Page 123 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

“Copy that,” I said. “What’s our window?”

“Maybe twenty minutes if we’re lucky. I’m trying to hold the line from the air. But you need to run, Dalton.”

Even if I ran there, I had no idea what kind of condition they were in. I didn’t know if they were able to walk, let alone run. If the landing was bad, they could be seriously injured.

I climbed back into the plane and yanked open the emergency gear locker. Oxygen tanks. Two masks. I shoved them in my pack, slung it over my shoulders, and cinched the straps down.

I hopped down and winced when it felt like I jabbed a rib through my side. Every step was agony. My ribs ached like I’d been kicked by a mule. Thankfully, adrenaline had kicked in and that kept me going.

“I’ve got to get to her,” I told Laser. “Them. I don’t care what it takes.”

“You already crash-landed a plane in a cornfield. How much worse can it get?”

“Don’t tempt fate.”

“Have you tried to contact them?”

I started walking toward the house. I didn’t think Martha would be dumb enough to stick around, but I had to make sure. Janna would never forgive me if I saved her and not Martha.

I jogged through the field, my boots sinking into the soft earth with each step. The cornstalks whipped at my arms and legs as I pushed through them. Every breath burned my lungs, the smoke getting thicker with every passing minute.

“Martha!” I shouted as I approached the farmhouse. The white porch was already gray with ash. “Martha, are you in there?”

No answer. I bounded up the steps two at a time. The door was unlocked. Pretty typical for a small town like Hollow Gorge. I pushed it open and stepped inside.

“Martha!” I called again, my voice echoing through the empty rooms.

The house felt abandoned. No lights, no sounds of life. I moved quickly through the living room and into the kitchen. It was neat and tidy, dishes washed and put away.

I took the stairs two at a time, my ribs screaming in protest. The bedrooms were empty. Good. They had gotten out.

Back downstairs, I did one final sweep of the basement. Nothing but canned goods and an old furnace. I was back outside in under three minutes, but even that felt like too long. The fire was closer now. I could feel the heat on my face.

“House is clear,” I radioed to Laser. “Martha’s gone. I’m heading for town.”

“Copy that. Be careful, Herc. The wind’s picking up. I don’t want to say it, but⁠—”

“Don’t say it,” I snapped back through the two-way.

“Dalton, there’s no way you’re going to get there before that fire does!” Her shouting through the radio sounded like screeching.

“What do you expect me to do?”

“Get out of there!” Chief’s voice cut through.

“Hey, uh, guys, I hate to point out the obvious, but my plane isn’t exactly going anywhere. I’m here. I’m on the ground. I’m getting them out, one way or another.”

I stood on the porch and scanned the area. I remembered seeing four-wheelers parked behind the barn. I rushed back inside the house and looked for the keys. I didn’t see them. Maybe they were in the four-wheelers.

I jogged down the porch and ran behind the barn. Both four-wheelers were there but I couldn’t find a single key.

“Come on!” I slapped my hand on the seat.

I headed for the barn, thinking maybe I could find keys to the four-wheelers inside. The moment I pulled open the heavy wooden door, I was hit with the smell of hay and horse. And then I saw them.

The horses.

Shit. They were shifting nervously in their stalls as the smoke thickened. Their eyes were wide with fear, nostrils flaring as they caught the scent of fire on the wind.