For the Love of a SEAL, page 4
MacGyver’s next text wasn’t as cheery as the first. Where r u going? Tail rotor damaged. Set it down.
Nope. That wasn’t going to happen. Not here. Blake had seen Mr. and Mrs. Perez, standing between the cabin fire and the fence. The two kids took turns hugging a big black dog held on a leash nearby. Emergency landings of a helicopter tended to be messy, and Blake wouldn’t jeopardize the Perez family by trying to land in the compound.
The top rotors still turned at high speed. Without the tail rotor to stabilize the craft, the top blades would begin to spin the rest of the helicopter as soon as he reduced altitude and throttle. To possibly avoid that, the landing had to be steep and fast. Regardless of how much experience a pilot had in the subtle art of crashing, and Blake had plenty, eventually the time would come when there was no choice but to touch down. Sometimes it wasn’t pretty, and then sometimes the spinning blades slammed the helicopter into the ground with a force several times normal until there was nothing except small pieces left of it and everything in its path.
Tori groaned as she tested her seatbelt. “Did I mention I hate to fly?” Her voice trembled slightly, and it was obvious she was trying not to fall apart.
“I think I did hear that somewhere.” He had to give her credit. She was handling this better than the uneventful flight from his hangar. “You do realize flying isn’t the problem here, right?”
“Very funny. Do you always crack jokes when you’re about to die?”
Blake grinned, then gave his full attention to the task. Control the spin and set her down on the first clear patch of ground. That sounded easy enough. He’d done it a couple dozen times…usually in the dark…under enemy fire. How hard could this be?
In addition to the log cabin and outbuildings burning and kicking up smoke, the fire from the Apache helicopter’s explosion and subsequent crash had ignited a blaze quickly spreading east in the thick, dry underbrush. Blake surveyed the expanse of forest to the northwest, but there was nothing but treetops as far as he could see.
“Look for a clearing, road or anything big enough to land on.” A low-fuel warning light flashed red in the center of his control panel. The fuel line must have taken a hit. Blake pushed a series of buttons, and the light went out. “Sooner rather than later would be good.”
Tori nodded her understanding and leaned closer to the window, peering toward the ground. Apparently, now that she was in the middle of a desperate situation, she’d found her calm resolve.
“There!” She pointed ahead and to the west, where another mountain in the Coast Range jutted into the sky. “I think there’s a road down there. Is it wide enough to land on?” Tori swung around, her pleading eyes a sure sign of how badly she needed him to say yes.
Blake searched and found the clearing she’d indicated. The ribbon of dirt was nothing more than a service road, probably built years ago, before the spotted owl controversy nearly shut down the logging industry. At one time, the trees had been clear cut in a strip, ten to fifteen feet wide, on each side of the road. Vegetation had filled in much of where the forest had once been, but there were still areas where nothing grew. Probably due to the lava rock that covered the ground from volcanic activity eons ago. The clearing was within a two-mile radius of the safe house. Providing the landing went well, his friends would find them. It wasn’t perfect…but it would have to do.
He gave Tori a thumbs-up, and relief flooded her face. “Listen to me, sweetheart. When we start down, it will feel like we’re going way too fast. If I don’t keep the speed up until the last second, the helicopter will start to spin. Spin equals out-of-control, and we don’t want that, right?”
Some of the relief dissipated from her eyes, replaced by dread. Even so, she nodded.
“When I give the word, I need you to lean forward, tuck yourself into a ball and close your eyes. Stay just like that until we touch down. Then get out and run. There’s smoke back there, and we’ve got a fuel leak…so this baby could blow.” Blake looked away from his task of keeping the craft on the correct trajectory long enough to make sure Tori was listening.
Anguish filled her eyes, but she swallowed hard and raised her chin. “What if one or both of us are injured and can’t get out?”
“Don’t worry about that. If you’re able, you go. Don’t look back. Understood?”
“And if I can’t?”
