Saved by His Submissive Page 11

  Her heart thudded in her throat as he extended the pile. The Jump School insignia practically lifted off the page like a magical curse, searing into her conscious. “Thanks.”

  His only reply was to glance back into the hangar, as if he’d left something behind himself. Sage gulped and kicked the ground. Were they actually enduring something like awkward silence, when engines, trucks, and repair machines ripped up the air around them?

  Ethan got noble about trying to smooth things out. “Sage, is everything okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No.” Garrett’s interjection sounded like a simple comment on the weather, which meant the opposite. He added the hint of a smile as he added, “No, it’s not, Corporal Archer, so I’ll thank you to step the fuck back.”

  Ethan pivoted to Garrett and actually saluted him, which rammed Sage’s heart to her stomach. Guys on a Special Forces team didn’t have the time to stand on ceremony, and everyone here knew it. Ethan’s move, while wrapped in the ribbons of military respect, might as well have been a knee in Garrett’s crotch. No longer were they brothers at arms but subordinate and superior. It was a Special Forces version of the Unfriend button.

  “With respect, Sergeant Hawkins, the training flight has been cleared.”

  “I’m aware of that, Harper,” Garrett retorted. “I was the one who heard the Otter would be here for hiking season support and requested it for you guys. Or did you think I just tracked Sergeant Weston here with my keen spidey sense and a desire to mosey onto base for some tasty brunch in the mess?”

  Sage empathized with the tension behind Ethan’s silent glower. The guy dipped his head of thick chestnut hair, unable to argue with a word of Garrett’s statement. The respect memo somehow hadn’t gotten through to the smartass just behind him, though. Sage barely held back a groan as Tait Bommer, all mischievous eyes, silken smirk, and surfing idol looks, ambled into the conversation with a smooth chuckle.

  “‘Tasty brunch in the mess.’ Ha; good one! Hey, we’ll come join you, Hawk. I’ll save some mud off my boots, and we can have it for dessert. It’ll be better than the mush they’re trying to pass off as pudding, and there’s that cute little mashed potatoes server girl I’ve meaning to talk to again.”

  “Hey, Tait?” The query was issued by the next guy who came over, the dark-eyed counterpart to Bommer’s beach god gilt. Kellan Rush was Tait’s polar opposite in looks, temperament, and dating tastes, which made him T-Bomm’s perfect flank, both on and off duty. “I’d suggest you shut up.”

  “Good suggestion.” Garrett growled it as he tilted his head at her again. Sage still couldn’t see his eyes behind the glasses, but she didn’t need to. His scrutiny bathed her from head to toe in uncomfortable, incredible heat. “So you’re still thinking of going airborne, huh?”

  “Yeah.” She lifted a tiny smile. So he also remembered the important things. He didn’t look too comfortable about that fact right now, however. His mouth was taut, his face grim.

  “You that hot to get to Fort Benning for sixteen weeks?”

  He dug a toe at the ground. So did she. They’d always laughed about how they shared the habit, though she always nearly fell over when she did it in heels. Today, neither of them chuckled. Sage felt her smile faltering.

  “Maybe I am.”

  She couldn’t filter out the wistful threads in the assertion. Oh, screw wistful. Her tone planted itself right over the line into needy, and she didn’t care. If she had to go invisible Whack-a-Mole hammer on his damn stubborn head, so be it. You don’t want me to go, Garrett? Then give me a reason to stay. Give me a reason to look at our home as something more than house arrest now! “The airborne squads need medics right now.” She nearly stammered it out, but the silence he left needed filling. Bad. “And…so…”

  “So you found out about this little field trip,” – he cocked a condemning brow at Ethan —“and got yourself added to the flight roster somehow, despite that on most of the paperwork, your ashes are still at the bottom of Puget Sound.”

  Sage jammed her toe down harder the next time and left it stuck that way. She was certain if she lifted it again, she’d drive it into Sergeant Hawkins’ right shin. So much for trying to maintain her smile—or any shred of the fantasy she’d been entertaining about getting her hands underneath his T-shirt. “And I see your head is still wedged in the bottom of the funeral urn,” she flung. As she forced herself to step closer to him, a now-familiar heat threatened the backs of her eyes. Damn it, was she now destined to cry every time they spent more than five minutes near each other? “I hope it’s nice and dirty and dark down there too, you shithead.”

