A Pilot's Luck (Mercenary Devils Book 1) by K. Ramsuer

Author:K. Ramsuer [Ramsuer, K.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2021-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

Lucky blinked when he saw the writing lighting up the mountain side. He didn't read Arabic, but it was hard to miss the powerful river plunging thousands of feet to the misty valleys below. Lucky thought that the neon lights and solar panels ruined the look, but no one asked him. People had tapped the river for water and power and Lucky could see the glow of heating units in the distance. He angled the jet towards a particularly scarred looking peak and dipped his left wing. The light at the base blinked green and Lucky took his place in line.

He didn't quite know how to use the radio on this bird yet, so he didn't try to contact mission control. Besides, going by the number of craft that were painted brilliant colors and had silken wings, he was pretty sure that he was going to be the only one that spoke English. Lucky rolled his eyes. He could see the yawning, cavernous, gaping hole that was the shelter. Steam billowed out of it. Near the hangar, Lucky could see smith shops dropping their waste into the valley below. He brought the jet closer to the hangar and finally brought her inside. She was running a little low on fuel and one of her engines had tripped the warning system.

"Whatcha doing?" Sloan stuck his head in the cockpit. Going from the bruises on his neck, he'd been having fun with James. "What's going on? What's with the funky lights?"

"That's neon," Lucky murmured. "I never did like it - there's something about it that gives me a headache."

Sloan made a face and slid down beside Lucky. "Any chance of us going to the Turkish Terraces or getting one of those heated baths? That's a little more fun than your shower if you get what I mean."

Lucky did and he snorted. "I think they have a communal bathhouse, but I don't think they have what you've in mind. This isn't Russia - I don't think we can get away with such a thing and I don't want to go to African prison."

Sloan shook his head as he sat down. Lucky tried to ignore him, but he had a hard time dealing with the v-cut, billowing white shirt he was wearing and the leather duster he had draped over his shoulders. Sloan had three silver rings on his fingers and a thick bracelet of braided leather and silver beads. It looked like he was wearing Lucky's pants and they were a little rumpled around the waist. They were short, too. Lucky just shook his head and made a mental note to find Sloan's boots. He didn't think Sloan could go barefoot in a mountain base.

He leaned over and just gave Lucky a soft kiss as they landed. The runway was long enough, but Lucky still had a hard time concentrating as he tried to keep the jet on the straight and narrow. The left center engine had started smoking and the second he got the jet still, dark skinned men doused it with buckets of water and canisters of foam.

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