The turboprop answered with a rising roar that vibrated through the airframe and into Ace’s bones. The Caravan surged forward, floats slicing across the surface. Spray kicked up along both sides, streaking the windows with river water.
Oh God. He had to get out of there. Ace bit his lip hard enough to taste blood.
At first the floats stayed firmly in the water, plowing. Then, as speed built, the drag lessened. The nose lifted slightly. The plane climbed onto the step, riding the surface instead of pushing through it.
The vibration shifted and smoothed.
“Sixty,” Torrington said, eyes forward.
Ace gagged. His hands were slick with sweat now, leaving damp prints on his jeans.
Torrington eased back on the yoke.
The floats skipped once, twice.
The water fell away beneath them, dark and rippling. The engine note steadied at climb power. The Caravan lifted cleanly into the mountain air, climbing out over the rushing water, wings steady against the light wind.
Ace panicked. “No.” He shoved open the door.
“Ace!” Torrington yelled.
Fuck this. Ace leaped out, head first, and fell fast. Just a few yards. He hit the water, and it swallowed him, the current strong. Cold burst all around him.
He popped up, his head ringing. Panic threatened to take him under again, and he fought it. He was here in the river. Not the ocean. His breath evened out and he took a good look around. Now he had to swim for it. He eyed the shoreline.
Man, it was far away.
After working a long day, May found Ace in her shower, his back to her, his hand braced on the tile, and his head down. She could see him through her glass door. While his shower had rocks for walls, hers was a very pretty blue tile. Water sluiced across his shoulders and trailed his spine, leading to his very fine butt. Wet clothing had been tossed into her sink with his long jeans spilling over the counter. “Ace?”
“Yeah.” He didn’t move.
The bathroom smelled like river water and mud. “Did you fall in the river?”
“Yeah.”
Warning ticked through her and she hesitated. “You okay?” If he said ‘yeah’ again, she was going to turn on the faucet or flush the toilet.
“I jumped out of a plane and dropped into the Dalika River.”
She stopped moving. “Wait a minute. What?”
He just let the water beat over him. Steam rose all round, cocooning them.
“How high was the plane?” she asked.
“Not so high,” he said.
She steadied herself before she spoke. “Are you experiencing any lightheadedness?”
He didn’t turn. “No.”
Her eyes tracked his body automatically as a doctor this time and not a lover. His posture was solid. His breathing looked even, his ribs rising steadily. “How about dizziness?”
“No.”
She stepped closer to the shower. The floor tile was warm under her bare feet. “Tunnel vision? Nausea?”
“No.”
