The Rotorhead: Career Soldier: West Point Tour of Duty, #2

By Tawdra Kandle

Duty. Honor. Country. 

Love. Romance. Passion.

Addison

The last thing I wanted was to move back in with my father, the hard-ass who raised me in the same strict military style that he ran every platoon, company and battalion he led. But thanks to some of my, uh, 'life choices', I'm living with my dad at West Point--and everyone knows me as the commandant's wild daughter. I hate it.

Until I meet him one night at a party off-post. Sure, he's a little too straight and serious for me, but still . . . he might be the one addiction that I can't quit.

Sawyer

I'm an Army helicopter pilot. It's my life, my dream and everything I ever wanted. Being stationed at West Point is fine for now, but I see it as a stepping stone for my next big move. When the commandant asks me to keep my eye on his out-of-control daughter, I agree to do it. I'll do anything to keep advancing my career.

Until I meet her. Running into her at that party isn't as random as she thinks, but pretty soon, I find it hard to remember the real reason I'm spending time with her . . . I just know I can't stop.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tawdra Kandle
• Release date: Apr 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393962250

Tawdra Kandle

Tawdra Kandle writes romance, in just about all its forms. She loves unlikely pairings, strong women, sexy guys, hot love scenes and just enough conflict to make it interesting. Her books run from YA paranormal romance through NA paranormal and contemporary romance to adult contemporary and paramystery romance. She lives in central Florida with a husband, kids, sweet pup and too many cats. And yeah, she rocks purple hair.

Book preview

Prologue

Addison, you have to let me go. 

My fingers were curled into my mother’s shirt, and I wasn’t about to release them—or her. She’d knelt in front of me to smooth back my hair and wipe tears from my cheeks, but she hadn’t given me any reason to stop sobbing. 

Mama, no. Please. I buried my face in her cotton shirt, reasoning that if I got closer, she couldn’t stand up, and if she couldn’t stand up, she couldn’t walk, and if she couldn’t walk, she couldn’t go out the door that was already standing ajar, torturing me. 

Addison. Mama gripped my shoulders and eased me back. When I dared to look up into her dark brown eyes, so much like my own, I saw that she was crying, too. Honey, remember what I told you. I’m not going away forever—I just need to find a place for us to live. I have to get a job, baby, so we can pay rent and eat. She offered me a tremulous smile. You like to eat, don’t you? Well, I want to make sure I can afford to get you all the Fettucine and olives that you like. 

My entire small body shuddered. I don’t care about that. I’ll eat . . . I’ll eat peanut butter sandwiches. And I don’t care if we have to live in the car. 

But I do care, sweetheart. And what about your daddy? Mama tugged a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. He’s going to be home from TDY next week, and if you’re not here to greet him, he’s going to be so sad. 

He’s going to be sad anyway because you’re not going to be here! I wailed. "And I don’t want to stay here with Mrs. Kaplan. I want to go with you. Please, Mama. Please." 

For a tantalizing moment, I thought she might give in. A glimmer of hope kindled in my heart, and I thought I’d managed to change her mind. But then she shook her head again. 

Addy, I love you. I love you more than anyone or anything else in the world. That’s why I’m going now, because I need to make a life that is happy and peaceful for us both. For all of us, and that includes your daddy. I know it’s hard for you to understand now, but one day, you will. She bent to kiss my cheek. This is what’s going to happen: I’m going to San Francisco so I can find us a new home. Mrs. Kaplan is going to stay here with you until Daddy gets home. And then after you and Daddy have some time together, I’ll come back and get you. Or Daddy will bring you to me . . . we’ll have to see how all the details work out. 

I hate San Francisco, I wept. 

Baby, you’ve never been to San Francisco, my mother laughed softly. You don’t know. But you’re going to love it. The city is so beautiful, and the food is amazing, and the museums and the cable cars and . . . oh, you’ll have your cousins, too. All of my family. And guess what—you’ll be able to stay in one school and not have to move every two years. You can make friends and keep them. We’re going to have so much fun. 

Why can’t Daddy come, too? My six-year-old brain was caught on that point. All I had ever known was the three of us as a unit. If Mama wanted to live in San Francisco, I couldn’t see any reason why Daddy couldn’t live there, too. 

Sweetie, we’ve talked about this. Daddy is in the Army. He doesn’t have any choice right now—he has to go where they send him. But don’t worry—you’ll still get to see him. You can go visit at Christmas and maybe Easter, and for a couple of weeks on summer break . . . 

No. I shook my head stubbornly. "I want you to be with Daddy, too. All of us together. We’re a family." 

I’m sorry, Addison. The note of finality in my mother’s voice was bleak. It can’t be that way anymore. 

Why can’t you wait until Daddy comes home? If you talk to him, maybe he’ll quit the Army, and then we can all go together, and you can be happy again. We can all be happy again.

Baby, if I wait for Daddy to come home— Mama’s voice broke. I have to go now or I never will. 

I vote for never, I cried. 

I understand that, but you don’t want me to be miserable, do you, Addison? Don’t you want me to be happy? 

The answer on the tip of my tongue was that I didn’t care. Even at six, something inside me realized that my mother’s happiness was not my responsibility—not that I would have known how to phrase it that way. 

What I did know was that in all of the stories we read and in the families on television, no one asked the kid to make sure the mom or dad was happy. 

"I want me to be happy, I replied stubbornly. And I won’t ever be happy again if you leave. I won’t ever be happy if I have to live away from Daddy, either. And then I pulled out the ultimate in any child’s repertoire of emotional weapons. If you loved me, you wouldn’t do this. If you loved me, you would stay."

