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CHAPTER ONE

Laryn Hardy swore as the wrench she was using slipped and she scraped the hell out of her knuckles.

“You good?” asked one of her favorite Army personnel she worked with, Sergeant Wells—or Chuck, as she called him.

Her worst nightmare had come true last month when one of “her” choppers went down in Iraq and was lost. The Army freaked out.

The Navy freaked out. Everyone wanting to know if the pilots had been able to destroy the helicopter so the highly classified information onboard, and the machine itself, wouldn’t fall into enemy hands.

But Laryn remembered the first thought she’d had after hearing about the crash.

It wasn’t about the thousands of hours she’d spent making the chopper as safe as possible.

It wasn’t the additional hours and hours of time she’d have to spend in the future to redo all the work that was destroyed by one enemy RPG.

It was the absolute panic she’d felt at not knowing if the people onboard had survived the crash.

Especially helicopter pilot Tate “Casper” Davis.

Sighing, Laryn slumped against the side of the chopper and closed her eyes as the fear and worry she’d felt the moment she’d heard about the crash swept over her once more.

She’d been in love with the Night Stalker pilot from almost the first moment she’d met him, but it was more than obvious he didn’t feel the same.

Which wasn’t exactly a surprise. She wasn’t the kind of woman men fell head over heels for.

She was on the short side, at five foot five.

Her long dark hair was nothing special, particularly when it was usually just pulled back in a bun at her nape to keep it out of the way of the engines and mechanical parts she worked on every day.

She never wore makeup; there was no point, because she would’ve sweated it away before ten in the morning.

Her daily clothing consisted of oversized coveralls, usually stained with grease and who knew what else.

Her nails were short and often broken. Her hands were covered in old scars, and scabs from more recent injuries—like the one she’d just added to her collection of scrapes.

And being the only child of a single father, whose idea of a good time had been taking her to the dirt races around rural Tennessee where she’d grown up to teach her everything there was to know about working under the hoods of cars…

Well, she was more comfortable around older, somewhat crass rednecks than smooth, confident, best-of-the-best helicopter pilots.

And yet, the first time she saw Tate, she fell hard and fast.

Which should’ve been ridiculous. He was…

well, he was Casper . The hotshot Night Stalker.

Probably conceited, and rightly so. Yet, when she’d been introduced to him, he’d looked her in the eye, made her feel as if he was one hundred percent focused on her and what she was saying…

and he didn’t make her feel as if she was beneath him, as many other pilots had done simply because she was a mechanic.

For twenty minutes, they’d had an in-depth, intense conversation about the upgrades she was making to his chopper.

He’d had good insights and suggestions, and when she contradicted something he said, he didn’t get weird or egotistical about it.

By the time he walked away, showing off his perfect ass in his flight suit, he’d killed any chance she might’ve had at a relationship with anyone else.

It was stupid. Absurd. Juvenile. And yet, in the three years since she’d met him, Laryn hadn’t dated anyone. She’d held on to the tiniest hope that maybe someday, if she was extremely lucky, he might see her as more than just the head mechanic assigned to work on his precious helicopter.

Since then, she and Tate had fallen into a weird kind of dance in regard to their relationship…

if what they had could be called a relationship.

She’d berate him for treating her “baby,” his helicopter, too harshly, and he’d pick on her for being too much of a perfectionist. They’d gripe at each other good-naturedly back and forth.

Things were light and superficial between them, and Laryn had no idea how to change that.

She liked that he was at ease with her—at least, she thought he was—but hated that they didn’t talk about anything personal.

And anyway, why would they? She was just a mechanic.

He was a Night Stalker. One of the most highly decorated pilots in the Army.

He and his team of five other pilots had even been awarded a coveted special contract out of Norfolk, Virginia, which was extremely unusual.

They were deployed on special missions with Navy SEALs and were even utilized for dangerous rescue missions in the civilian world.

They were regularly deployed at a moment’s notice, and could literally be on the other side of the world, flying between mountaintops, over oceans, or across valleys full of soldiers eager to shoot them down one day, and then lounging at their favorite hangout, Anchor Point, the next.

