A Dangerous Leap

by Sharon Calvin

  Kelly spun around to face the helo hovering some distance away. As she raised her arm and gave a thumbs up to bring it in for pickup the pilot grabbed hold of her harness from behind.

  “Don’t try anything funny,” he yelled above the clatter of the helo’s engines.

  Her crew would have been keeping an eye on her, but from that distance she doubted they’d be able to see the gun. Or that they could do anything about it without endangering her or the other survivors.

  “What do you think you’re going to do when we get on board the helicopter?” Was he so stupid he thought he could hijack it in broad daylight without anyone noticing? He was a pilot; he should know how futile that was.

  “That’s not your concern,” he snapped and poked her shoulder blade with something so hard that it had to be the gun.

  In other words, he didn’t have a clue what he would do once he was on the helo. Lovely, she was being held hostage by an idiot. An idiot with a gun.

  When the helo dropped lower she raised both hands over her head and interlocked her fingers to tell Joe to deploy a strop. The way the helo was jittering she knew Caitlyn was battling surface winds kicked up by the storm that had blotted out the sun. Good, things just might work in her favor after all.

  One of the inherent risks of doing a tandem hoist using a quick strop was the very real danger of the victim losing consciousness during the hoist phase. The worsening weather conditions were increasing those odds considerably.

  Since a static discharge cable wasn’t deployed, Kelly let the hoist cable touch the water to dissipate any static electricity generated by the rotors and the atmosphere before she reached for the bright orange and black quick strop. She unhooked the strop and attached the locking hoist hook to the lifting V-ring on her RS harness, then reattached the quick strop and tested the connection with a sharp tug.

  When she tried to position the pilot with his back to her, he refused. Dammit, that would have increased the chances of his losing consciousness.

  “I want to keep my eye, and gun, on you,” he shouted at her.

  He refused to let her maneuver the quick strop over his head and arms so she had to disconnect one side, feed it around him and then snug the friction keeper as tight as she could. Standard procedure called for her to wrap her legs around the survivor’s arms to ensure the strop wouldn’t slip, but he refused, keeping his arm, and the gun in his hand, free.

  Fine, if he fell out during the hoist maneuver, it wouldn’t bother her any. To increase the odds of that happening, she’d didn’t bother to attach the crotch strap.

  Once in place in front of her and attached to the hoist, he jammed the gun under her breast hard enough to leave a bruise.

  “Don’t try anything funny or I’ll shoot you. Now that I’m strapped in, it won’t matter if you’re dead or not,” he shouted.

  She looked up at Joe leaning out of the Jayhawk’s doorway and signaled him to begin the hoist. Just as the cable began spooling upward, she heard a shout and sudden splashing behind her. The cable pulled taut and they began to rotate in the wind as they separated from the water.

  “You bastard! I won’t let you kill her!” Danny screamed and swiped his paddle at the pilot’s head.

  Kelly hadn’t noticed the teen’s approach while concentrating on her hoist. “No, Danny, don’t!” she called at the same time the pilot aimed a swift kick at the boy.

  A wave lifted the life raft so his boot missed the boy’s head, but then several things happened at once. A gust of wind slammed into the Jayhawk. And like a game of crack the whip, the shock of the helo’s sudden movement traveled down the cable to Kelly and her survivor. The pilot’s gun went off with a roar that momentarily drowned out the sound of the helo’s engines.

  * * *

  Watching and waiting were two things Matt did not do well. “What the hell is going on down there?” he demanded as their plane continued to circle above the Coast Guard assets deployed on scene.

  Their pilot had switched the passenger’s COM radio off so he and Squirrel no longer heard the transmissions from either the Coast Guard or the DEA field officer in charge of the mission. He’d flipped the switch off within minutes of their realization that RS Bishop was Matt’s sister. Which was his own damn fault for not keeping his fricking mouth shut when he’d heard her name rattled off along with the other members of the flight crew.

