The yacht was their only option. But they had to get there. And the only way to do that with the chest was the motorboat.

  “You call your brother,” she said. “I’ll get the boat started.”

  Jake looked at it, looked at her, shook his head, and said, “Help me with the chest first.”

  They managed to maneuver the chest into the boat without drawing anymore fire since most of it was concentrated inside the jungle now. From the shouting and yelling, it sounded like the chase was on, people moving deeper into the trees, others following.

  She and Jake exchanged a look.

  “You push,” she said, “I’ll get the motor started.”

  He tossed his backpack and the satellite phone into one of the motorboat’s back seats, then boosted her up and over the edge.

  She hit the deck with a grunt, then scrambled on her hands and knees to the wheel. The smugglers hadn’t bothered to remove the boat’s ignition key, which made her life a lot easier.

  Though she’d have though, after having one boat stolen already today, the Yacht Owner would have been more careful.

  She felt the boat lurch and move and finally catch in the waves, lifting it off the sand. When she was sure they were away from the beach far enough, she started the engine.

  Jake’s hand appeared at the side of the boat. She leaned over to help pull him, grabbing the back of his shorts and one of his legs in a desperate move to get his heavy ass into the boat.

  He hit the deck, wincing. She went back to the wheel and revved the engine, sending the motorboat lurching in a wide circle until they were charging fast across the waves.

  Jake dropped into the co-pilot’s seat with the satellite phone in hand.

  They circled to the far side of the yacht as he made his call. By the time they reached the swim platform, he’d finished. He roped the motorboat to the yacht long enough for them to scramble both the chest and his pack back aboard. Once she was on the yacht, he removed the rope and pushed the boat away.

  “That’s our only escape if the guy that’s still on here objects to our presence,” she said.

  “I’m sure we can come to an understanding.”

  Turned out the remaining guard had heard the gunfight on the beach and had already been debating abandoning his boss and the others. He wasn’t particularly loyal. So he was perfectly willing to accept Jake’s alternative offer.

  Granted, Jake made his alternative offer at gunpoint since they’d found another one in the motorboat. The gun was just the extra bit of incentive the smuggler needed.

  With the smuggler happily tied up in the living room with the big screen TV, Jake and Marta sat on the bridge, Jake in the captain’s seat, the yacht heading back toward Tahiti.

  They’d only been underway for fifteen minutes when they saw the military helicopters buzz by, heading toward the atoll.

  “Rick’s backup?” she asked, watching the green camouflage painted choppers pass.

  “Rick’s backup,” Jake said.

  “All right. He can date my sister.” She smiled. And patted the golden chest where it sat between them.

  “You want to open it before we get back?” he asked, glancing down at it.

  She shook her head. “Let’s wait until we’re somewhere safe.”

  He raised his brows in questions.

  “Just in case there is a curse.” She shrugged. “I think we’ve had enough ‘luck’ already.”

  Taking the Heat

  1

  Andy climbed out of her Jeep, jumped up onto the running board, and grabbing the roll bar for balance while she scanned the two-lane highway.

  Behind her, a line of stopped cars stretched as far back as she could see. Radio claimed the backup went on for miles. To the east, the ominous black clouds of the forest fire causing this mass evacuation darkened the sky.

  The highway was bracketed by pines, but the normally nice smell got swamped beneath the hot tarmac and car stench, with the distant taste of smoke. So far, the wind worked in their favor, keeping the fire away from the evacuation route. But too many cars combined with the inevitable chaos had resulted in an accident two miles ahead. Stopped traffic for the last forty-five minutes. And no way off the highway that didn’t lead toward the fire.

  She rubbed her arm across her forehead, swiping at the sweat trickling into her eyes. Hot as a bear’s butt, muggy, and the flavor of smoke. Made the delay a lot worse. All the cars around her had their engines off, and half of the people had gotten out, standing near or leaning on their cars, watching the parked vehicles ahead of them in the distance. Everyone waiting for the flash of brake lights and the first creep of movement.

