Page 86 of Air Force One (Miranda Chase #16)

As the commander of the 5th Battalion’s D Company, he’d been a driven hard-ass.

The only quality that was good enough for Viper Henderson was perfection—setting the gold standard himself.

On the ranch, he was the one behind the scenes making sure everything kept ticking along.

It was easy to miss where he slipped in unless she watched for it.

He was also Superdad. Tessa and Belle loved her, but they worshipped their dad—two seriously daddy’s girls. Which was okay, she worshipped Mark a little herself.

Cass knew Mark had retired; he’d come out to the ranch for the retirement party. Whatever he was after…

I saw that you’re still listed as active duty.

“Oh, no. Wait a minute, Cass. I don’t want back in the service.”

“Saw you earned the same silver oak leaf as Mark, same year too, though you’re a couple years younger.

Don’t seem to recall any invitation to your retirement party…

unless there never was one. Still on active duty without any missions or any posting showing up in your records at all, at least not any I get to see. ”

Emily had already answered that one. Five years technically flying to fight forest fires. At least that was the wider perception. By which time, she’d had it running so smoothly that she was able to hand it off.

For the six years since, she’d created and led a clandestine intelligence operation at the behest of the former President.

Though now that she thought about it, that operation had finally matured as well.

There was little that Lauren, Claudia, and Michael actually needed of her anymore.

She been chomping at the bit for a while now, worse than Chesapeake when she scented the barn coming in range after a long ride.

Fully retire like Mark? Leading yet another trail ride didn’t exactly fill her cup past a quarter full. Chasing down yet another attack on the Executive Branch sounded equally uninspiring no matter how good she had become at it.

She’d always been a pilot first and last.

Cass smiled. “Eddie Arnson wants to make you an offer.”

“Then why are you here?” The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the top-ranking military officer in the nation, knew how to find her.

He was Mark’s uncle, after all. Only the second Marine Corps general to ever be named to the post. She still wondered what crowbar the President had used to pry him loose from his beloved HMX-1 post commanding the Marine helicopters responsible for Presidential-lift missions.

“Because I asked to make the pitch.”

“So pitch.”

The ground vibrated slightly beneath her butt. A discontented snort from Rollo announced that Mark had caught the runaway horse unfairly and far too soon into a glorious gallop over the thick summer pastures.

Cass waited for the two of them to come up.

“You hitting on my wife, Cass? Gotta warn you, Emma gets more dangerous with age. And she started out plenty dangerous to begin with.” He rubbed his jaw where she’d planted his face into an aircraft carrier’s ready-room table for stealing a first kiss. A dozen years and a lifetime ago.

Though he never missed an opportunity to mention it, they shared a smile at the memory. She remembered the kiss with searing clarity but had to take Mark’s word on what she’d done to him after that.

He also kept the outer bezel of his watch permanently set to the precise minute of that first kiss. She’d tested him a few times; he never had to hesitate longer than a single breath to tell her years, days, hours, and minutes since.

Despite the memory, Emily’s smile felt tight on her face.

“Can’t say that my missus would take it much better than yours,” he winked at Emily, but kept looking up at Mark on his horse. “How do you feel about being outranked?”

“You’ve always outranked me, Old Man. Simply being older seems questionable grounds for such a thing, but…” Mark shrugged it away.

“You can double that barely concealed envy now. They’re bumping me upstairs, commander of USASOAC, giving me a star for my troubles.” He tapped his shoulder where it would go.

“Head of the whole Army’s Spec Ops Aviation Command?

Very fancy, General Cassius McDermott, sir.

” Mark offered a salute sloppier than a recruit fresh through the gate.

“Congratulations, Cass, seriously. You’re a hundred percent the man for that job.

Who’s taking over the 160th?” Command of the 160th SOAR called for a colonel, not a brigadier general.

Emily felt the blood drain from her face. Robbed her of the power to speak.

“Funny you should ask that.” Cass pulled a small box out of his pocket and tossed it at her.

Emily caught it by reflex. Though it burned against her palm, she opened it. Then turned it to show Mark the winged silver collar insignia of a bird colonel.

He slid down off his horse but didn’t say a word. Instead, he stepped up and rested one of those big strong hands on her shoulder. That was good, or the gentle breeze rippling over the grasslands might waft her away easier than an errant bumblebee, never to be seen again.

“There’s the pitch. You going to be making the catch, Colonel Beale?”

Emily couldn’t react as Chesapeake stole her hat again.

The only comfort she found was that, for once, Mark was struck as speechless as she was. Not a single Texas drawl to be heard on the wide Montana prairie.

The sole sound on the wind? Her horse’s laughter.