Page 45 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

DALTON

T he scene in front of me was straight out of hell.

Main Street was a war zone. Buildings on both sides were either fully engulfed or smoking ruins.

The asphalt was littered with debris. Chunks of burning wood, twisted metal, and ash so thick it looked like gray snow.

The air shimmered with heat waves that made everything look distorted, like I was looking through water.

Wind blew ash into my eyes. I had pulled my shirt off and covered the lower half of my face, but it did nothing to stop the smoke. The closer I got to town, the more worried I got. I didn’t think anyone could survive.

I called out her name over and over in the hopes she had run away from the fire. I wanted to believe she was sitting under the shade of a tree just waiting for me to get to her.

But she didn’t know I was coming. Laser told me there was still no contact.

I refused to believe she was gone. I couldn’t explain it, but I was certain there was some connection between us. Like I would feel it if she was no longer sharing this earth with me. She was out there and I just had to get her.

And there she was.

For a moment, I thought I’d imagined her.

The smoke was playing tricks on my eyes, making shadows dance and shift.

Maybe my oxygen-starved brain had conjured up what I most desperately wanted to see.

I wasn’t entirely sure I was seeing what I thought I was.

There was something covering most of her face.

But my body would recognize her anywhere.

She pulled the cloth from her face. It was definitely her.

I saw her smile and felt my heart soar with relief.

The sight of her crumpling in that doorway hit me like a physical blow. One second she was standing there in her soot-stained flight suit, swaying but upright, and the next she was gone. Disappeared into the smoke-filled darkness of the diner like she’d never existed at all.

“No, no, no,” I muttered, urging Honeycrisp forward. The mare’s hooves clattered against the asphalt as we closed the distance. The wall of flame crept down Main Street like a living thing, consuming everything in its path. The heat was so intense I could feel it through my flight suit.

I didn’t have long to get to her.

I slid off Honeycrisp before she’d fully stopped, my boots hitting the pavement hard. Pain shot through my ribs but I ignored it. The second horse danced nervously as I tied both sets of reins to a parking meter.

“Janna!” I shouted, pushing through the door.

I nearly tripped over her and Pickle. She was crumpled in the doorway of Martha’s Diner in that oversized flight suit, her blonde hair dark with soot and sweat.

She looked so small. So fragile. Nothing like the fierce, sassy woman who’d told me I might as well bury myself next to my friend because I was already halfway in the ground.

She’d been so right about that. I had been half-dead, a walking ghost going through the motions of living without actually being alive. But seeing her there, unconscious and vulnerable, something roared to life in my chest. Something primal and desperate and absolutely fucking terrified.

I couldn’t lose her. Not like this. Not when I’d been too much of a coward to tell her how I felt. Not when the last words between us had been cruel and cutting and full of pain. I was not going to live with another loss.

I abso-fucking-lutely refused. And in my mind, that was enough.

The diner was filled with choking black smoke. I dropped to my knees beside Janna’s limp body, my pulse hammering so loud it drowned out the screaming fire. Her face was too pale, her lips tinged blue.

No. No, no, no.

I ripped the spare oxygen mask from my pack and pressed it to her face, my hands shaking. “Stay with me, dammit. ” My voice was raw from emotion and smoke inhalation. “Princess, I’ve got you. I’m here. You better not fucking leave me. Get your ass up and fight!”

Nothing.

The heat was unbearable, sweat pouring down my temples, but I barely felt it. All I saw was Janna with a stupid smile on her face. Why in the fuck was she smiling?

“ Breathe! ”

The command tore from somewhere low in my belly. I was certain the people back at the field would have heard it. It came from deep in my soul, filled with pain and fear.

A cough. A shuddering gasp behind the mask. Her chest heaved, and her eyes fluttered open, dazed but alive. For a second, she just stared up at me like she wasn’t sure I was real. Relief hit me like a kick to the ribs, so fierce it stole my breath.

“Holy shit, Janna.”

“Dalton,” she rasped. “Is that really you?” Tears slid from her bloodshot eyes.

I could’ve kissed her. Could’ve shaken her. Instead, I secured the mask over her face and growled, “It’s me. Just breathe. You’ve inhaled a lot of smoke.”

She nodded weakly but that was enough.

I grabbed the second oxygen mask from my pack. It took me a second to pull off the towel covering Pickle’s face. I covered Pickle’s mouth and nose with the mask. His breathing was shallow but steady. Good enough. I didn’t have time to wait for him to wake up.

“We’re getting out of here,” I told Janna, helping her sit up. “Can you ride?”

