Hotshot by Catherine Mann Page B

better communication. Of course, communication had never been his strong suit. Just ask Jayne, who was still chewing his ass via e-mail.
    Between Jayne and Paulina, he couldn’t catch a break.
    At least he had one major thing to be grateful for. Paulina’s handwriting experts had determined that Shay’s signature on the letters found in young Kevin’s apartment had been a forgery. The Feds no longer suspected she was involved.
    She was just sitting in the middle of a bull’s-eye.
    Striding into the FBI briefing room, Don walked alongside Lieutenant Colonel Rex Scanlon, the commander of Vince Deluca’s dark ops test squadron and a man in serious need of new glasses to replace his Buddy Holly frames. Scanlon would stay in D.C. throughout the operation, acting as a liaison between Vince’s team and the intelligence community here.
    Within minutes, the briefing room would be filled with Congress members and NSA representatives. All were gathering for the telecomm with Vince Deluca and the team of crewmembers he’d put together in Cleveland.
    A single table stretched down the middle of the room with a television suspended from the ceiling, the monitor filled with the image of a room similar to this one. The select team of aviators began to file into that faraway room.
    Scanlon made a beeline toward the coffeepot like a man on a mission for java, the manna of any respectable workaholic. The commander kept his voice low as he gave Don a running commentary on the flyers filing in after Vince, starting with a lanky, athletic type. “That’s Captain Jimmy Gage, a copilot who used to fly surveillance planes. Hotwire’s the man to watch your back in a bar fight—if he hasn’t started the brawl himself.”
    Don watched Jimmy Gage fold into a seat next to Vince. “Jimmy Gage’s file says he’s fearless, that he will try anything in a plane.”
    “And his file is right.”
    God, he missed the crew days. Mentoring kids was important to him, but it hadn’t completely filled the void, and his CIA work tended to be solo or administrative. Fingering the nitro tablets in his pocket, he had to face reality.
    Getting old stank.
    Scanlon filled a cup with steaming java as the next aviator in a green flight suit streamed into the room on the television. “That’s Tech Sergeant Mason ‘Smooth’ Randolph. He’s all about finesse on the ground and in the air.”
    Don mentally scanned the files he’d read. The flight engineer also pulled gunner and loadmaster duties. These dark ops test aviators could fly anything, anywhere, even swapping out positions without hesitation. Of course, working in the test world meant being able to fly a new aircraft or an old one with cutting-edge modifications and write the manual—if the aircraft didn’t crash and burn first.
    Scanlon gestured with his coffee cup toward the TV screen. “Watch your women around Smooth. He uses that same finesse with the ladies.”
    Don’s eyes shot straight to Paulina, who was adjusting the volume on the telecomm monitor. Damn, her ass looked great in those pencil-thin skirts, and it appeared the young sergeant had noticed, too, as she walked back out the door. Don frowned as Scanlon continued.
    “Lastly, Deluca brought in the expertise of Captain David ‘Ice’ Berg. His analytical genius is invaluable in synthesizing data.”
    “A navigator, right?”
    “That’s what he started out as, then later trained to be a fire control officer. He and Deluca haven’t worked together often. He’s stepping in for the nav Deluca usually flies with, Chuck Tanaka.” Scanlon’s face went dark.
    Don trod warily. Tanaka’s hellish experience overseas had rocked the CIA world. Two and a half months ago, Tanaka had been kidnapped in Eastern Europe by a group selling military secrets to the highest bidder. Vince’s test unit had been instrumental in breaking up the ring while locating and rescuing Tanaka. But not before the man endured two weeks of torture. “Tanaka’s