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There was much that Hangman accomplished in the eight months since he’d last seen Phoenix.
Getting over her wasn’t one of them.
But, in the meantime, Hangman got back on his feet and back to flying. And on his first deployment back on active duty, he became the first naval aviator in a generation, since the end of the Cold War, and the only naval aviator currently on active duty to have a confirmed air-to-air kill.
Jake would be lying if he said that he didn’t wait for her text or call about it. The naval aviation community wasn’t huge, and word got around fast.
But after a week, he gave up and reminded himself that they weren’t together anymore. They weren’t even friends. Not really. Acquaintances maybe, but by circumstance and nothing more.
She didn’t owe him anything. And he didn’t owe her anything. And life moved on. So, he would too.
“Come on!” Coyote complained as Hangman won yet another game of pool.
He stood up and was about to make a joke at Javy’s expense, but he paused when he spotted Phoenix striding into the Hard Deck. He wasn’t too surprised to see her and quickly guessed that she was part of the same special detachment that both he and Coyote were called up for.
After all, she was one of the best, if not the best, dual pilots in the Navy. Even if he’d no longer admit that to her.
“What do we have here!?” he called loudly, quickly gathering her attention. “If it ain’t Phoenix.”
Hangman strode around the table, ignoring Coyote’s knowing smirk, and walked over to greet Phoenix and her two friends. He leaned back on the edge of the pool table with a smug smile, his gaze entirely focused on her.
“And here I thought we were special, Coyote. Turns out the invite went out to anyone.”
His grin widened as he waited for her response. Phoenix raised her eyebrows slightly and turned away from him for a moment, clearly unamused with his usual Hangman tactics. But when she turned back to him, her smirk warned him that she was ready for battle, as she always was.
“Fellas, this here’s Bagman.”
“Hangman,” he corrected, hiding his inner annoyance.
“Whatever,” she replied with a shake of her head, sounding bored. Her smirk widened as glanced back at her friends before continuing, “You’re looking at the only naval aviator on active duty with a confirmed air-to-air kill.”
So, she had heard about it then.
“Stop,” he told her, leaning forward with a proud smirk.
Hangman definitely warmed with her admission, her recognition that he was truly the best of the best. But he definitely wasn’t giddy about it. Okay, maybe a little bit. And the wider, genuine smile that started to grace his lips was definitely just a coincidence.
But Phoenix knew how to put him down just as well as she knew how to build him up.
“Mind you the other guy was in a museum piece from the Korean War,” Phoenix added on, like she was trying to coddle a child.
Well, so much for that.
And in an instant, Hangman’s smile fell from his lips. His expression soured and he looked more like a pouty toddler. Luckily, Coyote was there to defend him.
“Cold War,” Coyote corrected from beside him.
Coyote went back and forth with Phoenix’s friends—Payboy and Fanback or whatever the hell their callsigns were; Hangman didn’t care—but Hangman lost interest quickly. And then the wallflower popped up and he lost interest in the conversation entirely. Hangman placed the pool cue in front of Phoenix, who took it without hesitation, and walked off to the bar.
At least some idiot was dumb enough to leave his phone on the bar, Hangman told himself.
Hangman quickly placed his order and waited patiently for Penny to return with the four beers. He surveyed the bar, trying to decipher if anyone else hanging around was part of the same detachment. Turning to glance at the jukebox, Hangman froze when he heard Phoenix call out.
But not to him.
“Bradshaw? Is that you?”
Hangman stayed where he was, hidden by the crowd, and watched Rooster—or Peacock as Hangman called him behind his back because Rooster tended to ridiculously strut around—walked over to Phoenix.
Well, at least he could get some good old entertainment tonight, Hangman told himself. And he wasn’t talking about Rooster’s horrendous singing.
Hangman couldn’t count the number of fights that he and Phoenix had about Rooster.
