The craft shuddered and the nose lifted into the air. Lincoln grabbed onto the dashboard. “What just happened?”
“It’s all good. It means we’re going from vertical motion to forward motion.” As he explained, he reduced the collective lever and pushed the cyclic forward. He didn’t want too much forward motion, not until they were well clear of the boat. He also didn’t want to hit the mechanic—or the guards appearing on the helipad.
Lincoln held his tongue after that, letting Rory focus on gaining elevation and adjusting the trim. Rory appreciated that, especially when a stream of bullets glanced off the exterior of the chopper. This bird must be armored, because they seemed to have no effect.
Maybe the guard remembered that fact, or maybe the distance was too great to continue shooting. Either way, the bullets stopped after that first volley, and a few moments later they were free and clear, flying like a great metal bird on the sweet Hawaiian air currents.
“Woohoo!” Lincoln whooped out loud. Rory wasn’t used to seeing him so filled with obvious joy. “You did it, man.”
“I did something. I got us off the boat. Now what? Where are we going? We need to find that speedboat that took Mathilda.”
“Can we buzz every harbor in the islands, starting with the closest?”
That sounded like as good a plan as any. Also, he liked the way Lincoln had stopped ordering him around and started including him in the decision-making.
“The boat went north. I think Kawaihae’s the first real port.” He adjusted the pitch controls to take them over the heart of the island instead of around the shoreline.
“How far is it?” Lincoln asked.
“As the crow flies, not far.” The phrase made him think of Hector, and Mathilda, and whatever mysterious danger she was in, and whether she’d ever get a chance to search for her beloved ‘alala again. And whether he’d ever see Mathilda again. Every thought of her was so etched with tenderness that it seemed indelible, burned into his heart forever.
Lincoln stared down into the green vastness of the seven valleys. “I can’t believe we crashed in there and survived.”
“We got lucky. Extremely lucky.”
“I suppose I should have listened to you about the weather.”
Rory swiveled his head toward his passenger. “Did I hear that right?”
Lincoln shot him a middle finger. Rory grinned to himself. Maybe Lincoln was turning into an actual human being. Perhaps surviving two plane crashes had changed him.
His boss didn’t even object when Rory told him, “Look around for some binoculars.”
“Bird-watching?” Lincoln asked as he searched the copilot’s side of the cockpit.
The mention of birds gave Rory another sharp pang.
“No, we’re going to need them to tell one boat from another. I can’t go too low without pissing off the local authorities.”
There was another problem, too. What if the owner of this helicopter radioed the authorities that it had been stolen?
One problem at a time, he told himself. First, get across this jungle without crashing yet again.
28
In her pretty sundress, feeling like a lemon chiffon pie being served up for cocktail hour, Mathilda took a seat on the cottage’s poolside patio. A striped umbrella shaded the round glass table. The sun was dipping lower in the sky, flirting with the edge of the umbrella. Ceramic pots filled with jasmine sent an ethereal fragrance wafting over the table.
Her mother poured her a glass of juice from a large pitcher. Mathilda knew that joyful orange color—it had to be lilikoi. A quick sip told her it was a lot more than passionfruit, though. The vodka in that fruit cocktail went right to her head.
Another sip, and she finally felt herself relax. The world took on a light and hazy glow. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be lounging by a pool drinking cocktails instead of hacking her way through a jungle with a machete. The contrast was disorienting, like something out of a fairy tale.
All of this was like a fairy tale, even her family.
She smiled at her silver fox father, her fairy queen mother, her dashing younger brother. “It’s actually nice to see you all.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.” Jamie laughed a little. His still-wet hair was slicked back from his face and tucked behind his ears. He must have gone for another dip while she’d taken her shower.
Duncan laughed too. He had volunteered to take the chair that faced the sun. Under his gold-rimmed sunglasses, his cheeks were ruddy from the intense Hawaii sun.
