Chapter 16 #2
“Copy. Clear, One-Eight-Two.” She trusted him implicitly.
The tanker engines grew louder. Her crew caught up as they reached the bottom of the slope, the heat from the approaching fire intense enough to singe exposed skin.
“When the slurry drops, we need to get in there ASAP,” she told her team.
Tanker One-Eight-Two thundered overhead.
“Get ready for the drops!” Deanna and her crew hunkered near the ground with heads down. The first drop hit, twelve hundred and fifty gallons of red slurry coating the pathway to the crash, knocking down the flames.
“You nailed it, One-Eight-Two! The evac helicopter is en route. Make the second drop next to the crash site so it has clearance to land,” Deanna barked into the radio.
“Copy that,” replied Colton.
“After the drop, McPhee, Thompson, get the pilot’s shoulders. I’ll take the feet. Duffy, you’re on fire watch. Ready on the mark!” she shouted.
Deanna eyed the approaching medevac helicopter. “Tanker One-Eight-Two, drop it now!”
The second load hit, creating a buffer for the medical helicopter to land.
“Damn, he’s good,” she breathed, as Colton lifted the tanker. “Go, go, go!” she hollered to her jump crew, and the four of them sprinted toward the crash.
They ran across the red-coated ground, careful not to slip and fall with each step. Deanna reached the helicopter, where the pilot slumped in her seat. Reeva Dunsmore written in cursive on her name tag. Now Colton’s radio pause made sense. He’d recognized the tail number of his ex.
“Reeva, can you talk to me?” Deanna ran a fast assessment. The slurry could only hold the flames for so long.
The pilot’s face dripped with blood as Deanna wrestled with the shoulder harness seat belt, unclasping it. She tapped the pilot’s cheek.
“Reeva, can you hear me?”
“Yes,” came a faint reply. She remained conscious but in shock, her Nomex flight suit torn and bloody.
McPhee and Thompson eased her from the helicopter seat. Good timing. The medevac touched down in Colton’s slurry puddle, rotors whipping smoke and mud everywhere. The jump crew loaded the injured pilot. Deanna and her team climbed aboard as the flames advanced.
When they lifted off, she craned her neck to see the fire consume the crashed helicopter. The explosion behind them shook the medevac. Seconds. They’d only had seconds.
If Colton hadn’t made those drops at the right second and the right spot, and they hadn’t gotten the pilot out . . . she shuddered to think what would have happened.
The helicopter landed at Bowman Airfield fifteen minutes later. Paramedics loaded Reeva into a waiting ambulance. Deanna stood on the tarmac, coated in a gritty mixture of slurry and ash, her body trembling as the adrenaline faded and the ambulance sped toward the Anaconda hospital.
The familiar drone of Tanker One-Eight-Two spun her around. As Colton eased the Dash onto final approach, her heart exploded into a thousand pieces of relief, mashed up with love, admiration, and everything she’d ever felt for this tanker pilot.
When the aircraft rolled to a stop and he climbed down from the cockpit, she ran to him, not caring who saw. All that mattered was that he’d made it back. He swept her into his arms, and they clung to each other as the fears they’d both held at bay finally caught up with them.
“You saved us. Again,” she said into his shoulder. “Those drops were perfect.”
“And you rescued a helicopter pilot.” He stepped back to look at her. “One of the most selfless things I’ve seen a person do.”
“Didn’t matter who she was. I had to get her out.” She gazed at him. “Colton, I know someone poured accelerant into that pond. Whoever did it knew helicopters were drafting from it for water drops. They wanted this to happen. Question is, how did they do it?”
His mouth formed a straight line. “On foot, most likely. Night, a couple of jerry cans, a pond nobody’s guarding. I reported it to Air Attack, and they’re calling for an investigation. County officers and Forest Service law enforcement are heading to the scene now.”
He wiped a streak of ash from her cheek. “You okay?”
“I am now.” She didn’t care if McPhee and Thompson pretended not to notice, or if Duffy gawked at them with a shit-eating grin. She kissed Colton square on the lips with the intensity of a woman on a mission.
She drew back to look at him. “That was way too close. For all of us.”
“Yeah, it was.” His emerald gaze locked on hers. A safe harbor in her storm. She was so relaxed when he was around. “Want to get out of here?”
“Hell, yes.” She hollered across the tarmac and motioned McPhee over. “ICC is sending a transport van for our jump crew. I’m riding back with Davis. Can you do me a favor and write up the incident report? I’ll sign it when I report to the jump shack.”
“Sure thing.” McPhee gave her a thumbs-up. “Got it. I’ll write it up and prepare it for your signature.”
“You’re the best, thanks.” Deanna slapped his shoulder, then climbed into Colton’s pickup.
The cab smelled of him, along with smoke and aviation fuel. She glanced across at his profile. His sexy five o’clock shadow had her staring. When he caught her ogling him, he winked.
They didn’t say much. They didn’t have to.
Somewhere between Ace’s crashed tanker and today’s burning helicopter, she’d gone and fallen in love with the last person she ever thought possible . . . an aerial firefighting tanker pilot.
And there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.