Page 36 of The Firefighter's Fate

“Well,” I say with a smirk, “we’ll just have to see who breaks first, won’t we?”

17

EMBER

The sound of the taking-off fighter jet is so powerful that it nearly blows me over. I feel its loudness through my bones even when the aircraft is still relatively far away from me on the other end of the runway. I watch on from the sidelines as the jet screeches up into the air at impossible speeds.

I’m waiting by the fence of the airbase, right along the runway. Planes land over my head. There’s a flurry of activity in the distance as engineers inspect a grounded jet. I’ve not exactly snuck in here – I’ve used my Penmayne media credentials to wrangle my way through security. I told them who I’m waiting for. They told me they’ll go and get him.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

The man walking toward me in full Air Force pilot uniform could be easily mistaken for a Penmayne, and that’s because he is one. Like his brothers, I have done my research into Royce Penmayne – the pilot ace of the family. His eyes are a coal black. His wavy, midnight-black hair is slicked back. He has the same arched eyebrows as Professor Spencer. He has that Penmayne square jaw and wide, muscular shoulders. He walks purposely across the field toward me with perfect posture... that natural Penmayne confidence.

And he’s got that gruffness of Connor - that hold-no-prisoners attitude I’ve really come to expect from the firefighter.

Royce is definitely a Penmayne, that’s for sure.

I thought I’d come and surprise the pilot with a journalist ambush at his airbase. I’m here for one reason – Connor. I’ve been thinking I might be able to squeeze some valuable information out of this guy about his grumpy firefighting brother, seeing as it’s a Herculean task to even chat with the man back in Crystal River.

But if he has the same toughness as Connor, then it might be equally as impossible to get anything out of Royce.

“Well, I was let in,” I reply to the fighter pilot. “You must be Royce. It’s nice to meet you.”

Like Connor, Royce doesn’t shake my hand. He simply stares at me menacingly. He’s taking me in. He’s apprehensive about this random girl.

“And who are you to be let in here?” he questions. “The guys in security were saying you were asking about me. I don’t take too kindly to people asking questions about me.”

“I’m Ember Mortensen. I work as a journalist for your father...”

Royce lets out a single derisory laugh.

Ha.

“Oh, I get it,” he says. “You want to ask me about my family?”

“Well, not exactly.”

“Then what do you want?” Royce asks, crossing his arms defensively. “Make it quick. I’ve got shit to do. I don’t even know how you were able to be let in here. This place is meant to be fucking airtight. I’m going to be giving someone a real dressing-down once we’re finished.”

Hm. Grumpy. Okay, so he is like his firefighting brother. I’ve come to expect this kind of resistance from a Penmayne. I’ve come to understand that they are one hell of a difficult family, to put it lightly.

“I want to find out about Connor,” I say. “That’s why I want to talk to you. That’s why I’ve traveled all this way here.”

Royce snorts and raises a brow at the mention of his sibling.

“You want me to talk about my brother? The one who doesn’t want anything to do with us? You want to find out about him?”

“What are your thoughts about what he’s done?” I ask. “What do you think about him not wanting anything to do with your family and your father?”

The pilot sighs. He glances back at the hangars and then at his expensive-looking watch. He sighs again and narrows his eyes at me.

“I don’t blame my brother for doing what he has done, unlike my father or my other brothers,” Royce mutters. “They think he’s solely to blame for trying to cut ties.”

“So you agree with him shunning his family?” I ask.

“Yes. He’s a free man who makes his own life choices. And I do understand why he has done the things he’s done. If you’re snooping around, then I’m sure you’ve heard about... Arthur, correct?”

The name of the deceased Penmayne brother is hard for Royce to pronounce. Arthur was his twin. Apparently, they were inseparable. By all accounts, he took his brother’s death very, very hard – throwing himself into his military career and abandoning everything else. Royce had moved from the Air Force into commercial airliners for a while, but he’s now moved back to the more regimented life. The military suits a man like him. I’ve heard he now lives on base - a simple life for a man still grieving the loss of his twin.

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