It was quite simple. Rooster thought that Hangman wasn’t good enough for Phoenix and that he’d just break her heart. And Hangman knew that he wasn’t good enough for Phoenix, but she ended up breaking his heart. So, clearly Rooster was a psychic with infallible judgement.
Hangman didn’t trust Rooster. He didn’t like Rooster. And he didn’t care who knew it.
Hangman thanked Penny and the old timer for the beers before heading to jukebox. Setting the scene with ‘Slow Ride,’ Hangman sauntered back to the pool table. Coyote took the beers from him and shot Hangman a look that silently communicated his support.
Further emboldened by Rooster’s proximity to Phoenix, it was time to make his entrance.
“Bradshaw, as I live and breathe,” Hangman drawled antagonistically.
Hangman grabbed the pool cue from the wallflower, who looked like he had a better shot at ripping the felt with it than actually hitting the ball. Rooster glanced up at Hangman, well aware of the game that he wanted to play. And Phoenix was shooting silent looks at the both of them to cut it out.
It was hardly their first rodeo. And it probably wouldn’t be their last.
“Hangman, you look . . . good,” Rooster returned calmly.
“Well, I am good, Rooster.”
Hangman lined up his shot and turned to Rooster again before sinking his shot perfectly. Standing up, Jake broadened his shoulders.
“I’m very good.”
Hangman walked down the side of the pool table to take his next shot. He didn’t miss the incredulous look that Rooster and Phoenix shared at his words, however.
“In fact, I’m too good to be true,” Hangman continued on.
“So,” Payboy or Fanback or whoever cut in, “anyone know what this special detachment is all about?”
“No, a mission’s a mission. That don’t confront me,” Hangman answered before anyone else could. He leaned down to take his next shot. “What I want to know is who’s going to be team leader?” Hangman straightened back up after hitting his shot, with a swagger in his step. “And which one of y’all has what it takes . . . to follow me?”
Hangman couldn’t help the smirk there. The reminder to Rooster about which one of them came in first place at TOP GUN. About which one of them was the more decorated flier. About which one of them was undoubtedly going to be selected for team leader.
But then Rooster straightened up, tilted his head back a bit, and stared down Hangman with a smirk of his own.
“Hangman the only place that you’ll lead anybody is an early grave.”
And there it was.
Hangman could hear the other one of Phoenix’s friends—Fanback or whatever; the shorter one—let out a laugh to his left, but that didn’t bother him. He could see Phoenix wince and look at the floor, knowing that she couldn’t defend that line.
It wouldn’t matter anyway. She’d still take Rooster’s side at the end of the day.
Hangman slowly straightened up, wearing a small smirk that barely contained a serious slew of insults from being immediately hurled in Rooster’s direction. He strode around the table and passed by Phoenix on his way over to confront Rooster.
They locked eyes for a second.
His slight frown and locked jaw communicated ‘see? I’m not the asshole, so don’t come yelling at me when your friend gets his ass handed to him.’ She straightened and tilted her chin up, her eyes darting between him and Rooster. Silently warning him off of elevating the confrontation even more.
But, hey, Bradshaw was the one who pressed the button there.
“Hell, anyone who follows you is just going to run out of fuel,” Hangman returned fire, his voice deeper than before. Warning. Threatening. “But that’s just you, ain’t it, Rooster?” He punctuated his point with a tap of the pool cue on the ground. “You’re snug on that perch waiting for just the right moment . . . that never comes.”
Hangman’s smirk widened when Rooster didn’t respond. Because he didn’t have a response. He was conservative with his flying. Rooster knew that. Hangman knew that. Phoenix knew that. And soon everyone else around the pool table would know it too.
“I love this song,” Hangman added with a wide, million-dollar smirk.
And then he peeled away, heading off from the pool table to let his words simmer.
Hangman went to the bar to order himself a shot, because he definitely needed one to get through the rest of the night. Especially if Rooster pulled the fucking plug on the jukebox and started up the goddamn Jerry Lewis routine.
