Page 38 of Booker's Mission

She waited until he made eye contact. “I couldn’t live through losing you, either.”

She released him then tugged at her shirt, using the motion to stem the shaking in her hands. Not from the gunman or nearly dying. But from thinking that she might have miscalculated how far she could push Booker before he simply walked away. That, in an effort to save him — save her freaking soul — she might have lost him.

Booker huffed, rolling his shoulders the way he’d done a dozen times. The one thing that seemed to ease some of the tension bunching his muscles. Maybe quiet the ghosts in his head. Then, he was shaking his head, smiling at her.

“Damn it, Booker. Say something.”

Was he laughing? Because it sounded like that. Loud chuckles that had her swatting him in the chest. Vowing she’d shoot him in the ass as soon as they’d landed.

He glanced over, all sexy eyes with that killer smile. “You are, without a doubt, the most frustrating, infuriating, and incredible woman I’ve ever known. I was going to tell you that you don’t fight fair. That I’ve never been so proud and so damn scared in my life. That if I wasn’t trying to keep this baby upright and going in the right direction — despite the intense vibrations I’m worried might actually shake the entire machine into pieces — I’d kiss you until you begged me to make love to you. And that we’re still going to have a very long, likely very loud discussion. But for now, I’ll just say, I love you, too, and leave it at that.”

Had she died back in that clearing and this was her brain playing out her last wish? Because she was pretty sure Booker had just told her, he loved her.

He laughed, again. “Breathe, sweetheart.”

She blinked, still staring at him as she managed to suck in some air. Give herself a shake. “What did you say?”

Booker glanced over, winking, the idiot. “I said, breathe.”

“Before that, jackass.”

“The part where we’re going to have a very long, very loud discussion, including why you just called me jackass?”

“Booker!”

He smiled, and her heart stopped. Just stopped. Beating a thousand miles an hour one second, dead quiet the next. “I said, I love you, too. You were serious back there, right? When you said you loved my sorry ass.”

He frowned, looking over at her. “And for the record, my ass isn’t sorry. In fact, it’s one of my best features.”

Callie shook her head, leaning over to his side. “Your ass is incredible. And yeah, I meant it. Every last word.”

“Good, because I really didn’t want to have to toss you out of the chopper if you’d only been joking.”

“Like you’d toss me out.”

“Oh, sweetheart. If I had a dollar for every time I’ve wanted to—”

He inhaled, shoving the helicopter over to one side as muzzle flashes lit up the sky behind them a second before bullets sliced through the chopper. Nearly hitting her in the side as one punched through her door, lodging in the console, instead.

Booker didn’t even blink. He just banked the chopper over and started racing for the trees. That big black stain on the bubble taking up her entire view. What she feared would be a very short trip unless he gained some altitude. Fast.

She was just about to cover her eyes when he leveled off. Had that bird skimming along the treetops, bobbing in and out of any available hole in the canopy. What felt like the wildest rollercoaster she’d ever been on.

He peeled off when he reached a river, dipping down like he’d done on the flight in. Lodging her stomach somewhere up in her throat when he ducked under a bridge, barely missing both the structure and the water before pitching up. Pushing her back into her seat.

The other chopper whizzed past, banking hard in an attempt to follow them as Booker changed directions. Keeping everything low. Nothing but a few dim stars to brighten the darkness.

He looked over at her, giving her one more killer smile. “Hold on tight. This one’s gonna get interesting.”

CHAPTER12

Screwed.

Just like they’d been when they’d escaped from the landing strip. Only this time, things were far more desperate.

Booker hadn’t been completely honest with Callie about the extent of damage they’d sustained during their last flight. That when he’d said they could use the helicopter, again, if needed, he’d meant it as a life or death situation, only. That between the holes in the fuselage and the chips in the blades, it was more than likely they’d only get a few miles out of her before alarms blared through the cockpit, and he lost what few systems were still functioning.

Using the tail rotor to dispose of the mercenary hadn’t done Booker any favors. Callie was right. It had been impulsive and reckless. But her life topped everything else. He only hoped the chopper would hold together long enough to get them out of one more crappy situation.

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