Sinister Skies

By Madelon Smid

Nik Tan can't refuse Gita O'Shaugnessey's request to find the missing granddaughter she's never met—especially since her foundation is his security company's biggest client. He never expects his quarry to be a highly acclaimed helicopter pilot who will become vital to his existence.

Halley is satisfied with performing daring rescues for the Coast Guard. She rejects the SEAL representing the rich woman whose son destroyed her mother and avoids Nik as much as possible. When Halley's helo is sabotaged, she is saddled with the silent warrior as both bodyguard and copilot. Their mutual attraction is unexpected, but will her fears cause her to lose both love and her life?

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Apr 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781509225613

Madelon Smid

Madelon Smid is nature's child and happiest when she's kayaking a river or skiing down a mountain. Her characters share her love of adventure, risk and living fully. An avid reader, she discovered the romance novel at fourteen, then found writing them even more satisfying and sold her first romance in 1991. She parted ways with her first love - romance, to build a successful career as a nonfiction writer, co-authoring the Canadian Best Sellers Smart Women and Smart Women Get Smarter. The desire to spin fantasy into gold for her readers drew her back. She lives with her husband by a lake in Saskatchewan, where she writes about the strength and passion women and men demonstrate when they conquer the trials of life and love.

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Nik’s mouth curled in a rare smile as the little juggernaut drove off, a mixture of defiance and victory shading her features. She wasn’t at all what he’d expected. Her delicate bone structure and crystalline eyes were genetic markers from Gita. The red-gold hair that formed a froth of curls was a definite sign of her father, Erik. Nik gave her credit for the steady gaze and firm approach, but all the rest was a surprise—one that had thrown him off-balance. Rage shot like silver lasers from the uniquely colored eyes, and her plush bottom lip had twisted in derision when he’d brought up her grandmother. She looked like he’d dumped a mutilated body at her feet. Yet the minute she’d climbed in the helo, she had extended him every courtesy as a professional.

He couldn’t fault her attitude. Even when he followed her afterward, almost harassing her, she’d stayed locked down, thinking on her feet, changing from one plan to the next as she moved.

He’d underestimated her. Like a line of gunpowder touched by a match, excitement fired his blood, lighting the dark gloom that had filled him since his last mission. He welcomed the bright explosion, the brief stimulation, grateful for anything that could penetrate the heavy weight of guilt and sorrow, regret, and pain that filled every cell in his body.

Praise for Madelon Smid

"[FATAL FLIGHT] hooks you from page one and keeps you fascinated until the last page."

~C.B. Clark, author of Broken Trust

~*~

"[CLIMBING HIGH is] an amazing story, carefully crafted for her suspense, intrigue, romance, action, adventure, erotica. Rich language and details bring the characters to life. I love language and marked many notable phrases to ponder."

~Reviewer, Audio Books

~*~

Ms. Smid delivers an edge of the seat read by bringing the authenticity of the flying world to the page of her latest suspense novel.

~Stanalei Fletcher, author of Tell It Like It Is

~*~

"HIGH GROUND is a gripping read featuring characters at the height of their careers, who need each other more than they know."

~Clare O'Beara, Fresh Fiction Reviews

Sinister Skies

by

Madelon Smid

Sisters in Peril Trilogy, Book 3

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Sinister Skies

COPYRIGHT © 2019 by Madelon A. Smid

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover Art by Debbie Taylor

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Crimson Rose Edition, 2019

Print ISBN 978-1-5092-2560-6

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-2561-3

Sisters in Peril Trilogy, Book 3

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

Dedicated to my granddaughters

Piper, Tatyana, Natalya and Sarah,

knowing they have the strength, intelligence,

courage and love to make their dreams come true

and, like Halley, put good into the world

Prologue

Soundless, his movement fluid as water flowing over rock, Nicholas Tan stepped into the luxurious office. He waited just inside the door, his gaze fixed on the tiny woman behind the desk. If necessary, he could have stood motionless for hours. Brigitta O’Shaughnessy, founder of the O’Shaughnessy Foundation for which his firm held the security contract, didn’t require it.