“Relax,” Coyote told Hangman as he set down the empty shot glass. “You won that.”
Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t. But Hangman was quite sure that he didn’t win Phoenix over with that routine. And that was what really mattered to him.
He shot one last glance in Phoenix’s direction, to find that she was already looking at him. They stared each other down for a moment, having a nonverbal conversation, until the ring of the bell pulled Jake’s attention towards the old timer sitting at the bar instead.
Phoenix wasn’t shocked to see that Hangman had been called up for this mission.
She wasn’t shocked when Hangman and Rooster started to argue and poke at each other straight away. She wasn’t shocked when Rooster’s flying aggravated Jake to the point where he went straight for the jugular, as he tended to do when he was that close to losing his own shit.
But now she had to address it before it got even further out of hand.
Phoenix followed after Hangman once Rooster peeled away to be by himself. The rest of the Dagger Squad didn’t seem to know what to do, and Maverick looked the most lost out of all of them. But the one person who seemed to know where he was going was Hangman.
No shocker there either.
Hangman glanced over his shoulder when he heard footsteps behind him. He anticipated Rooster coming to knock him out but stopped in his tracks when he spotted Phoenix. With that look that Hangman knew he was in deep shit.
He didn’t care. Someone needed to say it. So, he pulled the trigger.
Hangman turned around to face Phoenix properly. He folded his arms behind his back, like he was waiting for a firing squad. And he didn’t even have the audacity to look upset about it.
“I can’t even put into words how fucked up that was,” Phoenix started off with.
She stopped a few steps away from him, keeping a safe distance. For whose safety, Jake wasn’t yet sure. Her voice was level, calm, but her eyes told a different story as they glared straight into his soul.
“How did you think that was your place to bring up? Because you and I both know that you would have decked Rooster if he brought your dad up.” Phoenix paused before pointing angrily behind her. “And the fact that you brought up shit about your CO right in front of him, in front of everyone, makes you a very fucking lucky aviator.”
“Nothing that I said back there was a lie,” Hangman replied calmly. “Or an exaggeration. And you know it just as well as I do.”
“That doesn’t make it your place.”
“You’re right, it’s not,” Hangman conceded, shifting his weight on his feet. He tilted his chin up a little bit. “It’s Maverick’s job. But clearly, he wasn’t going to do it.”
“So, naturally, you had to make a spectacle in front of everyone instead of going to Warlock or Cyclone with your concerns,” Phoenix replied, tilting her head to the side. “You and I both know that Cyclone doesn’t trust Maverick. He would have sided with you in a heartbeat.”
“And yet Maverick has survived far greater penalties in his career and kept on flying,” Hangman stated, pursing his lips together. “I read his file.”
“Of course, you did,” Phoenix sighed, looking away from him.
“Look, they’re both drowning in the past. And ordinarily, I wouldn’t give a shit. Their business is their business.” Hangman lowered his arms back to his sides and took a step in Phoenix’s direction, causing her to look over at him. “But now there are eleven other lives on the line. Me and other people that I care about.”
Phoenix and Hangman stared each other down for a few moments, both of them on edge with each other, despite the underlying softness behind their eyes.
“So, excuse me for not wanting to get dragged down with them,” Hangman added on, causing Phoenix to purse her lips into a thin line. “I’m not going to just stand there and let them get all of us killed. Let them get you killed.”
Phoenix looked away for a moment, her jaw locking, before she turned back to Hangman.
“You still owe Rooster and Maverick an apology for that. That crossed a line back there. And that’s not okay either.”
Hangman looked down, shaking his head, and causing Phoenix to frown. She straightened up, preparing for Hangman’s response. He picked up his head and stared her down for a moment.
“Why do you keep defending him?”
“Why do you keep antagonizing him?” Phoenix quickly shot back at Hangman.
“What part of ‘he’s going to get everyone killed’ isn’t enough for you?”
