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 resewn 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 then 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 adrenaline a little higher, but now…

Oh, hell.

Ethan had already been pretty dashing in his combat top and bottoms, but the skintight 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 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 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 seat belt, 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 she 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. At a volume only she could hear, he murmured, “I’m right here, sugar.”

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