Finley bit her lower lip, forcing her racing heart to slow as her climax clawed at the edge. She slipped her fingers easily inside of Nicole, matching her movements, thrust for thrust. They rocked together, sliding in and out of each other in the cramped quarters as the windows began to fog from their heavy panting.
Nicole bit Finley’s lip and moaned loudly as her body lost control. Finley roared a guttural sound and trembled, collapsing on top of her. They slowly pulled their hands free and their breathing eventually calmed.
Finley looked down into the hazel eyes staring back at her. She covered Nicole’s lips with a soft, gentle kiss as Nicole ran her hands through the short, dark curls on the top of Finley’s head.
Finley grinned when she looked up and saw a hand print on the foggy window. She realized they were literally stuck together as she began to move off of Nicole. The hot air in the car felt cool on their sweat-soaked skin as they gradually sat up, disentangling their limbs.
Nicole grabbed Finley’s hand, checking the time on her wristwatch. “I need to get back,” she said, sliding to the side and reaching for her clothes.
Finley stayed silent as she pulled her jeans and t-shirt on over her bra and underwear. She honestly didn’t know what to say as she opened the back door, letting the breeze from the river inside the car. Nicole climbed out the opposite side and adjusted her clothing, before getting into the front passenger seat. Finley let out a long, deep breath as she pulled the driver’s side door open.
The ride back across town was quiet. There wasn’t much traffic on the streets, so the drive hadn’t taken very long. Finley looked over at Nicole when she heard an audible sigh as they pulled into her driveway. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yes,” Nicole answered, looking through the windshield.
“Where does this leave us?”
“I don’t know,” Nicole murmured, squeezing her eyes shut. “Let me know what you decide to do with your transfer. I won’t say anything to Caitlin.”
Finley nodded and watched her get out of the car. As soon as Nicole opened the front door of the house, Finley drove away. What the hell have you done? she thought.
*
The next morning, Jackie padded down the stairs to make breakfast. She noticed an empty rocks glass in the sink and walked over to the cabinet where she kept liquor stored for guests, since she wasn’t a drinker herself. The bourbon bottle had been moved and was missing some of its contents.
“I knew seeing her was going to do you in,” she sighed, shaking her head.
Jackie had just finished washing the glass out and putting it away when Finley appeared. She looked freshly showered and was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.
“Everything okay?” Finley asked, noticing the odd expression on her mother’s face.
“Yeah. You look chipper,” Jackie mumbled, surprised to see her so awake and not hung over. She hated that Finley chose to indulge in alcoholic beverages, but she was old enough to make responsible decisions.
“I’ve been up for a bit. I jogged down to the coffee shop on the corner before the sun came up.”
“Wow.”
Finley laughed. “Mom, I’m up before the sun, exercising every day. I’m used to it.”
Jackie nodded.
“I do have some bad news though. My CO called. I need to go back early. One of the swimmers in our unit had a family emergency. As the senior swimmer, it’s my job to make sure we always have a swimmer on shift and on standby, with a relief. I have to go fill in.”
“Well, I can’t fault you for doing your job. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine. Is this about the glass you found in the sink? I only had two and I wasn’t driving. I meant to wash it and put it away, but I was tired.”
“I can’t say anything about you having a drink, you’re almost thirty-two years old. I just want to make sure you’re okay. I’m more worried about what took you so long to take Caitlin home. I’m assuming you ran into Nicole.”
“I did.”
“And? How did that go?”
“I don’t know. Not much was said, honestly. I told her about the instructor position.”
“Does that mean you’re taking it?”
Finley shook her head. “Probably not. She was going to let Caitlin come live with me. I had to tell her why she couldn’t. Who knows where I’ll wind up next.”
“Wait, Caitlin wants to live with you?”
“Yes. She asked when she was down over the summer.” Finley sighed, “Mom, I want to take her. I’d love to be around her every day, but my schedule is hectic, and she needs more than I can provide right now. Hell, I’m moving in a month and have no idea where I’m even going.”
