Page 122 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

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DALTON

Iclawed my way out of the cockpit and hopped to the ground.

“Fuck me,” I groaned.

I swayed on my feet and took a second to make the world stop spinning. Everything hurt. But pain meant I was alive and right now that was good enough. Alive meant I still had a chance to get to Pickle and Janna.

Shit, if I was this messed up after my hard landing, I didn’t want to think about what they were dealing with. Hitting the ground in a chopper was a lot harder than in a plane.

At least, that was my opinion after a few rough landings in both while I went through training in the military. No one just knew how to land. It was a trial and error and I had lower back issues that reminded me of those errors.

The landing was a nightmare, but I’d managed to get the plane down in one piece. Well, mostly one piece. And it didn’t explode, so that was a good thing. And I was walking. That was something. Limping and stiff but walking.

The cornfield I’d skidded into was singed and flattened where the plane plowed through. I owed Martha if it didn’t burn. The air was thick with smoke, but the flames were still far enough away to give me some comfort. I heard the sound of a plane and looked up in time to see what I assumed was Wild Bill making a drop.

Laser and Chief were going to be doing all they could to help out the rescue without sacrificing the first priority, which was saving Hollow Gorge. The Sullivan farm was still standing and untouched, minus my landing strip. The fire hadn’t reached it yet, but with winds blowing hard and that wall of flames crawling down from the ridge, it was just a matter of time. Fire didn’t particularly like to go downhill, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t. It just preferred the uphill runs.

That fact was on our side. It would slow the fire’s progression, and with the retardant being dumped, we’d hopefully have a nice wide fire break. It would give the team a chance to work backward.

The bigger the line between the town and the fire line the better the odds we could save the place. I couldn’t imagine not saving Hollow Gorge.

Or them.

I got a weird feeling in my chest just thinking about failing. The feeling was like an internal kick straight to my heart instead of a physical kick to my solar plexus.

I wiped the sweat off my face with the back of my hand. Ash streaked across my skin. But none of that mattered. Not the farm. Not the gear. Not even the plane I’d just crash-landed into a patch of corn.

What mattered was her. Janna.

The thought of her out there, hurt, scared, maybe worse left me feeling raw. Like my skin had been peeled away and I was all nerves. I didn’t know if she was alive, but I had to believe she was. Because the alternative? It would break something in me that wouldn’t come back.

I could not lose another person. I reassured myself Pickle was a damn good pilot. I’d flown with him through some pretty hairy situations and he handled it like a pro. He had put the helo down and they were probably already on foot and running for safety.

But I didn’t see anyone when I made my initial pass. I shook off the dark feeling. I could not—would not—give up hope.

Fuck that. I wasn’t going to lose them.

I leaned in and grabbed my two-way. “Laser, come in.”

I scanned the area, already formulating a plan. I probably should have thought about a plan before I landed. But there hadn’t been time. I had operated on emotion, which I knew was dangerous, but too late now.

“Laser. Chief.”

“Herc! Shit, you made it. I saw your landing. If you can even call it that.”

“Don’t get judgy on me. I walked away, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. Only because you have nine lives.”

“Did you see them?” I asked.

“I couldn’t see anything through the smoke. Sorry.”

“How bad is it?” I asked. My gaze turned back to the fire line. I knew I was losing ground. A lot of ground.

“Fire’s all around. You opened up a path, but it’s narrow, and you’re not getting any wheels through it. You’ll have to go on foot. And fast. Fire’s shifting. Could close your trail any minute.”