CHAPTER TWELVE
Natasha
The wind whipsmy hair into my eyes and stings my cheeks. Or maybe that’s the fear prickling along my skin. West hangs out of the helo, ready to grab the harness as soon as my head is level with the skids.
I land on the deck of the Black Hawk. My legs won’t quite hold me, and I’m on my ass the second he unclips the carabiner from the D-ring.
Crawling over to Doc, I catch the gaze of the pilot. Blond. Beautiful. And pissed. At me.
The helicopter wobbles in the air, and West shouts, “Keep her steady!”
The woman turns her focus back to the controls. “I’m tryin’. Someone needs to light a fire under Graham’s ass. The wind’s pickin’ up!”
“He’s packing up Doc’s kit and securing the plane. Ry would tear us a new one if he left the sat phone behind.” West levels his stare at me. “You. Get in the jump seat and strap in. Now.”
I want to stay with Doc. To dig his hand out from under the emergency blanket and hold on tight. But the former SEAL has a look that warns me he’s ready for a fight and he never loses. It’s only a little after 3:00 a.m. These people got up in the middle of the night, commandeered a helicopter, and few all the way from Seattle to save our asses. I’m not going to argue with them.
Doc gives me a nod.“It’s okay,”he mouths. He’s too weak to shout over the roar of the blades cutting through the air.
God, I hope so. It’s another five minutes before West helps Graham back onto the deck, and the pilot turns us around.
“Take these,” Graham shouts and hands me a heavy pair of headphones with a built-in mic as well as a thin, gray blanket. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, I’m a solid block of ice. “We’ll be back in Seattle in twenty minutes. Raelynn knows how to get the most out of this bird.”
Raelynn. That’s the pilot. She keeps stealing glances at Doc, and the look in her eyes…she’s worried.
“Doc, you hang on. If you die on us, I’m gonna be pissed,” she calls back to him.
He’s struggling to breathe again, but the look in his eyes is almost…nostalgic. He has a history with these people. He cares about them. And I think they care for him too.
My eyes burn. How far are we from a hospital?Anyhospital? If he doesn’t make it, will our three rescuers have any reason not to murder me? Or turn me in?
I huddle under the blanket, watching West and Graham do their best for Doc. The younger man fits him with a mask hooked up to a small canister of oxygen, and West keeps an eye on the pulse-ox monitor clipped to his thumb.
“What happened?” West asks, staring me down like he can see right through me. “Besides someone beating the shit out of both of you.”
“Break-in,” I offer. “The guy had a gun. I fought him, but he got a shot off. Well, a couple of them. Doc heard it and came to help.”
On the deck between me and the SEAL, Doc shakes his head and calls West’s name.
“You’re in no condition to talk. Not this far from the hospital,” West says and rests his hand on Doc’s shoulder.
His eyes crinkle with pain. “Dead body…at the marina. Went…into the water. Need you…to take…care of it.”
“Fuck.” West glances at Graham, then turns back to me. “Who killed the guy?”
Before I can admit the truth, Doc wheezes, “I did.”
The look on West’s face…he doesn’t believe it. But he’s not going to call Doc on it. Not now. “I’ll wake Inara and Wyatt. Landing this bird on the island would be difficult. And loud. They can take a boat and be there before sunrise.”
He pulls a cell phone from the pocket of his tactical vest. His fingers fly over the screen, and I wish I knew what he was saying to these other people I’ve never met.
“We’re seven minutes out,” Raelynn calls.
West fiddles with his mobile again, and after a minute, whoever he dialed must pick up.
“Wright? This is West Sampson. I need that favor we talked about.” There’s a pause, and he shakes his head. “No. You listen. Get a trauma team to the helipad in the next five minutes and make sure they don’t ask any questions. We’re about to drop off a patient with a field-treated pneumothorax.”
Holy shit. He has a contact at the hospital who can do that?