  “Sage!” Ethan’s panicked burst layered atop the other guys’ gasps. “Maybe a little restraint would be—”

  “It’s okay, Ethan. According to him, I’m still a ghost.” She lifted her gaze, facing her reflection in those sun-drenched panels that sealed off his eyes from her. Guess he’d just pulled up a few of the extra barriers out of his heart for the job. The man had plenty of personal walls to go around these days. “So I could call him a paranoid, close-minded, overprotective bastard right now and still be perfectly fine.”

  She was more right about that than she wanted to be. Besides not reacting to her insult, Garrett didn’t even seem to hear it. Instead, he jerked his head right then left, like a combat dog picking up a strong scent. “Fuck,” he muttered, his gaze probing back into the hangar. “Fuck.” Hot on the heels of his cuss fest, his cell buzzed. He slammed a finger to his earpiece. “Talk to me, Z.”

  Boots crunched on the ground next to Sage. Ethan moved up again, his GQ-ready features compressing with a bloodhound concern of their own. “Guys.” It was a reprimand at Tait and Kellan, who’d started exchanging Angry Birds strategies, complete with screeching sound effects. “Guys, stuff it!” He leaned closer to Garrett, listening carefully. As Sage watched his stance tighten, tiny hairs along her nape stood on end.

  It was the same feeling she’d had after Garrett’s gorilla tirade on the pier at home.

  What the hell was going on?

  She concentrated harder on Garrett too. For once, he wasn’t paying attention to anything she did. If it were possible, the tower of his body coiled tighter. “Okay,” he uttered. “Got it. Yeah man, of course I hear you. I’ve got three of them circling our position like buzzards, with a possible confirm on a fourth. We’re goddamn candy on a playground out here. You said base police are alerted? Well, they aren’t moving their asses fast enough. I know, Z. Shit, I hate it when I’m right about stuff like this.”

  “About stuff like what?” Sage wasn’t able to constrain herself anymore. She moved up between him and Ethan.

  “Check,” Garrett muttered like she’d disappeared instead. “I’ll keep you updated. Thanks, Z.”

  He ended the call with a hard exhalation. On the same breath, he dipped his head a little at Ethan. The pair of them had totally dropped their pissing match of five minutes ago, which would’ve made Sage proud if the motivation didn’t seem so ominous.

  “What’s up?” Ethan asked.

  Garrett nodded his head again, this time at the twin-engine plane on the runway. “How soon can the Otter leave?”

  “As soon as we want it to.”

  “Good. That’s good.”

  “Why?”

  Garrett flicked a glance back at her again. Sage thought she’d fallen off his radar, but that action told her the situation was exactly the opposite. The prickles in her neck tumbled through her body. She squinted back toward the hangar but saw nothing different than the hustle and bustle of the work crews, just like before.

  Her attention was yanked back by Garrett’s hard pull on her arm. “Don’t look back there again.”

  “Why?”

  He dropped her arm and raised his sunglasses. There wasn’t a hint of smoke in his gaze this time. The fire in them had taken over, a searing cyan, clutching her heartbeat in its terrifying flames. He answered her query by giving her another order.
“Stay.”

  Sage wasn’t sure she could defy him if she wanted.

  He pivoted to Ethan next, pulling the corporal several steps away. Damn it. She couldn’t hear a word of what they were saying, and thanks to the training they’d had to make them lethal opponents in a poker match, she couldn’t discern anything from their posture or frowns, either.

  Finally, Ethan gave Garrett a brisk nod. “Got it, Hawk.”

  He came back toward her again on wide, determined strides.

  “Ethan, what the hell is—”

  “Not now.” He issued it in a stern tone. His gaze swept the hangar and the tarmac now. Giving her a completely fake smile, he asked, “So you ready for an adventure?”

  Sage blinked at him. “You mean we’re still doing this?”

  “Yes.” That came from Garrett. His voice brooked less backtalk than Ethan’s response. He scooped up one of her hands in a steel-reinforced hold, though he nodded toward Ethan. “You got the set-up, Archer. Tell the other guys I need hustle on this. I’ll take Sage over like I’m giving her a last high-five for good luck.”

