Flight Risk

By L. A. Witt

Fighter pilot Bennett "Roid-Rage" McKinney has had a crush on one of his squadron mates, Aaron "Tex" Austin, for ages. The snarly RIO is sexy, sarcastic, gay… everything Bennett wants in a man.

 

When Tex has a rare night off from the chronic pain caused by an ejection a few years ago, he reaches for the nearest warm body… which just so happens to be Bennett's.

 

After a hot night, though, Bennett wakes up alone. Tex starts sending him mixed messages—one minute he wants him, the next he's cold-shouldering him. Bennett isn't interested in playing games, not even with the man he's been lusting after. One night stands are fine, but he's not getting involved with someone who might disappear at the drop of a hat.

 

But as the men try to resist each other, he realizes he's not the only one who's afraid of getting involved with a flight risk…

 

This 20,000 word novella was previously published as part of the Unconditional Surrender Military Collection.

• Language: English
• Publisher: GallagherWitt
• Release date: Nov 27, 2022
• ISBN: 9780996183635

L. A. Witt

L.A. Witt is the author of Back Piece. She is a M/M romance writer who has finally been released from the purgatorial corn maze of Omaha, Nebraska, and now spends her time on the southwestern coast of Spain. In between wondering how she didn’t lose her mind in Omaha, she explores the country with her husband, several clairvoyant hamsters, and an ever-growing herd of rabid plot bunnies.

Book preview

Chapter 1

None of us had a clue what the club was actually called. It was one of those little shithole bars near Torii Station, the Army base on Okinawa, and the name on the faded sign was in Japanese. The place had been here for decades, and somewhere along the line, somebody had dubbed it The Shack. The name fit. It was rundown—some World War II era building whose original purpose was long forgotten, converted into a bar that made a half-assed attempt at looking like a Tiki bar. We were all pretty sure the long-faded string of Corona lights and the brown grass trim was more to hold the place together than add any kind of ambiance.

But for whatever reason, this was where my squadron liked to hang out, and though I had other plans later tonight, I decided to join them for once. After all, the crowd at Palace Habu—the best gay bar on the island—didn’t get interesting until 2300 or so. This early in the evening, it’d be boring as fuck.

So, I had a taxi let me off outside the ramshackle bar, and walked inside.

Hey! Roid-Rage! Lieutenant Commander Vincent, aka Juggernaut, slapped my shoulder as soon as I stepped through the door. Thought you said you weren’t coming, man.

I shrugged. Wasn’t anything good on TV. Decided to come hang with you assholes for a while.

Juggernaut chuckled. Glad to have you too, jackass. C’mon. First round’s on me.

I like the sound of that. I let myself be herded toward the bar where the rest of the squadron was already polishing off a round. Probably their third or fourth by now. They’d all planned to meet here at 1930, and that was an hour ago.

At the bar, Juggernaut shoved a beer into my hands. At least it wasn’t the Orion shit they served at all the other off-base bars. Bad beer beat no beer, but thank God that for as shitty as this joint was, it that wasn’t an issue. Especially since I needed a little alcohol in my system before I moved on to Palace Habu.

I joined the guys at their table. As I did, my RIO, Derek Bear Ass Morales, turned around and damn near unloaded half his beer down the front of my shirt. Holy shit. You actually showed up. He grinned. Or you just pre-gaming again?

I smirked and lifted my glass. Getting some cheap beer before I start chasing cheap ass.

Goddammit, man. I do not need to know where you’re putting your dick. He wrinkled his nose and downed the rest of his beer.

I just laughed, and then took another drink. Truth was, I didn’t like drinking at the club where I intended to spend some time this evening. The beer was over-priced as fuck, and most of what they had on tap was shit. This place may have been a rundown shack, but at least they had decent beer for the equivalent of a few bucks.

Well, holy hell, Morales said. The whole fucking squadron’s here for once. He nodded past me. Even Tex showed up.

Tex is here? I turned around, and my heart skipped. Maybe I was just in the mood to get laid tonight, but one look at Lieutenant Commander Austin was enough to send a portion of my blood supply below my belt.

Most guys didn’t make me trip over my own feet like that. I could keep my head together and my tongue untied even while I was flirting my way into a hot man’s bed. But Tex? Goddammit, he was hot. Even in civvies. Some of these guys on the squadron were only fuckable because they rocked the hell out of their flight suits, but anybody looked good in a flight suit. Tex looked good in anything.

It didn’t help that I knew he was gay. The whole damned squadron had known even before we’d all met his last boyfriend.

Everything about Tex fucked with me. He had an accent I couldn’t quite put my finger on—East coast of some flavor, but not quite New York or Boston. He’d picked up the call sign Tex because his last name was Austin, though a pilot on another squadron had decided it was because Texas is only good for steers and queers. I’d have paid good money to have been there the day the pilot said that to Tex’s face. Legend had it, Tex had smirked right back at him and said, Maybe you could steer me to some queers, then, because I’m in a bit of a dry spell and it sounds like you’re the expert in these parts.

He was mouthy. He was snide. And he was just… everything I wanted in a guy. Black hair kept in a high and tight—regulation haircuts weren’t quite so strict for us as they were for guys fresh out of boot camp, but as hot and humid as it was here, there was something to be said for keeping the sides shaved. And speaking of the heat, I suspected that was why he had such an amazing tan. It went all the way up to his T-shirt sleeves, and I’d have bet a paycheck and a blowjob that it continued up to those powerful shoulders and covered his lean torso. For that matter, half the guys on this island jogged without shirts on—what I wouldn’t have given for an apartment overlooking his route. Though for the moment, watching him lean over a pool table was—

Hey, hey, gentlemen! Juggernaut shouted over the music, startling me out of staring at Tex. He threw an arm around Barbosa’s shoulders so hard he damn near leveled the kid, who’d just recently joined our squadron. Somebody hasn’t got his carrier quals!

What? I laughed. Seriously?

Guess we know what needs to happen now. Morales gestured at the other guys. Line up those tables, boys.

Without missing a beat, we all grabbed some of the long tables and lined them up across the middle of the room, shoving chairs and smaller tables out of the way. Behind the bar, the owner, an older Japanese gentleman, rolled his eyes and shook his head, but didn’t try to stop us. He probably knew damn well