Karen Rock - His To Protect

When the Herc disappeared from view, Mark cleared his throat. “Coast Guard 6039, ready for takeoff.”

He gave Rob a thumbs-up. Simultaneously, he pulled the collective to 98 percent torque, adjusted the tail rotor pedals to maintain heading and maneuvered the cyclic to stay centerline. As they rose slowly, he transitioned to forward flight.

“6039 airborne.” As they gained altitude, Mark turned to heading three hundred fifty and continued with his departure procedures, the helicopter shuddering slightly before smoothing out. The Sikorsky shuffle.

A normal takeoff, just like always. Nothing wrong. And nothing would go wrong on this mission, he vowed, then loosened his white-knuckle grip on the stick. The gray sprawl of ocean appeared below as Mark’s gaze drifted to the MFD screen. Current weather images of the hurricane continuously updated in the newly installed test weather radar. Although the hurricane had jogged east, a few bands still streaked across southern Florida.

He verified the correct course set for the Nassau, where they’d refuel before going on to the mission’s staging area in the Virgin Islands, and slumped back in his seat, his joints stiff. He had to get over this jittery sense that something wasn’t right.

Cassie’s accusing expression swam into view. She had every right to hate him. It’d been a long time before he’d been able to face himself in the mirror.

So why had she joined such a treacherous mission? This was her first disaster operation. At least Jeff had been trained for what he faced. Cassie had little preparation for this scale of an emergency and his protective instincts rose. He’d failed her brother and wouldn’t let another Rowe family member come to harm on his watch. He owed Jeff that much and more.

But aside from that obligation, he would put Cassie Rowe out of his head. He’d fought too hard to get back in the cockpit after the weeks he’d been grounded following Jeff’s death. No way would he let a woman get to him, undermine all he’d devoted his life to achieve.

Fat splats of rain peppered the glass and he glanced down at his radar. The last vestiges of the hurricane brewed their mischief up ahead. The final salvo in a storm that had inflicted devastating damage...yet a certain blonde on board his aircraft felt like the greater threat.

He would not be with her again, even if she’d had any inclination to come near him a second time. Getting close to Cassie would jeopardize the mission. His career. Possibly his sanity.

The problem with playing with this particular fire, however, was already knowing how sweet the burn would be.

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