Page 1 of Saving Breely

Chapter 1

“Moe, are you sure you don’t need anyone to fly with you tonight?” Hank Patterson sat across the table at the Tumbleweed Tavern in Bozeman, Montana.

Morris “Moe” Cleveland shook his head. “I don’t need a wingman. I have over a thousand hours. I’ve flown solo from Florida to Alaska and so many other places. A short hop to Denver is nothing.”

“Yeah, but it’s getting late,” Hank insisted. “All I have to do is call Sadie, and I can go with you.”

“Members of our team in West Yellowstone volunteered to come along for the ride, and I turned them down.” Moe smiled. “I appreciate the offer. But, seriously, it’s not necessary. I’m waiting for a call from the hospital.”

“What you’re doing is so important to the people on the receiving end,” Hank said. “Losing a loved one is horribly painful, but the life that person’s organs can sustain is a miracle. Life out of death.” He shook his head. “We’re lucky to have you as one of our Brotherhood Protectors.”

Moe nodded. “Thank you for coming to our rescue in Afghanistan and giving us purpose in the civilian world.”

“So, what’s your plan?” Hank asked.

“As soon as they have the organs ready, I’ll pick them up and head to the airport,” Moe said. “The flight will take less than three hours. An ambulance will meet me at the airport to collect the ice chest. Then, I’ll stay the night in Denver and head back tomorrow. Unless Stone has some work for me, I’m not in any hurry to return. So, you see, if I go by myself, I won’t hold up anyone else from what they might need to do, and I won’t have to hurry back tomorrow.”

Hank grinned. “Okay. You’ve convinced me. I’m headed home. Sadie will be happy to have help getting Emma and McClain to bed.” He motioned for the waitress. “If you need anything, let me know. Hopefully, you’ll get to leave soon. There’s a storm heading our way.”

Moe nodded. “I have my eye on the forecast. It’s not supposed to reach here or Denver until sometime after three in the morning. I should be in a hotel by then after delivering my cargo.”

The red-haired waitress who’d introduced herself as Bea and had served them all evening approached. “Want another round?” she asked with a smile lighting up her pretty green eyes.

“Not for me,” Hank said. “My friend might want another soda. I’d like to settle the bill so I can get on the road home to Eagle Rock.”

She cocked an eyebrow in Moe’s direction. “Want another? Or something stronger?”

Moe nodded. “Coffee. Black. No cream or sugar.”

She chuckled, the throaty sound registering in Moe’s gut. “I guess that’s stronger,” she said. “I was thinking more along the lines of alcohol.”

Hank pushed to his feet and tossed several twenties on the table. He grabbed his cowboy hat and clapped a hand on Moe’s back while shooting a grin toward Bea. “Our friend is flying. No alcohol for him.”

Bea’s eyebrows rose into the coppery swath of hair hanging over one side of her forehead. “Does it make you airsick?”

Moe shook his head. “No, but as the pilot, I can’t drink and fly.”

Her smile spilled across her face, making the room seem so much brighter. “Oh. That makes more sense.” She gathered the twenties. “I’ll be right back with the coffee and your change.”

Hank held up a hand. “No change.”

“Thank you, but that’s too much.” Bea held out one of the twenties. “Would you like a coffee to take with you?”

Hank curled his hand around hers and the twenty. “Please. You’ve been very attentive and kind. I insist.” He released her hand. “No, thank you for the coffee. It keeps me awake when I should sleep. With a baby in the house, you sleep when you can.”

Moe grinned. “Sounds like when we were on missions in the military. I can remember catching a catnap in the mountains of Afghanistan while waiting for dark and our cue to move out on an extraction.”

Hank laughed. “Babies and children are like maneuvering through a minefield in enemy territory.”

“When you put it like that, I’m surprised anyone would want to have kids.” Moe shook his head.

“No kidding,” Bea said. “Children are a huge responsibility, and so many variables are out of your control.”

“Like their sleeping schedules,” Hank said.

“Or when they get sick,” Moe added.

“Or die,” Bea murmured. “I’ll be right back with your coffee.” She turned away, the smile she’d shared with them gone. Her lips thinned, and the light her smile had generated was snuffed out.

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