  When traffic had stopped, and not moved for fifteen minutes, with no cars coming from the opposite direction, people had started trying to get out of the block by driving up the wrong side of the highway. Which only got that side blocked up, too. There was no turning around and going back the way she’d come. There wasn’t even any room for emergency vehicles from behind them to reach the wreck. And with the sun lowering toward the horizon, the red glow of the distant fire was coming into view.

  What a disaster.

  Andy sighed and leaned against the roll bar on top of her open-sided Jeep.

  CB radio chatter from the truck behind her caught her attention.

  “Nothing’s moving. Can’t get through. Too far back.”

  Andy nodded to the man listening to the CB. “What’s happening?” she called.

  The man, late sixties, cowboy hat set low on his forehead, carried his CB with him from his truck when he ambled over to join her.

  “Listening to the crews working the fire,” he said. “Sounds like they’re short pilots for a support run and the ground crew is gonna be in trouble soon without more backup.”

  “Doesn’t sound good. They have fresh pilots on the way?”

  He nodded back over his shoulder. “The pilots that were called in to help are stuck about ten, fifteen miles back in this mess with no way through.” He pushed his hat back on his head, squinting at the traffic. Sweat trickled down his brown cheek. “The highway patrol got called to make a path for them, but between the block and the accident, they’re stretched and nothing’s moving.”

  Several more people from the surrounding cars moved toward Andy’s Jeep. “They can’t get planes from somewhere else to fly in?” one man asked.

  “Sounds like it’s not the planes that are the problem. Got enough of those. Just need one or two more pilots,” the older man said.

  “Whole region is stretched thin,” a woman said. She rubbed a bandana across the back of her neck, lifting her heavy black braid. “Heard there aren’t enough firefighters or pilots anywhere.”

  “Got a ground crew in the area about to be in trouble,” the older man said. “Not too far from here.”

  “Shit,” a young man with a cane said. He’d come from a car farther ahead of Andy’s. “Just heard on the weather report, they’re worried about the wind shifting.”

  A middle-aged woman with a fussy toddler on her hip looked up from cooing at her kid. “Are we in trouble here?”

  “Not as far as I can tell,” the young man said. “It’s the ground crews that’ll be in trouble if the wind changes.”

  “And help trapped in the snarl,” the older man with the CB radio said.

  “How far away is the airstrip from here?” Andy asked, frowning at the surrounding trees. “Anyone know?”

  Lot of head shaking and passed looks.

  “Not sure exactly,” the older man said. “Turn offs about a mile ahead though. Maybe…three miles as the crow flies.”

  She nodded, her gaze narrowed. She could probably get there within the hour, so long as the older man’s estimate wasn’t too far off. She’d have to stick to the roads. If she knew where she was going, even the right direction, she could cut through the woods. But without a location, and with the unpredictability of the fire… No. Couldn’t help anyone if she got herself lost in the woods.

  Stepping off the running board, she said, “I’m gonna move my Jeep as far over as I can get it. Should give you enough room if traffic gets moving again.”

  “Where you going?” the older man asked, frowning.

  “Figure I can find the airstrip in an hour if I stick to the roads. If the jam breaks and the pilots back there can get through, the more the merrier.”

  “You a pilot.”

  She nodded. She didn’t miss the stares and pauses, the small group waiting for her to elaborate. She didn’t.

  “Gonna be a hike,” the woman with the toddler said.

  “I’ll manage.” She gave the little kid a smile and a finger wave before she got into her Jeep and pulled it as far off the road as the trees allowed. Far enough she had to get out on the passenger side.

  She reached into the back seat for the small backpack that served as her suitcase and purse all in one, slinging it over her shoulders.

  The older man said, “Sounds like they still aren’t having any luck getting through.” He gave her a look. “You sure about this?”

  “I’m sure. Good luck. Stay safe.”