With a wave of her hand she rose. Take a seat, Nik.

He glided toward one of the comfortable leather wingbacks in front of her desk, waiting until she’d settled in the other before sitting.

Several minutes ticked by in silence. She wasn’t testing his patience. He’d met with the woman many times over the past eight months and she didn’t play games. Her hesitation, judging by the clouded look in her eyes, was based on an internal struggle.

Finally, she clasped her blue-veined hands in the lap of her couturier suit and looked at him. I want you to find my granddaughter.

Years of training kept him from expressing his surprise, even as the next beat of his heart tripped over the previous one. Though the task was well within his capabilities, as he had led many covert missions on enemy territory, rescuing hostages, capturing enemies of the state, or gaining intel for the government, it certainly wasn’t in his job description as head of the foundation’s security team. He waited.

His client, an astute woman, had learned some things about him from their other meetings, so she didn’t expect a response. Eighteen months ago, I went through my son’s paperwork, as part of settling his estate. I came across documentation that proved I had three granddaughters, all by different mothers. It seems Erik impregnated the women and moved on, ignoring his responsibilities as a father to three girls. You’ve met my oldest granddaughter, Sky, who my godson Adam found and married. Ari, a year younger, was located last year by Damien Sharpe, the head of my legal team. They, too, are married. The third, and youngest, was named Erika O’Shaughnessey. I want you to find her. The birth certificate I discovered was registered from a hospital in Maryville, Tennessee, near the Great Smoky Mountain National Park. I can only imagine he was in that area chasing one of the extreme adventures that eventually took his life. Your starting point is there.

With all due respect, ma’am, isn’t this outside my job description? I provide the most up-to-date security, hire and manage your security staff and bodyguards, and train said personnel in all areas of personal protection. I don’t see looking for lost people in there anywhere. A private detective could chase down this information for a quarter of the fee you’d pay me. He eyed her steadily, knowing nothing in his demeanor gave away his distaste for the assignment—particularly with the addendum they are married now tacked on.

Nik, you’re an indispensable part of my inner circle, please call me Gita, as I have asked.

He knew nuance and she wasn’t flattering him. She stated what she considered indisputable fact. A sliver of warmth brightened the dark chambers of his heart. Like a tiny spark the light flickered, then died.

Your contract also states you will head up such task forces as I deem necessary for the safety of members of the foundation. She mounted her attack. Somewhere out there I have a granddaughter carrying the O’Shaughnessey name. She might become the target of anyone with a grievance against me, or a kidnapper hoping to extract money from me. I believe that qualifies. Her voice crisp, her tiny chin pointed at him, and her ice-blue eyes gleaming like crystals, she fired back.

I’ll look for her as soon as I’ve finished training the new set of bodyguards and supervised the update on the security system to your estate later this month. The distractions would gain him time to avoid the job, period.

A small smile tilted the corners of her mouth. Nice try, Nik. I know you’ve already assigned Bronsen the training duties, and the estate’s updates will be finished this week. You shouldn’t be so efficient. It encourages me to find you extra work.

In silence he gave her points for preparation and strategy. The merest twitch of his lips acknowledged she’d outmaneuvered him.

I want Erika with me by Christmas, and I know you can make it happen.

I’ll deliver your granddaughter, but I sure as hell won’t marry her. He rose, gave her a nod, and left the room as soundlessly as he’d entered. His last look at his employer’s face floated an iceberg into his bloodstream. He didn’t like the quiet satisfaction in her smile.

Chapter One

Halley!

