“…then I’d stall us in midair.”
“Or maybe you’d realize it’s possible to lead a normal, productive life that doesn’t involve the daily potential for death.”
“I didn’t realize you were such an expert in aerodynamics. Would you like to take the controls?”
“I couldn’t do any worse than you. Where’d you learn to fly, anyway? Did you take a crash course?”
The crackle of the headset prevented Carrie from responding, which was just as well, since Scott already knew the answer. She’d learned from her helicopter pilot father, now stationed somewhere on the other side of the globe, as far away from his offspring as he could physically get.
“Are we sure yelling at each other is the best idea right now?” Nate asked, his voice gaining a wary edge for the first time. “What with the gale-force winds and all that?”
“Let ‘em at it,” Ace said. “This is the most relaxed I’ve been all day.”
Max agreed with a laugh. “They’re always at their most productive when they’re at each other’s throats. It soothes their troubled souls.”
Scott growled a warning to the men in the back, but they hit another patch of wind. He could hear some of the cargo being tossed around in the back, along with Jenga’s yelp of fear as her crate rattled against the floor.
“Oh, shit.” Carrie began doing that disconcerting pilot thing that consisted of pushing at buttons in a seemingly random pattern, her feet pressing into the pedals at the bottom of the cockpit. “This isn’t good.”
“What’s happening?” Max called.
What the hell did he think was happening? They were attempting to land a helicopter in the middle of a snowstorm. Bad things. Bad things were happening.
They were close enough now to the mountain peak that Scott could make out the features of the landscape—blurry snow and spiky trees, far too many jutting rocks for his peace of mind, the snowy clearing coming at them too soon, too fast, too angled. It hit him at once how insane this entire mission was. Not because his own life flashed before his eyes, and not because he was seeing visions of Max and Ace and Jenga twisted up in the wreckage, but because he couldn’t handle it if anything happened to the woman seated next to him.
What the hell had he been thinking? His world had gone black the first time he almost lost her. This time, it was a blinding flash of white.
“Pull out,” he commanded.
“That’s what she said,” Carrie quipped between clenched teeth, her concentration unwavering from her target.
“I mean it. This is too dangerous.”
“You’re just now realizing this?”
“It was a mistake to come out here. You don’t have to make this sacrifice. Not for me.”
She pulled at the joystick she had in her death-grip and caused them to take a dizzying spin. Breathless, she said, “It’s a little late for you to start throwing yourself on the pyre, don’t you think? Take a deep breath and cross your fingers. It’s only going to get worse before it gets better.”
“Don’t do this. Please.” He kept his eyes on her profile, committing it to memory—the slope of her slightly upturned nose, the part of lips deep in concentration, the worried pucker that not even her headset could hide. “It’s not worth it.”
“You love this dog.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“You want this dog.”
“Carrie—it doesn’t fucking matter.”
“You told me you were willing to sacrifice my life and career for this dog.”
“I didn’t mean it. I was trying to rile you up. I’m always trying to rile you up.” Even though the scenery was a blur in his peripheral vision, he didn’t look away from her. He couldn’t. “It’s what I do so I don’t have to face any of the real emotions you stir up in me. It’s what I do so I don’t have to admit to either of us how much I love you.”
The look she shot him was pure shock, her eyes wide. She couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d told her that they were already dead and this was hell. That was how effective he’d been at keeping her back, at ensuring there was no way she could know how deeply he cared. They were being tossed around like a butterfly in a snowstorm, helicopter blades slicing through wind so thick it was a force of its own, facing certain death. And the thing that unsettled her most was the idea that he loved her more than he loved his favorite dog.
Neither one of them got a chance to say more. Just as she opened her mouth to respond, they were hit from the side with a blast of air so cold Scott felt it deep in his bones. He reached for Carrie, making a nonsensical grab to shield her from the storm, when they spun wildly to the right. Scott’s head slammed against the headrest, whirling his senses, and that was the last he remembered before the screech of metal took over.
Chapter Eight
“Don’t touch it. Don’t look at it. Don’t breathe on it.”
“How can I get your boot off if you won’t let me breathe on it?” Scott made another grab for the laces of Carrie’s La Sportiva, but she kicked him off with her uninjured foot. “Hold still for one goddamned minute, would you?”
“You’re a dog trainer, Scott, not a paramedic. Would you please stop freaking out at me? Ace said he’ll be right back.” She could tell Scott wanted to argue—when had he not wanted that?—but even he couldn’t come up with a reason not to wait for their only first-aid-certified team member to return from his quick call of nature. Apparently, the older man’s bladder didn’t stand up as well to near-death experiences as it used to. “Besides—you should be more concerned about the gaping head wound that’s bleeding all over your face.”
He touched a hand to his temple, where a swelling had formed and split in two, and winced. She winced with him. That was not a pleasant-looking injury.
“I told you my voodoo doll worked,” she said.
He scowled. “I still have my head attached, don’t I?”
“I think it works more on a metaphorical level than a literal one.”