  He nodded and tipped his cowboy hat at her. Which made her smile.

  The woman with the thick braid tossed her a bottle of water. Andy caught it easily.

  “You’re going to need that,” the woman said.

  “Thanks.” She raised the bottle to the small group. Then headed up the side of the road, skirting the edge of the parking lot the highway had become.

  2

  She reached the airstrip a half hour later, jogging the length of the side road once she reached it. The air was thick and muggy, the smell of distant smoke still coating her tongue. But around the airfield, the sky was clear, bright and sunny, the shadows lengthening beneath the tall pines.

  A plane was just taking off as she reached the ground control center, the rush of air cooling the sweat on her head and neck. A DC-10, Very Large Airtanker, that could carry upward of eight thousand gallons of fire retardant. Big mother that required two people to fly it, but could cover a sizable chunk of ground.

  Just couldn’t get too low or maneuver into tight areas.

  Three other smaller planes sat to the edge of the runway. Two AT-802F Fire Bosses and a CL-415 from what she could see. Great water scoopers for tighter runs and could carry between eight hundred and sixteen hundred gallons of water. Ground crews scrambled around them.

  The organized chaos, the smell of jet fuel, the heat and noise…brought her back. Maybe a little too familiar. Too comfortable.

  Memories of the last time she’d been at an airfield knocked on the door she’d locked them behind. She ignored the knock and headed into the office beneath the flight tower.

  The chaos was more obvious here. People on phones and radios, all talking at once. Maps spread over tables with people arguing and poking at various spots on the map. Screens pinging. Calls down from the tower above. And when she glanced back outside, she saw a Fire Boss on final approach. The wings wobbled in a cross breeze, dipping dangerously.

  “She’s coming in hard,” Andy called into the noise.

  Two of the people arguing at the table over the paper map rushed to the door. The woman pulled a radio from her vest pocket and shouted into it, scrambling the emergency crew. The man rushed up the stairs into the tower.

  As Andy watched from the doorway, the plane’s wings continued to dip and dive, the plane dancing sideways, its nose rising too high, then dipping too low as it descended too fast.

  “Shit,” the woman who’d been shouting into the radio muttered. “She’s not gonna make it.”

  A tense silence gathered between Andy and the woman. And Andy found herself trying to coach the pilot in her head. “Little bit slower, back on the stick, nose up, gotta take down the speed…” She didn’t open her mouth, but the old litany rolled through her mind. The familiar tightening in her gut. Those memories knocked louder against the locked door.

  The plane hit the runway hard, bounced, hit again, and the pilot lost the nose. It dipped low, hit the ground, and sent the plane sideways, one wing breaking against the black tarmac.

  Emergency crews rushed toward the plane before it fully settled, some held hoses spraying water over the smoking engine as others scrambled to pull the pilot from the wreck.

  Andy held perfectly still until the memories stopped knocking. Until the pilot emerged from the still intact flight deck and shakily climbed down the later. EMTs circled him, but the pilot walked away on his own legs.

  “I’ll take it,” the woman next to Andy said quietly, echoing Andy’s thoughts.

  Finally, when it was clear the pilot was fine and the plane wasn’t going to catch fire, the woman turned to face Andy. “Who’re you?”

  “Andy MacDermott. Heard you were short pilots. I was closer than the ones caught farther back in the road block. Thought I’d see if I could help.”

  “Rating?”

  Andy gave an abbreviated rundown of her flight experience, the over four thousand flight hours, eight hundred flight instructor hours, limited fifty hours in seaplanes, five hundred hours low-level flight… She wanted to leave off the part that got the most questions but included it for the sake of assuring the woman she could handle the crafts they had sitting outside, even though she’d never flown those exact models.

  “Before retiring, I was an instructor at Edwards Air Force Base. TPS.”

  “Test Pilot School, huh?” The woman narrowed her eyes. She was maybe mid-fifties, her red hair streaked with silver, pulled back in a no-nonsense bun under her Fire Rangers hat, her pale skin dotted with freckles. She had that hard stare that investigated souls before making decisions.

