Chapter EightSilvan wiped the water out of his eyes for the hundredth time since he’d plunged into the icy North Sea. Alone, he rode over the wave and down the far side, bobbing as lightly as a cork.
If ever there was a pilot to fly with, it was Chief Warrant Deborah Rosenthal.
Which was exactly how he felt every time he got close to her. He’d like to have gotten much closer, but the Army wasn’t the only one against that. Their rank wasn’t an issue, but the fact that she was his superior officer was. He hadn’t wanted to risk not flying with her in the future.
There was also something within her. Something…torn. It had kept him pushed to a distance and he’d done his best to respect that.
And now he didn’t know if he’d ever have a chance to see past whatever that was, or even to thank he