“And you’re not?” Phoenix snapped, anger rising in her chest. “You left me and Bob behind in dogfight training with Maverick. No, you used us as bait.”
“I didn’t mean—"
“—And then with the run today, you let Payback and Fanboy crash into the wall of the canyon because you didn’t listen to them. Because you wouldn’t slow down for them.”
“They didn’t fly fast enough,” Hangman explained, defending himself.
“So, if I don’t fly fast enough, are you going to just let me slam into the wall of the canyon too?” Phoenix demanded, her voice rising in volume.
Hangman’s expression broke. Phoenix remained just as sharp and poised as before. But both of their eyes told a far more emotional story than the words that they actual spoke. The hurt, the betrayal behind Phoenix’s eyes. The pain, the longing, the guilt behind Hangman’s eyes.
“You know that I wouldn’t,” Hangman replied quietly.
“Do I?” Phoenix asked, not looking like she believed him entirely. “Do I know that?”
“Yes, you do,” Hangman insisted stubbornly.
“Then prove it,” Phoenix stated, taking a step forward and tilting her chin up. “Prove it to Maverick. Prove it to Rooster. Prove it to Bob, and Payback, and Fanboy, and every other aviator in that room with us. And when you’ve proved it to all of them . . . then I’ll believe you.”
Phoenix hesitated, looking like she wanted to say something else, before she stepped back.
Shooting him one last scolding look, Phoenix turned and walked back in the direction of the hangar. Probably the direction that Rooster had run off to, if Hangman had to guess.
Hangman cursed under his breath and turned away, running a hand through his hair.
Things were going better.
The dogfight football idea that Maverick came up with actually did a lot to help the team bond. To help Phoenix and Hangman bond again. Hangman had to wonder if Maverick put them on the same team for a reason.
The old man was far more aware than he seemed.
But, of course, as soon as everything was going smoothly, that meant that everything had to go to shit immediately afterwards. The timeline on the mission got moved up and they started to prepare for the second phase of the mission even though no one successfully completed the first phase under the time limit.
And then, of course, shit had to get even worse before it got better again.
No one hit the target and during the last run of the day, the metaphorical rug got ripped out from under Hangman. Twice. Hearing the situation over the radio, Phoenix and Bob’s loud calls and Maverick yelling that he was going after Coyote caused Hangman’s chest to hurt, his heart was pounding so hard.
But then Javy pulled up, startled and shaken, but alive.
And Hangman relaxed into his seat, holding his head in his hands, and letting out a breath of relief.
And then the second call came through the radio.
“Bird strike!”
Only a few seconds had passed since the news broke that Coyote didn’t plummet to his certain death. But now everyone was back on their feet when they heard Bob’s frantic call.
“Left engine’s hit!”
Hangman’s heart immediately leapt straight into his throat.
“Throttling back. Shutting off fuel to left engine,” Phoenix listed off, going through the protocols. “Extinguishing fire.”
“Right engine is out!”
The room was deadly silent as the gathered naval aviators stared at the radio with bated breaths and wide eyes. Hangman stood by himself off to the side, breathing heavily, begging, praying, pleading for confirmation that the protocols worked, and Phoenix and Bob were safe.
“We’re on fire! We’re on fire!”
“No, no, no,” Hangman whispered to himself, shaking his head. “Come on, Tash. You can do this.”
“Extinguishing right engine now!” Phoenix announced over the comms.
Hangman waited, but immediately dropped his head when Phoenix’s harsh curse echoed around the room. The protocols weren’t working. He tugged angrily at the strands of his hair, wishing that there was something that he could do to help her.
“Punch out! Punch out!” Maverick shouted urgently.
“Come on, guys,” Fanboy murmured, holding his hands in front of his lips.
“Eject, just eject,” Hangman urged, pleading with them.
“Both engines out! Hydraulic failure!”
“I can’t control it!”