And because she was the best of the best, she’d been hired as the head mechanic to look after the helicopters the Night Stalkers flew—so she went wherever they went. She’d spent more time on huge Navy ships in the last year than she had in her own small apartment near the base.

Her thoughts circled back around to the moment when she’d heard that Casper and his copilot, Pyro, had crashed, and she shuddered.

She’d been terrified that the man she was head over heels for had died.

The relief she’d felt when she’d heard that he was all right, that everyone on the chopper was alive and well, was followed by a determination to stop being such a coward.

To let the man know she was interested in him… personally.

But from the moment they’d returned to Virginia, she’d been neck deep in chopper parts.

In making sure the next helicopter Tate flew would be just as safe as the one that had been lost. They’d fallen back into their usual banter…

Tate joking with her as if she were a male buddy, and her sniping at him for being careless and not taking his safety more seriously.

In other words, she fell back into the role she’d assumed early on—that of a nitpicking harpy.

“Are you sleeping on the job?”

Laryn’s eyes popped open and she looked over at Chuck. He was standing next to the door of the chopper, staring in at her.

“No,” she said a tad bit defensively. “Resting my eyes.”

“Why don’t you go home?” he asked. “You’ve been here for…” He looked down at the watch on his wrist. “Way too long.”

“I need to finish retrofitting the rigging system for the fast ropes,” Laryn protested. “Need to make sure everything is perfect for the flight trial in a couple days.”

“No, you don’t. Everything is fine. You’ve already made sure of that. You need to get more than three hours of sleep at a time. Go home,” he insisted .

He couldn’t actually order her to do anything.

Chuck was in the Army. Laryn wasn’t. She was an independent contractor.

Yes, she had to adhere to some of the Army’s rules, but she was the senior mechanic.

The person in charge. The head honcho. In the hangar, she was his boss, actually.

But the truth was…she was ready for a break.

“Okay,” she said a little belatedly.

“Okay?” he said skeptically.

Laryn chuckled. “Is that so surprising?”

“Well, yeah. You never do what anyone tells you to do. I think if someone told you to run out of a burning house, you’d run into it instead, just to be contrary.”

“I’m not that bad,” Laryn protested.

In response, he simply lifted an eyebrow.

Chuck was pretty young at twenty-four, but he was an excellent mechanic, and Laryn enjoyed working with him. Though, right now, his reaction made her press her lips together.

She couldn’t help the way she was. Her dad had taught her to be strong, tough, independent.

He never took any excuses from her. Even when she was in elementary school, he’d had her at the track and under the hoods of cars.

Homework was put on the back burner. Boys were definitely off the table when she got older.

But she’d gladly spent every minute she could with her dad.

When he’d unexpectedly died when she was nineteen and at her first duty station in the Army, she’d been devastated.

So yeah…she was her father’s daughter, and she didn’t like anyone telling her what to do. And if someone dared tell her she couldn’t do something? Wasn’t strong enough, smart enough, tall enough…she did whatever it took to prove them wrong.

And now she was the most sought-after helicopter mechanic in the country. Even internationally. She’d even gotten several very lucrative offers in the last couple of years to work overseas for other countries’ governments, but she’d turned them all down .

Because of a stupid crush.

Tate would be fine without her. Probably wouldn’t even realize she’d left. And yet, she couldn’t make herself go. That weakness was ridiculous.

Shaking off the thoughts that threatened to send her into a self-deprecating downward spiral, Laryn fisted the wrench she’d been using when she’d scraped another layer of skin off her knuckles and shoved it into one of the deep pockets along her thigh before standing.

The interior of the chopper was tall enough that she could walk to the opening without having to stoop.

Chuck stood back, knowing better than to offer his hand to help her out, and she nimbly hopped to the ground.

“Are you really going home?” he asked.

“Yes. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon,” Laryn told him, making a split-second decision.

His eyes widened. “You’re taking the rest of today and most of tomorrow off?”