Read Online Books/Novels:

Need for Speed (The Elite #2)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Brooke Blaine

Ella Frank

Language:
English
Book Information:

Need for Speed is the continuation of Solo and Panther’s story and should only be read after book one, Danger Zone.

They train to serve their country.
They strive to be the best.
But only a select few can be…
The Elite

* * *

MATEO MORGAN
CALL SIGN: SOLO

Reckless, arrogant, and bold, Solo is as known in the U.S. Navy for his bad-boy reputation as he is for his skills as a fighter pilot. It’s a surprise to his peers, then, when he’s chosen to train and compete at the most prestigious naval aviation academy in the world.

MISSION RULES:
1. Kick everyone’s ass.
2. Do whatever it takes to win.
3. Do your best to distract the competition.
4. Especially when that competition is a gorgeous blue-eyed perfectionist who makes your blood run hot.

* * *

GRANT HUGHES
CALL SIGN: PANTHER

Disciplined, smart, and confident, Panther can’t afford not to play by the rules. As the son of a top Navy commander, all eyes are on him, and being anything less than number one is unacceptable.

MISSION RULES:
1. Keep it safe in the air.
2. Prove you’re more than Commander Hughes’s son.
3. No distractions. Stay focused.
4. Don’t fall for your competition—especially not the rebellious heartbreaker with lips made for sinning.

In the heat of the hot California sun, tempers flare and desires ignite as Solo and Panther try to resist their attraction while fighting to be number one.
With passion this intense, the question remains:
Who’s gonna come out on top?

Books in Series:

The Elite Series by Brooke Blaine

Books by Author:

Brooke Blaine

Ella Frank

1 Panther

I HAD HIM.

As Commander Levy navigated through the clouds on the defensive, I saw my chance to win this thing. I moved in behind him, preparing to lock on to my target when I felt it.

Air. In the cockpit.

My heart stopped as I realized in that split second what I had to do. In a matter of heartbeats, the air pressure would drop, and the rush would send the jet into a free fall I wouldn’t be able to recover from.

“Air in the cockpit,” I said over the comm. “Ready to eject.”

I didn’t have time to think or panic as I readied myself for what I had to do. I’d never ejected before, but we’d all been trained thoroughly for emergency situations, knowing what risks we took every time we flew. With my brain on autopilot, I couldn’t dwell on how dangerous ejecting could be, not when the alternative was crashing along with the plane.

At that moment, the instrument panel went haywire, the jet dropping so fast that I had to act, and act now.

“Altitude dropping. Controls lost.” As soon as I uttered the words, I positioned my body so that when the rockets under my seat shot me out, I’d have a chance of coming out of this alive.

It all happened so fast. I remember reaching for the handle to eject, the canopy flying open overhead, and then suddenly, I was rocketed up into the sky with a force that felt like it was breaking every bone in my body. I’d never felt so much pain before in my life, and for an instant I wondered how bad the damage was.

As the seat detached from me, the parachute automatically opened, slowing the force of my fall, and it was then that I saw the jet below me, hurtling toward the ocean. I couldn’t take my eyes off it as it crashed against the water, shattering into pieces.

I’d been inside only seconds ago. If I’d hesitated, I wouldn’t have had time to eject…

The room was too bright as my eyes struggled to open. White and sterile and smelling strongly of alcohol, my room at Mesamir Hospital greeted me once again, a welcome alternative to being six feet under.

Awake now, I struggled to sit up, but when blinding pain shot through my head, chest, and shoulders, I moaned and collapsed back into the pillow.

How bad off was I? I didn’t remember much after being airborne. It was like my brain had shut off, shielding me from the trauma. I vaguely remembered hitting the ice-cold Pacific Ocean, but everything else was a blur.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

I opened one eye to see a nurse wheeling in a cart, stopping by my bedside. She scanned the band on my wrist and smiled at me.

“Welcome back, Mr. Hughes. How are you feeling?”

“I—” My throat was raw and aching, like I’d swallowed gravel.

“Sore? One moment.” She left the room and came back a minute later with a plastic cup full of ice chips and water. “Slow sips. You’ve been out for a while.”

God, the water tasted better than anything, and in my greed, I took in a bit too much and nearly choked.

“That’s probably enough for now,” she said, setting the cup on the stand beside the bed, and it was only then that I felt another presence in the room. Houdini stood quietly by the windows, a mixture of relief and worry on his face.

“H-hey,” I rasped.

He started forward as the nurse began to take my blood pressure, and when he stopped by the bed, I saw that he looked like shit warmed over—and told him so.

A faint chuckle left him, and then he shook his head. “It’s not every day your friend projectiles out of a plane.”

I went to sit up again and winced at the movement.

“Use this,” the nurse said, handing me a remote. Then she pushed one of the buttons and the bed began to rise so I was in a sitting position. It hurt like hell, but I wasn’t about to complain.

“Good to see ya awake,” Houdini said, falling into the seat beside me.

“How long was I out?”

“Couple days. But don’t worry, you didn’t miss anything. They’ve postponed classes for at least two weeks while they investigate.”

Damn. I’d lost two days? Classes had been shut down?

Pain lanced through my body as I shifted a bit. I didn’t want to ask what I was about to, but I needed to know. “How bad is it?”

“No hope for the Hornet. Dead and gone in the Pacific. You, on the other hand, aren’t missin’ any pieces, so that’s a plus.”

I looked down to see all my limbs were indeed intact, no casts to be seen.

“If I’m okay, why do I feel pummeled to shit?”

“Just because you didn’t lose an appendage doesn’t mean you’re okay, Mr. Hughes,” the nurse said, as she pushed a syringe of drugs into my IV. “You’re badly bruised and need to take it easy.”


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