Halley Murphy slanted a quick look over her shoulder and double-timed it to the helipad. The guy had been in the office while she was reading her orders. She’d eavesdropped unashamedly while her commander pointed her out and cleared him onto the field of the Coast Guard air facility, so the stranger could chase her down. Halley jerked open the door of the helicopter and threw her flight jacket and helmet onto the right seat. Carrying her clipboard, she checked off items on her pre-flight inspection sheet as she walked around the twin-engine, medium-range helicopter she would fly on this mission.

Halley Murphy. Again the man spoke her name, this time from just behind her.

She chatted with the young recruit who required her signature on the paperwork showing the amount of aviation fuel that had been loaded and ignored the stranger again.

Rude behavior, sure, but something about the guy just rode her wrong. He’d been around the previous day, when most civilians celebrated the fourth of July. It was one of the San Diego-based Coast Guard’s busiest days as families rented pleasure crafts they didn’t have the experience to operate, loaded their picnics, and headed out to sea. Since the inception of the firework display in the harbor at dark, the number of rescues accelerated, as boaters broke all the rules, staying so they could watch the display, then making their way back to port without proper running lights or understanding of right-of-ways.

She and her crew of rescue divers had put in overtime lifting people off sinking sailboats and cruisers that had collided in the dark. And the stranger had followed her every move between flights, waiting for a chance at her. She didn’t know what he wanted, but she sure knew she didn’t want to give him anything. A frisson of alarm had run up her spine every time she felt his gaze on her.

She’d noticed him the minute she’d walked into the flight center this morning, feeling his sloe eyes track her progress—eyes so dark, bright stars sparked from the midnight depths. His slender body wasn’t above five feet ten inches in height, but every inch was honed muscle over long tensile bones. He had the silent, watchfulness of the great cats, motionless as they stalked their prey. And, for some reason, she was his game of choice today. When his hand settled on her shoulder, she could no longer ignore him. Imagining the pleasure of hurling him onto his back with a judo throw, she gave a resigned sigh and swiveled. Hands off, she commanded. The low hiss in her voice went well with the narrow-eyed glare she turned on him.

Ah, the eyes, I wondered…but from a distance wasn’t sure. He didn’t explain further, just stood. His stillness held a lethal quality.

What about my eyes, buster? She straightened all five feet two inches into an on-guard position.

They’re just like your grandmother’s. She’ll be delighted to see them, and you.

The lack of inflection in his voice, the calm of his facial features, left her guessing at his reaction. He reminded her of a ninja warrior, all smoke and mirrors, there one second, dissipating in a swirl of air the next. She shook her head at her rampant imagination. His carriage said military. His clothes said civilian, and his eyes and build said Filipino/Caucasian mix. Again she snapped out of her musings and responded.

If you’re talking about the grand dame of San Francisco, Brigitta O’Shaughnessy, then she’s fresh out of luck in the delight department. She won’t be seeing my eyes, ever. She stabbed the words at him, letting loose her murderous feelings on the subject in front of a stranger. Get yourself under control, Halley. Don’t let this guy see how you feel.

Not a muscle of his face changed at her display of hostility. Let’s talk about that. His voice was devoid of judgment or invitation.

Let’s not.

I just need a few minutes of your time. I think you can afford me the consideration. He followed her step-by-step as she continued her inspection.

Nope. Gotta run.

He peeled off from her and headed back to the flight center.

Well, that had been easier than expected. She aimed a triumphant smile at his back, and moved around the aircraft, checking the tail boom, vertical stabilizer, and gearbox, before rotating the rotor and its pitch control assembly. Any problems with the pitch would keep her from steering the helo.

Her copilot, plus the three seamen who made up the rest of her crew, showed up in their flight suits and strapped on their helmets as they waited for her order to load. With a final flick at the nose of the craft—her good luck charm since her training days—she jerked her head and they leapt into the helo, taking their positions for the search-and-rescue exercise they would conduct that morning.

Halley settled in the right seat and slid on her helmet, plugging it into the ICS—the inter-cabin communication system. She commenced with the cockpit pre-flight checklist with her copilot and when that was complete, she had him request clearance for takeoff from the air traffic control tower.