Mama’s swift intake of breath told me that I’d hit a nerve. I know you don’t mean that, Addison. I know that you love me, and I know you’re hurting. Someday, you’ll see that this was my only choice. 

I turned my back to her and crossed my arms, my lower lip sticking out. 

Taking advantage of my momentary preoccupation, my mother picked up her bag, looped the long strap of her purse over her head, and took one step backward. 

I love you, Addy. Be a good girl for Mrs. Kaplan, and I’ll talk to you when I can. I’ll see you not long after Daddy comes back. I promise. 

Before I could launch a new protest, she was gone, slipping through that opened door and vanishing into the night. 

Even as I threw myself onto the floor and wept, I thought she’d keep her promise. Mama hadn’t ever broken her word to me . . . not, that is, until she left me, alone and crying. 

But it would be over twenty years before I saw my mother again.

1

Sawyer

Come in, Captain Flint. Thank you for stopping by. 

I stepped through the doorway of General Coleman’s study, pausing to take in my surroundings before moving any further. The room was filled with heavy, dark-wood furniture, and the walls were covered with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. The man who sat at the massive desk in the center of it all seemed to fit as though he’d been made for that setting; his crew-cut hair was graying, his eyes sharp, his jaw square and his lips tight. Although he wasn’t in uniform, the clothes he was wearing almost were the same thing: the collared shirt was crisp and buttoned up to the top. 

No problem, sir. I stood erect and still a couple of feet from the edge of his desk. I hope everything is all right? 

It was a rhetorical question because when a brigadier general who happens to be the second in command at the United States Military Academy calls a captain to his home for something that is clearly not a social occasion, chances are it isn’t to offer praise or to shoot the breeze. 

The general didn’t answer me right away. Instead, he gestured to the chair at my left. Have a seat, Captain. Please. 

Yes, sir. I perched on the edge, twisting my BDU cap between my hands, my spine straight and nowhere near the back of the chair. I was quiet, waiting to see what General Coleman said next. 

Flint, did you know I have a daughter? 

The statement was so out of left field that I frowned. Uh . . . I mean, no. I didn’t know you had a daughter, sir. What I added to myself was that I’d never really thought about the Comm having a family. I was vaguely aware that he wasn’t married. That wasn’t important to me, because whether the general lived alone or had a harem in his basement didn’t affect my job, which sometimes involved flying the helicopter that moved the good general from one place to another. 

I do. He picked up a slim gold pen from the blotter on his desk. Her name is Addison, and she’s twenty-seven years old. She’s never lived with me here at West Point because she moved out when she went to college nine years ago. Unfortunately, circumstances are such that she’s been forced to come back home. 

I see. I didn’t, not at all. But I figured the general would either explain more or tell me why all of this mattered to me in his own good time. 

Addison has made what I could call poor choices. His jaw worked. She’s been involved with the wrong groups of people, and she’s abused alcohol . . . maybe drugs, too. I don’t know. 

General Coleman sounded defeated and hopeless, and although I considered myself one of the least empathetic people in the world, I felt for the guy. He had a solid, stellar reputation in the Army. He was respected and liked, and that was rarer than it should’ve been. He didn’t deserve this kind of heartbreak. 

I’m sorry, sir. I hoped he could hear the sincerity in my voice. Really. That’s a rough road. 

It is. He cleared his throat. I didn’t call you here for sympathy, Flint. Addison has been forced back home because she didn’t have any other choice. Consequently, I don’t expect her to adjust easily. I’m certain that she will continue to, ah, act out. It’s possible things could get worse for her here, because she’s angry and ashamed, and she doesn’t want to admit to either of those emotions. 

All right. I was cautious because a glint of understanding was beginning to dawn on me. 

Last month, I threw a dinner party to welcome Addison to West Point. I’d hoped that she would see it as the olive branch it was and behave gracefully. Unfortunately, that wasn’t what happened. She was rude, and she was outrageous, and she drank to excess. He sighed heavily. I’ve spent many a sleepless night and long restless days thinking about her, Flint. I’ve hoped she would settle in. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to make this work. 

Sir, maybe a doctor or a therapist or . . . I don’t know, a minister? I’m not a professional by any means, but with all due respect, it sounds to me as though your daughter needs more help than you can give her. 

You’re not wrong. The general nodded. But I can’t force her to seek help. I can only suggest it, encourage it, and hope she will . . . eventually. But in the meantime, I need to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself, hurt others or do something that will destroy the career I’ve worked so hard to build. 

Of course. I nodded. 

That’s where you come in. General Coleman steepled his fingers. Flint, you’re ambitious, aren’t you? 

I was taken aback by the words, and my brows furrowed. Sir? 

It’s not a criticism, Flint. It’s not a bad thing to be ambitious. You have aspirations. There’s no crime there. This is the Army, and a man or woman who doesn’t have a plan isn’t going to get very far.

Yes, sir. I squared my shoulders. I have a plan. I want to make general in thirty. I want to get five stars before I retire. 

The general cocked his head. Impressive. Well, as much as I’d like to say you can get there with your own hard work and smarts, the truth is that having someone in your corner can be a great advantage. He shifted and leaned forward slightly. I could be that man in your corner, Flint. I could help you open doors. I could talk to people. Make sure that some opportunities come your way. 

That would be . . . of course, I’d appreciate anything you can do, sir. That’s very generous. I knew what was coming next. My mouth was dry, and a dull headache began to pound behind my ear. 

Not generous, Flint, because you know that nothing in this life is free. This is what I need from you, in return for my, ah . . . goodwill. He exhaled long through his nose. "I want you to keep your eye on my daughter. I expect you to