Chapter 558

• Tripp rolled the chute up and dropped it on the ground. Never again. He was never getting on a plane of any sort ever again. He’d thought for a few minutes he was going to lose the internal battle with his cat and shift inside that tin can with wings. That would have ended badly for everyone. He’d fast roped from choppers before but jumping out of a fucking moving plane—not happening ever again. He dropped down and sat on the chute and took the backpack off his front. He’d honestly thought the pilot was joking when he asked him if he’d ever parachuted before until he held one out to him and told him there was nothing to it.
• Nothing to it, my ass. The ground was coming upon him so fast he’d almost froze and not pulled the damn cord. He was sure he looked nothing like the pros that landed gracefully and hit the ground running. Not him, no, he’d dropped like a wet fish and then got rolled up in the lines from the chute and ended up looking like a big burrito with strings of cheese hanging out.
• His cat rolled through him. He blew out a breath, “yeah, I know, if I’d had more warning, we wouldn’t have had a full stomach.”