Page 73 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

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DALTON

The second I got the call, I was in the cockpit and speeding down the runway. I had been itching to get up there. I had been listening to the comms, and fuck me, my heart had been in my throat. I knew Janna was a capable pilot. But there were always incidents. I didn’t know how I would handle her getting hurt.

The weight of the full load pressed down on the plane as I climbed toward the coordinates. Ten-thousand pounds of fire retardant was like a pregnant belly, making every adjustment feel sluggish and deliberate. I’d done this dance a thousand times but today felt different. Today, Janna was up there spotting for me.

“Air Attack to Tanker Seven.” Laser’s voice crackled through my headset, steady as always. “We’ve got eyes on the primary fire. Dropping smoke now to mark your target.”

I watched as their plane banked low over the ridge.

“Smoke deployed,” Laser said through the comms.

The marker smoke drifted in the wind, showing me exactly where the drop needed to go to most effectively slow the spreading inferno.

“Copy that, Air Attack. I see your smoke.” I adjusted my approach angle, lining up for the drop. “Looks like she’s moving east fast. What’s the wind situation down there?”

“Gusty and unpredictable,” Laser replied. “We’re seeing fifteen to twenty knots with sudden shifts. The fire’s creating its own weather system.”

Shit. Variable winds meant I’d have to trust my instincts more than my instruments. I pushed the stick forward, beginning my descent toward the drop zone. The plane groaned under the weight of the retardant, but she held steady.

I pushed the throttle until the S-2 groaned, reacted, then held steady as I lined up my approach. At the right moment, I slammed the drop release. It was perfect. I had to admit I was relieved the doors opened. If they hadn’t, I was pretty sure I would have thrown Gilbert and Tyson into my damn propellors.

“Let’s reload,” I said. “That monster wants to keep eating.”

I was banking away from the drop zone when Laser’s voice crackled through the radio again.

“Tanker Seven, we’re getting hammered by thermals up here. These updrafts are stronger than we anticipated.” I didn’t even have to wonder how serious it was. I could tell by her voice. Laser was the calmest, coolest woman I knew, and she was rattled. Rather, her pilot was rattled. Janna.

Before I could respond, Janna’s voice cut through the static. “I’ve got it under control.” But I could hear the slight tremor, the way her words came out just a fraction too fast. She was fighting the plane.

I had watched her fly. Watched her handle the simulator. She was just as cool as Laser most of the time. Maybe it was because I knew Janna intimately, but I heard something in her tone. And I had a feeling Laser sensed it as well. It was the only reason she said something.

Which meant we had an issue.

My chest tightened. I’d been in enough rough air to know when a pilot was in trouble, even when they were trying to convince themselves they weren’t.

“Air Attack, what’s your altitude?” I asked, pulling my plane into a climbing turn to get a visual on them.

“Eight hundred feet and holding,” Janna replied, but her voice was strained. “Just some bumpy air. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Bullshit. I spotted their plane through the smoke, bucking like a bronco as she tried to control things. The thermals were vicious at that altitude—columns of superheated air rising from the flames that could throw an aircraft around like a toy.

“Janna.” I kept my voice steady, authoritative. “You need to climb. Get out of those thermals.”

“Negative,” she shot back, and I could picture her jaw set in that stubborn line. “Laser needs eyes on the eastern flank. We’re staying put.”

I turned the plane around, scrapping the plan to go back for another load. I watched her. She wasn’t in real danger—as long as she didn’t panic.

“Stay sharp,” I said into mic. “On your six.”

“Dalton?” Her voice cracked.

“Listen to me,” I said, taking on an authoritative tone. It was tempting to call her Princess or Baby but that was not what she needed right then. “You’ve been drilled for this. Don’t fight it—rise above it. Climb a thousand feet. Get yourself above the heaviest thermal columns.”

“It’s… it’s hard.”

“Do it.”