The controller’s voice sounded in her headphones. CG603, hold your position.

She checked her instrument panel as she waited. What caused the holdup? Motion in her peripheral vision made her look toward the flight center. Rear Admiral Lewis strode across the tarmac, her nemesis moving like wind through grass beside him. She pictured the stranger in the jungles of Central America, sliding through the shadows. Damn! He wore a flight suit and carried a helmet.

Halley leapt from her helo and stood at attention as the base commander stopped in front of her. Lieutenant Commander, this is Chief Nicholas Tan (retired). He will join this exercise. He is current on type and will fly left seat. Please accommodate him. Lieutenant Edwards, stand down.

Sir. She snapped a salute, swiveled on her heel as he turned away, and snarled, Mr. Tan, please come aboard. Hopefully, putting emphasis on his nonmilitary status would slap him down a peg.

He slipped around the helo, waited while the lieutenant vacated the copilot’s seat, and slid in beside her, donning the borrowed helmet that dangled from his fingers and a pair of flight gloves. As the scent of lime and a faint hint of chlorine wafted toward her, she evaluated his weight. The change of men didn’t even mess with her load, a factor in the upcoming exercise, as Tan was about the same size as Edwards. The commander thought of everything. Halley didn’t let her anger at Tan’s manipulation interfere with her job. She was the ultimate professional in every detail of flying for the Coast Guard. Her call sign, Comet, rode the front of her helmet. She took more pride in wearing the moniker given her by the men she’d trained with than in any other aspect of her life. She was born to fly, went after her wings with a commitment close to obsession, and spent every hour she could get in the air.

Mr. Tan, please man the radio. I have the stick. She waited while he received permission for takeoff and then rolled out onto the landing strip. By using its length to pick up speed, she saved on both fuel and strain on the aircraft. She lifted the seventeen-million-dollar helicopter with the care a mother raises her baby from the bath.

Turning west, she gained altitude, and flying along the edge of the base, zoomed out over the Pacific. They were cruising just short of the helo’s top speed of one hundred seventy-five knots in record time. She checked her crew’s positions and readiness with three brief scans. Tan’s voice slid into her head through her earphones.

The commander said you’d explain the parameters of your exercise once we were underway.

The even expressionless tone set her nerves twitching. Was he incapable of a human reaction on his face, in his voice—or even of fisting his hand?

Our target is the SSS Stanley, one hundred and twenty-five nautical miles offshore, where we will hover for forty minutes, before returning at a speed of one hundred seventy-five knots per hour. The rescue swimmers will be lowered to the deck, and go through an emergency first aid exercise before loading four dummy passengers. This will test the helo for speed, fuel capacity, load, et cetera, just short of its maximum limitations. We don’t push the limits to the extreme unless it’s a real rescue. The focus is on the crew’s performance. We get them there and back and expedite loading and unloading.

Thank you. I realize you are now working with an unknown quantity in me since the commander suggested I ride left seat.

Comet didn’t make the mistake of doubting his ability. If the commander had cleared him, he was qualified. Have you done this type of exercise before, in a copilot capacity?

No, I have always exited at the scene, but have trained for all positions. I am confident I can follow your orders.

His acceptance of her authority took some of the starch out of her spine. Take over as navigator.

He checked the computer screen on the instrument panel and the glowing numbers on the compass. Longitude and latitude on course and on time, he clipped out.

You’re a SEAL. Given his abilities, lethal persona, and total control during the minute he’d taken to confirm her numbers, it was a no-brainer.

Private security now.

She mulled over the information as she flew a straight fast course to the Stanley. The exercise went as she expected under her guidance. Following the directions of the flight mechanic, the two rescue swimmers were lowered by winch onto the Stanley’s deck. The conveniently placed destroyer was returning from a tour off the shore of Guam. The captain allowed the men aboard and monitored his crew’s part in the rescue exercise. It took the allotted forty-five minutes scheduled. They hovered off the starboard side, so the wash from the rotors wouldn’t affect the ship.

