Risking It All Read Online Free PDF Page A

from the ground. I have to be independent. I can’t feel any more for you than I do for any other pilot.”
    “Is this revenge because I treated you badly before?”
    “No.” She spat out the words. “Do you think I’m that shallow? When I know the job you do? The risks you take?”
    A telephone rang and he glared at the tent, muscles tensing. Not now!
    “Scramble, scramble!” a male voice shouted.
    He leapt to his feet and grabbed his jacket from the floor, taking two steps towards the waiting planes. Where was Lynne? The enemy planes would aim for the airfield. She stood clutching the handlebars of her bike, face pale.
    “Go to the shelter!” he said.
    She shook her head and pointed to his plane. “Go, don’t worry about me.”
    “Jenkins! Get a move on!” the Squadron Leader shouted.
    It was his job and it came first, even before her. Glancing back over his shoulder one last time, he raced towards the planes, ground shaking beneath his feet from the roaring engines. Grabbing his parachute from the wing, he dropped into the cockpit and pushed the throttle, taxiing across the runway, coughing from the smoke. But for the first time, his mind wasn’t on the planes in the sky above, it was with a girl on a bike, wearing RAF blue. Was she in the shelter?
    No, he mustn’t think of her.
    His tiny plane shot into the sky. Where were the bandits? Peering through the cockpit, he cursed—a layer of ice blurred the hood. He had to find a clear spot. Twisting around, he caught a whiff of her scent on his collar and jerked in his seat. Tomorrow he’d wash his jacket. He wanted no memories. She’d made her feelings clear; it was comfort sex she’d offered, likely given to many a soldier, sailor or airman. Well, he wasn’t one of those desperate men and if she suggested it again, he would refuse. He was no woman’s pity fuck.

Chapter Three
    Again the call had come too late. Enemy planes hung in the clouds above him, bullets sprayed past him and he stiffened. A bomber, its black curved belly filled with death, rose from below. Would it shoot? He plunged down and came up behind it, positioned his sights and fired. A hit! Smoke poured from the enemy’s left wing and it twisted in a terrifying tumble to the earth.
    But there was a second black dot, moving fast, developing wings. Tilting the steering, he aimed up, shooting into the clouds, hoping to hide. The plane flew past and took aim, but not at him. He looked ahead to where another Spitfire slid into the clouds. Arthur.
    “Bandits behind,” he shouted into his radio.
    Arthur shot his plane right, sun glinting from the metal. Billy slammed on his throttle and went after the 109, but it veered right and his tracers roared past. The enemy bullets tore into Arthur’s plane.
    No! He thrust the throttle forward, peering into the mist. He couldn’t lose his best friend, not after Charles. The cockpit swung open on Arthur’s plane. Thank goodness, he was going to bail out, he might make it. Come on, Arthur! Hurry up!
    With a ferocious roar, the fuel tank exploded, sending flames and burning metal through the sky. Fragments struck Billy’s plane, knocking him sideways and sending the fragile machine spiraling through the clouds, smoke pouring from the engine. Billy grabbed the steering; he had to level it, bring her back under control. The Spitfire jolted again, throwing him sideways, and his head crashed against the side. A searing pain ripped across his scalp and ear, then spots of crimson dripped onto his flying suit.
    Hastily, he straightened. Had Arthur got out?
    He searched the sky for a parachute, but there was only the burning plane falling to the earth far below him, streaming trails of thick black smoke. His radio crackled and a male voice ordered him to return to base. He dropped low and circled, searching for any trace of his friend. Nothing. With a howl, he thumped the wheel.
    ****
    “Next batch of mission reports,” Barbara said, dropping them onto