by Molly E. Lee
I huffed. “Doubtful.” No one had been able to break through my well-built walls, except Sadie, but that woman had a direct line to my soul.
He waved the red sucker around in the air, thoughtful. I couldn’t believe one of the flight attendants who’d hung on his every word had managed to find the candy for him—when everyone else had gotten dry as hell crackers—but I didn’t understand why they were pawing over him like a celebrity, either. Dude wasn’t attached, so I couldn’t really blame him for taking what was willingly offered.
He continued contemplating my response, the whole time rolling the sucker in his mouth. After a minute I couldn’t help myself. “Oral fixation?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.
“Quit smoking a couple years back,” he said before crunching down on the candy. “These little sticks of gloriousness are what keep me from going back.” He held up the now bare white stick but started chewing on it after a second.
“Could’ve been worse,” I said, shrugging. Good on him for quitting. Wasn’t easy.
He scrunched his eyebrows. “How so?”
“Drugs. Sometimes people replace one bad habit with an even worse one.” A sharp twinge rocked my chest as Conner’s face came to my mind. Damn, little brother. It’s been a while.
It’d been almost two years since I’d lost him to his addiction—overdosing at his rehab clinic of all places. And for the longest time I blamed myself because I’d seen him that day and not done anything to help him. Hell, I’d given him a wad of cash that let him score the drugs. Sadie, and a shit ton of her faith in me, had helped me realize I’d lost my baby brother to addiction long before he died. Didn’t matter. Fucking hurt every time he popped into my head unannounced.
“You speaking from experience?” Wade asked, and I shifted my weight again, reverting to my usual response when I wasn’t in the mood to talk. Sadie would’ve called my ass out on it, but not this dude. “What if I can guess your reason for being so tight-lipped and cranky? Then can we be bros?”
I actually fucking laughed. Or snorted. It felt like a laugh. “Sure, Wade. Shoot.”
He chewed on the stick, his dark eyes pinning mine like he was trying to crack open my mind with his. It was hard not to snort again, he looked that ridiculous. I think that was his point, but then again, I didn’t know him very well.
“You lost someone.”
I swallowed hard. Had he talked to Sadie?
“Someone close to you. And you were angry about it. Like go Hulk and smash shit angry. For a long time. That pain transformed into a shield, one to keep people out and as far away from you as possible.”
I pushed off the wall, dropping my hands by my sides. He was looking at me, but now I was actually looking at him. There was something there I recognized but couldn’t be certain. “How? Did you talk to Sadie?”
Wade blinked a few times and smirked. “That gorgeous blonde fox you came with? No way.” He pointed to the tats covering both my arms. “Guns remember? I’m not an idiot. I’m sure you would’ve thrown me through a wall just for saying hi, and I only do that shit if I’m getting paid.” He chuckled, and damn it, I did, too. Who was this guy? “Anywhoo,” he continued, gnawing on that stick the whole time, “your shield is pushing people away. Mine happens to be cracking jokes. We all wear them differently.”
“You, too?” I asked.
“Yup. Brother. Older. War.” He shrugged, but I could see the cracks in his mask and suddenly I realized what I’d recognized in him. We’d both lost our brothers. That kind of shit doesn’t ever leave you.
“Me, too,” I said, slightly shocked I was compelled to share. “Little brother. Overdose.”
Wade hissed, his dark eyebrows pulling together. “Fucking death.” He shook his head and tossed the stick in the nearby garbage can.
“Yeah,” I said, nodding. We stood there in what I’d dare call a comfortable silence. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as I simultaneously stared at the blue sky and green mountains I could see outside the airport. Pieces of the wall that I’d instinctively put up when we started this expedition slowly came down. Wade had easily earned access to my like column as it was impossible not to connect with someone who’d been through something as shitty as I had. Without needing more than one conversation, I knew without a doubt I’d have his back first if shit got real in the jungle. And I was sure he’d do the same. Trust was funny like that. For me, it was earned through sacrifice and action, and Wade had already experienced the same sacrifice as me. Now, the jury was out on what his actions would be if we got cornered out there, but for the moment, I was banking on him.
