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Authors: Lindsay McKenna
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the action and politics of the base. “I had number-one slot sewn up, before that bastard was assigned here six months ago.”
Melody gave an unladylike snort. “You’d think that the crash one month after his arrival that killed Russ Davis would have washed him up, but it didn’t.”
Jack rubbed his jaw in thought. “Yeah, when that happened, I knew he had a pretty powerful sponsor. No, some general upstairs put the word out to keep his ass here and flying. And look at him—in six months, we’re half a percentile apart in test ratings. Damn.” He glanced over at Melody. “How can a nongraduate worm his way into the brotherhood like that? Those jokers that graduated from flight school can’t compare to a ring knocker.”
“He’s hungry,” Melody said quietly. She got up, walking around the oblong table covered with an expensive damask tablecloth. “I’ve been piecing a profile together on him, Jack. Holt isn’t all he seems to be.”
“I wish to hell you could get friendly with someone over at Personnel so I could take a look at his personnel records. Holt never talks about his past, or where he’s been or what he’s done.”
“That’s my point, darling. He’s got a past he’s hiding or running from. Or both.”
“He’s got a smart mouth on him, too.” Jack didn’t like Holt’s ability to land on his feet. “He reminds me of a junkyard dog—lousy breeding, aggressive and wants it all.”
“Don’t we?” Melody laughed, and placed her arms around her husband’s broad shoulders. She pressed a kiss to his dark brown hair. “We were luckier than Holt. We had parents who recognized our natural abilities and gave us opportunities to capitalize on them. Plus we have better bloodlines.”
Jack slid his hands along her arms, scowling. “All I can get out of Holt is that he graduated from Michigan with a degree in aeronautical engineering. From there, he joined the Air Force and went to flight school.”
“I overheard Porter say one day that his whole life is flying. He doesn’t have a girlfriend.”
“He’s over partying it up every Friday and Saturday night at the O Club along with the rest of the studs. He’s got his pick of women. Why should he want a steady significant other?”
Wanting to soothe Jack because she felt the tension gathering in his shoulders, Melody began to gently knead his scalp. He groaned, tipping his head back against her body and closing his eyes.
“My source at the O Club says he flirts a lot, drinks a little, dances a lot, but rarely takes one of the groupies to his house in Lancaster. He’s not the party animal we both wished he was.”
“He’s careful,” Stang muttered, enjoying her fingers massaging his tight scalp.
“Holt’s not stupid enough to drink heavily. He knows alcohol and flying don’t mix. No, the man’s savvy as a wild animal.” Indeed, Melody thought, there was something primal about Sam Holt. Because she was a psychologist, she was trained to watch and record. Holt walked quietly, his eyes constantly perusing, missing little, if anything. “He’s a lone-wolf type,” she told her husband. “And he doesn’t trust anyone enough to let down his barrier about his past to them. What we need to find is a woman who can get past those walls. Armed with his past, you might be able to get him upset and maybe, lose some of that cool behind the stick of a jet.”
“Right now I needle him about the crash. That gets a hell of a response out of him.”
“Yes, he’s guilt-ridden over Russ Davis’s death. You should keep reminding him of that when it’s prudent.”
Chuckling, Jack slowly opened his eyes and looked up at her. “Don’t worry, I do. Tomorrow, I’m going to start on Porter’s case about it.”
“Oh, Jack, don’t! She’s just as strong and bullheaded as you are. The whole thing will backfire on you.”
He smiled. “Don’t get upset, Melody. You’re not the only one that took psychology. I want to put Porter and
Melody gave an unladylike snort. “You’d think that the crash one month after his arrival that killed Russ Davis would have washed him up, but it didn’t.”
Jack rubbed his jaw in thought. “Yeah, when that happened, I knew he had a pretty powerful sponsor. No, some general upstairs put the word out to keep his ass here and flying. And look at him—in six months, we’re half a percentile apart in test ratings. Damn.” He glanced over at Melody. “How can a nongraduate worm his way into the brotherhood like that? Those jokers that graduated from flight school can’t compare to a ring knocker.”
“He’s hungry,” Melody said quietly. She got up, walking around the oblong table covered with an expensive damask tablecloth. “I’ve been piecing a profile together on him, Jack. Holt isn’t all he seems to be.”
“I wish to hell you could get friendly with someone over at Personnel so I could take a look at his personnel records. Holt never talks about his past, or where he’s been or what he’s done.”
“That’s my point, darling. He’s got a past he’s hiding or running from. Or both.”
“He’s got a smart mouth on him, too.” Jack didn’t like Holt’s ability to land on his feet. “He reminds me of a junkyard dog—lousy breeding, aggressive and wants it all.”
“Don’t we?” Melody laughed, and placed her arms around her husband’s broad shoulders. She pressed a kiss to his dark brown hair. “We were luckier than Holt. We had parents who recognized our natural abilities and gave us opportunities to capitalize on them. Plus we have better bloodlines.”
Jack slid his hands along her arms, scowling. “All I can get out of Holt is that he graduated from Michigan with a degree in aeronautical engineering. From there, he joined the Air Force and went to flight school.”
“I overheard Porter say one day that his whole life is flying. He doesn’t have a girlfriend.”
“He’s over partying it up every Friday and Saturday night at the O Club along with the rest of the studs. He’s got his pick of women. Why should he want a steady significant other?”
Wanting to soothe Jack because she felt the tension gathering in his shoulders, Melody began to gently knead his scalp. He groaned, tipping his head back against her body and closing his eyes.
“My source at the O Club says he flirts a lot, drinks a little, dances a lot, but rarely takes one of the groupies to his house in Lancaster. He’s not the party animal we both wished he was.”
“He’s careful,” Stang muttered, enjoying her fingers massaging his tight scalp.
“Holt’s not stupid enough to drink heavily. He knows alcohol and flying don’t mix. No, the man’s savvy as a wild animal.” Indeed, Melody thought, there was something primal about Sam Holt. Because she was a psychologist, she was trained to watch and record. Holt walked quietly, his eyes constantly perusing, missing little, if anything. “He’s a lone-wolf type,” she told her husband. “And he doesn’t trust anyone enough to let down his barrier about his past to them. What we need to find is a woman who can get past those walls. Armed with his past, you might be able to get him upset and maybe, lose some of that cool behind the stick of a jet.”
“Right now I needle him about the crash. That gets a hell of a response out of him.”
“Yes, he’s guilt-ridden over Russ Davis’s death. You should keep reminding him of that when it’s prudent.”
Chuckling, Jack slowly opened his eyes and looked up at her. “Don’t worry, I do. Tomorrow, I’m going to start on Porter’s case about it.”
“Oh, Jack, don’t! She’s just as strong and bullheaded as you are. The whole thing will backfire on you.”
He smiled. “Don’t get upset, Melody. You’re not the only one that took psychology. I want to put Porter and
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