Chapter 38
38
Caleb climbed into the main body of the Jayhawk. The pilot was already on board, his voice audible through the headset as he ran through the preflight checks. Caleb pulled on his own headset, the sound of the rotor blades and the pilot’s steady voice filling his ears.
He ran through his own safety checks on autopilot, his hands moving with a practiced ease that came from years of training. He could do this in his sleep, which was just as well, because right now, the only thing he could think about was Grace and how he’d failed her.
As he finished his checks, Caleb glanced toward the front cab, expecting to see Bishop. But a different familiar face greeted him.
“Wyatt?”
“Ryder called me.” His brother’s voice crackled on the headset. “Thought you might like some backup.”
“What happened to your suspension?”
Wyatt shrugged. “The commander was open to reasoning.”
Caleb shook his head, a grateful smile tugging at his lips despite the situation. Leave it to Wyatt to sweet-talk his way back onto active duty. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Wyatt’s expression was sober. “We’ll bring her home safe.” He turned to their flight mechanic. “Henley, pre-flight checks complete?”
“Pre-flight checks complete.” Henley’s voice was steady over the headset. “Hydraulics, fuel, and electrical systems are green. Hoist and rescue equipment are operational. We’re ready for takeoff.”
The dull thud of a flight medic bag hitting the Jayhawk’s metal floor announced Ryder’s arrival. With a grunt of effort, he boosted himself into the cabin. “Medic on board.” He took his seat and secured his harness, catching Caleb’s eye. “We’ll find her.”
Caleb took a deep breath, steadying his nerves.
This had to be a good omen. A rescue with both of his brothers. Everything about it felt right, the last piece of the puzzle falling into place.
Now they just had to bring Grace home.
At the thought of her name, something in his heart squeezed tight. Grace. Lost in the wilds of the Bering sea.
“Preparing for takeoff.” Wyatt’s hands moved with precision over the instrument panel, flipping switches and adjusting controls. “Increasing throttle and initiating vertical ascent. Let’s go get Caleb’s woman.”
The Mohawk skimmed low over the blue-black sea. The waves below churned dirty and mottled, whipped by the wind. Clouds hung low and thick on the horizon. The atmosphere in the helicopter crackled with tension. It was always this way on a rescue, but knowing Grace was on the boat made it all the harder.
Caleb checked the PLB on his tablet. Pressure bars circled the beacon. The boat was dead center in the storm’s eye. Rain battered against the windscreen, obscuring his view of the sea below, as the Mohawk lurched through an air pocket. Caleb breathed in and out. Slow breaths. Just like he’d done when he’d been a SEAL. Finding his center, the place of calm he could operate from, take the risks that needed to be made.
“Distressed vessel ahead, port side,” Wyatt reported over the headset. Caleb swung open the side door and icy rain needled his face. The roar of the storm rushed in and he was grateful for comms communication with his team.
“Caleb.” Henley pointed with one gloved hand to north of the Mohawk at three o’clock. A yacht of around eighty feet was being thrown around like a toy boat.
“Anchored.” Henley made a slicing motion across his neck. They both knew the extra risks this entailed. It was suicide to anchor in this storm.
Mountainous swells flooded the deck as the boat pitched violently, its anchor dragging it toward disaster. White foam frothed over the gunwales with each wave strike.
Hudson was either incompetent or too arrogant to run. Unless the plan was for the boat to go down. And for it to go down with Grace on board. In a storm like this, no one would question the loss of life. It would be a terrible accident and no one could argue otherwise.
Caleb’s stomach knotted with dawning realization. “They mean to scuttle her. This was a one-way trip.”
“Lifeboat is launched.” Wyatt’s voice rattled over the intercom. “Rescue craft will rendezvous with them in thirty minutes.”
Caleb stared at the flailing craft below, his grip too tight on the winch cable. “Why would they anchor her if they’ve already evacuated? They’re going to lose her. Is this some kind of insurance job?”
“What do you mean?” Despite the comms, Henley was shouting to be heard over the howling wind.
Caleb checked his harness for the final time. “I mean, they have a reason for wanting the boat to go down.”
“Caleb, what the hell are you doing?” Ryder caught his wrist. “They’re already evacuated. All crew are reported on board. We can head back.”
Caleb lifted the tablet, his mouth a hard line. Directly below, the PLB pulsed. “Maybe not.”
“What—” Ryder’s eyebrows collided.
“They’ve left her to die, Ryder. I’m going down.”
He envisioned Grace trapped belowdecks in flooding darkness, abandoned to drown like a chained dog. His jaw ached. Not while he drew breath.
Wind buffeted the Mohawk, and it veered sideways until Wyatt brought it back under control.
“You can’t go down there. It’s too dangerous,” Henley shouted.
Caleb shook his head and connected his harness to the winch. He’d heard that claim before. That it was too dangerous, that he had to back off. What was he doing this job for if not to put his life on the line for others, especially for ones who meant as much to him as Grace? This was his chance to make things right.
The Mohawk shuddered as a savage gust slammed into it broadside. Caleb gritted his teeth, cinching his harness tight.
“It’s too dangerous!” Henley yelled over the scream of the wind.
Caleb shook his head. Marie was with him. He could feel her in the driving beat of the rain, the scouring scream of the storm. This time, he would bring the woman he loved back or die trying. “No chance I’m standing down!” He toggled his comms. “Going in. Take me down, Henley!”
It would take all of his skill to get down there in one piece, but he had his brothers watching his back.
Donning goggles against the driving rain, Caleb fastened his line and stepped out into thin air.