In the right seat, Tan handled communications with ship, shore, and the flight mechanic.

Comet remained quiet, letting him do the job, as she listened over the com. With their load and team back on board she turned for the base, increasing the helo’s speed.

You have the stick. The command put Tan in charge of the helo.

I have the stick, he repeated.

She felt his firm touch on the controls, even as she released them. His confident handling of the machine and his light touch on the rudders kept them on a steady course, so she pulled up the tablet on her kneeboard and typed up her evaluations on the men’s performance, sending them to headquarters via the computer. Should I report on Tan’s performance? No, I have no idea why he’s aboard and he performed at the highest level, even anticipating my orders several times.

Irked by his competence, she tightened her lips. The antagonism firing her mind sent an uncomfortable wash of heat through her body. The sensation was unique, in that she’d never felt this weird before. Wait up. Maybe it’s just my feelings for Mrs. O’Shaughnessey rubbing off on her emissary. That’s it. Don’t shoot the messenger. That explains my irrational reaction. Her sense of fairness kept her from returning his sneak play of using his pull with the commander. I have the stick.

You have the stick. The pressure came off as he handed back the controls.

She thanked him for his assistance as they walked in a group toward the flight center, letting the boisterous enthusiasm of the other men on the team drown out any need for further conversation. Inside the building, she headed for the office to file her report.

Tan dogged her heels.

Excuse me. She stopped in front of the door for the women’s washroom. Hoping he’d go empty his bladder too, she ducked inside and counted to three. When she inched the door open he was standing in the hallway a few feet down, his shoulder propped against the wall, his slender length appearing boneless. With a silent damn at his intransigent attitude, she eased the door shut and actually did relieve herself—of one problem anyway. Then, exiting with a brisk pace, she headed for the flight center and delivered her verbal report.

Tan hovered outside.

After de-briefing with the captain, her commanding officer, she moved into the main office, and quick as a whip, out the second door on the other side, into a narrow hallway, that led to a fire door. Tan was fast, but she was faster, cruising by him in her red hatchback just as he cleared the building.

He stood, hands on hips, following her vehicle with his searchlight gaze until she turned the corner.

****

Nik’s mouth curled in a rare smile as the little juggernaut drove off, a mixture of defiance and victory shading her features. She wasn’t at all what he’d expected. Her delicate bone structure and crystalline eyes were genetic markers from Gita. The red-gold hair that formed a froth of curls was a definite sign of her father, Erik. Nik gave her credit for the steady gaze and firm approach, but all the rest was a surprise—one that had thrown him off-balance. Rage shot like silver lasers from the uniquely colored eyes, and her plush bottom lip had twisted in derision when he’d brought up her grandmother. She looked like he’d dumped a mutilated body at her feet. Yet the minute he’d climbed in the helo, she had extended him every courtesy as a professional.

He couldn’t fault her attitude. Even when he followed her afterward, almost harassing her, she’d stayed locked down, thinking on her feet, changing from one plan to the next as she moved.

He’d underestimated her. Like a line of gunpowder touched by a match, excitement fired his blood, lighting the dark gloom that had filled him since his last mission. He welcomed the bright explosion, the brief stimulation, grateful for anything that could penetrate the heavy combination of guilt, sorrow, regret, and pain that filled every cell in his body.

Instead of heading out after her, he went back into the flight office and chatted up some of the on-call crewmen sitting in the lounge. A chance remark about his flight with Halley elicited a crater full of information.

One of the pilots explained with pride rather than envy that her moniker was pinned on her early in their training. A comet is so rare. A man might only see one in a lifetime. And Comet is that good. She’s fast, brilliant, fierce, and deadly when she’s in the sky.