Just as I’d hoped, Panther’s eyes dropped to what I was doing, and when they quickly darted back up to my face, I aimed the same slow smile I’d thrown his way last night and winked.
I expected some kind of reaction. More likely a scowl, but I was hoping for more of a heated look or lick-your-lips situation, any response to tell me he was affected.
But no. Panther’s expression remained stoic as he pulled the strap tight across his chest. Then he grabbed his helmet and turned on his heel, heading out of the bay, and I quickly finished putting on the rest of my gear before he got too far.
“See you out there,” I said, clapping a hand on Gucci’s shoulder, and then I grabbed my own helmet and jogged out in the direction of the hangar. Up ahead, Panther kept up a brisk pace, but I quickly caught up to him.
“You wouldn’t be trying to leave without me, now, would you?” I said, popping on my Aviators as we walked out of the hangar and into the blazing sun. With all the extra gear on, it felt like it was about five thousand effin’ degrees.
Panther kept his gaze forward. “The thought had crossed my mind.”
“Look, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but you got lucky with me as your partner.”
He snorted.
“You don’t think so? Ever flown with me?” When Panther remained silent, I dropped my voice to a purr. “Then you don’t know what you’ve been missing.”
Panther stopped abruptly and ripped off his sunglasses. His blue eyes blazed, finally the reaction I’d been provoking him for. “I get it. You play the part of the rebellious pilot to hide your insecurities. You’re an attention seeker, which is why you don’t keep your mouth shut, and you want nothing more than to get into your competition’s head, which is why you keep fucking with me.” Grinding his jaw, he stepped even closer to me, out of earshot of the others heading out to their planes. “I keep my shit private, you get me? Say something like you did in class today again, and I will fucking end you. I will end you. So if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your head down, your lips zipped, and you’ll fly clean.”
Panther shoved his Aviators back on and walked away, and I couldn’t help my grin. A raging Panther was hot.
7 Panther
I NEVER KNEW I could be capable of murder until this morning, but it was possible, and it could happen at any given moment.
As if running into Solo here wasn’t bad enough, he had to be my partner for the duration of the competition? Was this some kind of cruel karmic joke coming to bite me in the ass? I didn’t remember doing anything bad enough to warrant getting stuck with the notorious pilot. If he went off the rails and screwed my chances at the top spot, there would definitely be a death later.
Once I reached the plane I’d been assigned, I went through the preflight check, as beside me Solo did the same.
Forget him. Keep your mind on the hop. Stay calm and ready for anything.
After running through the checks, I closed my eyes as I sat in the cockpit and took a deep breath before letting it out slowly, clearing my head. This is what I’d been born to do, and no one was getting in the way of me proving it.
I slipped on my helmet, attached the mask, and then waited for my cue. Solo was positioned to take off ahead of me, and as he got the go-ahead, he tore off down the runway.
Here we go.
Adrenaline was already pumping through my veins, giving me a buzz not even alcohol could. I’d been flying for years now, and one thing I hadn’t expected when I first started out was that it never got old. The high of flying a jet was unlike anything I’d ever experienced in my life, and as I got the go-ahead to take off, I punched the engines and roared down the runway. My entire body vibrated as I increased the speed, more, more, and then the jet was airborne, soaring into the clear blue sky, not a cloud blocking the view.
My heart hammered in my chest, though I maintained the smooth control I always did when flying. Up ahead, I caught sight of Solo and continued the rise to thirty-one thousand feet, where he’d leveled out.
Play it straight for once in your life, Solo.
The mission that had been laid out in the brief today was straightforward and to the point. The commander wanted to see our basic fighter maneuvers and how we handled ourselves in a dogfight. This was something we practiced repeatedly. A midair showdown where we each tried to maneuver ourselves behind our opponent’s aircraft and intercept the perceived intruders in an attempt to drive them off course and leave the area.
If they didn't leave? Well, that was when you better pray that you knew what the hell you were doing up there.
The roar of the slipstream as I turned made my wings flex, and it was a sound I’d never grow tired of hearing. I moved into formation with Solo, around ten feet from where his jet was tearing up the sky. Then I checked my wing line and longitudinal references to make sure I was in position.
As his wingman today, it was my job to keep an eye on my lead at all times and make sure the wingtip to nose-tail separation was exact, to keep our flying safe. As lead, it was Solo’s job to delegate tasks within the flight to ensure the mission was safely accomplished.
I knew I’d do my part with the utmost diligence and responsibility, but as for Solo, who knew what stunt he’d pull.
“Panther, nice of you to finally join me up here today. Looking good on my six, over.”
If there was one thing I, and most other pilots, hated, it was a chatty Cathy over the comm. The term “zip up and shut up” didn’t come from men who wanted to have a full conversation in the sky. But somehow, Solo didn’t strike me as the type to give a shit about that one way or another.
Lucky me. “I’m in position and got you in sight. Let’s get this done.”
“Aww, what, no small talk?”
“I’m not here to entertain you, Solo. I’m here to win.”
“Can’t you do both?”
I was just about to tell Solo to shut his damn mouth and focus when Gucci’s plane appeared from out of nowhere and locked on to Solo's position. Then, just as it always happened up here, things went from intense to insane in a matter of seconds, as Solo shot off and began to climb, clearly about to implement some serious repositioning maneuvers.
I had no choice but to go with him, and the two of us punched our jets in gear and began one of the fastest, most extreme ascents known to man. We were on the straight-up vertical now, and the thunderous sound of air rushing by as we pulled some serious fucking Gs made my entire body vibrate and come alive.
The rush of living this close to the edge, the knowledge that you were doing something only a handful of men and women could physically and mentally do, took a high-octane mixture of ego and guts, fear and intelligence, and when Solo finally reached the pinnacle of his climb and banked left before executing a hard dive, I knew I was witnessing the ego and guts firsthand. Crazy motherfucker.
As Gucci followed suit, Solo began a series of high-speed turns and rolls, each one reactive to Gucci’s attempt to lock him in for the shot, but there was no way he was about to get a clear go at a plane executing the moves Solo was.
Keeping pace with my lead, I had to admit Solo was one hell of a pilot. He was fast, fearless, and precise, and today he was playing by the rules. It was obvious he was here for a reason, and as the two of us outmaneuvered and outpaced Gucci and Whiplash, we managed to get behind them and zero in on our targets for the kill.