“We’re going down!”
“Eject! Eject, dammit!” Hangman snapped, banging his fist onto the table.
“Come on, come on,” Rooster murmured, tapping nervously.
“You can’t shake it! Eject! Eject!” Maverick ordered them.
“Eject! Eject! Eject!”
“Come on! Come on!” Hangman demanded, his voice breaking at the end.
The entire room held their breath as they waited for the news. Hangman felt like he wasn’t even in his own body anymore.
Had she made it out in time? Had her parachute deployed? Had she landed on the ground safely? Was she hurt? Was she . . .? No, of course she wasn’t!
“Two parachutes in the air,” Maverick announced over channel. “Search and rescue requested immediately to my coordinates.”
The room took a shaky, half-relieved breath at Maverick’s news. At least Phoenix and Bob made it out of the plane. Hangman squatted down and held his head in his hands, trying to prevent himself from collapsing flat onto the ground. He let out a calming breath before letting his hands drop from his face, though they continued to shake.
“Search and rescue are in route,” came the tower’s reply.
“Jesus Christ,” Rooster whispered out, dropping back into his seat.
Hangman was probably one dropped pen away from a breakdown.
First, Coyote. And then Phoenix. And he couldn’t do a goddamn thing to help either of them.
Coyote was preliminarily cleared, but he was still in the medical bay under observation. He barely spoke when Hangman arrived to see him. He only asked for his phone, so that he could call his wife. And then he gave Jake a look. No, a call to action.
I’m going to call the love of my life. You go check up on yours, Javy’s look told him.
And, well, Jake couldn’t disagree. He was still subtly shaking, to the point where Payback pushed his keys away and offered to drive to the hospital.
The short ride was deafeningly silent. And the only thing that Jake could hear was his heart beating out of his chest. He was well aware that Payback and Fanboy were sharing looks about his reaction in the rec room, but Jake remained focused on the task at hand. He could deal with their bullshit later.
Once he knew that Tasha was alright.
The receptionist informed them that both Bob and Phoenix arrived at the hospital in stable condition and were undergoing routine evaluations. So, the three aviators sat around the waiting room, lost in their own set of thoughts.
Hangman sat hunched with his arms resting on his thighs. He focused entirely on the doors to the wing in front of him.
Ejections were one of those situations that they trained extensively for but hoped and prayed that they’d never have to use that training. And if an aviator went through enough ejections, they would be permanently grounded because of the damage to their body from them.
Ejection did not mean that everyone walked away happy. Ejection just meant that they weren’t in the downed plane.
And he never thought that Phoenix would be in that position.
Hangman checked his watch again, his foot bouncing nervously against the floor. What was taking so long? If these were routine evaluations, why were they taking so long? Did something else happen? Was she injured? What were they worried about? Had she hit her head? Was she conscious?
He shook his head at himself and refocused on the door.
Because Phoenix was fine. She was fine. There was no other option. And certainly not one that Hangman would ever accept.
After what felt like hours but was actually probably only a couple of minutes, a nurse approached the gathered aviators. Hangman was the first on his feet, which didn’t go unnoticed. But then the focus quickly turned to the nurse.
“You’re here for Lieutenants Trace and Floyd?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Lieutenant Floyd has finished up with his examinations. You can see him in Room 242.”
“And Lieutenant Trace?” Hangman questioned immediately afterwards.
“She’s still undergoing her routine examinations. But she’s stable.”
The nurse bid them goodbye and headed back into the wing. Payback and Fanboy stood up to check on Bob, but Hangman sat down in his seat. He immediately resumed his previous position, eyes locked on the doors for any news on Phoenix. Payback and Fanboy shared a look before heading to see Bob.
Now alone, Hangman quickly got caught up in the same loop as before.
