Pursued. Catherine Mann

give a new spin to the HOTAS—Hands On Tummy and Sickbag.

      She ran the stick fore and aft, gliding the T-38 through the sky in a porpoise-style swim along the rolling mountain range. Push for a hint of a negative G at the top of the sine wave. Pull for the kiss of a positive G at the bottom of sine wave. Push, pull. Push, pull.

      “Uh, Josie?” Shannon’s thready voice echoed over the headset. “Where’s the eject button again?”

      Crap. She’d gone too far, something she never did anymore. She steadied the stick. “Just a little PIO—pilot induced oscillation. My fault, and nothing to worry about. I’ve got it back under control.”

      Time to get herself under control, as well. She needed to tamp down the old impulsive Josie in favor of her more structured self she’d cultivated after her mother’s breakdown. “We’re on the straight and narrow now. As long as you keep your eyes forward, all will be normal.”

      Unlike looking to the side, where everything blurred with speed.

      She hugged the terrain with skill and calm. No one would ever have reason to accuse her of weakness or emotional instability. She knew how hard she would have to fight even a whisper of that label, since her mother had been locked away after “the incident.” But with this test project, Josie hoped to clear her mother’s name and shake free of that dark legacy.

      “Doing okay back there?” Josie’s gaze flicked up to the mirror again.

      “Just fine,” the ever-prideful Shannon replied, brown eyes wide, makeup still impeccable.

      Pride, Josie could understand. She had her fair share of that. Sad thing was, Shannon really packed a genius brain under all that uptight pettiness. Given the right direction, she could have been an incredible asset to the Athena Academy alumni list—if she’d made it to the twelfth grade instead of being punted out on an honor violation.

      All a moot point since, more important, that genius brain could twist things against Josie in a heartbeat if the intellect wasn’t otherwise occupied. And if her navigational calculations were correct, they were seconds away from a guaranteed distraction.

      Bingo. Right on target, there it was, a nifty distraction for any brain. “Bet you wouldn’t expect to see that out here.”

      “See what?”

      “A nudist colony.” She hoped her words didn’t convey the grin she couldn’t stifle.

      Silence echoed over the headset, then, “You’re making that up to get me to look over to the side where it’s tougher to keep oriented with the motion. You just want to freak me out again.”

      “I’m only playing tour guide.” Oh, yeah, completely in control again. “Not that I have anything against nudist colonies, but I can’t help wondering. Why have one in the desert? I mean think about it. Wouldn’t the sunscreen sting in sensitive places? And sitting on a metal lawn chair, a guy would really have to watch his butt and be careful of his, uh, well, hoo-hah hanging out there.”

      “And this helps me with my story how?” Broadcaster-neutral tones livened up with an extra touch of bitchiness.

      “I’m trying to show you some of the local scenery. But if you don’t think it will work, no problem. Besides, hoo-hah might be too technical a term for your viewers.”

      “You’re so not funny.”

      This whole damned flight wasn’t funny. And the threat Shannon posed to her career was downright terrifying, but Josie had to find moments of levity where she could. “You’re right. I totally understand if you don’t want to look. It’s much easier to keep your lunch down if you’re focusing forward.” Now wasn’t there a nifty life lesson there? “Watching out the side is only for folks with steely nerves.”

      She’d tossed down a gauntlet and Shannon would undoubtedly accept the challenge. Wait. Wait for it…

      “Oh my God.” Shannon’s face went waxy in the mirror. She jerked back around front, gaze fixed on the horizon.

      “Been that long since you saw a hoo-hah, huh?”

      Shannon’s growl echoed through the headset.

      Josie concurred on a number of levels. Sadly, it had likely been even longer for her, since she didn’t have time for a man lately, much less his hoo-hah.

      Not that she would admit that to Shannon.

      The woman resented her, always had. Right from their early teenage years at Athena Academy, Shannon had envied Josie’s connections through her grandfather, past CIA director Joseph Lockworth. Poppy had been directly responsible for starting the prestigious all-girls prep school designed to empower women, many of them going on to government security jobs. With only two hundred students from grades seven through twelve, the bonds forged among students were tight and lifelong.

      She still sweated bullets over how Shannon’s little stunt had almost cost Josie her dream. Luckily, her best friend Tory Patton had worked her own investigative skills and proved Shannon was responsible for stealing the class’s petty-cash fund and setting up Josie.

      Josie’s hands fisted tighter. She should just get over it. Besides, she had the Athena diploma. She could afford to be magnanimous. Adult.

      Easing back the stick, Josie skimmed a more scenic route along California’s desert valleys cut by the ridges of the Sierra Nevadas with the Kern River running through. She cranked an east turn away from the river valley, out of the Sierras back over flat land of dry lake beds and creosote bushes, closer to her Palmdale testing facility near Edwards AFB and closer to dropping off Shannon.

      Josie continued a tour-guide litany while her passenger stayed silent for once. Thank God.

      A road splitting the desert stretched straight and long ahead of her, marred only by the dust kicked up from a motorcycle bearing down toward the test facility. She lined up along the lone band of road, pacing, gaining ground on the rider. And why not? Everything in an aviator’s life was a chance for competition.

      Fringe rippled from the arms of the biker’s leather jacket giving off a Mad Max air that fit well with the scattered miners, desert rats in rusted trailers. Wild and untamed, like the old Josie who was no longer allowed free rein. The taboo element entranced her all the more for being forbidden. Even while she rambled her scenic explanations to Shannon, Josie couldn’t look away from a sight and yearning that held her attention beyond any hoo-hah.

      Her headset crackled with a cleared throat. Shannon’s interruption yanked Josie’s attention back to the cockpit.

      “Too bad you couldn’t get Tory to cover your dog-and-pony show. No doubt she would have televised anything you wanted. That loyalty among classmates is something else. You two even covered for a pregnant friend once—what happened to Kayla and her kid anyway? Did she ever find a man to marry her?”

      Okay, that ripped it. The old Josie still humming just below the surface kicked her adrenaline level up into a freaking aria. “For a smart woman, you sure do say some mighty unwise things at times.”

      She could put up with someone smacking at her. But her innate sense of justice, which had once earned her the label “Josephine, the Tattletale Queen,” really balked at letting an injustice go unavenged.

      Nobody messed with her friends.

      “You know, Shannon, I don’t think I’m lined up just right. We need to go around.” She clicked on the radio. “Palmdale Tower, Bat two-zero on the go.”

      Josie popped the jet into afterburners, dumping raw gas into the exhaust stream like a pilot light on a stove igniting, pumping up the speed. Thwump. The plane jolted from the swift kick in the ass. Exhilaration trilled within her like the final high note exploding free to reverberate through an auditorium.

      Her eyes flicked to the mirror. Shannon’s face had turned cucumber.

      “Ah, hell, Shannon—” she couldn’t quite suppress the sarcasm “—I