As awful and seemingly endless as the trip into the winding hills had been—including those terrible, perilous moments when Michael had seen his life flashing before his eyes and only his faith in Carl had kept him from leaping out of the vehicle—the actual flight out of the hills had only taken around twenty minutes.
Which wasn’t long enough to prepare Michael for landing.
It wasn’t that he didn’t have any faith in Carl Cox. He was in the plane, right? He’d argued for his right to be there, to put his life in the hands of a guy he knew for a fact had only flown a couple of times and whose last landing had been less than ideal, to say the least.
But the closer they got to the landing strip by Napa, the more he remembered the bounce. The bone-jarring, tongue-biting, terrifying bounce that had happened when Carl had come in too hot, bounced the plane, and then set it down.
He figured he could live through the bounce again, but the more he waited, the more anxious he got. Chuck’s voice over the headset sent relief coursing through his body.
“Carl, buddy, how you doing?”
“Fine,” Carl said. “I can see the landing strip. I’m approaching head-on.”
“Good. Perfect, actually. What we’re going to do is raise the nose and lower the tail just a bit. So what do you do with your flaps?”
Carl told him and then did it and tugged gently at the stick. And still the runway was getting closer and closer, and they seemed to be getting closer and closer to the ground, and it was going faster and faster, and—
Michael wasn’t aware he’d closed his eyes in panic until the wheels caught on the tarmac and he let out a little moan of relief. His eyes flew open, and the plane didn’t bounce once as Carl slowed it to a graceful stop, almost a perfect distance from the hangar.
For a moment the silence was deafening, and then Chuck’s voice came through again.
“Nicely done! You’re practically a pro now. You can take a shift the next time we go cross-country!”
“Sure,” Carl said weakly before discarding the headset and leaning wearily back against the seat. He turned to Michael and gave a thin smile. “See? It wasn’t an awful idea.”
Michael started laughing semihysterically, and he felt a sudden surge of affection for the man next to him. “You know what?” he said. “The thing I love about you is you get the job done. You keep saying you’re not flashy, that you’re the second up. That’s not it. You just wait until you’re needed and you get the job done. Well, you did it. Here we are. You got the job done.”
Carl’s smile increased in wattage and amperage. “I’ll take it,” he declared. Then with a hopeful, almost flirty little wink, “Do I get a kiss now?”
Michael was out of his seat and practically in Carl’s lap, and as their mouths met, he made a little groan. Carl answered it, his big, broad-palmed hands sliding under Michael’s shirts, and even though they were both a little sweaty, they were suddenly electric for each other.
“Don’t we have a room to ourselves?” Michael asked breathlessly, pulling back with reluctance.
“God yeah.”
“We’re gonna have to do something about that,” he said.
“I’m saying.” And then Carl pushed up to kiss him some more, and that was about all Michael could manage until Chuck’s voice—in person this time—intruded on their thoughts.
“If you two could wait until you get back to the hotel…,” he said delicately, and Michael pulled back so quickly he hit his head on the low ceiling of the cockpit.
“If you insist,” Carl told Chuck. He nudged Michael and gave a nod, and Michael sighed and extricated himself so he could get to the ramp. He looked back, but Carl had paused to ask, “Do you have all the supplies you need?”
“They’re incoming,” Chuck said. “Hunter and Grace are on their way with the load from Walmart as we speak. My job is to stay here and make sure it gets loaded on and then fly this thing back while you two go reassure Stirling you’re alive, shower and change, and then take the bird for check-in at the Aerie.”
Carl let out a yawn. “Then can we nap?”
“If that’s what the kids are calling it.” Chuck’s deadpan expression told Michael, at least, that Carl was fooling nobody.
“It is,” Carl said decisively. Then he sighed. “C’mon, Michael. No rest for the wicked.”
“And no wickedness either,” Michael grumbled. His mouth still tingled from the kisses, and his nether parts weren’t far behind. He found his stomach muscles clenching without his say-so and his… his hole was right there with it.
God, he wanted to be touched there again. Not hard but decisively. The way Carl did things, with commitment and care.
It was the first time Michael ever thought consciously that he wanted that sort of sex, as long as it was with the right person. But boy, did he want it. He wanted it bad.
BUT HE was a grown-up, and he had to wait.
Stirling didn’t exactly throw himself in Carl’s arms like a child, but his face became animated in a way Michael hadn’t seen unless the guarded young man was talking to his sister, or to Josh, or to Danny. After that first burst of what was apparently joy, he scowled ferociously.
“No more risks like that,” he snapped.
“Okay,” Carl said. “If it bothers you, I won’t.”
Stirling looked at him suspiciously, then at Michael. “Not… you know. You’re old.”
“I know,” Carl said, mouth twitching. “I’m probably too old for Michael too, but he’s okay with it. It’s fine, Stirling. You and me are friends. We got tight when we worked with Lucius back in July, and we’re good friends now. I don’t work well with a lot of people. I’m glad we found each other.”
Stirling let out a long breath. “Thank God. You get me. You can’t go out and get yourself killed.”
“Understood.” From the bathroom in Stirling’s room came a muffled shriek. Given that it wasn’t coming from a big scary murder bird, the falcon’s cry almost sounded sweet and soulful, but Michael was very aware that was only because it was surrounded in padding.
“We need to change before we get the falcon out of your hair,” Carl said.
“Take your time.” Stirling shook his head. “I double-checked on the drop-off time for your friend there, and they don’t take early birds before 2:00 p.m. You’ve got a couple of hours to nap.”
Michael growled. “Fucking Chuck, man. He made it sound like we had to get back on the road again.”
“He’s mad too,” Stirling told him, surprising them both. “You scared everybody. You said ‘Hey, we’re going to check out this random lead,’ and then you disappeared. It wasn’t cool.”
Carl rubbed the back of his neck, looking abashed, and met Michael’s eyes. “I didn’t think we’d be missed,” he said, and Michael nodded in agreement.
“Me neither,” he confessed. “Now we know. No more adventures without checking in with the family. Understood.” And then he yawned. Mandy’s living room furniture hadn’t been comfortable in the least, and God, those birds had not shut up.