What examinations were they doing? Did she actually hit her head? Did they need to do a brain scan or something more intense than motor tests? Was she even conscious? Stable didn’t mean okay. Stable meant that she was alive. It didn’t mean that she was fine, that she was uninjured, or that she was going to be fine in the long run.
He looked up at the sound of the doors opening and got to his feet when he spotted the same nurse.
“You can see Lieutenant Trace now. She’s in Room 256.”
Hangman thanked the nurse before walking down the hallway. He had tunnel vision, ignoring everything else except for the numbers of the door. And nothing else registered in his brain until he spotted the ‘256’ plaque.
Hangman paused outside of the room, taking a moment to gather himself, before walking inside.
Phoenix was propped up on some pillows, looking exhausted and without the usual fire in her veins. There was a bandage on her forehead and a butterfly strip on her chin. A bag of ice was wrapped over her left shoulder, but there was no signs of casts or serious machines hooked up to her.
She was alive. She was okay.
Hangman clenched his jaw involuntarily as he stood at the entrance to her room. She looked so small, so tired, so gut-wrenchingly not like herself that his chest tightened until it hurt at the sight of her lying in her hospital bed.
“What do we have here?” Phoenix drawled jokingly, pulling Hangman out of his worrywart analysis. “If it ain’t Hangman.”
Her eyes were tired, lidded with exhaustion and adrenaline withdrawal. But the small smirk tugging at her lips, that small sign that she was okay, brought him more relief than he’d ever admit aloud. Except maybe to her.
“How are you feeling?” Hangman asked quietly, walking over to sit beside her bed.
“I’ve been better,” Phoenix replied dryly.
“What’re the damages?”
“A few cuts. Namely these two.” She pointed at the bandages on her face. “Didn’t need stitches, thankfully. And they’ll probably be fun stories to tell someday.” Phoenix lowered her hand back to her side as Hangman nodded intently. “Banged the shit out of my shoulder. It’s intact, though, just sore. Probably a thousand other bruises. But I’m expected to make a full recovery.”
“When are they releasing you?”
“Tomorrow morning. This is all just a precaution.”
Phoenix leaned back against her pillow, staring down Hangman for a moment. She seemed to be the one studying him now.
“How’s Bob doing?”
“He’s fine,” Hangman replied, even though he hadn’t checked.
“You didn’t go see Bob, did you?” Phoenix asked him.
But she already knew the answer. When Hangman didn’t reply, and looked more than a little sheepish about it, Phoenix shook her head with a mockingly scolding look.
“Classic Jake.”
They shared an extended look before Phoenix snapped back into the present.
“How’s Javy doing?”
“He’s fine. Cleared by medical. He just wanted to talk to his wife, so I left him to it,” Jake explained, earning a nod from Phoenix.
“That’s good. She’ll calm him down.”
“Yeah, she’s very good at that.”
Jake nodded slowly, staring at Phoenix with literally every ounce of love and affection that his body was capable of producing. And if the tears that he could see forming in her eyes were any indication, she was right there with him.
The last few days had been a bit of a rollercoaster between them—just like their relationship had been. And now, Jake wasn’t really sure where they stood.
But he knew that he loved her. And that was all that really mattered.
Wordlessly, Phoenix lifted her hand and cupped Hangman’s face gently. Her thumb rubbed against his skin, the slightest beginnings of prickly facial hair greeting her touch. And, practically as an ingrained response, Hangman leaned into her touch. Raising his own hand, he held her smaller one against his cheek as they continued to emotionally stare at each other.
“You scared the absolute shit out of me today,” he whispered, voice barely above a whisper.
“I’m sorry,” she returned just as quietly, her voice breaking at the end.
“Don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault,” Hangman returned softly.
He pressed a soft kiss to the palm of her hand, which made the edge of a smile tug at Phoenix’s lips. There was still so much to say. So many things to talk about, to actually address instead of shoving it aside and letting it sit there for months or years.
But right now, they knew that they had each other. And that was what mattered.