“So,” he said after a few moments. “We bros now?” The jesterlike mask was firmly up and covering the darkness in his eyes, but I’d seen it, recognized it, and now there was no hiding it for me. Fuck, maybe we were brothers.
He held out his fist.
“Brothers who lost brothers,” I said. “Sounds like a soap opera.” I bumped his fist, and he nodded at me with that crazy grin he had.
“Jokes! Now there is something I doubt you do often.”
I crossed my arms over my chest again. “Don’t get used to it.”
Easton slammed his pack down next to the helicopter pilot, where he spoke to him across the tarmac. Wade and I hurried over. Rain was failing in her attempts to calm him down, as was Dash.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Easton yelled, and the helicopter pilot flinched.
The pilot jerked his hand in the direction of the mountains. “Your boss didn’t give me those coordinates! There is no way I can land there!”
“What’s up?” I asked, bumping my elbow against Dash’s.
“Location conflict,” he mumbled, watching the argument.
“Compass—” Rain said, reaching for him, but he held up a finger to her and took a breath, like he knew that was what she was going to ask him to do. She smiled and focused on the pilot. “Sorry, we’re just surprised. We were told flying there wouldn’t be a problem.”
“Flying isn’t. Landing is. There are too many risks. The space isn’t big enough, so I’d have to do a straight-up-and-down landing as opposed to coming in at an angle. And there are thick tree vines, branches, and all kinds of shitty variables down there. I won’t do it.”
“Can we jump out?” Wade asked Easton. “If he could get us over the site?”
Easton took his hat off and raked his fingers through his hair. “No. We need the chopper. We can land it a mile outside the site, hike it through the jungle, and use the helicopter as a base for supplies we can’t carry. Without it . . .” He threw his hands in the air. “We won’t be able to do half of what we planned.” He turned to look at me. “Connell’s tanks and gear are on there. Dash’s laptops and radar equipment, and supplies for us to survive.” He returned focus to the pilot. “We need you to make this work.”
The clenched fist at Easton’s side didn’t match his calm timber. Impressive he could channel anger like that. Still didn’t mean I liked the guy. Visions of returning home to Sadie faster than anticipated filled my head and I couldn’t say that I was disappointed. Sure I was interested in exploring a new type of underwater world, but hell, I hadn’t exactly jumped for joy at the thought of being on camera as I dove.
“What is the landing radius?” Wade asked from where he stood on the other side of me.
Easton turned his back to the pilot to answer Wade. “The area I scouted on my last trip is an area of forty-five feet by fifty feet.”
Wade glanced at the helicopter over the pilot’s shoulder. He screwed up his face, like he was crunching numbers in his head. “Gives us about three feet on each side. No slope. Can’t slip a fucking inch.”
“Right,” the pilot said. “Impossible.”
A slow, sly grin spread across Wade’s face, and he jerked his head toward the airport building. “You look tired.”
“Excuse me?” The pilot straightened his already stiff statue stance.
“You should
go get some coffee,” Wade said. “Take the day off. Because I can handle that landing. No problem.” He walked toward the chopper before looking back at the three of us who hadn’t budged. “Don’t everyone jump on the easy train at once.”
Easton did the same thing both Dash and I were doing—staring at Wade like he’d grown an extra head. “You can fly?” I asked.
Wade nodded, glancing at us like we should’ve known that. “Yeah. Stuntman. Remember?”
Dash tilted his head. “Not all stuntmen can fly.”
“The good ones can.” Wade cocked an eyebrow as he looked up at the sky. “Or maybe it’s just because I’m the best.”
I had to clear my throat to stop another laugh from bursting out.
Easton took a few steps closer to him. “You’re serious?”
Funny, I was wondering the same thing. I liked Wade. Actually fucking liked the guy, but I had a hard time telling the difference between a joke and a fact when it came out of his mouth. Wade shifted, barely perceptible to Easton or Dash, I imagined, but I could see it in his eyes as easily as if I looked in the mirror.
“Yes.”
