The bird took a deep plunge, jarring Gray awake with his stomach in a freefall.  Hawk corrected with a jerk to the left and his stomach bounced that way too.  Gritting his teeth, Gray tensed, and his fingers dug deeper into the cushioned armrests.  One skid touched down and the aircraft bobbled, before both skids slammed down on the tarmac with a bone-rattling thunk.

“Sorry about the rough ride.  A storm is coming in,” Hawk said over the headset, sounding relieved to be on the ground.

“Jesus, we’re just lucky you didn’t land us on the side,” Gray grumbled as he unfastened his seat belt.  “You’d think this was your first time landing!”

“Well, if y’all hadn’t been late to the airport, we wouldn’t have had to worry about the storm that’s coming in.  But you were late and you’re lucky we made it in at all tonight.”

Gray was lucky.  This was the second time in twenty-four hours he thought he was a goner. 

How they’d gotten out of DC without a bullet in them, he would never know.  They wouldn’t have, if the driver of the car sent by the concierge hadn’t been former Secret Service.  When Brad Sullivan, who was forced to retire after taking a bullet for a foreign dignitary, told Gray they had a tail, he believed him. 

Gray and Mickie just held on tight while he expertly weaved through traffic like a racecar driver, all the while studying the rearview mirror.  It took an hour of zigzagging through the city and suburban areas until Brad was satisfied they were clear to head to the airport to meet Hawk.  When they got out of the car, Gray wanted to kiss the ground like he did now, but instead, he offered him his card to interview him for the east coast office.

“I think I need to throw up,” Mickie moaned, and Gray’s eyes flew to her. 

The green cast to her face seconded her statement, and Gray’s stomach lurched.  He scanned the bulkhead in front of him until he found a yellowed, white paper bag in the pocket.  Jerking it out, he shoved it to her and averted his eyes.

The side door slid open but Hawk blocked the opening.  Gray wasn’t letting that stop him from getting the hell out of the tin can with rotor blades.  He quickly slid from the seat and scrambled toward fresh air.  Hawk stepped back, but his warning didn’t come quick enough to stop Gray’s forehead from connecting with the lip on the door. 

Stars danced in his line of vision as a gong went off inside his skull and he fell back on his ass, hard.  He laid back on the floorboard to cover his eyes with his forearm as a defeated sigh rushed from his lips. 

“You okay?” Hawk asked as he reached for his arm and pulled him upright.  “I’ve never seen you like this.  Mr. Always-Cool-as-a-Cucumber, all flustered.” Hawk winked as he stepped back.  “But considering who you’re here with, I can’t say that I blame you.”  His eyes tracked back to Mickie and sparked with interest.

“I’m not in the mood for the jokes or flirting, Hawkins,” Gray warned.

“No worries about me, or anyone else, flirting with your grouchy ass.” Hawk laughed and Gray gritted his teeth. “But she’s another story.  You’re going to have to tell me what happened in DC.  Lou Ellen wouldn’t say why you prematurely evacuated from DC, or why you needed me instead of taking your flight.  The fact you wanted to come to Galveston, rather than going to the compound, only adds to my curiosity, since you don’t take vacations.”

DC was supposed to be a mini-vacation for him.  He planned to see his parents before he left town, his mother had planned a dinner party for him last night.  She was probably livid right now, since he not only missed it, but he’d forgotten to call.

“Need to know basis, Hawkins—and you don’t need to know,” Gray growled, glaring at the pilot.  He was sure the fact he’d brought a beautiful woman with him on his impromptu vacation would be the first thing Hawkins reported at the compound.  “Just get my damned luggage out of the hold, would you?”

Hawk’s eyes narrowed, his smile fled and he snapped off a salute which ended with his middle finger extended toward Gray as he turned to walk to the cargo compartment.

With a sigh, Gray turned to help Mickie down from the aircraft.  Her knees buckled and she stumbled into him.  He put his arm around her shoulders to hold her up, and she surprised him when she slid her arm around his waist then nuzzled her face into his side.  A strong protective instinct surged through him and his arm tightened around her.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I won’t be okay until I have my life back again,” she replied with a shuddering sigh.  “I’m just thankful yesterday is over, but today doesn’t feel much better.”

“As a SEAL once told me, gorgeous, the only easy day was yesterday.” Hawk stopped beside Gray with his suitcase, but his eyes were on Mickie. “Of course he worked for Deep Six, so that might have just been his motto for working for us.”

“That’s not very encouraging, since I was just hired,” Mickie groaned as she pushed away from Gray.

“Oh, yeah?” Hawk’s eyes immediately flew to Gray. “In what capacity?”

“She’s the office manager for the new office, so off-limits to you,” Gray snarled as he grabbed his suitcase.

“But not to you evidently?” Hawk shot back, with wide grin. “What, are you giving her some hands-on training at our remote office?”

“Show some respect, asshole!” Gray shouted, and Hawk’s eyes widened.

He laid his briefcase on top of the suitcase, then grabbed the handle to roll it toward the small building, which appeared to serve as the terminal for general aviation traffic.  Walking through the building, he headed to the front door, while Hawkins stopped at the counter. 

