Chapter 9 #2
She pushed that thought out of her mind, getting closer. Calculating how low she’d have to fly for him to grab onto the skid gear. Lift him clear of the danger. If he’d even be able to balance long enough to try without stopping. Getting crushed.
A tap on her shoulder, then Gibson was nodding. “Can you get us within fifty feet of Vale? Hold it steady?”
Damn straight she could. Didn’t matter if the winds were buffeting against her. If they kept gusting in different directions. She’d hold the damn chopper steady. No other option.
The machine rocked as she lowered into position, the wind rolling off the nearby ridge hitting the side of the fuselage. She angled into it as best she could while still paralleling Ethan. Holding it steady at fifty feet.
“Okay, love. Dungeon’s going out. We don’t have a winch, so he’ll be rappelling down. I’ll tap your shoulder when he’s in position.”
Dungeon? She had no idea he was one of the men. Was part of the backup Bishop had arranged. And had Gibson said the other man was rappelling down? Did Dungeon have a harness? Some kind of belay device? Had the other men just looped a bunch of belts or paracord together?
She didn’t know. Didn’t have time to worry because they were running out of space. There was a cliff ahead. One that wouldn’t offer Ethan any kind of landing on the other side. Just straight down for five hundred feet. And if he turned...
The avalanche would catch him. Was already throwing bits of snow against his back. Another thirty seconds, and he’d either fall to his death or get buried.
A click, then air rushing into the cabin. Messing with the aerodynamics. She adjusted. Managed to keep the swaying to a minimum as Dungeon disappeared over the side.
The sudden shift in weight had her adapting, again. Fighting the controls to keep the machine level. Keep it moving at the same speed as Ethan. Reduce the likelihood of Dungeon spinning around from the downwash. A few seconds, then Gibson tapping her shoulder, again. The signal to hold it steady.
She glanced at the screen. Judged Dungeon’s distance to Ethan by the images flashing across the monitor. How the avalanche was right there, lifting the sled as it curled over the men.
There was a firm tug against the frame. The rope pulling tight as both men disappeared into the churning snow.
Dipping beneath the surface. Nothing but that thin black line showing on the screen.
The added weight tipped the machine to one side, creating a bit of slack to the line before she countered the movement—got the helicopter back in check.
But they’d run out of time. The ground dropping away beneath them.
A big dark hole filling her field of view.
There was a moment of panic. Of seeing the two men tip off the edge, their bodies encased in white, before the line pulled snug, and they were flying over the empty space.
Ethan’s hands locked around Dungeon’s forearms.
She wasn’t sure how they held on. How Dungeon had gotten ahold of Ethan amidst all that snow.
If they could maintain their grip until they reached the lodge because part of the avalanche had continued.
Following the last of the slope as it angled toward the facility.
It wouldn’t overtake it, but she couldn’t chance putting the men down until they’d reached the buildings.
Far enough away she knew they weren’t at risk.
The men swayed on the line, constantly shifting her center of gravity, but she managed. Brought the helicopter into a high hover as she slowly lowered them to the ground. Willing her damn heart to stop racing as Ethan’s feet hit the surface.
She waited until he’d released Dungeon’s arms before gradually lowering.
Keeping the line taut so it wouldn’t blow up and tangle around the tail rotor.
Whether Dungeon had done that kind of rescue before or he just had good instincts, she wasn’t sure, but he didn’t try to undo the line until she’d landed—had reduced the engines to idle.
Didn’t take long for him to make his way to the open door—hand the line into to whoever was in the back. Then, he kneeled beside Ethan, signaling her he was clear.
She increased the throttle, took off with as little downwash as possible directed at them. A short thirty second shuffle, and they were on the helipad—shutting down.
Two of the men jumped out. Armed. Guns sweeping the area. Obviously, assuming the worst. Hell, she was, too. Hadn’t forgotten someone had tried to shoot them down. Blow them up. But there hadn’t been many options. Not when Ethan or Dungeon might need medical care.
The two men rounded the far wall a minute later. Ethan going high and right. Dungeon low and left. Clearing the landing zone, then quickstepping over to the helicopter. They reached it as she finished her checks—spooled down the engines.
A lock of the controls, then she stepped out.
Placing her helmet on the seat before being shoved behind Ethan as he shuffled in next to her.
Placed his sniper rifle beside the skid, then signaled her to fall in behind him.
Pistol still sweeping the grounds. Gibson joined them on the other side.
Copying Ethan’s approach. Creating a wall around her.
True, she wasn’t armed, but damn it, she was an operative. Could hold her own. Didn’t need protecting. Ethan ignored the glare she sent him, spinning and taking her to the ground when two men came barreling out of the hanger.
Shouts rose around her. Feet shuffling across the ground. Each step crunching the snow until everything went silent. Just stopped.
She shoved against Ethan’s hold, grunting when he finally eased up.
Allowed her to stand. She punched him in the shoulder, torn between wanting to knock him on his arse and wrap her arms around him.
Bury her face in his neck. Feel his heartbeat echo in her ear.
Assure herself he was real. That she hadn’t lost him off that cliff.
Ethan shook his head, mumbling something about her being a loose cannon. As if she’d been the one to ride a snowmobile eighty feet down a cliff. Had nearly gotten crushed in an avalanche. Then, he holstered his gun. Crossing his arms over his chest, as a group of men walked over to them.
Bishop huffed, silently asking her if she was okay with a lift of his brow. She nodded, tugging on her jacket in an effort to stem the urge to grab Ethan. Have him hold her, again, only not because he was shielding her. But because he wanted to.
Needed to.
Instead, she stepped forward, looking at each man in turn before focusing on Bishop.
“What the bloody hell is going on? We’re at a classified event in a supposedly undisclosed location.
No one should have tracked us down, yet.
Not when I haven’t removed my helmet all day, and Ethan’s been sitting at some shack a couple of miles off. How do they know we’re here?”
Bishop sighed, glancing at the setting sun, then back at her. “That’s an excellent question. And one we’d better answer quickly, or we won’t have to worry about finding Parker. We’ll all be dead.”