  Squirrel tossed his computer tablet to Matt. “That’s what we have on the two crew members on the DC-3.”

  He scanned the email. “Jesus, the copilot is twenty? That can’t be right.”

  “His mother works as a receptionist for the pilot/owner and her son receives flight instruction as part of her pay. The other kid is his fifteen-year-old brother. Nothing indicates she, or her kids, are anything other than who they appear to be.” Squirrel plopped onto the jump seat across from Matt. “This was supposed to be an opportunity for the kids to visit a foreign country and practice using their Spanish skills with real native speakers. What’s happening is not quite what their mama had in mind.”

  Squirrel’s reputation for understanding situations rivaled the one he had for hoarding supplies. Just like that, he produced a handheld radio and earplug.

  Matt grinned as he slipped the ear bud in his left ear and turned the radio on in time to hear the report of gunfire from the rescue helicopter.

  * * *

  Joe’s attention was split between the spinning load on the end of the cable and the ominous grinding sound coming from the hoist drum. A gust of wind hit the helo and a sharp report sounded from below.

  Shit, that sounded like gunfire. He leaned out of the doorway as far as his gunner strap allowed. Kelly and her survivor whipped back and forth on the end of the cable and the motor protested with a high-pitched whine and the smell of hot metal.

  “Was that a gunshot?” Caitlyn demanded over the COM radio.

  Joe grabbed his binoculars and tried to focus on the spinning bodies on the end of the cable. “It sure sounded like it from here, but I can’t—hell, it looks like one of the kids in the life raft was hit,” he said. The boy had looked unharmed when Joe had first scanned the inflated boat for survivors. The other kid was hunched over protecting his arm or side, it was hard to tell from the angle, but now the unscathed survivor had fallen back into the raft and there was blood all over his head and shoulder.

  He didn’t need his binoculars to see Kelly’s raised palm. “Bishop is giving the all right signal,” Joe passed on to the crew over the COM radio. Hell, she had a look of grim satisfaction on her face.

  As the hoist slowly brought them closer Joe could see why. The survivor was out cold and the butt of a gun was sticking out of Kelly’s harness. He shook his head. Guess Control Bitch knew how to disarm a man.

  Kelly had pushed her face mask up on her forehead and was yelling at him as she drew closer. “Help me get this idiot secured so I can get back to the kids on the raft. The bastard shot one of them and—”

  “The hoist won’t last another evolution. We’ll have to get another helo out to complete the rescue,” Joe yelled over her.

  She shook her head as he helped her carefully maneuver the unconscious man into the Jayhawk. “The second helo can pick us up. I’ll do a free fall and begin treating the boys while you take this piece of garbage back to the base,” she said, smacking the unconscious would-be drug runner with her rubber fin.

  She’d already disconnected the quick strop and was busy trussing the man up with its webbing.

  “You can’t free fall into rough water and a debris field.” Joe wrapped a length of cord around the man’s hands before tying them to the strap Kelly had around his feet.

  “Joe, the kid was shot. He could die waiting for the next helo. I’m here now and I trust you and Caitlyn to find me a clear spot to land.” She turned her head and stare
d at him, unblinking. “This is what I do. This is what I was trained to do. And dammit, I’m good at it.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “You want to risk your career, go right ahead. I’m not going to be the one to stop you.” Even as he said it, he couldn’t really muster up the hatred he’d felt before. “We won’t be sticking around much longer.” He glanced at his watch. “With the storm coming in, we’ll hit bingo in less than ten minutes.” They needed additional fuel reserves in case they had to divert to a different landing spot.

  Kelly nodded her understanding and then bent over to check the survivor’s airway.

  Jesus, after all that and she still was concerned about the scum’s health?

  He asked Caitlyn to find a clear spot close to the raft and directed her to hover as low as the waves permitted so they could drop Kelly back in the water. Kelly settled herself in the doorway, her fins hanging out in the wind. She arched her eyebrow at him when he tapped her chest. After he gave three light taps to her shoulder for the all clear she grinned and gave him a salute before she launched into the whitecaps below.

