In through my nose, out through my mouth. I spent the remainder of the preflight time concentrating on my breathing so I didn’t let the panic win and send me running from the aircraft.

“Here we go, Kitty,” Jackson said as we took off.

My stomach dropped as we rose into the air, and I squeezed my eyes shut. What the hell was I doing in this thing? I had nothing to prove and everything to lose. And the vibrations through my seat were going to numb my ass at best and rattle my spine at worst. They were even stronger at my feet.

“It’s no fun when you can’t see anything,” Sawyer teased, looking back from the cockpit.

I opened my eyes and flipped him the bird.

He laughed. “Your girl doesn’t think this is fun.”

“If your ex-girlfriend went down in a bird and then died in a firefight, chances are you wouldn’t think this was fun, either,” Jackson snapped.

Sawyer’s head whipped back, his eyes huge with apology. “Shit, Morgan, I didn’t know.”

“Take the controls,” Jackson ordered.

“I have the controls,” Sawyer responded, his focus completely devoted to the aircraft.

Jackson’s hand reached back, and I took it. “You okay back there?”

“I’m okay,” I lied.

“The view is gorgeous if you look out the window,” he suggested, squeezing my hand.

I leaned forward and gasped. The blue of the water against the sand of the beach made for a stunning contrast as we flew down the coastline, and I had to admit that he was right. The view was spectacular, entrancing, even, and something I only could have seen from the air. We flew miles down the coast, and eventually my body adjusted to the vibration and motion of the aircraft. My brain was an entirely different matter.

“Coast Guard seven-five-three-niner, come in.” The radio blared through my headset.

Jackson’s hand disappeared, and my coms went dead.

Garrett nodded and his mouth moved, but I couldn’t hear him. What the hell was going on? Had someone seen them sneak me on board? Was Jackson going to be in trouble? Just as I was about ready to lose my ever-loving mind, the coms came back to life.

“Morgan, we have a distress call,” Jackson said, not taking my hand because he was now the one flying.

“We what?” My voice cracked.

“We have a vessel that’s called in a mayday.”

“Just a patrol,” Sawyer muttered.

“There’s no injuries, and we’re the closest rescue team. I need you to just sit tight back there, okay, Kitty?”

“Yeah. Okay.” My hands gripped the edges of my little seat as the aircraft changed course, pitching left. We were headed out to sea.