So when his eyes darkened enough to kill the lighthearted mask, that is when he was being serious. Good to know.
“What are you certified to fly? Why didn’t Robert tell me?” Easton spewed the questions out rapidly.
“Everything,” Wade answered. “And it’s in my file.”
“Your file was thicker than all three of ours combined,” Dash pointed out, and I agreed with a nod. I had stopped reading after two pages of how many explosives the dude could create with household ingredients. He’d written his own resume, and it was peppered with jokes that I could now understand were signature to his personality. But, damn, it wasn’t like I was going to read the book that was his portfolio of skills.
Wade raised his hands, taking a step back as he pointed at Dash. “He’s the one comparing thickness. Not me. You guys heard that, right?”
Rain giggled at that one, as did Dash, but he shook his head.
“You heard him,” Easton said, motioning toward the pilot. “About the variables.”
“I can do it. It won’t be pretty. Aquaman here will likely hurl. But I can do it without killing us.” Wade smacked my chest, and I glared at him. He then tilted his head back and forth. “Seventy-five percent sure I won’t kill us.”
After what looked like a silent conversation between Rain and Easton—with a whole lot of looks that made me feel like I was intruding on some private moment—Easton grinned.
“Go grab that coffee,” Easton ordered the pilot.
“It’s your chopper,” the pilot said, shrugging. “But you guys are all crazy. You know that?”
Wade grinned like the Joker. “You could say we’ve got”—he glanced around at the three of us—“edge.”
I snorted. The man was good. Well, we could only hope he was as good as he claimed.
“I’ve got to make a call,” Easton said, holding up the atrociously large satellite phone from his pack. “Wade, get set up. Everyone else, pile in.”
My stomach twisted as I climbed into an available seat, and I was back to taking deep breaths when Easton finally boarded.
Wade had situated himself in the pilot seat, and while he looked completely at ease there, I was far from it. “Hang on to your butts,” he said, his voice ringing clear through the headphones Easton had forced me to wear.
I clenched my eyes shut as the helicopter took off, the shakiness enough to make me sick. I locked that shit up, knowing I wouldn’t ever hear the end of it if I puked. From the few times I allowed my eyes to open, I could see the clear blue sky surrounding us and dense green jungle beneath. Easton was holding Rain’s hand like it was a life line, but Dash practically had his face pressed to the glass like a little kid on his first road trip. Fucking storm chasers, not afraid of anything.
“You doing okay back there, Aquaman?” Wade asked, sparing me a quick glance over his shoulder. “You’re looking a little green.”
I jerked my head toward the front of the chopper. “Watch the fucking . . .” I had been about to say road but that was stupid. “Sky or something, man.”
Wade turned back around, smirking. “Don’t lose your lunch yet, dude. The stink would sit for weeks in the jungle.”
I flipped him off but dropped my hand when the helicopter dipped.
“Approaching landing site,” Wade said in a much more serious tone after what felt like an eternity. “Going to do a couple passes to get my bearings.”
“Good call,” Easton said.
I gripped the armrests of my seat tighter.
After three vomit-inducing circles, Wade dropped the chopper in a space so small and tight on the side of a jungle-covered mountain, I thought for sure we’d die. The aircraft bounced and jagged and zigged, and a propeller blade barely missed a tree that looked over a million years old. Wade sank us onto solid ground with a jerk that was sure to leave bruises from our bodies hitting our restraints so hard.
“Fuck,” I said after he’d killed the engine.
Wade turned around, a clear victorious smile on his face. “Did I say I was the best or did I say I was the best? And bonus, we’re not dead!”
Everyone whooped but me. I was too busy trying to tell my fingers to stop digging into the seat. After a few deep breaths, I unhooked myself as we all filed out of the helicopter. Wade was the last to climb out, and the second his boots hit the ground I shoved my forearm under his neck and pinned him to the helicopter.
“I hope there is enough diving gear in there for two.” I eyed inside the chopper. “Because I’m electing you to be my cameraman.” I released what little pressure I had on his neck, smirking. “We’ll see who wants to puke, then.”
