He's trained to find what's hidden. She's spent her whole career being the thing no one finds.
Storm Daniels walked away from the military with a reputation — for nerve, for skill under fire, for having no patience with anyone who wore rank they hadn't earned. When a former teammate recruits her into a classified unit buried inside a sleepy Florida town, she says yes for one reason: the job comes with a runway.
Her cover is a flight school on a seized property outside Blossom Springs. Her mission is to keep the skies clear while the team pulls apart what's left of an international pipeline that outlived the man who built it. She can fly anything, talk her way past anyone, and vanish in plain sight. What she can't do is account for the federal inspector standing on her tarmac with a clipboard and a question she doesn't have an answer for.
Braxton Hartley doesn't believe in coincidences, and he doesn't sign his name to anything he can't verify. A brand-new flight school on brand-new ground should be simple. This one isn't. The maintenance logs are too clean. The pilot is too calm. And the more he digs, the less any of it reconciles.
Storm can't let him close enough to compromise the operation. Braxton can't walk away from numbers that refuse to add up. And the network they're both circling is far more dangerous than either of them knows.
In Blossom Springs, the sky isn't the limit. It's the battlefield.