Damned if it didn’t look like a hint of rebellion in the way she held his gaze. Any other time he would have enjoyed that. Encouraged it even. Blake turned toward her so she could see his face. “I will get you out, Tori Michaels.” He enunciated each word clearly and forcefully, willing her to believe him.
She stared for what seemed like a long time, clearly analyzing his promise, before she nodded once and pivoted toward the front.
Blake aligned the Bell with the strip of roadway the best he could and kept his eyes on the spot he’d chosen for the landing. “Okay, sweetheart. Lean forward.”
She complied instantly, all traces of insurgency gone.
He lowered the collective and began to descend, leaving the throttle alone. The ground raced toward them. His instinct was to throttle back—slow the descent. Sweat poured into his eyes with the effort it took to stay on task. The trees blurred in his peripheral as the aircraft dropped below the treetops. The landing spot he wanted was a hundred feet ahead…eighty…sixty. He pulled the throttle back and brought the nose up to decrease air speed. Twenty feet. Blake lost sight of the X he’d mentally painted on the road. Now he was flying by braille. Raising the collective to slow the descent, he kept the helicopter moving straight ahead.
At the final second, he throttled back, decreasing the speed of the rotors, and the skids hit the ground. Bouncing, the chopper gave in to the spin of the blades. The front end swung to the right, crossways in the road. Something snagged the fuselage as the tail section veered to the left.
Tori’s upper body was flung toward the side of the cabin, her head slamming into the glass, leaving a smear of blood as she was tossed the other way. He reached for her, pushing her limp body back into the crash position.
The forward momentum tipped the aircraft. The whirling blades hit and dug into the hard-packed dirt of the road, disintegrating upon impact.
Bits of debris flew everywhere, embedding in tree trunks twenty feet away and shattering the windows of the cockpit. Rocks, dirt and smoke billowed up around them.
The controls that surrounded him useless, Blake threw his upper body over Tori’s still form. All he could do was hold on and wait for the careening hunk of metal to come to a standstill. On its side, the crumpled cockpit slammed into a pile of rocks and stopped abruptly. A sharp pain bit his shoulder. Another his cheek. When he swiped at his face, his fingers came away red with blood.
The absence of movement was almost a shock. His body hurt everywhere, and it was a few seconds before he could disentangle himself from the mangled levers. He removed his lap belt and automatically checked for Tori’s pulse. She was alive but the blood that matted her hair on the side of her head wasn’t a good sign. He didn’t have the luxury of not moving her. He’d have to take a chance her injuries weren’t critical.
Blake unlatched her belt and gently moved her to his seat before crawling over her to force the door open. Blue sky, bright enough to hurt his eyes, greeted him when he stuck his head out. He had no idea where his sunglasses were. Dirt still hung in the air. The Bell was in pieces, the fuselage spitting flames. Sections of the top rotor big enough to identify stuck from the ground at odd angles.
The forest was eerily silent, confirming the fact he and Tori were alone. How badly she was hurt was yet to be determined, but he’d promised to get her out…and he was a man of his word.
Chapter 4
Tori heard a man’s voice as though from a long distance. Opening her eyes would take more fortitude than she currently had available. Her head throbbed, and every time he called her name, a steel hammer slammed into a metal plate in her forehead. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t put a name to the man, though his voice was slightly familiar.
The air smelled of smoke, and her throat burned with acrid dryness. Something was wrong. Was she sick? Sleep. She needed sleep.
“Tori? Can you hear me? Wake up, sweetheart.” Someone leaned over her, and she flinched.
The sudden movement started a chorus line of tap dancers between her ears, and she groaned. Her hands came up to push at the shadow that hovered over her. Suddenly, her wrists were caught in a strong grip, and she panicked. The harder she fought to free herself, the less movement her captor allowed.
“Tori, it’s me…Blake. You’re safe. You hit your head during the crash, but you’re going to be fine. Open your eyes, Tori. Look at me.”
Crash? I was in an accident? Why can’t I remember? Tori opened her mouth, and a lungful of smoky air made her throat itch. She coughed spasmodically, and her eyelids flew open.
