Page 43 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

DALTON

I clawed my way out of the cockpit and hopped to the ground.

“Fuck me,” I groaned.

I swayed on my feet and took a second to make the world stop spinning. Everything hurt. But pain meant I was alive and right now that was good enough. Alive meant I still had a chance to get to Pickle and Janna.

Shit, if I was this messed up after my hard landing, I didn’t want to think about what they were dealing with. Hitting the ground in a chopper was a lot harder than in a plane.

At least, that was my opinion after a few rough landings in both while I went through training in the military. No one just knew how to land. It was a trial and error and I had lower back issues that reminded me of those errors.

The landing was a nightmare, but I’d managed to get the plane down in one piece. Well, mostly one piece. And it didn’t explode, so that was a good thing. And I was walking. That was something. Limping and stiff but walking.

The cornfield I’d skidded into was singed and flattened where the plane plowed through.

I owed Martha if it didn’t burn. The air was thick with smoke, but the flames were still far enough away to give me some comfort.

I heard the sound of a plane and looked up in time to see what I assumed was Wild Bill making a drop.

Laser and Chief were going to be doing all they could to help out the rescue without sacrificing the first priority, which was saving Hollow Gorge.

The Sullivan farm was still standing and untouched, minus my landing strip.

The fire hadn’t reached it yet, but with winds blowing hard and that wall of flames crawling down from the ridge, it was just a matter of time.

Fire didn’t particularly like to go downhill, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t. It just preferred the uphill runs.

That fact was on our side. It would slow the fire’s progression, and with the retardant being dumped, we’d hopefully have a nice wide fire break. It would give the team a chance to work backward.

The bigger the line between the town and the fire line the better the odds we could save the place. I couldn’t imagine not saving Hollow Gorge.

Or them.

I got a weird feeling in my chest just thinking about failing. The feeling was like an internal kick straight to my heart instead of a physical kick to my solar plexus.

I wiped the sweat off my face with the back of my hand. Ash streaked across my skin. But none of that mattered. Not the farm. Not the gear. Not even the plane I’d just crash-landed into a patch of corn.

What mattered was her. Janna .

The thought of her out there, hurt, scared, maybe worse left me feeling raw. Like my skin had been peeled away and I was all nerves. I didn’t know if she was alive, but I had to believe she was. Because the alternative? It would break something in me that wouldn’t come back.

I could not lose another person. I reassured myself Pickle was a damn good pilot. I’d flown with him through some pretty hairy situations and he handled it like a pro. He had put the helo down and they were probably already on foot and running for safety.

But I didn’t see anyone when I made my initial pass. I shook off the dark feeling. I could not—would not—give up hope.

Fuck that. I wasn’t going to lose them.

I leaned in and grabbed my two-way. “Laser, come in.”

I scanned the area, already formulating a plan. I probably should have thought about a plan before I landed. But there hadn’t been time. I had operated on emotion, which I knew was dangerous, but too late now.

“Laser. Chief.”

“Herc! Shit, you made it. I saw your landing. If you can even call it that.”

“Don’t get judgy on me. I walked away, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. Only because you have nine lives.”

“Did you see them?” I asked.

“I couldn’t see anything through the smoke. Sorry.”

“How bad is it?” I asked. My gaze turned back to the fire line. I knew I was losing ground. A lot of ground.

“Fire’s all around. You opened up a path, but it’s narrow, and you’re not getting any wheels through it. You’ll have to go on foot. And fast. Fire’s shifting. Could close your trail any minute.”

“Copy that,” I said. “What’s our window?”

“Maybe twenty minutes if we’re lucky. I’m trying to hold the line from the air. But you need to run, Dalton.”

Even if I ran there, I had no idea what kind of condition they were in. I didn’t know if they were able to walk, let alone run. If the landing was bad, they could be seriously injured.

I climbed back into the plane and yanked open the emergency gear locker. Oxygen tanks. Two masks. I shoved them in my pack, slung it over my shoulders, and cinched the straps down.

I hopped down and winced when it felt like I jabbed a rib through my side. Every step was agony. My ribs ached like I’d been kicked by a mule. Thankfully, adrenaline had kicked in and that kept me going.

“I’ve got to get to her,” I told Laser. “Them. I don’t care what it takes.”

“You already crash-landed a plane in a cornfield. How much worse can it get?”

“Don’t tempt fate.”

“Have you tried to contact them?”

I started walking toward the house. I didn’t think Martha would be dumb enough to stick around, but I had to make sure. Janna would never forgive me if I saved her and not Martha.

I jogged through the field, my boots sinking into the soft earth with each step. The cornstalks whipped at my arms and legs as I pushed through them. Every breath burned my lungs, the smoke getting thicker with every passing minute.

“Martha!” I shouted as I approached the farmhouse. The white porch was already gray with ash. “Martha, are you in there?”

No answer. I bounded up the steps two at a time. The door was unlocked. Pretty typical for a small town like Hollow Gorge. I pushed it open and stepped inside.

“Martha!” I called again, my voice echoing through the empty rooms.

The house felt abandoned. No lights, no sounds of life. I moved quickly through the living room and into the kitchen. It was neat and tidy, dishes washed and put away.

I took the stairs two at a time, my ribs screaming in protest. The bedrooms were empty. Good. They had gotten out.

Back downstairs, I did one final sweep of the basement. Nothing but canned goods and an old furnace. I was back outside in under three minutes, but even that felt like too long. The fire was closer now. I could feel the heat on my face.

“House is clear,” I radioed to Laser. “Martha’s gone. I’m heading for town.”

“Copy that. Be careful, Herc. The wind’s picking up. I don’t want to say it, but?—”

“Don’t say it,” I snapped back through the two-way.

“Dalton, there’s no way you’re going to get there before that fire does!” Her shouting through the radio sounded like screeching.

“What do you expect me to do?”

“Get out of there!” Chief’s voice cut through.

“Hey, uh, guys, I hate to point out the obvious, but my plane isn’t exactly going anywhere. I’m here. I’m on the ground. I’m getting them out, one way or another.”

I stood on the porch and scanned the area. I remembered seeing four-wheelers parked behind the barn. I rushed back inside the house and looked for the keys. I didn’t see them. Maybe they were in the four-wheelers.

I jogged down the porch and ran behind the barn. Both four-wheelers were there but I couldn’t find a single key.

“Come on!” I slapped my hand on the seat.

I headed for the barn, thinking maybe I could find keys to the four-wheelers inside. The moment I pulled open the heavy wooden door, I was hit with the smell of hay and horse. And then I saw them.

The horses.

Shit. They were shifting nervously in their stalls as the smoke thickened. Their eyes were wide with fear, nostrils flaring as they caught the scent of fire on the wind.

Martha and Joe had likely been in town when the fire started. They wouldn’t have been able to get home to turn out the horses. I knew the drill.

Turn them loose. Let them run for safety. But as I reached for the first latch, something clicked in my brain.

Horses.

I could ride.

Kind of.

Okay, ride might have been the wrong word. I could stay on the back of one of the beasts. I couldn’t remember their names. Something to do with an apple.

They could navigate terrain that would stop any vehicle cold. They could get me there in time.

The one I rode danced in the stall. Did I dare? It could be more of a risk. But I was running out of options.

I grabbed the radio. “Laser, change of plans. I found transportation.”

“Good. Get your ass in gear, Herc.”

I eyed the horses.

I’d done a lot of really stupid shit in my life. But riding a horse wouldn’t be the dumbest thing. Especially when it was for a good cause.