Excerpt:  The Last Place You Look

Wings ePress, November 2007

****

Cruz was up before Kit woke. She turned over on her cot to find him gone. Part of her was grateful she didn’t have to look over to watch him sleep.

She belatedly noticed that Mac and Cowboy were gone too. The only evidence that she hadn’t dreamed them there last night were the balled up blankets on their cots.

She checked her watch-- 5:07 .

The sounds of waking built as the gym/bunkhouse came to life. The smell of bacon might have been part of the reason why.

Kit pushed to sit up and dropped her feet over the side of the cot.

Cruz’s gear was even gone.

She reached for her boots, but the way the cots were made--two posts with canvas between--she had to get off the cot to get to them. Then, she had to perch on the near post to tie them.

If she hurried, she could maybe eat something before the pilot meeting at 5:45 .

She met Cruz just outside in the hall.

He held a plate loaded with bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. He didn’t speak, just held them out to her.

“For me?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks,” she replied, looking for a place to plunk down and eat. The floor would do nicely. “And thanks for getting everything last night.”

“De nada,” he answered, then turned to leave.

“ Hollywood ?”

He turned back, looked at her.

“Have you eaten?”

“Yes.”

Again he turned to leave.

“You want to sit with me?”

“I need to recheck my gear.”

“Recheck your gear. Yeah, I’ve notice that you’re a checker and rechecker... you coulda just said no,” she said under her breath as he walked away.

“No,” he answered.

She watched until he turned the corner and disappeared from view. His flight suit was wrinkled, but he still looked good. But she couldn’t remember ever seeing him wrinkled before. Of course he was wrinkled, everyone was. Still...

Kit wrestled her attention back to her breakfast. It was a toss-up which bothered her more: the fact that Cruz was so distant or the fact that it bothered her that he was so distant.

That was what she had wanted.

It shouldn’t bother her then.

From the first moment they met, Kit and Cruz had been oil and water.

She’d been called in to fly PJs up to rescue their commander--who turned out to be Mac--who’d crashed his Blackhawk during a rescue mission of his own. There’d been a small window of opportunity and she was the only resource available.

And despite Cruz’s immediate sexist reaction, she’d managed to do exactly what needed to be done.

But the hotshot PJ hadn’t let up.

Maybe oil and water wasn’t the best comparison. More like gasoline and a flame. Their relationship--Kit hesitated to call it that--was always dramatic. Cruz had once referred to it as passionate--again a word to which Kit refused to concede.

They’d fought. They’d kissed. Fought some more. Had sex once, thank God it was only once. He’d tried to take over her business with his almighty richness. And on it had gone.

Until nine months ago, when he’d come by the hangar and apologized.

A surprisingly good apology. He’d admitted to being a complete ass and asked if they could start over.

And there’d been a moment there when it could have gone either way, a moment when she honestly wondered if the last time they’d made love was the last time they’d ever make love.

Not that you could actually call it making love. More like oh-my-god-I-can’t-keep-my-hands-off-you sex, savaging each other, amazingly hot, amazingly amazing.

But that was beside the point.

In the end she’d walked away, leaving him to walk away.

Her exact words were “I won’t be that stupid again.”

And just before he walked away, she actually thought she saw a real emotion cross his face, an emotion other than smug or pissed off. Those, she’d seen plenty of times. No, this was maybe even hurt.

Up until that moment, she hadn’t even considered that the hotshot could be hurt.

And over the next nine months, she’d only seen him twice.

One of those was a business meeting with Mac. Cruz did, after all, own the note on their helicopter. That meeting was all business. Much like this mission had been. Except now there were all the really nice gestures... which totally conflicted with his words. Geez-oh-Pete, as Mac would say.

The other time was once when she and a couple of friends had ventured out on the town. At closing time--which, for the record, she rarely ever saw--they’d headed to the all-night diner. Cruz had been ensconced in a back booth--alone.

Their gaze had caught; he’d pulled his wallet out, left a no-doubt generous tip, and walked out.

Now, Kit forced herself to eat, suddenly not really hungry but you never knew when, or if, you’d get to eat again during the day. Turkey or ham, he’d asked, holding out both to her yesterday. Cruz had made sure she had food.

It likely wasn’t personal, though.

Maybe it was just that his pilot was important to his safety, but he seemed to have this inextricable need to take care of those around him whom he cared about.

Her breath came out in a whoosh.

Like buying the note on her bird when she struggled to survive financially, thus making sure Pegasus was secure?

If that were true... well, it changed everything.

Yeah, but in light of all that had come since he bought the note on her bird, well, it changed nothing.

~ * ~

“Thanks for breakfast, Eric.”

Cruz looked up as Kit approached in the hall. He was headed into the morning briefing and she apparently was headed into the pilot briefing.

She smiled oddly and it made him pause mid-stride.

“You’re welcome.”

As she passed, she reached up and touched his arm. He continued on, but not without glancing over his shoulder to watch her walk away.

What the hell was that about?

Hope--that old bitch-whore with her siren song--knocked at the door, calling to him that maybe Kit had reconsidered, maybe they could, after all, start over, maybe...

Nope.

Whatever she’d meant... it just couldn’t matter any more.

He couldn’t answer that call. Not ever again.