Eric looked at the group. “We need to get to the pilot.”
Ans nodded. “Keep him grounded.”
“Or her,” Leo chimed in. Zoe caught her eye and smiled.
“Touché.” Ans smirked at Leo. “Keep her grounded.”
“I’ve got this.” Leo stood. “I’ll pretend to be the female scientist.”
“Can’t.” Von shook his head. “If the pilot’s the same one they came in with, she’ll know immediately that you’re not the researcher.”
They all turned to Zoe. “I look nothing like that woman,” she said.
“Long brown hair, thin. She’s got nothing on you in the rack, but—” Eric clipped Ans on the shoulder, and he went on with a smirk. “You’ll do in a pinch.”
“No.” Eric grabbed her arm, as if he’d haul her back down the steps and hide her away from his friends. “No fucking way.”
“I’ll do it.” How on earth was her voice so steady? She blinked. No dizziness, no nerves. “I’m fine, Eric. I can distract him while you guys do the rest.”
“Need a better plan than that, Z-Dog.” Ans winked at her. “But it’s a start.”
Von cleared his throat and hit something against his leg—an enormous white cowboy hat. Zoe squinted. She’d seen that thing on the floor down there, beside the prisoners. He lifted a white lab coat in his other hand. Emily Marquette’s. “Two scientists. Three security. Reckon we can make this work.” The corners of his mouth turned down as he handed the hat to Eric and the lab coat to Zoe. “Let’s get the scientists on first. Zoe, you distract him. Cowboy’s on next.”
Eric shoved the hat on his head. He looked ridiculous.
“Shit.” Leo’s eyes flashed back and forth between the men. “No way this’ll work.”
“Leo, you’re on deck with Zoe.” Von looked them over. “In case the shit hits the…” He glanced up, all of them hyperaware of the approaching aircraft, and lifted a single eyebrow. “Rotors.”
Leo nodded. “Scientist or security?”
“How ’bout you just do you?” Zoe was sure she detected a smile in Von’s voice. It never reached his face.
“Okay.” Eric’s voice was low and steady, his eyes on Zoe as she buttoned up the lab coat and put her hair in a bun. “What’s your name?”
“Emily Marquette.”
He nodded, and she went on. “I talk to the pilot, distract him while you come in and”—she fluttered her fingers in his face—“do your big, scary thing.”
As the helicopter got closer, the sound grew deafening. At the top of the stairs, Zoe had a moment of vertigo. There were no railings up here, nothing, and the thing’s blades made that howling wind she’d only seen in movies. Somehow, Eric knew. He grabbed her trembling hand in both of his and pulled her down a few steps.
“We good?”
She managed a nod.
“I still get to take you on a date when this is over?” He had to yell now to be heard.
“Counting on it.”
“Come here.” The kiss he gave her this time was slow and deep. An alone kiss, like nobody else was here and none of this crap was happening. She wanted to cling to him. Wanted it to last forever.
“I am really into you, Zoe Garcia.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” she said, unable to stop a ridiculous grin from eating up her face.
“All right. Let’s go finish this.”
“You got it.”
Another quick kiss before he nudged her forward to the opposite edge of the helipad.
***
There was a calm Eric had always tapped into on the job. Like a chess player, he’d seen his moves several steps ahead. In this case, it was an easy play.
Trojan horse. Board the bird, subdue the pilot. Easy.
He looked around, the seconds ticking slower than usual as he took in the faces of his closest buddies. The people he’d trust his life to.
It wasn’t until his eyes landed on Zoe—way too far away—that time sped up again. And rather than full speed, it seemed to go straight to warp, sending him one worst-case scenario after another, turning every eventual outcome into a nightmare in which he lost her. Zoe. His future.
Hell no.
But shit, if he didn’t pull it together, he’d be the one to ruin this. He shut his eyes for three seconds and opened them to an unexpectedly ominous sight: two men stepped out of the helicopter. Military, he’d guess by their equipment and bearing.