She nodded, though her movements were sluggish. The oxygen was helping, but she was still weak from smoke inhalation. Every second we stayed in this inferno was another second closer to death.

I half-carried, half-dragged her outside to where the horses waited. Honeycrisp was dancing nervously. The second horse, one of Martha’s geldings, was pulling against his reins.

“Easy, girl,” I murmured, steadying him while I boosted Janna into the saddle. She swayed but managed to grab the horn and hold on.

Going back for Pickle was like diving back into hell. The smoke was so thick I could barely see my own hands. I found him where I’d left him, unconscious but breathing behind the oxygen mask. Dead weight. All muscle and no help.

Getting him outside was a nightmare. I dragged him by his arms, my ribs screaming in protest with every step. By the time I reached the horses, sweat was pouring down my face and my lungs felt like they were full of glass.

“This is going to be interesting,” I muttered and hauled him up onto the horse with me.

I grabbed the reins and kicked Honeycrisp into motion. We needed to move fast. The horse clearly had the same idea. The fire was closing in on both sides, and the narrow corridor I’d flown through was getting smaller by the minute.

The smoke was so thick I could barely see ten feet ahead. I had to trust Honeycrisp to find her way home, to follow whatever instincts horses had that kept them from running straight into flames. Janna still had the oxygen mask pressed to her face.

“You’re okay,” I said, though I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince her or myself. “We’re getting out of here.”

She nodded but didn’t speak. Smart. Save her energy.

The horses picked their way through the debris-littered street. We made it back into the woods. The heat from the flames was behind us, giving us a little breathing room.

I hopped out of the saddle and took the oxygen from Pickle and did my best to put it over the horse’s snout. Poor thing was carrying twice the weight and the smoke couldn’t be good for them either.

Janna watched me and took off her mask. I understood what she was saying. I took it and held it to her horse’s face. I had no idea if it was helping but I’d done it for dogs, raccoons, and even a bear cub once.

“Alright, let’s move,” I said and climbed back into the saddle. “Put the oxygen back on.”

“What about you?” Her voice was so weak. It sounded like she’d been screaming for days or was battling the worst case of laryngitis.

I shook my head and quickly put the oxygen back on Pickle. “I’m fine.”

I pulled my shirt back over my face and spurred the horse on. I thought I heard planes overhead, but it could all be in my head. I pulled my radio from the pocket at my chest.

“Base,” I said before I started coughing. “Got two. Heading to Sullivan Farm.”

“Herc, what’s their condition?” Laser’s voice crackled through the radio.

I heard the question she couldn’t bring herself to ask.

“Alive,” I said, keeping it short. Every word was a painful struggle. “Pickle’s unconscious. Janna’s responsive but weak. They’re fighters, though.”

The radio went quiet for a moment. Chief’s voice came through. “Herc, we’ve got the forward progress stopped. Fire’s contained on three sides. We’re about to start dumping everything we’ve got on the town center. Are you clear?”

The horses were moving steadily through the ash-covered terrain, but we weren’t moving fast enough for my liking. Still, we had to be at least half a mile out by now.

“Affirmative,” I radioed back. “We’re clear of the drop zone.”

“Copy that. All units, this is Base. Beginning saturation bombing of Hollow Gorge. Herc, keep your heads down out there.”

“Roger. Blanket the town, Chief. Save what’s left.”

I stuffed the radio back in my pocket and focused on the path ahead.

By the time the farm’s fence line emerged through the haze, I felt a little better.

We rode by my plane. I grimaced when I got a look at it.

Part of me had been hoping I could get her back up.

One wheel was bent clean off, the other hanging by a shred of metal.

No way it was taking off, not even empty.

“Damn,” Janna said as she surveyed the damage. “It looks like your landing was worse than mine.”

She pulled off her mask. She looked a little better. The wind had shifted, and while it was still smoky as hell, it wasn’t as bad out there. It gave us all a chance to breathe easier. I kept the oxygen on Pickle.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

I almost laughed. She crashed landed. Spent thirty minutes inside an inferno and she was asking if I was okay.

“I’m better knowing you’re alive.”

“Was that our escape plan?” she asked.

I grimaced. “I didn’t really have a plan. I just knew I needed to get to you. We can wait it out. They’ll send a chopper.”

“Pickle needs medical attention,” she said. “And me in a helicopter doesn’t give me the warm and fuzzies.”

“Helicopter’s our only shot.”

She turned to me, looking at me with some of that fire I was used to seeing in her eyes. “Do you trust me?”

I didn’t hesitate. “With my life.”

A slow grin spread across her face. And I was suddenly worried. That was the kind of smile that meant trouble. “Good, because I have a really bad idea.”