Flash of Fire by M. L. Buchman Page A

leer. Not quite.
    â€œPicture just keeps getting better and better, lady.” Then he placed a hand on either side of her face and kissed her hard and fast.
    He’d sprinted halfway to the next helicopter before she managed to recover.
    â€œHamilton!”
    He stopped and turned. “What?” He had to shout over the sound of the grinding fuel truck as it finished fueling the last bird.
    â€œWhat the hell?”
    â€œHey, lady, I got a fire to fight. You can pay me back later.” His cheery wave explained exactly what kind of payback he was hoping for.
    That little shit! If he thought he was going to get that, he was in for a major wake-up call.
    Of course, Robin couldn’t help noting that she was grinning as she stuffed a sandwich in her mouth and started pulling on her Nomex gear.
    Bastard!
    The others were going over their birds, still warm from the long flight. Now Robin could appreciate Denise’s tending to the helicopters immediately. They’d been on the ground under half an hour and they’d be aloft again in minutes, yet impossibly, they’d be ready.
    She turned to track down the mechanic only to find her standing beside Robin’s elbow.
    â€œI’ve signed off on all four birds’ flight readiness as cleared for operations.” Denise held out a clipboard with the forms on it. There was a place for Robin’s countersignature just like in military operations.
    â€œReally?” She glanced over each sheet before scrawling her initials across the bottom. The list of inspections she’d done in the last thirty minutes made it all the more impressive. “You must be some kinda hot shit to get all this done.”
    â€œI am.”
    Robin stopped looking at the forms and looked at the mechanic instead. She was maybe five-four and could easily be mistaken for a former cheerleader type. Except her few interactions with the woman had all been simple, professional, and hadn’t had a single wasted moment.
    There was no tone of arrogance or cockiness in Denise’s “I am,” just a simple statement of fact. As if she was so clear about who she was and how she fit into the world that there was no doubt.
    Robin handed back the clipboard with the last form unsigned.
    Denise tried to hand it back to her.
    Robin just shook her head. “In the future, if you tell me an aircraft is ready, that’s all I need to know.”
    Denise looked up at her for a long moment and then offered a simple nod. “Emily was right about choosing you. Good flight.”
    And the little woman turned and was gone back into her service trailer, rather than climbing aboard Firehawk Two as copilot.
    Robin was smiling as she finished her own sandwich while going through the preflight inspection and preparing herself for flight.
    * * *
    Mickey followed the others aloft.
    They might have their big fancy Firehawks that could carry double what his 212 could manage, but the 212 had an agility that the bigger Black Hawks lacked. The Twin 212 Huey was one of the many birds based on the venerable Huey, the helicopter that had changed the face of warfare in Vietnam.
    His mom’s dad had flown them there and given him his first radio-controlled helicopter. He like the connection with Pops. He was always asking about Mickey’s flights whenever he was home. The Huey was part of Mickey’s family.
    In his 212, only Emily Beale could outfly him—because what that woman could do with a Firehawk was unreal.
    Why had he kissed Robin? Mickey didn’t usually spend a whole lot of time dissecting his own actions, but that was definitely out of the norm for him. Sure, he’d picked up plenty of women with the old “I fight wildfires from a badass helicopter” line. Had cheerfully kissed and bedded them within hours of first meeting.
    But kissing Robin, however briefly, without her invitation or permission was something he simply didn’t do.
    So why had he?
    They