He didn’t answer, instead scooping a handful of snow to hold to his face. One good thing about being surrounded by nothing but miles and miles of snow—they had all the natural ice packs they’d ever need.
They could hear Ace leave the rocky outcropping he’d designated as their new outdoor lavatory, but he stopped to check in with Nate and Max first. Both men had emerged from the landing unscathed and were currently unloading their gear, which was a nice way of saying they’d overheard their conversation on the helicopter and were choosing to keep a discreet distance.
She didn’t blame them.
“I just want to look at it,” Scott said, indicating her foot. “See if it’s broken or not.”
“It’s not.” She moved her foot out of his reach. It hurt like the devil, but it wasn’t broken. The helicopter had protested a little there at the end, but it also wasn’t broken. And Scott’s head was still in one piece. So far, so good. “I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s a sprain.”
“How can you maneuver the foot pedals to get us out of here if it’s broken?”
“It’s just a sprain,” she repeated.
“Yeah, but what if—”
“Scott.” She spoke his name sharply—too sharply, the adrenaline of the past hour leaving her shaky and drained. It wasn’t enough that she’d just successfully made the most difficult landing of her career, or that they now faced the reality of their extreme isolation out here. Oh, no. He had to go ahead and throw a confession of love into the mix.
He’d had eight months to say the words she longed to hear, eight months to rustle up a fancy meal and woo her in the manner of normal human beings the world over. And all he’d done in that time was make her wonder if she was alone in believing she’d found the person she could spend the rest of her life with.
Goddamned bastard. You didn’t get to make a declaration when facing death and then just leave it there. Deathbed confessions didn’t count.
“I can take your boot off without incur
ring further damages. I’m not an idiot.”
“You are an idiot, but that’s not the point. If your skull has stopped bleeding, I suggest you finish taking care of Jenga and get the team ready to head out.”
He dropped the snowpack on his eye, the white clump stained bright red in the center. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, I’m serious. This is what we came out here to do.” Save the dog. Give Scott the love of his life back. “We made decent time and the weather is holding well, all things considered. The sooner you guys can start setting up the search parameters, the better.”
“Carrie—you could have died.” He gave up on his annoyingly persistent grab for her boot, his expression earnest. “Please tell me you understand that. You were two seconds away from crashing into that rock and dying in my arms.”
She didn’t point out that they’d all been about two seconds away from crashing into that rock and dying in a collective heap. “You sure have a funny way of showing your affection. Asking me to risk everything for you and then getting mad when I do it.”
His lips grew white with tension. “You’re too careless with your own life.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Careless was not what he said in the helicopter. Careless was not love. “I know what I’m doing, thank you very much.”
He sprang to his feet, heedless of his head injury, his vest a bright beacon against the wintry landscape. “No, you don’t. You don’t have any idea what it means to those of us on the ground and in the passenger seat, crossing our fingers that you once again manage to pull off the miraculous.”
Was this seriously the conversation they were going to have right now? There was a dog to find and a camp to set up and a declaration of love to talk about, and he was going to start up with this again?
“Did you forget the part where you told me I’m the only one brave enough and good enough to do this? Or was that just you trying to get your way?”
“It’s not that I don’t think you’re capable—of course it’s not that. It’s that I can’t sit at home wondering if you’re going to make it back in one piece, or if today’s the day you’re going to die. It kills me to see you go.”
She opened her mouth and closed it again, unsure how to respond.
“You make fun of my superstitions—and I get it, I really do.” He shook his head, his anger moving inward, turning bitter. “Scott Richardson believes in magic and fairies. Scott Richardson will cross the street rather than step on his own shadow. What a silly fool. But what you don’t understand is that it’s the only thing I can do. It’s the only option I have when I watch you walk out the door to go to work, not knowing if it’s the last time I’ll ever see you alive.”
This time, Carrie’s mouth stayed open, letting in the cold air and incredulity, leaving her breathless. He wasn’t… He hadn’t… He couldn’t… “I don’t believe this. You did it on purpose, didn’t you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“This mission. This whole thing.” She flailed her hands out, livid with herself for not seeing it sooner. “You asked me to help you, knowing it would mean the end of my career.”
He laughed, the sound frantic, almost desperate. “That’s not even remotely close to what I’m saying right now. Did you miss the part where I told you how much I love you?”
Oh, she hadn’t missed it. It had penetrated her heart and blazed right through her better judgment, leaving a gaping hole behind. The fucking nerve of him.
“Do you know what I was doing when you were frolicking with puppies and learning how to shoot empty beer cans in Newman’s backyard?” she asked, her voice dangerous. “Do you have any idea how I spent the majority of my childhood?”
Scott blinked down at her, and she got to her feet—or, foot, rather—pushing him back when he tried to offer her a helping hand. It felt good to get up from the icy rock serving as a makeshift chair, her ass long since grown numb.