  She was a ballsy little thing, he’d give her that.

  * * *

  Ian arrived back at the air station and spent almost an hour completing his report of the alien interdiction. How was Kelly coping? He would have preferred talking about the delivery, and her odd reaction, right after the incident, but maybe she’d be back in time for dinner. He glanced at his watch. They’d launched about an hour ago, but he hadn’t heard what the callout involved.

  He headed to the parking lot trying to decide if he should stick around or go home and get cleaned up. He could meet Kel—

  “Razz! Hey, hold up,” another health tech called from behind him.

  He stopped and waited. Wind rattled the palms and whispered new fears. Kelly had been added to his list of people to worry about now.

  “Flight ops wants to know if you’re available for a medical mission.”

  Dread chewed at the edge of his mind. “Yeah, sure. Tell them I’m on my way.”

  Ian made it to the hangar in record time, mentally listing a hundred reasons why his callout had nothing to do with Kelly.

  Tank’s grim expression didn’t confirm any of them. “What’s up? Am I on your flight?” Ian asked.

  Tank pushed him toward the Jayhawk being fueled on the ramp. “If you stay cool, you’re in. If you’re going to freak on me, you’re out.”

  The hollow feeling in Ian’s stomach morphed into the Grand Canyon. “What happened?” He bit out the words despite the roiling in his gut. He’d wade into any situation and not give a second thought to his own safety, but when it was someone important, someone he loved…

  Tank’s gaze searched his face before he swore. “Ah hell, I didn’t know you were in love with her. I shouldn’t have called you.”

  Ian forced himself to be calm when all he wanted to do was grab Tank’s flight suit. “What happened?” he repeated.

  Had their helo gone down? Had Kelly been injured in a free fall to the water, or during the hoist? His mind raced with possible scenarios. He’d treated more than a few swimmers with injuries incurred during rescue missions.

  Tank leaned into him with a growl. “Don’t make me regret this, or I swear you’ll be escorted from the flight line.”

  Ian gave a terse nod and sucked in a lungful of air trying to control his frustration. Kelly had to have been hurt. Otherwise Tank wouldn’t be acting like this. “I’m okay.” Not hardly, but he’d fake it. “Tell me what happened so I can prepare what’s needed.” There, he sounded calm and in control.

  Tank’s silent assessment apparently found the reassurance he needed. “The ditched plane they were working had drugs on board. The pilot attempted to take a hostage and—”

  “Kelly?”

  At Tank’s warning glare, Ian snapped shut his mouth. Of course it would have been Kelly. Who else would have been dropped into their grubby hands like manna from heaven?

  “We don’t know the details yet, but there were shots fired and—”

  Ian bit his tongue trying to keep his mouth from getting him evicted from the flight. He knew Tank would do it without a lot of provocation. Emotions he’d never experienced welled up from his gut into his chest. Along with the urge to puke came the desire to kill any bastard who might have harmed Kelly.

  “We have no reason to believe Kelly’s been hurt. There was some kind of altercation between two of the drug runners and the hoist was damaged in the extraction.”

  Ian closed his eyes and swore. It didn’t take a lot of imagination to see the kind of trouble Kelly had dropped into.

  “Look, dammit, I love Kelly, too, and I’ve known her a lot longer than you. Now, can I trust you to keep your head out there, or do I need to ground you?” Tank demanded.

  “Yes, you can trust me.” Don’t even try to ground me.

  “Let’s go!” the pilot called to them as he pelted by.

  The young swimmer that joined them in the helo appeared as angry as Ian felt. Only twenty-two, the kid wore his emotions on his face like a child. It struck Ian that Kelly had made a lot of friends in her short tenure at the air station.

  They were cleared for an immediate departure. Within minutes clouds swallowed their helicopter. No one spoke, almost as if talking about the rescue mission would somehow make things worse.

