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Hell Dogs Squadron 3: Cut Pass [MultiFormat]
eBook by AR Moler
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$1.37 |
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eBook Category: Erotica/Gay-Lesbian Erotica
eBook Description:   To a Navy pilot, the term cut pass means a landing so bad that it's a miracle the plane isn't wrecked and nobody's dead. Nothing could come closer to describing the events tying Cameron Bradshaw and Mason Flynn even closer together. A mad impromptu flight to Meridian Naval Air Station leads Cam and the naval intelligence people to a direct confrontation with those who stole the missile. A vicious firefight leaves two dead, one of their own critically injured and Mason scrambling to save him. Even after retrieval of the missile is accomplished, the final end game forces Mason to do the unthinkable, and puts his own sanity in jeopardy in the process.
eBook Publisher: Torquere Press/Chasers, Published: http://www.torquerepress.com, 2009
Fictionwise Release Date: November 2009
13 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [50 KB]
, ePub (EPUB) [81 KB]
, Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [32 KB]
, Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [263 KB]
, Palm Doc (PDB) [35 KB]
, Microsoft Reader (LIT) [97 KB]
, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [103 KB]
, hiebook (KML) [117 KB]
, Sony Reader (LRF) [106 KB]
, iSilo (PDB) [29 KB]
, Mobipocket (PRC) [37 KB]
, Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [86 KB]
, OEBFF Format (IMP) [55 KB]
Words: 10992
Reading time: 31-43 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
ISBN: 1-60370-726-3
 
The whine of the Gulfstream engines grew louder as the plane taxied toward the runway. Lt. Cameron Bradshaw let out a small sigh. He'd rather be the one flying the plane--preferably an F/A-18. He leaned his head back against the seat and glanced out the window. Oceana Naval Air Station to Meridian NAS: it ought to take a bit less than two hours for the flight. If things went according to plan, they'd be able to locate the stolen missile, secure it, find out who orchestrated the plot and round up the people who executed it. Executed it. Oh, that was a good description. Cam himself had had a very near miss, a carefully carried out "accident" that had almost become a fatal motorcycle crash. His roommate, Lt. Keith Haverty, had been murdered in the apartment they shared. Then the orthopedic surgeon and psychic healer who had saved his life, and was rapidly falling into the role of friend and lover, had been the target of another assassination attempt.
Cam shifted in his seat. The meds he'd taken earlier were wearing off and the bone deep ache of his damaged leg was creeping back. He'd done far too much walking on it today. The healing that Peter Vithoulkas, resident healer for Division P, had accomplished in just a few days was unbelievably amazing. The shattered bones had mended as much as if six weeks had passed, rather than the two that had, but that still left another six to eight weeks worth of healing to go. And it was a separate issue from the nerve damage that accompanied the original injury.
Maybe he should get Mason to damp it down while they were flying. He glanced at the surgeon seated next to him. The man's entire body was tense and one hand was clenched around the arm of the seat. Cam laid his hand on top of Mason's. The word anxiety leaped to mind.
"You all right?" asked Cam.
"Fine," said Mason from between clenched teeth. Cam frowned. He curled his fingers around the healer's hand. Was Mason headed for a second one of those catatonic panic attacks that he had experienced near the beginning of the day? Maybe bringing him along had been asking too much of a man who had no field training. But Cam felt leaving him behind would have been far more dangerous.
"Hey, talk to me," Cam prompted. They were seated at a small conference table facing the front of the plane. The other four men sat further forward around another set of smaller tables: Valentine, Simpson, Rymal, and another Naval Intelligence man that Cam had missed the name of. The others were deep in conversation and paying no attention to Cam or Mason.
"I don't like flying," muttered Mason. He was staring at the floor.
"It's a short flight. Less than a thousand miles."
"I don't give a fuck how short it is! I hate flying!" Mason snapped.
Cam could feel the tension just winding Mason in knots, and it was getting worse as the plane picked up speed for take-off. Mason's lips were a tight line and his head was pressed back against the seat. Cam squeezed Mason's hand.
"In ten minutes, we'll be up and it'll be fine," he said. He was finding it hard to comprehend that flying could stress a grown man out this much. Cam loved the feel of power with a throttle in his hand. Thirty million dollars worth of high tech government hardware in the palm of his hand was a serious rush. Mason's pulse absolutely pounded beneath his fingers as the Gulfstream left the ground and continued upward at a relatively sharp incline.
"Mason?"
"What!"
"Kill off the pain in my leg for me. Please," said Cam.
Mason gave him a hostile glare, but relaxed just a little.
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