Page 22 of Blind Prophet (The Arrow Tactical #9)

DORIAN

“Don’t leave today.” The words rush out, uncontrolled. Her kiss confirmed there’s a chance. “Please, Cara. Stay the weekend.”

It’s a plea. And yes, I’m purposefully using her nickname, hoping the intimacy the name implies weakens her resolve.

The wreckage behind us is still cooling, hydraulic fluid contained by the deployed emergency barriers.

We nearly died; the tail rotor failure could have sent us into an uncontrollable spin.

I didn’t share how close we came, how one wrong move during the autorotation landing could have meant the end.

I hadn’t lied when I said my flight instructors would be impressed with my landing.

We nearly died. I don’t expect my nervous flier to board a small plane anytime soon, if ever. Forget helicopters.

Her fingers tangle in my hair, but she shifts, and instead of pulling me to her, she toys with my ear, then her fingers glide along my jaw. I ache to crush my mouth to hers, rip her clothes off, and rediscover every inch of a body I once knew better than my own.

But I want more than one more time. I want her back in my life. It’s a truth I know with a deep, residual certainty. I’ve been a dead man walking for years. Lifeless.

I don’t know why I couldn’t get over her. Why I couldn’t move on.

A range of emotions washes over her unforgettable blue irises. Lust? Uncertainty?

“If I come back with you, will you answer my questions?”

A smirk threatens.

“Not as a game,” she hastens. “What I’m working on is important. I need answers. We know about your alliance. We have questions.”

A small white plane whooshes above us.

Caroline’s brow crinkles. “Is that plane big enough for us to ride in?”

The fear in her voice would be comical if we hadn’t almost died in a crash.

“It’s a Cessna. It’s the scout plane I mentioned. He’s assessing our location.”

The Cessna circles overhead, its pilot following standard SAR protocols. I create the X signal with my arms, indicating we’re mobile but need assistance. The green acknowledgment light flashes through the cockpit glass.

“What does that mean?”

“Mountain Rescue is inbound.”

The small plane banks away, disappearing over the ridgeline. Its pilot will relay our exact coordinates to the ground teams.

“If there’s no landing area, how would they?—”

“They have specialized equipment,” I interrupt, not wanting her to spiral thinking about helicopter hoists. “But we won’t need it. The ATVs can reach us here.”

I say that confidently, but I’m not 100 percent certain. One issue at a time.

She shivers, and I’m not sure if it’s from the increasing wind or from her imagining climbing a rope ladder.

“If necessary, they’d strap you into something and hoist.” Based on those wide eyes, my statement doesn’t ease her concerns. “They wouldn’t trust a civilian’s arm strength to climb a ladder flapping in the wind. You’ve seen too many movies.”

I sit back down beside her and pull her close to me, rubbing her arms vigorously to build heat.

“I’d never put you in a dangerous situation.

” The smoking helicopter we’re both staring at disagrees with my oath.

“Caroline, look at me.” I wait until those breathtaking eyes are pointed at me and not at the wreck.

“I’m not sorry this happened, if only because it’s a chance to see you again.

To really see you. To talk. For me to tell you how sorry I am.

How much I wish I’d done differently. I never stopped loving you.

I wanted to. Desperately. But you dug your way into my soul, and nothing and no one has remedied the situation. And I’ve tried everything.”

“You mean that, don’t you?”

“Give me this weekend. I love you. Always have. Always will.” Saliva pools in my mouth, and I swallow it down, looking off into the dreary sky.

The phrase slipped out without my putting proper thought behind it, but the lack of forethought doesn’t make it less true.

You can love someone and not be with them.

In my case, I loved her so much that I let her walk away so she would be happy. So what am I doing now?

“They’ll be here soon? The rescuers?”

And with that question, it’s clear she’s over me. I’ve been reading into things, opening up when I shouldn’t have. Her fingers press down on my forearm, pulling me back to the painful present.

“Probably not long,” I answer.

It’s so quiet in these woods. We should hear them approach. The trees surrounding us grow closely together, but I imagine an ATV can find a path, and the first responders will likely use ATVs. Hopefully, we’re not too far away from a road. And then from there…

“Will you be okay getting back into a helicopter? To get back to my house? Or would you prefer to drive?”

“How far away from your house are we?”

I try to visualize our location. It’s not a route I drive, given I fly to save time. “Hour and a half. Maybe. The roads aren’t a straight shot.”

“If you fall off a horse, the best way to get over your fear is to get back in the saddle, right?”

Caroline rode horses growing up. Her parents have photos of her in her jodhpurs and a black velvet riding hat, beaming with crooked teeth.

“You’ll seriously get into a helicopter again?”

“If it’s prudent,” she answers matter-of-factly, and once again, it’s clear she’s changed. She’s stronger. But then again, she’s always been strong. Maybe now, I’m finally seeing her.

An engine rumbles off in the distance.

“Do you hear that?” Excitement coats Caroline’s words.

“Yeah. They aren’t far away. If I were to guess…” I point an arm southward, along the creek line. “There’s a cut-through in that direction that eventually ties into Route 50.

I carefully pull the extra blanket around Caroline’s shoulders, press my lips to her forehead, and push up, prepared to wave my arms.

Although, if they break through the clearing, we’ll be easy to spot.

A splash of white and red through the trees lets me know they’re close. And with those bright colors, they aren’t attempting to sneak up on us either.

“Do you see them?”

“Yeah. They’ll be here soon.” I look down at her, huddled in blankets, knees pulled up against her.

“If you come back with me, I’ll answer any questions.