A man knelt beside her. She’d seen him before, but his name fled before she could grasp the memory. Blood trailed from a nick on his left cheek, and she would have reached out to gently soothe it if he hadn’t been immobilizing her wrists. She glanced at his hands, where they captured hers, and he released his grip as though he’d only then realized he still held her.
He raked a hand through his hair, rumpling the thick, dark strands and giving the impression he was harmless. Strangely, Tori wasn’t afraid, instinctively trusting the man. Nor was she in any pain, except for the cacophony in her head. What crash?
“There you are. Welcome back. You banged your head pretty good. How do you feel?” The man’s smooth baritone vibrated through her, tripping her comfort switches with his reassuring manner.
Now…if only I knew his name. I mean, seriously, how often do I wake up to a hot-as-hell, built-to-last muscleman leaning over me?
He tapped her forehead. “Your head? How bad is it?”
“Feels like there’s a monster truck rally going on in there.” Her words slurred, and she tried to smile, but the effort proved too much for her. “Who are you?”
The man’s eyes widened, his gaze darting to hers and holding for a heartbeat too long. Turning to a small black bag beside him, he rifled through it and produced a pencil-shaped flashlight. “My name’s Blake Sorenson.” He shone the light in first one eye and then the other, nearly blinding her with its brightness, before flicking it off. Concern filled his chocolate-brown eyes. His lips parted slightly, and he released his breath as though he’d been holding it in. Unruly black hair and a scruff of whiskers added to the rugged appeal of his bold features. A scar, white against his tanned skin, zigzagged above his right eyebrow and disappeared into the hair at his temple. Blake Sorenson? She’d heard the name before, but it was as though that memory was buried beneath a rising tide of confusion. “Are you a doctor?” Whoever he was, he was a man of few words, to be certain.
Blake dropped the flashlight back in the bag and offered a thin smile. “More like an EMT. I’m retired military, special ops. Knowing enough to treat broken bones, concussions and minor wounds in the field has come in handy over the years.”
“I see.” Ex-military—just like Ken. Hopefully, Blake had returned with fewer scars than her late husband. “So, will I live?”
“You have a slight concussion. Nothing to worry about. The monster trucks will eventually go away. As soon as help arrives, we’ll get you checked out by a real doctor. In the meantime, no foot races or heavy lifting.” He winked as he settled on his butt beside her, extending his long legs out in front.
Tori turned her head gingerly and squinted at her surroundings. Rocks, brush, downed logs and lots and lots of trees. Smoke hung in the air. Okay, this isn’t funny anymore. She jerked her head toward Blake, and her stomach rolled with the quick movement. “Where are we? How did I get here?”
“I carried you…from down there.” Blake hooked a thumb toward his left.
Tori scanned the direction he indicated, raising carefully on her elbow when the ground dropped below her line of sight. Sitting straighter, she could just see the smoldering remains of something and a plume of smoke in the canyon below.
“Is…is that a…?”
“Helicopter? It was, before we crash landed it.” From the return of his concerned frown, she must have blanched.
Her memory returned in a blinding flash. The job—the interview—the helicopter…
A groan escaped as she tried to hold on to the contents of her stomach. “No. No. Oh God, I’m so stupid.” She shook her head as though she could deny what was becoming all too obvious. She’d flouted the one promise she’d made to her son—had insinuated herself into Blake’s day for the sake of that stupid story. And almost died. Could be dead right now in the wreckage smoldering in the gully—killed in the same manner as Isaiah’s father. At least that was what Isaiah would think, because Tori would never tell her son his father’s death hadn’t been an accident.
She tried to sit up, but Blake pushed her down gently. “I said no foot races, remember? MacGyver and Travis will be here soon. Just take it easy until then.” He caught her wrist and laid it carefully on her stomach.
“They’re not bringing a helicopter, are they?” Fear brought tears to her eyes, but she fought them back. Undoubtedly, Blake had been privy to her moment of weakness, though.