  “Right,” Ethan returned. “I’ll be out of my uniform by then.”

  “Excellent. We’re about the same size. Should fit me no problem.”

  That caused Sage’s confused gaze to flip even faster between the two of them. “Out of your uni—huh?”

  The men were back to pretending she hadn’t spoken. Ethan took off at a jog for the airplane. Tait, Kell and the other five jumpers were at his heels. On the flip end of behavior, Garrett adopted a casual stance that made her feel like they stood on a high school lunch patio instead of an Army base tarmac. He added to the impression by beaming a full grin down at her. But his next statement sure as hell wasn’t charming quarterback. More like obey-me-now detention monitor.

  “Follow me to the plane, sugar. No more questions, no more rebellion. Please, Sage. Not now.”

  Please, Sage.

  He hadn’t used the phrase once in the last ten days. Now that he had, it drew out mixed feelings. The tenderness in his voice was like a precious thread re-sewn between them. But that bond had been stitched with a needle of urgency and knotted off with dread.

  “All right,” she told him. “Let’s go.”

  He ambled out to the Otter with her, though once more she got the impression he barely refrained from a sprint. Sure enough, as soon as they circled around to the plane’s door, Garrett turned into the same daunting soldier she’d seen in Thailand. He swung up into the cabin in one smooth sweep. Once in, he strode directly to the back. Ethan was there already, and sliding out of his top. The olive and tan garment barely saw air before Garrett jammed his arms down the sleeves and started zipping up. If their plan wasn’t clear to Sage before, it was now. Garrett was jumping as her tandem partner instead of Ethan, for reasons clearly above her pay grade. It seemed she was the first ghost in history bound to a security clearance.

  Her mental trip into snark-ville didn’t stop her from staring at the two of them and attempting to read their minds—though maybe that wasn’t such a great move, either. Just getting into the plane had jumped her adrenalin a little higher, but now…

  Oh, hell.

  Ethan had already been pretty dashing in his combat top and bottoms, but the skin-tight brown T-shirt he wore beneath only amped the man’s irresistible factor. His chest was a defined sculpture of muscle, and the long ropes of his arms continued that chiseled trend. All that hard-hewn glory, yet the man was always ready with a gentle smile and a mischievous twinkle in his forest-green eyes.

  Sage let out a conflicted sigh. Ethan was already dancing on the edges of flirtation with her, but just looking at him next to Garrett crystallized an epiphany for her. While Ethan was nice on the eyes and easy for companionship, turning her attention to Garrett did something…more.

  So much more.

  Even looking at him was a lesson in being consumed. From the moment they’d met, Garrett Hawkins was the blaze in her blood, the smolder in her sex, the molten magic in her heart. He was her fire. Period.

  And damn it, she doubted if she’d ever be able to extinguish him. Or ever wanted to.

  She found a seat, slid into it, clicked in and ducked her head so she could clench back the fresh slam of tears. Shit, she was a mess!

  “Suck it up,” she whispered fervently. “Do it, Weston. Get your shit together.” You want to make it as Airborne? There’s no damn crying in Airborne!

  When Garrett took the seat next to her, she compelled her head back up. Well, at least enough to look at his knees instead of hers. She longed to wrap her hand around the inside of that knee, using it to pull herself over and curl against him. But rules were rules. And if crying wasn’t allowed in Airborne, breaking the personal affection parameters really wasn’t.

  Still, in that sixth sense way of his, Garrett leaned a little closer to her. He angled his body, completely protective about the pose and not seeming to care who saw. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” She glanced up in time to see Ethan make his way over. “But I’d be better if I knew what the hell this is all about with you two.”

  “Not gonna happen.” Garrett and Ethan retorted it in unison. They followed that by locking palms in their gruff version of a handshake.

  “Hey,” Garrett stated. “I owe you, Runway.”

  Ethan chuffed. “You owe me shit, boss.” He cocked a sideways smile at them both. “See you at the pit. Have fun, Sage.”