  Andy liked her immediately.

  “Brenda Cowls. Fire chief. You think you can handle one of the 802s?“

  “Figure I can manage.”

  “Good.” Brenda took a note handed to her by a young man who scurried away a second later. She glanced at the paper, then folded it very precisely. “Everyone on the mountain is stretched thin.” She gestured at the wreck. “Pilots we have are flying too long. Getting tired, getting sloppy. Conditions are too difficult for fatigued crew. And I have a group on the east ridge in danger of getting trapped within the hour if we can’t get them more support. The angle is tough. The smoke is thick. We haven’t been able to cover enough ground to give them room.” She sighed and tapped the folded paper against her thigh. “No one else can spare any pilots. And the couple we’ve been able to find in the area are stuck in traffic.” She met Andy’s gaze. “Situation is changing fast. And I don’t have the crew to handle it.”

  “I’ll do what I can. I’m fresh. I can give you some time to get the others here.”

  “Never done drop runs, though.”

  “Not fire,” she confirmed. “But I did some crop dusting in my youth.”

  Brenda huffed. “That’ll do. Not a lot of options.” She muttered a curse under her breath. “We fuck this up, those fighters are dead.”

  “I’ll get them the cover they need.”

  And she would. She refused to fail anyone who needed her help again.

  3

  By the time the runway was cleared, Andy was up to speed on the surroundings and situation. She got her bearings on the map, and a quick run down from Brenda on the plane she’d be flying.

  “Remember, as you drop all that weight, push full forward stick or risk a stall. You crash this plane, we don’t have a replacement in the area. And we already lost one today. You have to be at sixty feet above the treetops before you drop, or it’ll just evaporate in mid-air, waste everyone’s time, resources, and probably kill the ground crew.”

  “So,” Andy said as she ran through her preflight checks, “no pressure then.”

  “Just life or death,” Brenda said with a nod. “Ordinary day.”

  Andy flashed her a small smile. “I got this.”

  Brenda gave her one last look. Then, “I’ll stay in the tower and guide you through it. Remember you’ve only got this one shot. Even if you had experience scooping, by the time you get to the nearest lake and back, it’ll be too late.”

  Andy nodded. Brenda tapped the edge of the flight deck, then scurried back down the later as Andy closed the door.

  For a heartbeat, Andy let being inside a cockpit again really sink in. The feel of the leather seat. The faint smell of fuel and engine grease. The instruments coming online. The snug hold of the harness securing her in her seat.

  Home.

  As she took hold of the stick and taxied to the runway, she let it all flow back to her. The remembered feel of the plane’s vibrations, the sense of the wind and gusts against the hull. Not the same, exactly. She’d never flown this exact type of plane. But that hardly mattered to her memories.

  She got clearance, powered down the runway, and launched into the sky like she’d never left. The wings dipped a little as she caught a cross breeze and she had to wrestle the thing back to rights. But it only took a few minutes to get a feel for the craft. Not a jet fighter. Not any of the experimental planes she’d tested over the years. Not the training planes she’d used to teach students. But the feeling of being in the air again, of being in control of her fate hadn’t changed.

  And it felt damned good.

  Now she had some firefighters to save.

  The fire turned the sky red. Everything around her glowing. Black smoke blotting out the blue skies. Smoke and burnt wood thick on her tongue, making her eyes burn. The heat, even at this height, intense. Sweat trickled down her temples.

  She’d flown over the area twice, confirming there were no obstacles, confirming the location of the ground crew. Everything was clear. She was ready.

  “Adjust heading,” Brenda’s voice over the radio. “Almost there. Remember you have to be at sixty feet for this to work.”

  “Right, Tower. Starting my run.”

  The lower she got the plane, the harder it got to control. Crosswinds and heat currents tugged and pulled at the plane until it felt like it was going to rip apart.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11