Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“Coast Guard seven-five-three-niner, come in.” The radio blared through my headset.
Jackson’s hand disappeared, and my coms went dead.
Garrett nodded and his mouth moved, but I couldn’t hear him. What the hell was going on? Had someone seen them sneak me on board? Was Jackson going to be in trouble? Just as I was about ready to lose my ever-loving mind, the coms came back to life.
“Morgan, we have a distress call,” Jackson said, not taking my hand because he was now the one flying.
“We what?” My voice cracked.
“We have a vessel that’s called in a mayday.”
“Just a patrol,” Sawyer muttered.
“There’s no injuries, and we’re the closest rescue team. I need you to just sit tight back there, okay, Kitty?”
“Yeah. Okay.” My hands gripped the edges of my little seat as the aircraft changed course, pitching left. We were headed out to sea.
I closed my eyes and concentrated on the rhythmic beat of the rotors and my breathing, hyperaware of my throat. My heart pounded and my stomach dipped with the turn, but there was no looming anxiety attack…yet.
This is fine. You’re fine. Jackson does this every day. He’s a great pilot. Top of his class, right?
So was Will, my devil’s advocate whispered in my ear. And Josh, and Jagger for that matter.
“Morgan, you okay up there?” Garrett asked. “Don’t worry, we’re the only ones who can hear you. They switched our coms to aircraft-only back here.”
“I’m fine,” I lied. I seemed to be doing a lot of that today, but my nerves didn’t matter compared to what those people had to be going through.
“You’re faking it really well,” he assured me as he unbuckled.
“ETA is three minutes,” Sawyer said through the headset.
Garrett rose from his seat and kneeled before me. “I need you to sit right here and not move, okay? That’s all you have to do. Tell me you understand.”
“I understand. Sit. Don’t move.” I nodded for emphasis. There was zero chance in hell I was moving from this seat or getting in the way of saving someone.
“This is totally routine, so don’t stress.” He stood and got ready to do whatever it was he did. He took two gray blankets from the rescue litter and set them on the seat next to me.
“Don’t stress. Right,” I whispered.
“Just keep breathing for me, Kitty.” Jackson’s voice was thick with worry.
“I’m fine.” I even pitched my voice a little higher to prove it. “You just fly this thing, okay?” The last thing he needed to be thinking about was me.
“We have a visual. ETA one minute,” Sawyer announced.
Garrett unstrapped a wire cage from a tower directly in front of me and took it to the floor, where he formed it into a rectangular basket. Then he hooked himself onto a belt that attached to the ceiling and opened the door of the helicopter. The noise level skyrocketed, the wind whipped through the fuselage, and there was ocean as far as I could see. Whoever waited below us was out there all alone, and though I saw the helicopter as a death trap, I realized that for them, it was salvation.
“I have a visual,” Garrett said as he leaned out the freaking door. “The adult male and child are clear of the landing area.”
My chest tightened. There was a kid?
“Do you need me back there, Harrison?” Sawyer asked.
“No, sir. I’ve got this.”
The helicopter slowed to a hover.
“Prepare to drop the basket,” Sawyer said.
Garrett got the thing hooked up to a wire that led outside the helicopter. “Basket ready.”
“Deploy,” Sawyer ordered.
“Deploying.” Garrett slid the basket out the door, and it hung just outside the helicopter for a moment before he pushed a button, sending it down. Then my stomach lurched as the man leaned out again. Any farther and we’d be rescuing him, too. “Eyes on the basket.”
We lost a little elevation, but that had to be on purpose, because no one panicked. Well, no one but me. This seat would probably need to be reupholstered after I dug my fingernails out of it. My heart raced, but still no throat issues.
“Hold, sir.” Garrett’s head swiveled back and forth at whatever was beneath us for a minute. Maybe two. “Prepare to take the load.” Another pause. “Taking the load.”
I sucked in a breath as the hoist lifted the basket. We’d saved at least one of them.
“Roger,” Sawyer replied.
Garrett dropped to his belly as his head hung out of the aircraft. “Load is halfway up.” He rose to his knees and reached for the wire. “Basket is about ten feet below the cabin.”
“Roger.”
“Five feet below cabin. Bringing the basket inside the cabin.”
“Roger.”
Garrett scrambled to his feet and hauled the rescue basket back inside the helicopter with a terrified boy and his father as its occupants.
My breath released in an audible rush at the realization that we’d saved them both. We’d made it in time.