Cami was in the process of buckling herself into the seat next to him when Mia heard Romeo put out the first call for help. Her knees turned to Jell-O, and it was a wonder she didn’t crumple onto the floor before she made it to her seat.
Mayday made it official. They were screwed.
One in eleven million. Dear god!
“Mayday, mayday!” Romeo’s voice was clear and measured, but she could hear the urgency underlying every word. “This is flight number—” He rattled off a series of letters and numbers followed by the type of aircraft. “We have a multi-system failure. I cannot maintain speed, altitude, or heading. Come in, Key West. Do you copy?”
Mia closed her eyes and began counting to ten again. She’d made it to five before she realized no one was talking back to Romeo.
Was the radio part of their multi-system failure?
Six, seven, eight...
“Mayday, Mayday!” Romeo tried again. “If anyone is out there picking me up, this is flight—” He went through the same information as before, but this time he added their current position followed by, “There are four people onboard. We are headed in a south, southeasterly direction. I estimate we have two, maybe three minutes of airtime remaining. We will be ditching.”
Mia thought her terror couldn’t climb any higher.
Then it did when the engine sputtered and died, and an ominous quiet filled the plane.
Chapter 5
11:44 AM...
Romeo had always considered himself a lucky S.O.B.
Despite his less than auspicious start in life, he’d made it as a Frogman—something few who aspired to the role ever achieved. He’d survived more than a handful of missions where he should’ve found a final resting place inside a body bag. And he had a group of loyal friends and business partners who were closer to him than his own family.
But he feared his luck may have run out.
The Otter was a dead-stick.
To make matters worse, he was pretty sure his tail was either completely gone or so badly damaged, it might as well be gone. Whatever had happened to his beloved plane made keeping the bird in a steady glide impossible.
A cold sweat slicked his skin, reminding him of the night he’d been initiated into the gang and had known he was staring down the barrel of a bad deal. His muscles strained as he worked the flaps, slowing their descent and struggling to keep them nose-up while looking for the best place to put down.
Most people would think that last thing was a no-brainer since there was nothing but open water as far as the eye could see. Just ditch wherever, right? The ocean is the ocean is the ocean, right?
Wrong.
All sea surfaces were not made the same. A trained eye could detect patches where waves broke higher, see whole stretches where the current caused cross-action in the swells, and pick out the deceptive areas that looked like they’d be good for a landing, but were prone, for whatever reason, to the occasional rogue breaker.
He needed the smoothest piece of water he could find because they were coming in hot. Red hot. The chili pepper in his grandmother’s homemadesalsa hot.
Unfortunately, even if hedidfind a good spot, he might not be able to get them there. He didn’t have much directional control. Small adjustments were all he could make.
Luck would play a huge part in this ditching, and he’d just established he’d run out of that exact thing.
Fuck!
He was no stranger to the burn of adrenaline through his veins. For years, he’d ridden that high on a daily basis. But ever since bugging out of the Navy, he’d gotten used to the slower pace of life. Working to regulate his breathing and heart rate didn’t come automatically anymore. He had to concentrate on both, reminding his amygdala not to respond instinctively to the fear hormone pumping through his system.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Mia’s husky voice was usually a balm to his brain. Hearing her now, crystal clear since the only other sound to breach the hull of the plane was the harsh rush of the wind outside, only reminded him it wasn’t justhislife he was responsible for.
He had three passengers who were counting on him to make sure they walked away from this with all their favorite parts intact.
And let’s be real, all theirunfavorite parts too.
Something foul and nauseating hatched in his stomach and started wriggling around. He regretted the ham and cheese biscuit he’d snagged from the hotel buffet on the way to the airport. The large cup of black coffee wasn’t doing him any favors either.