Everything about these guys screamed cleanup crew, from the automatic weapons strapped onto their shoulders to the dead-eyed way they took in their surroundings.
Not an evacuation after all, but a slaughter, it looked like. Made sense. The rig could explode without raising too many eyebrows, but a bunch of bodies in the water would bring down more questions that the overlords would want to answer.
Eric looked down the steps and met Von’s eyes. Three hand signals, a nod. Eric turned toward Zoe to motion her to stand down.
Too late.
He lost air, his chest constricting, the pain sharp where fear held him like a vise.
Boom. His heart beat too hard for his rib cage. Boom. Each beat shook him to his foundations.
There she was, headed for the pilot, the bird’s rear end straight ahead, while the newly arrived operatives exited from the right. Like a farce…but not. Somehow, she hadn’t seen the new guys and was headed toward the helo as if circumstances hadn’t changed.
“Leo!” he hissed into the comm device.
“Can’t stop her, Eric. She’s halfway there!”
Boom. Shit. His innards couldn’t take this kind of beating, self-inflicted or not.
He slapped the cowboy hat on his head, ignoring common sense and every bit of training he’d ever had, and moved.
Boom. Every beat brought him closer to inevitable tragedy.
Movement from beside him. Von, cutting right, his weapon up. On the opposite side of the pad, Leo muttered something into the comm unit and streaked after Zoe.
Fuck it.
Channeling that geologist cowboy jackass, Eric pasted a smile on his face and forced himself to walk—amble, in fact, which was beyond miraculous, given the heavy pounding of his heart—toward the bird.
Everything happened at once, then—Zoe boarded the helo, Leo close behind her. Eric hunched and broke into a sprint. Beside him, shots were fired, followed by the unmistakable sound of two hundred pounds of man colliding with metal as Von and Ans focused on the cleaners.
Ten feet to go. More shots. The helicopter hovered…five feet… It lifted. No. No, that wasn’t happening.
Three…two…
Airborne.
He didn’t have a chance to verify his teammates’ status before leaping into the air.
***
Zoe had made the worst mistake of her life. Instead of waiting for a go-ahead, as she clearly should have, she’d gone on with the plan.
It wasn’t until she’d gotten halfway to the aircraft that she realized something had gone terribly wrong. She craned her neck. Where had those two men come from?
She paused, blinking at the pilot’s face, visible through the helicopter’s front window. She swore she could see the surprise in his expression as he spotted her, see the moment he decided to leave the two men behind and blow the rig with all of them trapped here, if necessary. If that helicopter took off, they’d be dead. All of them.
That’s when she ran.
Oh, not to safety like a smart person, but straight into oncoming danger.
Like an idiot.
At the door to the helicopter, she grabbed a handhold and pulled, sending a half-assed prayer to whatever gods might be listening. With luck, she could keep the pilot distracted while the rest of the team took out the two newest threats.
“Morning!” She went for cheerful, but he
r voice squeaked out, frantically high.
“Oh…”
She leaned forward, trying to keep his eyes on her. “Hey! Emily Marquette. Remember me?”
“You’re not—?”
“Sorry. That’s Dr. Marqu—”
Outside the chopper, someone opened fire.
“Fuck!” The pilot turned to the front, hands flying over the controls, and lifted them up abruptly, swooping into the air. Zoe fell to the side, hard, and gasped when something thumped in beside her.
Eyes wide, she turned. Hunkered beside her, finger to her lips, was Leo. Jesus, she’d never been happier to see someone in her life.
Her stomach dipped when the entire thing banked to one side. She just barely kept down the protein bar she’d scarfed before leaving the island. Shit, he was tilting the helicopter. Trying to get them out. She slid and just managed to grab hold of a dangling strap before plummeting to her death.
And all the while, they got farther from the rig.
No, please. No. If they got too far away, he could blow the place up—with Eric and the others in it.
Fear choked her, made breathing hard. But if she gave in to it, they’d die. All of them.
