The Tortured Rebel Read Online Free Page A

of people would find that insufferable rather than attractive.
    Maybe she was one of them.
    ‘Some of those people are hurt,’ Jet continued. ‘It’s my job to look after them. Your job is to get me there.’
    Yep. She was one of them. Arrogance, that’s what it boiled down to.
    ‘Tokolamu’s more than just the tip of a volcano,’ she informed him. ‘It’s a significant nature reserve. It’s got about seventy species of birds on or around it and that includes a successful breeding programme for endangered kiwi.’
    The grunting sound indicated minimal interest but the conversation was working for Becca. Impersonal. Safe.
    ‘There’s weka there, too. And even kakapo. Did you know they’re the world’s heaviest parrot?’
    ‘Can’t say I did.’
    ‘They’re also the only flightless and nocturnal parrot in existence.’
    ‘Flightless, huh?’
    ‘Yep.’
    ‘They’d be mates with the kiwis, then?’
    It was Becca’s turn to make a vaguely disparaging sound. Was he putting her down again?
    ‘Well, I reckon the other sixty-eight or so species ofbird must think they’re a bit inferior.’ There was something more alive in Jet’s tone now. ‘When did you decide you wanted to fly, Becca?’
    Becca. Nobody called her that these days. She was Rebecca to people who didn’t know her well and Bec to her closer associates. A short, firm kind of name. No frills. Just the way she liked it.
    So why did he make it sound like that was her
real
name? As though everyone else, including herself, had been using the wrong one all these years? She shook the disturbing notion away and latched on to his query with relief.
    ‘Ages ago. When I left nursing I went into the ambulance service. They needed an extra crew member on a chopper one night and I got picked. I’d only been up in the air for ten minutes when I realised I didn’t want to be sitting in the back. I wanted the driver’s seat.’
    Oh … help. This was exactly what she hadn’t wanted to be doing. Raking over the past. Divulging far more about herself than she’d intended to. Opening doors that had to remain shut or they would both be sucked into the worst space of all.
    Jet’s chuckle was so unexpected, her head swung to face him. The sound was more than one of amusement. It signalled sympathy. It said he understood. That he would have felt exactly the same way.
    And that was when Becca remembered how he’d got his nickname. Not because his hair was jet black but because he’d had a passion for fast things. Motorbikes and cars. Aircraft. Even his women had to be sleek and ready to speed into his bed.
    Hadn’t part of his attraction been that he’d had the aura of the kind of things associated with flying? Thingslike turbulence and danger. The thrill of feeling weightless and able to move with a freedom that could be pure bliss. Maybe the rush she got from flying was the best substitute she had ever been able to discover for how she’d once felt being close to Jet. Being the focus of his attention. Being close enough to accidentally touch.
    Not that such a ridiculous notion had ever occurred to her during the process of falling in love with flying and chasing the dream of becoming a pilot. Why would it? She’d never seen Jet again. She’d never been reminded of what it felt like to be this close.
    Her sigh was an admission of defeat. She couldn’t fight this. She might have lasted amazingly so far, given the distance they had already covered, but she couldn’t continue to keep this time together totally impersonal and safe. She had no choice but to face up to whatever emotional fallout eventuated. She had to deal with it and survive. She could do that. She’d done it before, hadn’t she?
    ‘So, when did you get your pilot’s licence, Jet?’
    It was the first time she’d used his name. It curled off her tongue and hung between them like a white flag of surrender.
    ‘I didn’t.’
    ‘I thought you said you could handle a BK.’
    ‘I can.