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Having more bullets pelt the water as he dodged to his left eliminated any remaining doubts. Put everything into focus because he was not going to get shot down the one time Callie needed him to pull through.
Which meant, tilting the machine forward — gaining more speed. Really banking it around the corners, up and over a few bridges, then flaring the machine into a hover beneath one when it was apparent the other pilot was staying high. Hoping to anticipate Booker’s moves.
He waited a few moments, grinning when more muzzle flashes lit up the fog farther along the river — where he would have been if he’d continued ahead. Which was his cue to move — shift the helicopter backwards before spinning midair and heading back along the water. He took a different branch, staying low, the fog swirling around him in twin eddies before he found a place to park along the riverbank. Not quite invisible, but with all the lights turned off and the fog curling in around them, it did the job.
They waited, minutes ticking by until more thunder rumbled overhead, followed by a fork of lightning. Callie jumped, hands fisted so tightly together her knuckles were white. What Booker assumed was her fighting off reminders of that night. He just didn’t know if it was his flying, being shot at, or the storm triggering the memories.
He reached over — gave her hand a squeeze. “You still with me, sweetheart?”
She huffed, cursing when another boom of thunder shook the chopper. “Kind of stuck with you. Though, I don’t know how you can even see anything between the rain and the fog. The utter blackness. Are we staying here until the storm passes? Or…”
He sighed. “I know what I said before about it being an issue if the storm turned ugly like this, but we don’t have the luxury of staying. And whether I like it or not, this storm is the best possible cover. Those assholes have guns mounted to the damn skid gear. We’ve got a forty-five and a nine-millimeter handgun. Not exactly what we need to go toe-to-toe with these jerks.”
She nodded, but he didn’t miss the tight press of her lips. How her breathing sped up, paused, then turned raspy. The lady was scared, but he knew she’d never admit it.
“I won’t let you down, Callie. Promise.”
She turned, looked over at him, and damn, she was glowing. Like that fire he’d claimed Kirby had lit inside of Wyatt. That same doe-eyed gaze that made Booker’s heart race. As if the stupid thing might pound right out of his chest.
Callie leaned over, getting her mouth dangerously close to his. “I know you’d never let me down. And if it were anyone else attempting to fly into the heart of a thunderstorm, I’d refuse. Would take my chances with the armed mercenaries, chopper or not. But with you…”
She shrugged, slowly shifting away. “You do what you think will keep us breathing, and I’ll be there to back your decision if shit goes sideways.”
“Let’s try to save the really catastrophic stuff untilafterwe find this shack. In the meantime, hold on. The ride isn’t going to get any better.”
She smiled, again. Gave him another shot of that light and what he swore was pride. Or maybe something purer. Deeper. What he suspected was the reason for his increased breath. The warmth spreading through his core.
He allowed himself one last moment to stare at her — memorize every feature — before he was scanning the skies. Lifting off into a hover once he felt confident the other pilot had bolted. A spin and a lift, and they were racing down the river, again, flying just high enough the upper half of the bubble was clear of the fog. Only wispy patches fading across his field of view instead of nothing but that eerie gray.
Thirty seconds in, and he was finally heading toward the rainforest. What looked like a giant black bullseye on the horizon. Until a flash of lightning illuminated the sky. Highlighted the thick canopy of trees. Sent what felt like an electric shock through the cockpit.
Callie muttered something under her breath, inhaling at the next strike. The one that was way too close. That had the hairs on Booker’s arms standing on end. The errant strands of Callie’s hair sticking straight out. He edged a bit closer to the treetops, hoping the lightning would strike something other than the damn chopper, when everything disappeared amidst a flash of white. A deafening roar echoing around them.
The helicopter shook, dropping several feet before Booker managed to counter the motion — not plow them into the trees. Not that his success lasted long. A few seconds later, and the instruments were smoking slightly, small wisps curling into the air as the rest of the panel went dead. The needles pegged in the green one moment, then reading zero the next.
He checked a few circuit breakers, but it was useless. “Looks like that hit fried everything left working.”
Callie nodded. Too fast to be convincing, but at least she wasn’t freaking out. No screaming or trying to grab his hand. Maybe opening the damn door because she was getting claustrophobic. Just a hint of white in her eyes. Those clenched fists. And her putting all her faith in him.
And he wasn’t going to let her down.
“Hang in there. We’re not too far from where we were heading. I’ll find somewhere suitable and set her down. Check for any damage. See if we can push it a bit more or if we have to go on foot sooner than expected. Either way, we’ll be fine.”
God, he hoped they’d be fine. But, just to be safe, he gained some altitude. Gave himself a bit of a cushion in case they encountered a sudden downdraft. Sure, it risked them getting hit by lightning, again, but somehow that seemed better than dropping into the canopy of trees.
Having another flash streak past them had him reconsidering his options. That, maybe, they’d pushed their luck far enough. Should land while he still had control. And with the other helicopter nowhere in sight…
Hearing alarms blare through the cockpit a moment later had him shifting back to that fateful night. How he hadn’t been able to save everyone. And without Wyatt and the others to have his back, Booker needed to pull a win out of his ass.
Which started with him getting out of his head and not overthinking everything. He didn’t need the instruments. Hell, all he really needed were the years he’d spent behind the controls. All the senses he’d honed.
A deep breath, a roll of his shoulders, and he was all in. Was testing the give of the controls. Noting the slightly heavy feeling. How it took more pedal than usual to keep the bird straight and into wind. What was likely damage from the lightning strike. Or maybe some of the bullets had nicked the rotors. Left some holes that were starting to become an issue.
He took a chance and banked her over, searching for somewhere to land that wouldn’t leave them vulnerable. A hole in the trees he could land in without crashing or leaving them with no other option but to walk out. Not that he was confident they’d be able to fly the machine, again. But damaged or not — wise or not — he wanted to leave that door open. Even if they only got a few more miles out of her, it might save their lives.
Seeing an old dirt road open off to their right was exactly what he needed. Not a lot of room, but enough he could follow it along the mountain if needed. Use it as a runway if the hydraulics acted up, or if he required the extra distance to gain some altitude later. Their Hail Mary once Callie had gotten the proof she needed.
Setting it down as more lightning lit up the forest took a bit of finessing. Fighting the sudden gust of wind as the rain picked up — swallowed all the light once the glow from the flash faded. Left nothing but utter darkness in its wake. The tall trees eating up any other hint of gray on the horizon. But, with some steady hands and a healthy dose of luck, he managed to put the bird safely on the twin tracks — kept the rotors from hacking any of the trees. What would have ruined that last-ditch-option he’d been hoping to save.
