sulky passenger in this particular instance.

      But then he’d tried to mess with her controls! He’d almost smiled. Made fun of the fact that she was in charge here. He’d even brought up a somewhat embarrassing reminder of her past and taken her back a little too clearly. Good grief, she’d actually felt eight years old again for a heartbeat or two.

      She hadn’t liked it, either. Not one little bit.

      Because she didn’t want to remember or was it because she didn’t want him thinking of her as someone’s kid sister any more?

      The tight feeling in her chest increased until it was painful to suck in a breath. She wasn’t anyone’s kid sister any more, was she? And it was his fault.

      And she really, really didn’t want to spend the next couple of hours or so thinking about what life had been like back then and how much she still missed her big brother. It would have been bad enough simply seeing Jet from a distance. Being this close to him and only him, miles from anywhere, was almost unbearable. It was opening an old wound that had been too huge to ever heal over completely and the opening process was a threat. There were soft things underneath that scar that had to be protected at all costs.

      Memories.

      Feelings.

      Hopes and dreams.

      Her heart.

      Maybe he was right to make fun of her being in charge and trying to sound tough.

      Maybe it was all a sham.

      The patch of turbulence was great. Becca could feel every tiny nuance of the buffeting and hear the changes in engine noise as though her chopper was talking to her. She became absorbed in her flying and found the thrill creeping back. Being so connected that she became a part of the machine. Or maybe it was an extension of her body. Whatever. They were aloft. She could see the patchy moonlight catching the whitecaps on the ocean below and they were speeding into the night. The turbulence added just enough to the adrenaline rush of it all and by the time they were back into calm air, Becca had found an inner equilibrium, as well.

      It didn’t matter what Jet remembered or what he thought of her now. She was in charge. Of this chopper and who touched its controls. Of what communication, if any, took place between the people involved in this mission.

      Flipping channels, Becca checked in with flight control and with her base. Richard was close to the radio.

      ‘Any update on patient status?’ she queried.

      ‘No further communication,’ Richard responded. ‘The link was patchy and we think we might have lost it.’

      ‘Roger that. Any update from the met office?’

      ‘Aftershocks being recorded. Nothing major.’

      ‘Roger. I’ll get back to you when we’re closer to target.’

      Closing off her outward channel to the mainland, Becca left the internal link open. Just in case she felt like talking to Jet.

      Which she didn’t.

      They had nothing in common other than this mission. If it had been anyone else with СКАЧАТЬ