You might not like all of my answers, but I’ll tell you anything.

” She twists slightly, positioning her body in the direction of the rumbling engine. “Please.”

The look she gives me disagrees, and a less resilient man might give up.

I should probably give up. “We were in transit returning to Denver and crashed, yet survived. Don’t you think someone’s trying to tell us we’re not done yet?

That we need to spend time together? Talk through things?

I mean, that divorce agreement you brought for me to sign?

It’s incinerated. Don’t you think that’s a sign? ”

She scoffs. “It’s a sign someone wants you dead.”

I’m not in the mood to laugh, but I do smile.

“Tell you what. Come back and spend the weekend with me. Give me one weekend. You can reprint the agreement, and I’ll sign it.”

She narrows her eyes. “You’ve given up on the Georgia land?”

I never wanted that damn land. I only wanted a reason to fight. “All yours.”

“It was always mine.”

“Caroline. I don’t want to fight about that land. Not now. It’s yours. Give me this weekend.”

The front of an ATV comes into view. He’s stopped about thirty yards out in front of a fallen tree. Another engine rumbles in the distance.

“Looks like our ride is here. No hoisting through the air today.”

“Dorian.” Her voice is sharp. “If I come back with you, we’re going to talk. You’re going to answer my questions.”

“I’ll tell you everything.”

She rises and stands before me. She’s assessing me.

Can she see it? I’m not lying. I’ll tell her what she needs to know.

I have questions, too. Which government agency is investigating me?

Someone hired her firm, this Arrow Tactical that she mentioned.

But I don’t care about that. Not really.

If anything comes of her team’s investigation, I have lawyers who can handle any inconveniences.

“Promise? Everything?”

“Absolutely.” That’s what comes out of my lips as I stare into her eyes, but what I mean is I’ll tell her anything that won’t hurt her.

“Okay.”

I fight the urge to shove a fist into the air and shout yes . Instead, I wave an arm in the air, ensuring the first responder on the ATV sees us. I also study him through the trees as a precaution. He’s wearing warm clothing, but it’s bright, and there are no visible guns.

“Dorian, even if I stay the weekend, it doesn’t mean?—”

“I know,” I’m quick to reassure.

But I own a property close to Santa Barbara, in Montecito. There will be challenges with leaving Denver, but nothing that’s insurmountable. If I can crack the door open this weekend, there’s the possibility of a workable solution.

My pulse beats furiously at the prospect of a reunion with Caroline, but of course, I’m getting ahead of myself.

Our relationship wasn’t perfect. We had issues.

I had issues. I can’t kid myself that we can resume where we left off.

Nor would I want to. When she left, we were drowning in pain.

Neither of us wants to return to misery.

No, I want what we had before we spiraled.

The lead responder approaches in a yellow SAR jacket, his medical kit at the ready. His partner maintains perimeter security—standard procedure when dealing with a high-profile rescue.

“Mr. Moore?” He keeps a professional distance until we confirm our identities. “I’m John with Mountain Rescue. Are either of you injured?”

“Negative. The autorotation landing was successful.” I gesture to the helicopter. “You’ll need a HAZMAT team for the cleanup. There’s hydraulic fluid contained, but the fuel system is intact.”

He nods, speaking into his radio to update base. Later, I’ll contact my security team and have them secure the crash site and coordinate the investigation.

“Can you walk?”

“Yes.”

He turns and gives a hand signal to the other guy, I presume telling him we’ll come to him. In this area, the trees are thick, and there’s limited space for a path to reach us.

“We have an emergency team at the base.” He clocks the wreck but doesn’t step past the blankets.

“Don’t know much about helicopters,” he says.

“I’m a medic. Since you’re both mobile, let’s gather your stuff and get back to the team.

They’re saying a fast-moving system’s coming in.

We had to cut a path up here. Lots of downed trees.

Picked the fastest route to you. Didn’t know what we’d be dealing with. ”

What he’s saying is he didn’t know what injuries we might have sustained. We got lucky as hell.

He scans both of us. “Not even a scrape, huh?”

“I’m sure we’ll be sore come morning,” I say.

The harnesses kept us secure in the seats, and, unlike in an automobile accident, safety bags didn’t smash our faces. The windshield cracked but held. There were no loose objects in the cabin. We’re good.

“Apparently, he’s a master pilot,” Caroline says to the man, her baby blues locked on me.

“Yeah, I’d say so,” the man says. “So, like I said, I’m John. Man back there is Tito.”

“Dorian. And Caroline,” I respond.

“All right. Let’s gather your stuff and get out of here,” John says.

“I called back on the sat phone and let them know we’ve got you,” Tito announces.

I get Caroline’s suitcase, my briefcase, both salvageable, and leave everything else. I give Caroline one blanket and insist she wrap herself in it on the trip down the mountain.

The stretchers attached to the ATVs serve as a stark reminder of what could have happened.

We each sit on the back of an ATV, me behind John, Caroline behind Tito. As it turns out, we are close to a road. Still, it takes us a good two hours at the base to meet with the rescue team and to hire a lift back to my place.

We both take turns making phone calls at the base, borrowing phones from the rescue team. I deal with press issues since someone picked up that my helicopter went down. Based on Caroline’s facial expressions during her phone call, her team isn’t happy with her decision to stay for the weekend.

While we were given discretion for our calls, we haven’t been alone since the rescue. When we finally walk through the door of the mountain house, it feels like we’ve been gone for days.

I’ve got a slew of emails and messages to return, but I don’t care about any of it. By the grace of the gods, I have Caroline for two days, and she’s my priority.