Red Tail. Lindsay McKenna

      One

      “You shouldn’t be here, Lieutenant Travis,” her flight mechanic said as she walked up to him.

      Storm thrust her hands into the pockets of her light beige slacks in response to Merlin Tucker’s growly greeting. The gargantuan helicopter and Falcon jet hangar was semiactive in the muggy Sunday afternoon heat at the Coast Guard Air Station in Miami. The sounds of mechanics working on their helicopters or jets filled the hangar. Only those who pulled duty were around. All except her. Storm drew to a halt, needing the familiarity of the sights, sounds, and smells to give her a semblance of emotional stability.

      As she lifted her head and met Merlin’s squinty blue eyes, a rueful smile pulled at her lips. “I guess I just wanted to be around something familiar, Merlin,” she offered in explanation.

      Merlin’s triangular-shaped face screwed up into a frown as he observed her drawn features. “Yeah, I know what you mean,” he said gruffly. “Come on over here. I’ll show you what I’m doing.” He looked around to make sure that no one else was near. Five other Search and Rescue H-52 helicopters sat like well-mannered steeds in their assigned positions on the floor of the hangar. Satisfied that no other knowledgeable mechanic was going to accidentally walk by and see his handiwork, he pulled back the cowling.

      Storm wandered over, looking up at the turbine engine on the helicopter. “Are you sure you want me to see this, Merlin?” she asked him dryly. There wasn’t another Coast Guard chopper pilot who didn’t envy Storm when she pulled duty with the flight mech. He was the top mech on the base and everyone knew it. They said he had magic in his fingers. And when Merlin and Dave, her copilot, had been assigned to work together, they had always made an unbeatable team.

      Her gray eyes darkened with recent pain. Oh, God, Dave…She had to push away all those nightmare memories. Wrinkling her brow, Storm leaned over Merlin’s thin shoulder.

      Tucker, who was only twenty-two, compared to her own twenty-eight years, chuckled. Everyone swore it was more like a witch’s cackle. “Now, lieutenant, we’ll just pretend this conversation didn’t happen, okay?” He pointed proudly to the turbine engine on the helicopter. “I’m fine-tuning this bird for your next flight tomorrow morning. She’ll pull a couple more RPMs for you when you need them the most.” He grinned, the gap between his front teeth showing. It was against regulations to make certain finite engine adjustments because even the most experienced helicopter pilots who flew the 52s could overtorque the transmission and cause control problems. But Storm knew the absolute limits of the helo so he gave her the edge. His grin widened.

      Storm turned her back on him. “I didn’t see a thing, Merlin.”

      He cackled, rummaging back into the engine, grease smeared all over his long bony fingers. “That’s right, lieutenant, not a thing.”

      Shaking her head, she gazed across the floor, noticing another person in civilian clothes entering the spacious well-lit hangar. A slight frown knitted her brows for a moment. Who else beside herself would be spending off-duty time here at the base? Everyone else had a family…someone to go home to…share life with. Stop it! You’ve got to stop this, Storm. It isn’t going to do any good brooding about the past. You’ve got enough to worry about now.

      “Why don’t you take your day off and go home?” Merlin asked, capturing her attention.

      Storm turned back around, resting her shoulder against the clean white surface of the aircraft. “Kinda lonely,” she admitted.

      Merlin surfaced for a moment, his normally gruff features softening. “Listen, lieutenant,” he began, “it wasn’t your fault. Lieutenant Walker disobeyed your orders. He should have stayed in the left seat. He had no business leaving the cockpit in that situation.”

      Tears scalded her eyes as she stared at Merlin, who was a couple of inches shorter than her own five feet eight inches. Her fingers trembled as she rubbed her forehead, a deluge of emotions surfacing. Why couldn’t she cry? Get it out once and for all? The bitterness of the answer nearly choked her: because she was still recovering from the death of her husband, Hal, a little over a year ago. “I—I know that, Merlin.”

      Merlin grimaced and climbed down from the helicopter to rummage around for another tool. He straightened up, resting one greasy hand on his hip as he faced her. “Look, I’ve been in Search and Rescue for three years, lieutenant,” he said, “and it’s not uncommon for a drug smuggler to use any ploy or distraction in order to escape. That poor little kid just happened to be the bait. The smuggler was smart. Not only did Lieutenant Walker climb out of the chopper and try to rescue him, but so did those two Customs agents.” He lifted his shoulders apologetically. “Lieutenant Walker traded his life for that little kid’s. Quit blaming yourself because it happened. Hell, I’ll lay you odds that if you had been the copilot instead of the aircraft commander, you’d have done the same thing he did!”

      Pain was lapping at her temples again. She always got headaches because the tears wouldn’t come. The tears just sat there, clogged in her throat, swimming in her eyes. But none of the animallike grief that clawed within her chest would burst forth, relieving her of the horrible anguish over the loss of her copilot and best friend, Dave Walker. “I went over to see Susan and the boys this morning,” she said, her voice cracking.

      Merlin’s brows rosé. “Yeah? How are they doing?” he asked.

      Storm tucked her lower lip between her teeth, staring down at the concrete. “Not very well.” She closed her eyes, drawing in a ragged breath. “They’re like family to me, Merlin.”

      Merlin’s blue eyes filled. “Yeah, I know they are, lieutenant. And you’ve become a part of everyone’s family here at the base.”