“What did Nicole say about you coming up here?”
“She thinks it’s great, but what she doesn’t realize is, it’s only great for Caitlin and I, not Nicole and I.”
“It sounds like you’ve got a lot to think about,” Jackie said, pulling her into a hug. “I love you, and I know you’ll do what’s best for you.”
“Thanks, Mom. Will you call Caitlin for me? We were supposed to get together today.”
“I will. I’m sure she’ll understand. What time does your flight leave?”
Finley looked at the clock on the stove. “I should probably get going. It leaves in two and a half hours.”
“What about breakfast?”
“I’ll be fine.” Finley smiled. “You don’t have to take me. I can call a cab or get an uber.”
Jackie pinned her with a stern look that caused Finley to laugh. She remembered it well from her childhood. “Okay,” she chuckled. “You can drive me.”
Chapter 14
The next few weeks went by in a blur. Finley still hadn’t decided what she wanted to do. She hadn’t heard from Nicole, which was no surprise. She had probably been just as confused about what had happened between them. Finley picked up the phone to call her on several occasions, but had decided against it. She kept wondering why something that felt so right, had to be so wrong. And it was definitely wrong on multiple levels.
“It’s Thanksgiving. There’s nothing more to be thankful for than serving your country,” Tracey said, standing at attention in front of the table full of food in the main hangar.
Finley laughed. “Uh, I’m thankful you know how to work a hoist; thankful Greg can fly an HH-65 in his sleep; thankful—”
“Okay, we get it,” Tracey chuckled.
“I love my country, and I love what I do each and every day.” Finley smiled like a cartoon. “Come on, let’s get something to eat before the flies find this smorgasbord.” She was happy to be spending at least part of the day with friends. She missed her family and had spoken to both her mother and Caitlin, who was over visiting with her, earlier in the day.
*
Around midnight, a nasty rainstorm blew in over the air station, leaving large puddles in its wake. The aircrew usually flew night missions, helping to spot drug boats that had made it past the Miami units. However, with the nasty storm, they’d been grounded, except for emergency call outs.
“I think it quit raining,” Greg said, looking outside. “I checked the radar a little bit ago. The storm is headed east, southeast, so it’ll clear us soon and be out to sea.”
Finley was about to comment when the emergency siren went off.
“We’ve got a mayday, seventy-five miles off shore. A sailboat is taking on water and going down fast,” the Operations Duty Officer said when the flight crew rushed into the dispatch office. “The weather hasn’t let up much, so you’ll be dealing with a pretty strong cross wind, heavy rain, and five to six foot seas.”
“Roger,” Greg replied. “We need to get in and get out. I don’t want to be out in this mess any longer than we have to,” he said to his crew as they prepped for takeoff.
As soon as the helo was in the air, Finley felt a knot form in the pit of her stomach. She’d flown in bad weather multiple times and had done numerous rescue
s in similar conditions, but the adrenaline rush was always higher in the middle of the night.
“Sector Merritt Island…Search and Rescue 6516. Be advised, our visibility range is less than two miles. Over.”
“6516…Sector. Copy.”
“This is going to be like trying to find a needle in a haystack while wearing a blindfold,” Greg said.
“Try threading that needle blindfolded,” Tracey added.
“Hey, watch who you’re calling a needle,” Finley teased, as they all searched the darkened sea with night vision goggles.
They were unable to fly at max speed because of the heavy winds, so it had taken longer than expected to reach the distressed boat. The waves were steady coming in at six feet, tossing the small sailboat all around. The mast had either been struck by lightning, or broken in the heavier storm winds that had passed over, because it was down and floating with the sail sheets just below the surface.
“Sector…6516. Be advised, we are on scene. The vessel is taking on water and listing heavily to port. The mast is down. Survivor is not visible. Over.”
“6516…Sector. Copy. What are the current conditions? Over,” the Operations Duty Officer asked.