  She tossed back a grin of her own, but the expression faded as soon as the plane accelerated, gained air, and began to climb into the clear summer sky. She kept glancing at that sky, trying to think of how much it looked like Garrett’s eyes, struggling to take strength from that as the earth began to resemble a watercolor below. Structures and landscape blurred together, a beautiful but daunting reminder of the fact that they were rapidly climbing to ten thousand feet—and that she’d be traveling back through that distance by hurling her body through it.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  What the hell was she thinking?

  She tried another stab at thinking about anything except the fear pounding at her body. Had she turned on the dishwasher this morning? Damn it, she didn’t think so. Maybe they needed to turn around and land so she could go handle that. Oh God, oh God, they weren’t going to do that, were they? Okay, so maybe she’d cook dinner for Garrett tonight. They could grill something. She’d mash some sweet potatoes for him. He loved her mashed potatoes. No, wait. She was ticked at him. And Ethan. What was that all about again?

  Her brain gave her nothing. It was official. It had had checked itself out from her body down on the tarmac. The conclusion gave her a fabulous excuse to seize Garrett’s hand and crunch his big long fingers for everything she was worth. The indentations at the corners of his mouth, normally so tight, loosened into twin brackets of mirth. She retaliated by whacking his shoulder.

  “Dork,” she yelled.

  “Cherry blaster,” he called back, making her heart do a backflip between its terrified convulsions. The slang term for a first-time jumper became four syllables of pure sex in his husky bellow.

  Her moment of ease was short-lived.

  The pilot pulled back on the engines, slowing the plane. A crewman got ready to open the door.

  With a grin, Garrett unbuckled and got to his feet. It was a good thing he moved first, because none of Sage’s muscles would budge. She didn’t remember him unlatching her seatbelt, but suddenly she was on her feet and guided into position in front of him so their tandem rig could be connected. Next, she felt Garrett clip the heavy chute pack onto his back. He jerked a little as he double-checked the cords and parachute release. Please double-check the release!

  The crewman pushed the door open. T-Bomm and Kell were first up in the rotation, a fact that apparently deserved ear-splitting war cries from both warriors. As the two of them careened out the door, their cries disappeared with them.

  She and Garrett were next.


  He nudged her closer to the door. Her vision filled with nothing but sky and the ground below.

  Very far below.

  She flung her hands backward, trying to grab him. Though Garrett was already pressed close and safe behind her, literally bound to her, she craved more. Couldn’t do this the other way around? Couldn’t she flip around, burrow against his chest, squeeze her eyes closed, and pray she got to the ground safely? She had to pee. She longed to scream. She wanted to die.

  “I—I’ve changed my mind! F-forget it, okay?”

  Garrett’s mouth was a warm, heavy pressure at her ear. His lips curled into a fervent kiss on her lobe before he said at a volume only she could hear, “I’m right here, sugar.”

  Somehow, the words sank in, though it was impossible to respond. She couldn’t nod. Or speak. Or move.

  This wasn’t sane. This wasn’t rational. Why did people do this? Couldn’t they find an easier way to get troops places? Somebody seriously needed to talk to Armed Forces leadership about this. Somebody needed to talk to the president about this.

  Garrett’s voice was back in her ear. But it wasn’t an intimate growl this time. Now, he yelled at her in full, commanding throttle.

  “Go!”

  She wanted to die. Instead, she stepped into thin air, and the breath-robbing force of freefall whomped every cell in her body. Her heart rate was a rocket. She was pure electricity. She was raw energy. She felt everything yet nothing at once, all thoughts of past or future gone. There was only right here, right now, and in this insane moment, she was only certain of one thing.

  Yeah. She was going to die.

  Chapter Eleven

  Garrett had long ago lost track of how many jumps he’d completed, but like the best thrill ride, it never got old.

  The exhilaration was even better this time, though. It wasn’t every day that a guy got to take the woman of his soul on the world’s most incredible adrenalin rush. Getting to experience the jump through Sage’s eyes, even down to her terror, actually made him feel better than he had all week. He wished he could tell her that here, at ten thousand feet over the earth, she was the safest she’d been in seven days. In more than a year. He’d never been more aware or thankful for the hand of irony. Up in the plane, he’d actually relaxed. He’d gotten so sarcastic with Sage, she’d laughed and called him a dork. For a few incredible seconds, they were just a guy and a girl again, flirting with each other, falling in love.