Wade adjusted his shirt that I had wrinkled. “What is there to be afraid of? Some fishies? A turtle?”
Easton hissed. “Little more dangerous than that.”
Wade’s eyes darted from him back to me, his face serious again. “Really? What am I missing?”
“Besides poor visibility, close quarters, and unexplored terrain?” I asked. “Giant anacondas, flesh-eating piranhas, poisonous snakes. Just to name a few.” I smacked his shoulder. “Nothing the best stuntman in the world can’t handle.”
Wade shook out his limbs like a spider had crawled up his spine, and we laughed before turning around to face the jungle in which we’d landed. The area where the chopper was parked was flat and just clear enough for it to be there—Easton said it was an old tribal gathering area that had long since been abandoned, giving us the stroke of luck of landing closer to his site. Surrounding it was nothing but dense jungle. The air was so thick and humid it felt like breathing water and though I’d rather be underwater right now, this was like nothing I was used to.
Trying not to appear as out of my element as I felt, I hiked up my pack and cocked an eyebrow at Easton. “Which way?”
“STAY ON EACH other’s heels,” Easton said. “Try to mimic mine or Rain’s movements. Don’t go off the path, and try to not touch anything.”
I brought up the rear of our adventurous little group and adjusted the GoPro on my head. It was hard to get used to, but I’d known they’d be mandatory for the expedition. Plus, Easton had made us each put ours on and start rolling the second we began the trek into the heat-filled green. Moisture coated everything—from the leaves on the soft earth beneath our feet to the canopy that was so tall I had to arch my head back to see it. It was like the humidity touched every piece of the jungle, connecting it and injecting it with life that thrived in one big, intertwined and complex circle.
The adrenaline that had filled my veins after getting in the cockpit of the helicopter continued to pulse in my blood. And each step we took farther into the dense jungle, my heart beat that much harder.
This feeling—a shaky, want to take flight or punch someone in the face feeling—is what I lived for. Making the impossible happen, like landing in the entirely t
oo small site I just had, was a sweet perk of my job. Each new task was a challenge, but as the film world had started to dull—using me for mainly demolition stunts—I had all but leaped at the chance to do this special.
I knew that any show with Easton Wells at the head of it would be the biggest challenge of my career and quite possibly ever. I’d binge-watched his series in a slow month and had been hooked instantly. It was easy for me to tell there was no production help when it came to the crazy-ass expeditions he went on, and I respected the man for that. Plus, it looked fun as hell. All the escapes from death with each new location had to be the most extreme high—one I was all too happy to jump in on.
Lucky for me my resume shined enough to grab the producer’s attention and secure my spot on the E.D.G.E crew. And, holy hell, did I need the change. I loved being a stuntman, but sometimes working on sets or location got so routine I itched for change. I hated standing still for too long and was always looking for my next distraction. The extreme work I did—with the risk of death or severe injury that came with each gig—offered me the perfect outlet for the sticky, tarry thoughts that threatened me each time things slowed down in my life.
Stepping over a tree root large enough to be an elephant trunk, I glanced straight ahead at Connell. I hadn’t spoken about my brother to anyone in years, but it wasn’t every day I met someone who had lost theirs, too. Mentioning him always brought with it a cracking pain in my chest, one I kept at bay all these years with the distractions of work. My stunts and my jokes. They kept me safe. They kept me from thinking about the last thing I’d said to him before he’d been killed.
Mackenzie’s face flashed behind my eyes, and I shut them to try to erase her gorgeous blue-gray ones from my mind. Damn it. Thinking about my brother and then Mackenzie went hand in hand. She was harder to ignore; despite how many years it’d been since I’d seen her last. She’d come to my brother’s funeral, but I’d refused to speak to her. Angry and grief stricken as I was, I couldn’t bring myself to face her. Didn’t mean I didn’t think about the woman every time I was inside another. At least the chicks who came on to me because of my nearness to the celebrity life knew what they were getting into when they all but hopped into my bed. One and done. I’d given my heart away years ago and never got it back.