  The Jayhawk bounced around like a ping-pong ball, adding more tension to the already explosive levels on board. A blast of static erupted in Ian’s headset and he held his breath, praying for an update on Kelly’s situation. Please Lord, make it a positive report.

  “We have confirmation that Petty Officer Bishop is okay, repeat, she is safe and unharmed,” their pilot announced in a rush of emotion-filled words.

  Relief swept through the helo like a cold front on a hot summer’s day. Ian high-fived Tank then the young swimmer, all the while grinning like an idiot. Never again would he take her safety for granted.

  Except rescue swimmers were never safe, an insidious voice inside reminded him.

  Their helo pilot relayed the events that transpired since the initial report of a hostage situation. Apparently, during the tandem hoist, a violent wind gust hit the helicopter and the armed DC-3 pilot was rendered unconscious, a not uncommon occurrence during tandem extractions. Kelly, in typical Kelly fashion, came through unscathed and had taken control of his weapon.

  Ian shook his head upon hearing that. Of course she’d take control, the woman didn’t know when to back down. The next update had him swearing out loud.

  The helo was returning to base with the now trussed-up drug runner. Kelly, on the other hand, had gone back into the water to take care of the two remaining survivors.

  In a raft.

  Adrift in the ocean.

  During a goddamn storm.

  She was risking her life for two drug runners? What the hell was she thinking?

  * * *

  Kelly held a pressure bandage in place while hastily winding gauze around the boy’s head to keep it there. “Hold on Danny, another helicopter is already on its way. I’m just glad you didn’t try to stop that bullet with your teeth, ’cause I gotta tell ya, I’m not much of a dentist, but I’m one hell of a good paramedic,” she added with a wink.

  Finished tying the wrap, Kelly bundled her patient back up to keep him warm. She shuddered. She needed to keep busy so she wouldn’t remember the look—or the feel—of that gun jammed into her side.

  Danny gave her a crooked smile. A wave slapped into the raft and his eyes took on a wild look. She divided her attention between his responsiveness and his twenty-year-old brother’s overt panic at being in a flimsy life raft. Neither one of the would-be drug runners could swim a stroke and didn’t appear to have much faith in their bright orange USCG-issued life preserve
rs.

  “Ray, are you still with us? You didn’t fall asleep on me did ya?” His dislocated shoulder would have to wait. She didn’t have the room or the needed leverage to pop it back into position. The best she’d been able to devise was to splint it in such a way that his arm was anchored over his head. Awkward, but effective.

  Where in the hell was that helo? She hated being abandoned—oops, little Freudian slip there. She hated being left behind. Her crewmates, including the ever disdainful Joe, wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d refused to go back in the water. Not that she would refuse—it wasn’t in her nature to turn her back on injured people, no matter what their role had been in her near abduction.

  “How did you two hook up with that moron and his gun?” She slipped the IV needle into Danny’s arm, taped it into place, and attached the Lactated Ringers bag to the back of his brother’s life preserver, instructing him not to move. In the field, it was all about improvising.

  “We didn’t know about the drugs,” Ray said.

  Yeah, right.

  “He’s our mom’s boss,” added Danny.

  His voice sounded a little stronger, suggesting that maybe the bullet really hadn’t done any significant damage to his head. She’d wrapped both boys in the space blankets she’d found in the life raft’s emergency kit. The rain had stopped, but they were all soaked to the skin and the wind felt chilly even though the air temp was still in the low seventies.

  A surreptitious glance at her watch showed twenty minutes had elapsed since her second entry into the water. Maybe her damn locator wasn’t working, or they’d had to scramble from a different station. She clamped her jaw tight at the thought. The first person she wanted to see when she climbed aboard the helo was Ian.

  She’d been too busy to panic during the actual situation, but now her mind had time to conjure all kinds of different scenarios. Most of them ended with her, or her crew, getting shot, or the helo exploding in a great ball of fire.