“Thanks for visiting me,” Phoenix replied, causing Hangman to nod.
“Well, you visited me when I was in the hospital. So, I guess that we’re even about that now,” Hangman stated, as if he was even bothering to keep score. “And you took care of me after I got out of the hospital, so I think it’s only fair that I offer to give you a shower as well.”
“And there it is,” Phoenix sighed, rolling her eyes at him. But she didn’t tug her hand away from him, so Hangman knew that she was really just amused. “I think that I can handle it.”
“If you insist,” Hangman replied with a shrug, earning a shake of Phoenix’s head.
They shared a light laugh together with their fingers still intertwined together.
Seeing that little bit of life return to her brought more relief to Hangman than he could possibly put into words. And his hand holding hers with his thumb rubbing up and down the back of it gave Phoenix more comfort than she was able to admit in her exhausted state.
They would talk later, they agreed. But right now, they just wanted to sit and enjoy each other’s presence.
After the tide of joy started to wade, all of the aviators that flew in the mission were quickly shuffled below deck for their checkups.
Hangman stood on deck alone, freshly cleared from his physical. But the sound of footsteps caused him to turn away from the ocean to see Phoenix stepping out on deck. Her expression remained neutral as she walked over and took the spot beside him. Hangman took a moment to make sure that she wasn’t in any kind of pain before turning back to the ocean again.
“You know,” Phoenix began, resting her hands on the railing. “Back when you got impaled—”
“—Lightly impaled.”
“Whatever,” Phoenix sighed, shaking her head playfully at him. She turned back to the ocean. “When I was leaving your apartment after that, I really thought that you were going to kiss me.”
Jake stared at her incredulously, though Phoenix declined to meet his stare.
“Did you want me to kiss you?” Jake asked her quietly.
“I didn’t say that. I just said that I thought you would.”
“So, you wanted me to kiss you,” Jake surmised, earning a roll of Phoenix’s eyes.
“Whatever helps you sleep better at night.”
“You do.”
“What?” Phoenix asked, turning back to Jake.
“You help me sleep better at night,” Jake explained to her.
Phoenix’s cheeks warmed despite her best attempts to avoid that. She paused, studying his expression, before turning to face him fully.
“Is that an invitation? Or a statement?”
“I don’t know. Did you want me to kiss you back then or not?” Jake shot back at Phoenix. She shot him an exasperated look in return.
“I’m going to go eat. And that is a statement,” Phoenix replied, turning for the door.
But before she could get too far, Hangman reached out and gently grabbed her arm. He pulled her back to him and turned her around. But he didn’t kiss her. He kept his lips just an inch away to tease her.
It was far from the first power struggle in their relationship, and he doubted that it would be the last.
Phoenix sucked in a breath, but she didn’t push him away. She fisted the front of his flight suit and stared up at Hangman with her lips slightly parted. But she knew that he was still out of reach, even if she stood on her toes.
“All you have to do is ask, darling,” Hangman drawled, his Texas accent ringing through.
“You’re a piece of work, Jake Seresin,” Phoenix replied, not backing down herself.
“A work of art, you mean.”
“Depends on who you ask,” Phoenix shot back at him.
“And what do you think?” Jake asked, his voice lacking that Hangman edge.
And then Phoenix knew that the man holding her in his arms wasn’t Hangman, but simply Jake. And when she softly traced his cheek with her thumb, Jake knew that the woman that he held in his arms wasn’t Phoenix, but simply Tash.
Natasha cupped Jake’s cheeks with her hands and pulled him down to her, and Jake quickly followed through on his own. He held her closer as Natasha wrapped her arm around his shoulders, running her fingers through his hair. But when his hand inched towards her ass, she quickly grabbed his wrist.
“Not when we’re in uniform,” she stated simply.
“But when we’re back on land?” Jake asked cheekily.
“I’ll consider it.”
Jake laughed, shaking his head, before pulling her back into a heated kiss.