“I doubt it. More likely they’ll bring the ATV and call for an air ambulance if needed.”
“Promise me you won’t let them put me on another helicopter. Please.” Tori reached for his arm to pull him closer.
Confusion swept Blake’s countenance. “Only if your medical condition is stable when they arrive. It won’t be a picnic traveling out of here by ATV, you know. It’ll be rougher than hell.”
Tori shook her head vehemently and tried to rise again. Blake leaned over her torso, blocking her attempt.
“You don’t understand. I don’t ever fly in helicopters. Ever!”
“Yeah? You could have fooled me.” A frown drew his brows together and his words were almost a growl.
She covered her face with her hands. “I know. I know, damn it. It was stupid of me to jump in yours.” Flinging her hands away from her face, she barely missed Blake as he jerked back just in time. “But I didn’t think you’d end up in air-to-air combat!”
A pained look that might have been guilt traveled over his face and disappeared just as quickly. “Look, sweetheart, it was your idea to come along on the flight. I didn’t invite you, and I sure as hell didn’t expect you to invite yourself.” Blake dropped his head, and his chest expanded with the deep breath he took. When he looked toward her again, his eyes no longer danced with fire. “What the hell does that even mean—you don’t ever ride in helicopters?”
The defensive words on the tip of her tongue stalled. The hand of grief, never far away, squeezed her heart until there was nothing left but an ache. She glimpsed flashes of the past: Ken getting ready to go to the airfield, using his prostheses without her nagging him. Isaiah begging his dad to let him come.
“You want to ride in a chopper?” Ken had asked him.
Isaiah had beamed exuberantly.
Then her husband’s eyes had sought hers. “You too?” And his smile was the one he’d always worn before his injury.
Suddenly, hope for their relationship—their family—had filled her too. She should have known better.
Tears threatened, but she’d be damned if she’d let them fall. There’d been enough crying. She firmed her jaw and returned Blake’s stare. “I told you—I don’t like flying.”
Something unreadable flashed in Blake’s eyes. “I think this goes way beyond fear of flying. You were scared shitless when you strapped yourself into the passenger seat, both times. Yet, while we were under attack, you were right there with me, relatively calm and focused on what needed to be done. Where’d that come from?”
He was right. The realization jolted her, but, a second later, she had the answer. “Those kids—whatever their parents did, the children don’t deserve to die. I was thinking about them.”
The faintest trace of a smile appeared. “Well, what do you know? We do have something in common.” Blake stood in one motion but didn’t look away from her. “Stay down until help arrives. I’m not your enemy, Tori.”
Suddenly, the sharp crack of a rifle startled her. Something warm splashed her face at the same instant Blake dropped to his knees. Horror filled her as blood gushed from the left side of his forehead and streamed down his cheek. He appeared dazed and shook his head, almost losing his balance. As another shot whizzed over them, he threw himself on top of her and rolled them to his right, where a small outcrop of rocks provided meager cover.
Still protecting her with his body, he reached beneath his shirt and, suddenly, there was a gun in his hand. “You’ll have to be my eyes, Tori. I can’t see well enough.”
Tori slid from beneath him and turned on her stomach to survey the area. Fear and shock had frozen her, but now that she had a job to do, she was on it. “Who is it? Did you see anyone?”
“No. The other chopper—I didn’t think anyone could survive that crash, but someone must have.” Blake’s words slurred, and he swore beneath his breath.
The handgun hung loosely in his hand, and Tori’s decision was made without debate. She slipped the weapon from his grip and moved out of reach as he made a half-assed grab to get it back. Yeah, he would be no help. “I can shoot. My husband taught me well.” The words were more to assure herself than to mollify him.
“Your husband, huh? Shit!” Blake rolled to his back. “Have to tell you…called MacGyver and Travis…should be here soon. Remember…don’t…shoot…them.”
Tori glanced toward him. His eyes were closed. Blood covered one whole side of his face and neck. His mouth hung open slightly. His expression was peaceful…and that was the last damn thing she needed right now.