“Sector…6516. Seas are holding at six foot with a moderate rain and fifteen knot crosswind. Over.”
Greg turned on the floodlights and flew as low as he could over the boat, looking for the captain. After circling a few more times he radioed again.
“Sector…6516. The survivor may still be on board. There is no visual in the water. Over.”
“6516…Sector. Copy. Deploy swimmer at your call. Over.”
“Finley, I don’t know about this,” Greg said.
“I just saw a light in the starboard window,” Tracey yelled into her radio. “He’s inside.”
“He has to be hurt,” Finley replied. “Greg, I can get down to him and get him out. Will you be able to retrieve me?”
Greg checked the gauges again. The crosswind had picked up slightly. “We’ll have one, maybe two shots.”
“Let’s do it,” she said, sliding on the gunner belt and sitting down on the floor of the helo.
“Copy. Be safe, Finley,” he said. “Flight Mech, prepare to deploy swimmer.”
“Roger,” Tracey replied, pulling open the cabin door.
Finley looked out at the pouring rain and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and opened them, before connecting the hoist clasp to her survival harness.
Tracey tapped her on the chest to see if she was ready. Finley gave a quick thumbs up. Then, she pressed the button to raise the hoist, checking the weight load. She tapped Finley three times on the shoulder. Finley checked her harness, making sure the straps were all tight, before giving another thumbs up.
“Swimmer is ready.”
“Deploy swimmer,” he said, lowering the helo to fifty feet. Any lower and he’d risk the wind or waves causing an issue for Finley.
She went into the water on the face of a wave, quickly releasing the clasp as she rode it over to the boat.
“Swimmer is in the water and away,” Tracey radioed, watching Finley climb up onto the starboard side of the sailboat, which was almost all the way out of the water.
“Hello? Captain?” Finley yelled, making her way towards the hatch. She smashed her fist down, pounding on it.
“Swimmer…6516. We are picking up a major crosswind. I’m going to lift up and regroup. Over,” Greg radioed.
“6516…Swimmer. Copy,” Finley replied, fighting to get the hatch open as the helo flew off in the distance. Finally able to get it open, she peered inside the cabin with her flashlight. The captain of the boat was slumped in the corner. “Sir, can you hear me?” she shouted.
The man nodded and pointed to his leg. Finley noticed his leg was broken with the bone slighting sticking out of the skin where the mast had split and smashed into him.
“I’m going to get you out of here, but we have to do it fast. The boats not going to float much longer,” Finley said as she moved further inside. She checked his pulse and evaluated him as best she could with her flashlight.
“6516…Swimmer. I’ve located the survivor. He has a fractured tibia with a slight protrusion. Alert: 6; Injury: 8. Over.”
“Swimmer…6516. Copy. Do you want us to deploy the litter or the basket? Over.”
“6516…Swimmer. Send the litter,” she radioed, trying to get the man into somewhat of a standing position on one leg.
“Swimmer…6526. Deploying litter.”
Tracey attached the litter to the hoist and began to lower it down. The heavy crosswind caught the stretcher, sending it flailing about under the helo.
“Pull it up!” Greg yelled. “The wind is too strong.”
Tracey quickly reversed the hoist, pulling the litter up. The wind caused it to smash into the side of the helo before she could bring it inside.
“Damn it!” Greg snapped. “Try the basket,” he said to Tracey. “Swimmer…6516. We are in a major crosswind up here. Unable to deploy the litter. Switching to the basket. Over.”
Finley didn’t bother answering as she struggled to get the man to the other side of the cabin. The boat slowly rolled over, sending both of them crashing to the ground, slightly under water. “Sir, are you okay?” she called, trying to locate him in the nearly submerged vessel.
He reached out, grabbing her hand and she pulled him back up. Finley held onto him, tugging him along in the water with one arm while she shined the flashlight with the other, trying to find her way out.
