Page 30 of Gryphon

There was a long silence before she repeated his curse. “See any way out of it?”

Mike considered, then shook his head. “He’d never have come up with this on his own. Taz is behind it. And I’m sure not going to take her on.”

“I can handle her.”

“No, Hol, you can’t. US Air Force Colonel Vicki the Taser Cortez, the four-foot-eleven Latina powerhouse? Even money on that bet. But Taz is a mom now. It confers some kind of a superpower on women. I’ve seen it before.”

“I’m sure you have.”

“I never once went after a married one.”

“Sure hit on single moms plenty, I bet.”

“Give me a break.” The crick in Mike’s neck was starting to hurt.

“Go whine to your girlfriend Klara.”

“What are you— Never mind.” Sitting back into the copilot’s seat, he wouldn’t be able to see Holly. Sitting sideways on Miranda’s seat would have two issues. One, experience had taught him that these seats were absolutely not designed to do that and, two, it was a bit like sitting somewhere holy that he didn’t belong. Knowing that it was his Catholic orphanage upbringing didn’t make it any less true. The left-side cockpit seat of this plane belonged to Miranda and Miranda alone.

He slouched his way aft like the grumpy mountain troll he felt inside, knocking Holly’s legs aside when she refused to move them. In the main part of the cabin he dropped into one of the four facing seats ready to wait her out. He sure as hell wasn’t going to take on Taz in Mom-mode.

It took less than a minute before Holly must have reached the same conclusion. She groaned as she climbed to her feet—and cursed as she banged her head hard on the low ceiling. Moving into the cabin, she sat kitty-corner across the aisle and propped her boots on the opposite seat. “So talk.”

“Me? You’re the one slobbering all over the Marine Corps flyer.”

“Well,” she studied the ceiling. “He is awfully pretty.”

If it wasn’t for the threat of Taz, and the hopeful puppy-dog look that Jeremy would be sure to have stored up when they got out of this mess, Mike would leave now.

“Not as pretty as Klara,” Mike couldn’t resist the shot.

Holly looked about as pissed as Mike had ever seen her. “Damned woman should be on a runway. The fashion kind, not the accident investigation kind.”

“I know what you meant. And you’re right. She’s not pretty, she’s gorgeous,” Mike rubbed it in.

Holly’s scowl soared hot enough to make this worthwhile.

“She’s funny, too. Smart besides.” And what in Christ was he doing? Not a chance in the world of Holly ever being the first one to back down. And if he kept pushing, she’d be gone. And the thought of that twisted his gut up in such a knot… “And she doesn’t do a thing for me.”

“You just can’t wait to get your hands on all that pale Swedish perfection until she whimpers like Oh, Mikey! Ooo, Mikey! All to the tune of some old ABBA song about—”

He never should have told her about his childhood crush on Agnetha.

But Holly didn’t continue.

Mike waited while her face went through a whole series of contortions that were almost fun to watch as her brain tried assimilate his words.

“Say what?” She wiggled a finger in her ear as if to make sure it was working.

“I know.” He sank lower in the seat.

“You never slouch.”

Out of ideas, he gave her the same finger she’d shot at him over breakfast.

“And you certainly never do that. What the hell’s going on with you, Mike?”

“Says the woman panting around after Chief Warrant Tad Jobson.”

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