Slowly, things came into focus. The doors, wide open, air whipping inside. Leo sliding toward the opening. She wasn’t anchored to anything. They tilted, and she was out.
Zoe’s mouth opened on a silent scream, and then… No. No, Leo’d caught onto the edge of the front seat.
Her big, dark eyes flicked around, looking for something else to hold on to. Without a moment’s hesitation, Zoe reached out her free hand. Too far. Leo was getting sucked out.
“Help us!” She screamed it as loud as she could, put every little bit of angst and anger and fear she had into that sound. Maybe, through the screaming blast, the pilot would hear her. Maybe he’d listen.
But it might as well have been a whisper at the bottom of the ocean.
It was one of those moments—and she’d had a few in the past twenty-four hours—when the choices just stared at her. And the choices were easy: risk falling out of a fucking helicopter to save her new friend, or do nothing.
And watch her die.
In the front seat, the pilot yelled. Zoe reached as far as she could… Leo’s fingers grazed hers… She stretched, and Leo slid another inch away.
Zoe let go of the seat belt, shifted, jammed her foot into the space between two seats, and reached.
Their hands clasped. Leo’s was warm and solid. Zoe pulled with all her might, straining her legs to stay in place, and slowly, the other woman’s body slid up and onto the aircraft’s floor.
Zoe caught her breath, spotted another strap hanging low enough to grab on to, and reached for it.
That was when the pilot put the gun to her head.
The barrel was frigid against her temple. She didn’t move a muscle.
“Push her out.” Each word hit her like a bullet. “And then jump.”
Zoe didn’t dare shake her head, but her lips formed the word. “No.”
The pilot said something unintelligible, and the world bucked.
Before Zoe could track what was happening, someone put a hand on her leg. She didn’t dare turn. Didn’t dare hope.
She kept her eyes on Leo, who nodded, slow and sure, while the big hand on her calf counted down: “Three, two…”
“Down!” Eric’s voice.
She ducked, and a gunshot rang out, deafening this close to her ear. Leo was up, diving for the front. Was that Eric’s voice?
Zoe turned, clearly hallucinating.
It was him.
Eric.
He yanked the pilot up and over into the back, while Leo took the seat.
The Pacific swooped up at them, and Zoe’s stomach hit her throat. She heaved.
No. She was stronger than this. Shaking her head, she worked hard to focus. Leo, clipped into her harness, put her hands on the controls. Within seconds, they were floating again, rather than falling. Water turned to sky.
Movement beside her—Eric yelled a question at the pilot, who shook his head. More yelling that she couldn’t quite grasp, or maybe she was beyond it now. She blinked dumbly as Eric clipped the other man across the temple with ruthless efficiency and let him drop to the floor, unconscious. Within seconds, the doors were closed, the roar of engines and rotary blades tamped down to bearable levels, and they changed direction back toward the rig.
A warm, solid hand grasped hers. Zoe could only watch as Eric spoke into his comm device, then listened, his eyes glued to hers.
After a last nod and a few unintelligible words, he turned, not quite smiling, but close. “We did it, Zoe.” He bent forward, put his forehead to hers, and spoke against her lips. “You did it. You.”
Chapter 8
Eric had never been as scared in his life, or as fucking impotent as when he’d hung from that bird’s landing gear, useless as a side of beef. The climb up had been torture, the sight of that gun to Zoe’s temple worse than death.
Right now, sitting beside Zoe, both of them safely strapped into the passenger seats while Leo brought them back in, all he could do was hold her hand—too tightly, he guessed, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go—and breathe.
They settled on the helipad, the door flew open, and Von was there.
Behind him, Ans was on the phone with someone—probably not a simple 911 call, knowing him. The guy had contacts in law enforcement all the hell over the place. He’d call someone high up, cut through the red tape, and get this shit cleared up, fast. Coast Guard, maybe?
Eric couldn’t hear what Ans was saying, and frankly, he didn’t give a shit. His eyes were glued to the woman beside him.
