Page 10

The comms went dead followed by a harsh curse. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
The line pulled tight for a moment, the weight shuffling from side to side as the funnel drew closer, spraying water across the ocean as it intensified, quickly doubling in size.
She held firm, aware she had no other option but to hope he gave her the green light before it reached them when her comms clicked.
His voice rasped over the static, followed by a harsh, “Go.”
She moved, quickly gaining altitude as she banked away from the cliff. What she hoped would prevent the basket from crashing into the rocks if the wind caught it before she got them clear.
The line pulled tight, tugging against the chopper as the top few feet of the funnel snared the basket, spinning if for a few horrifying seconds, water shooting out in all directions. She stopped short, maintaining just enough tension on the line it wouldn’t slingshot the guy sideways when they finally broke free. Pressure built through the controls, some of the gauges edging toward the red, when the spout passed, crashing into the cliff in a stunning display of wind and rain. The line went slack as the basket dropped a few feet, finally settling beneath the chopper, again.
She shoved the cyclic forward, getting them clear of the cliff before banking it over and paralleling the shoreline. Any hope of dropping them off beside her father’s truck fading into the thick fog curling up the base and across that road.
Charlie nodded when she gave him the thumbs up, activating the hoist and reeling in the line. The chopper rocked with the shifting center of gravity until the constant whining of the hoist stopped followed by the clatter of the basket skidding across the rear cabin.
Her comms chirped then her dad’s voice sounded over the radio. “You all okay?”
She clicked the button. “Fine, dad. But we’ll have to head for the hanger. Can you call dispatch and get an ambulance headed our way? I’ll never make it over the hills to Providence in this weather.”
“Already done. They’ll pick up your patient then head on to the clinic. I’ll see you later. And Mac, we’re not done talking about this.”
She chuckled. If only her father knew some of the missions she’d flown while in the Coast Guard. Though, he probably did but was choosing to selectively forget anything that didn’t jive with his line of thinking. That she was still his little girl.
Boots scuffed the floor off to her right, and she chanced a quick glance behind her. The guy was splayed across the floor, water pooling beneath him as he fumbled with the carabiner. Charlie shuffled over and released the clip, thanking the guy before focusing on the other person bundled in the basket.
The man scanned the chopper, eyes wide. His mouth pinched tight. He met her gaze, his nostrils flaring as he seemed to take short, choppy breaths.
She sighed, talking loud enough he’d hear her over the wind still howling through the open doors. “Sorry, but between the spout and the fog, I couldn’t access the road, again.”
He frowned but nodded, still looking around as if he expected the entire machine to either crumble around him or swallow him whole.
She motioned to the vacant spot beside her. “There’s a seat up here, if you’d like.”
He glanced at the empty chair, shuddered, then stood, making his way between the bulkhead before stopping. Looking as if he might pass out.
Mac frowned, staring into the darkness. At least the lighthouse was working, each flash of light guiding her back to base. Not that she couldn’t distinguish the shoreline but between the pouring rain and the encroaching fog, it was getting sketchy, even for her.
A minute passed before she looked up, motioning to the spot, again. “Either sit there or grab a seat in the back. Just do something before some turbulence tosses your ass across the cabin.”
He muttered something under his breath then shuffled over, leaning his hip against the chair. Not standing but definitely not fully sitting. More of a modified squat. As if he planned on diving across the cockpit at a moment’s notice.
She shook her head, secretly wondering how her father always seemed to find the crazy ones, when he picked up the spare headset and slipped it on.
He clicked on the mic, looking over at her. “In all the rush, I didn’t get your name.”
The fact he hadn’t introduced himself first, seemed a bit odd. But then she’d just been commenting on the fact she already thought he was nuts.
She smiled, absently noting how stunning his eyes were. Some enchanting combination of blue and green, that sparkled with every pass of the lighthouse beacon. “Mackenzie. But everyone just calls me Mac.”
Those gorgeous eyes widened, and he mumbled something resembling, fucking Atticus, before he huffed. “Mackenzie. As in Parker. Atticus’ daughter.”
“You know my dad?”
The guy chuckled. “You could say that. I flew missions under him in a number of JSOC operations. Nothing long term, but you get to know the people commanding you pretty quick.”
“You flew…”
Well, damn. She gave him a more thorough once-over. The guy was tall, well over six feet and had the kind of physique that came from hours in the gym. His hair was long — more of a Winter Soldier vibe than the clean-cut Steve Rogers look she’d imagined — and he had a few days’ worth of growth on his jaw. Not a full beard but well past a five o’clock shadow.