Meanwhile, Tracey tried lowering the basket, which swung completely out of control. She had to quickly retrieve it. “We can’t get anything down to her,” she said, just as the fuel gauge alarm went off in the cockpit.
“Sector…6516. We are at bingo fuel in a thirty knot crosswind. Still trying to retrieve our swimmer and survivor. Over.”
“6516…Sector. Copy. Return to base for refuel,” the dispatcher said.
“Sector…6516. Negative on the return for fuel. We cannot leave our swimmer behind.”
“6526…Sector. We’ve already called in the backup helo. Your swimmer will be retrieved. Return to base. Over.”
“Son of a bitch!” Greg yelled. “Swimmer…6516. We’re five minutes past bingo and being called in.” He paused. “Finley, we can’t get the basket or litter down to you. The crosswind is too strong.”
“6526…Swimmer. Go back. I’ll be right here when you return,” she radioed as she finally pulled the man out of the boat.
“I see her!” Tracey yelled.
“Swimmer…6516. We have a visual. Deploying sling,” he radioed. “Tracey, try to get the sling down to her.”
The fuel alarm began wailing like a siren as Tracey connected the sling. As soon as it was below the helo, it too, began swinging wildly through the air.
“I can’t get it down to her,” she said.
Finley watched the sling wavering frantically around. “Greg, just go. If you wait any longer, you’ll have to ditch,” Finley radioed.
“Finley, I’m not leaving you, damn it!”
Tracey pulled the sling back inside, nearly falling out of the open cabin door as the wind blew the helo sideways.
“Drop three flares in the water and light her up,” Greg said.
“Roger.” Tracey quickly struck three flares, and tossed them down to water. They burst open, creating a bright orange glow.
“Sector…6516. We are inbound, ten minutes past bingo fuel. Swimmer and survivor have been marked with flares. Over,” he radioed as they flew away.
Tracey watched the orange shimmering in the window until she could no longer see it.
*
Finley held the man backwards against her chest and pulled the attachment to inflate her vest. A loud pop sounded and the vest inflated in a split second. Because the vest was designed as a last measure, it was buoyant enough to keep her head out of water, but she still had to hold onto the man and tread water to keep his head up. The boa
t had finally sunk just after the helo departed.
“Sir, stay with me. What’s your name?” she asked.
“Harvey,” he muttered.
“Okay, Harvey. Help is on the way,” she said.
She slowly watched the flares die down until they were embers, knowing they were only thirty minute flares. Storm clouds lit up with lightning overhead, but thankfully, didn’t drop any more rain as the large waves rocked and rolled her and Harvey further away from their last known location. She reached up with one hand, clicking on the emergency strobe light attached to her survival vest.
*
“Damn it, Commander. You have to let us go back out for her!” Greg yelled. “It’s been two hours!”
“A cutter ship has been deployed and a C-130 is in the air. That’s all we can do at this time. The conditions are too unstable for a helo right now. We’ll get her, Greg. I promise.” CDR. Douglas paced the floor of the dispatch office, remaining in contact with both the ship and plane.
*
Finley’s arms burned with pain, and her hands were going numb from hanging onto the man. Her legs began to cramp as she fought the first stages of exhaustion and dehydration. She had no idea how long they’d been in the water. The last time she looked at her watch, it had been four and a half hours, but she could no longer move her arms enough to check again. Harvey had stopped answering when she spoke to him. She felt his chest moving where she had her arms around him, so she knew he was breathing. She hoped he’d simply fallen asleep.
Come on, someone find me. This isn’t how I want to go out, she thought as saltwater from another wave sprayed her in the face. The water temperature had dropped, indicating they’d been pushed further out to sea. Even though she was wearing a wetsuit, the seventy degree temperature had cooled her body tremendously.
Finley fought to keep her eyes open as the first ray of sunlight rose above the dark ocean. “Harvey, wake up,” she mumbled, shaking him.
Never Let Go Page 13