When he stepped outside under the covered walkway and didn’t see a rental car at the curb, he cursed.  Lou Ellen reserved it, but he was supposed to have called them to give them an arrival time when they stopped to refuel—but he forgot. 

You’re slipping, Grayson.  No, a tornado named Girabaldi had swept into his rigidly-ordered life and totally upended it, and from the looks of things, it didn’t appear she’d be dropping him off in Kansas anytime soon. 

Michaela swirled up beside him and hooked her arm through his.  “What’s wrong now?” she asked, her words slurred as she rested her head on his arm. 

He looked down at her and her face was a mask of exhaustion.  He imagined his looked much the same.  “I forgot to call the rental car company to let them know what time we’d be here, so we don’t have a ride to the beach house,” he replied.

Hawk walked up to them and stretched his arms over his head to yawn.  He froze in that position as his eyes locked on Gray’s chest. 

“Well, Mr. Big Dill,” he said with a snort.  “If your brain wasn’t pickled by thoughts of a mysterious vacation with a beautiful woman, maybe you could remember things?”

Mickie gasped, and Gray’s fist curled.  He lunged forward as he raised it, but stopped himself short when Hawk lifted his hands and frowned.

“Watch the innuendos around the lady—got that?” Gray grated, unfurling his fist as he stepped back, shocked at his aggressive reaction.  He opened his mouth to apologize, but didn’t.  The words needed to be said, but the reflex to punch his lights out was out of place. 

Gray loved Hawkins like a brother, like he did all the men he worked with.  They teased each other unmercifully, but the love was there and they never came to blows over it.  Coming to blows with the former Army Night Stalker spec ops pilot would be stupid anyway, because there was no doubt Hawkins would have cleaned his clock. 

It had to be his exhaustion making him so edgy.  Gray looked at his watch, tilted it toward the light and groaned.  In four hours, he will have been up for twenty-four hours.

“Hey, Hawk, you forgot your copy of the flight plan,” the terminal attendant said, as he walked out of the front door waving a pink paper.  “I left a note for Randy to have your new plan and fuel receipt for you in the morning.  I’d do it tonight, but I’m about to get off.”

“Thanks, Gordie.”  Hawk took the paper, folded it, and stuffed it into the pocket of his flight suit.  “Do you think you could give us a ride to Logan’s beach house?  Mr. Big Dill here forgot to set up a rental car.” 

The short, barrel-chested man looked surprised, then his whole body shook when he guffawed.  He scrubbed a hand over his face to wipe away his smirk then looked at Gray. 

“I’d be glad to give y’all a ride, Mr. Dill.” Gordie snickered, but tried to hide it as he held out his hand out to Gray.  “Unusual name you have there.”

“Much appreciated, and you can just call me Big.” Gray shot Hawk a glare as he took the man’s hand, but the corner of his mouth twitched when he heard Mickie giggle.

Thunder boomed and Gray looked at the sky just as a violent bolt of lightning ripped through the blackness.  He looked over to see Hawk staring up at the sky too, but felt sure the pilot wasn’t equating the electricity from the bolt, which now charged the air, with how he felt since he’d met Michaela Girabaldi.

A gust of wind swept under the awning, whipping Michaela’s thick, silky black hair into a wild, beautiful frenzy.  As she fought to contain the swirling mass, all Gray could think about was how those silky strands would feel sifting between his fingers as he gripped her skull while he thrust into her.  And now he had a hard-on to add to his troubles. 

Hawkins planted those damned thoughts in his head with his comment about being alone at the house with her—and now it was all he could think of.  His brain was pickled by those thoughts, and Gray needed to de-brine it fast, because this woman was off-limits to him, too. 

She was not only a co-worker, she was mixed up with the same kind of people that Mona had been involved with.  Mona had taught him an expensive lesson about mixing business with pleasure, and Gray didn’t need a second lesson to remember it.  Hell, even if she wasn’t an employee, he wouldn’t allow himself to go there with her.

Michaela Girabaldi’s baggage was packed with enough trouble to last a lifetime.  Gray certainly didn’t need that in his life again. And that was just what he knew about.  He had a bad feeling once he opened her closet of skeletons, he might just find Jimmy Hoffa’s tomb.

Another lightning bolt struck something at the far end of the parking lot. Gray flinched and charged ions sizzled over his scalp, raising every hair.  Michaela squeaked, tucked herself into his side, and Gray sighed as he pulled her closer. 

He evidently needed a refresher course.

“We’re damn lucky we got in when we did,” Hawk said, frowning.  “The last weather report I saw said this front might last through tomorrow.  That means you’ll have plenty of time to explain exactly why you’re here and why you needed to leave DC so quickly, and I’ll have plenty of time to get to know our new office manager better.” 

Yeah, Gray was damned lucky.  And Hawkins would be, too.  If he left the beach house with those pearly whites he was so proud of, intact.  The wolfish, speculative grin he turned on Michaela made Gray grind his own teeth to dust. 

Keep those teeth to yourself asshole.  Hands off.