“I took the controls for the first time when I was six years old. Could copilot with some of the best air force pilots in the world by fourteen. Was flying solo at seventeen.” She felt a tight clench in her chest, a familiar dam about to burst. “If I wanted to spend any time with my dad, I had to do it with a headset on and my eyes on the horizon. So that’s what I did. Every day, for years, logging so many hours I never really learned how to do anything else.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“Even if it’s not what you meant, it doesn’t change the fact that you have zero faith in me. I know it sometimes seems like bad luck follows wherever I go—and maybe it does, maybe I am cursed—but if there’s one thing I can do, it’s fly a helicopter. It’s what I have instead of a family.” She took a deep breath, aware for the first time just how much anger she’d been holding inside—not because Scott had dumped her, but because he’d failed to support her when she needed him most. “Flying is all I have. It’s all I know. And when I got in that accident last month, you were supposed to be there to help me figure out what the hell my life is supposed to be next, not start treating me like a walking, talking disaster you were too afraid to touch.”
The stricken look on his face was enough to convince her that she’d finally gotten through his thick skull. Too bad she’d never been less enthusiastic about winning an argument in her life.
“I needed you, Scott. My entire world was crashing around me, and you just turned yourself off.”
“What are you doing on that foot, boss?” Ace whistled cheerfully as he approached, apparently deciding he’d had enough of discretion. “I told you to stay put until I could take a look at it.”
“Sorry.” She dropped back to the rock’s icy surface. “I’ll be good—and you can perform all the first aid you want in a minute. First, let’s get this ball rolling. Since it looks like this lovely spot has chosen us instead of the other way around, why don’t we go ahead and make it base camp?”
For the first time, she noticed their surroundings—really noticed them, not as a helicopter pilot looking for enough clearance to land, but as a human being with eyes and a heart and the sense of wonder that came with both.
These weren’t the tallest mountains she’d ever been on by far, and they were rugged in a forested way rather than a rocky way. There were no jagged edges reaching beyond the clouds or slopes of pure white untouched by footprints, but that didn’t detract from the majesty of their surroundings. If anything, the simplicity only enhanced it. Piles of fluffy snow were broken by thousands of stately evergreens that refused to make way. Whirls of white and grey touched down from the sky, and the air felt fresh rather than thin.
It was beautiful.
It was also dangerous. This forest, which looked so warm and inviting compared to the rocky summits of larger mountains, went on for miles in every direction, the hills rolling out in dips and rises that hid how much acreage this area really was. There were a whole lot of hiding places out there. A whole lot of ground for a team of five people and one rescue dog to cover.
Well, too bad. If she was going to fly out of here without a job, a future, a boyfriend, or a heart, she was leaving with a highly trained rescue dog who deserved the full force of their attention.
“We’ll run this the same way Newman does,” she said, proud to hear a decisive note in her voice. “Base camp here. A search team of three will head out on rotating four-hour shifts. For this first one, we’ll let Nate lead, since he knows the area better than anyone, with Scott and Jenga providing direction.”
She stopped. That was all she had, the most insight she could offer short of all of them piling back in the Falcon and hightailing it out of there—which she wasn’t even sure she could do right now based on the way her foot was throbbing inside its boot.
“There’s some good coverage over in that patch where we’ve been unloading the equipment,” Max suggested. “It’ll be the best place to put up our tents and command station.”
Carrie shot him a grateful look. “Perfect.”
&
nbsp; “And I’ll volunteer to stay back with you for this first run,” Ace said. “That way, I can make sure your foot is stable—and I’ve got this kickass new wilderness stew I’ve been wanting to try out.”
They all groaned good-naturedly, as cooking was one of Ace’s many passions better left untouched and untasted. The last time he’d been put in charge of feeding the Search and Rescue crew, their granola bar reserves ran out in record time.
Still, Carrie was relieved to find that this felt normal, almost good. No matter what kind of circumstances surrounded them or how desperate the case might be, these guys would always be here for her to count on. They were rocks. They were her rocks.
She’d never had rocks before.
“So, we’re all agreed?” she asked.
Scott raised his hand, belligerence in every line of his bearing.
“What?” she asked warily. She’d said everything she had to say to him—anything more at this point was just hot air and more delay.
“I don’t like it.”
“What?” she asked again, more exasperated this time. “What does that even mean, you don’t like it?”
“For the record, I want it stated that I don’t like this. I think we should head back. You’re injured and it’s too dangerous to keep you out here away from proper medical care any longer than we have to. You need X-rays, not Ace’s poison stew.”
“Well…” She looked around, struggling to find the right words. Unfortunately, there weren’t any. “Too bad. No one gives a flying fuck what you think. We’re here and we’re going to find that poor abandoned dog if we have to strap you to a sled and pull you through the woods to do it.”
Around her, the rest of the team burst into applause. She basked in it, and in the glower that settled on Scott’s injured brow, before nodding her head in a show of her thanks.
Rocks. She could get used to this.
Chapter Nine
“We see a lot of bears up here in the fall, but they hibernate this time of year, so she probably didn’t get eaten.”
Off the Map (Winter Rescue #2) Page 10