He couldn’t move. Didn’t want to.
All he wanted was to hold her.
Her hand on his chest made the world stop spinning. His focus narrowed.
“You okay?” he asked, ready to kill every fucker on this rig.
“I’m good.” That hand moved up to cup the side of his face, and he couldn’t help but lean into it. It was cool while he burned up. On fire. Dying from it. “I’m good, Eric.”
“Jesus, Zoe, you could have—”
“What about you?” She pounded him once on the chest. “Huh? How’d you even—”
“Explosive ordnance disposal team’s on its way.” Ans stuck his head in, his expression wild the way it always got after a good fight. He leaned close, a huge grin on his face. “Some Evel Knievel shit right there, bro. Better warn Tom Cruise. His stunt double just stole the whole goddamn sho—”
Leo climbed down, shoved past Ans, and slammed the door shut, cutting him off. She dragged him away, leaving Eric and Zoe alone in the relative quiet of the helo’s interior.
“Come here.” He couldn’t help the groan in his voice or the needy way he pulled her to him. But nothing in the world could stop him from putting his lips to hers. And this kiss wasn’t soft or sweet or slow. It was hungry, possessive. A life-or-death kiss. A kiss full of promise. A forever kiss.
When he could finally bring himself to pull back, he left just an inch between them. No way was he letting her get farther than that. “In forty-one years,” he rasped, “I’ve never been closer to losing my mind.”
“Yeah?” She kissed him again, humming with pleasure or happiness or maybe just the thrill of being alive. “I assume we’re not all about to blow up?”
“No.” He pulled a phone from his pocket. “Apparently, this is the trigger mechanism.”
Her eyes searched his, and she looked worried for a few seconds. “You sure?”
“As I can be.” He turned to look out at his team, who’d taken care of the newcomers. Shot. Both of them, but they didn’t appear to be dead. “But I trust these guys to take care of it.”
She smiled and huffed out an amazed laugh. “M
e too.”
He shook his head, marveling at this incredible woman. “Will you come home with me?”
“Don’t you think we’re moving a little fast here?” He heard the smile in her voice.
“I wanted to kiss you for two years.”
“Same.”
“I should never have waited. My timing is terrible.”
“No it’s not, Eric.” She leaned in, put her lips to his, and put him back together again before pulling away briefly. “I’ve never met anyone with better timing.”
***
“No peeking, Zoe.” Eric threw a look down to where she sat on the Daphne’s deck.
“The entire boat ride?” She was pretending to pout, but he could hear the excitement in her voice.
“Look, you want this to be a surprise or not?”
“I love surprises.” She scooted up to the front of the boat and put an arm around his legs. Even this little contact did things to his insides.
The move was eerily reminiscent of that first night and their struggle out to San Elias. He shivered despite the hot sun on his shoulders.
“You know, Eric, if I can’t look, I’ll get seasick and—”
“Bullshit. You wouldn’t get seasick in a bucket in a gale.” Just one more thing he loved about her.
“Okay. Fine. I just wanna peek.”
“No.” He smiled down at her, as worked up as an excited kid on Christmas morning. Which wasn’t too far from how he felt, actually. Except today, he’d be the one giving. “Fine. You can look at the sky.”
She harrumphed but pulled off the blindfold and immediately shielded her eyes. “You didn’t warn me about the sun!”
With a laugh, he handed her sunglasses, swiping a finger briefly against hers, because he never could get enough of this woman. Not even with the amount of time he spent with her. It would never be enough.
Which made this little trip even more of a big deal.
In the past month, while they got to know each other better, he’d been secretly planning something he hoped she’d appreciate.
He let out a shaky breath. Please let her love this.
By the time he pulled around San Elias and spotted the rig straight ahead, she’d put on her headset and was doing a horizontal dance to whatever she had playing on there. Some bass-heavy shit he didn’t really care for. Or, he should say, he hadn’t cared for before. Now, he loved the way it made her dance. So, in turn, he kinda had to love it.
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