Breathe Romeo was always telling her.
Good advice. But how was she supposed to follow it when she was about to be one in eleven million?
Those were the odds of being in a plane crash. Alexandra Merriweather had shared the statistic with Mia the day Romeo had landed them in the storm and Mia had admitted to Alex she’d been sweating bullets the entire flight.
But just in case I don’t end up being a statistic...
“I’m unbuckling to check on Doc!” she yelled to Romeo.
“Damnit, Mia!” he shouted. “You—”
“He’s hurt!” She cut him off and knelt next to Doc, who hadn’t moved a muscle since going down.
She was no doctor, but she’d taken three Wilderness Medicine courses. In her line of work, she was often far from the nearest clinic or hospital. It behooved her to know how to throw a stitch or brace a broken bone.
Propping her back against the bulkhead to steady herself, she pressed two fingers to Doc’s carotid. When she felt the steady hammer of his pulse, she let loose with a windy breath of relief. Then she grabbed his right hand and pinched the space between his thumb and forefinger, nearly crying out with happiness when his hand contracted. She did the same with his left hand and got the same results.
No difficulty breathing. No obvious muscle paralysis. I don’t think we’re dealing with a broken neck. So that leaves...
As gently as she could, she turned Doc’s head. Bright red blood slid beneath his ear and stained the collar of his T-shirt.
Probing his skull, she found a goose egg behind his left ear. But thankfully, when she carefully palpated the bones beneath, there was no crackle or flex that would herald a cracked cranium.
“He hit his head!” she yelled in the direction of the cockpit. “I don’t think his skull is fractured, but he’s out cold!”
“Is there any way to secure him?” Romeo’s voice was tight with tension.
That probably scared Mia worse than anything. If Mr. Cool, Calm, and Collected was anxious, they really were in trouble.
“We can try!” she called and glanced up to see Cami had once more shoved her sunglasses onto her head. The woman’s dark eyes looked nearly black inside the paleness of her face, but her voice was steady when she asked, “How can I help?”
“Let’s see if we can drag him into your seat.”
The lawyer nodded mutely. And even though her hands shook, she was able to get her seat belt undone in a flash. She knelt on the floor on the other side of Doc’s prone body.
Doc wasn’t fat by any means. In fact, he had the rangy build most people associated with a mountain man from the wilds of the West. But nearly six and a half feet of big bones, wiry sinew, and lean muscle still weighed a ton.
Mia and the lawyer grunted and strained and heaved and huffed. It was like trying to lift a 220-pound ragdoll. But after a little maneuvering and a lot of cussing on Cami’s part, they were finally able to hoist him into Cami’s vacated seat.
The lawyer kept him upright with both arms wrapped around his chest while Mia cinched the belt snug across his waist. Once he was strapped in, they gingerly lowered him until his head hung between his knees and his arms dangled down until his big hands lay palm up on the floor.
It was as close to a “brace” position as they could manage with an unconscious man.
Cami was in the process of buckling herself into the seat next to him when Mia heard Romeo put out the first call for help. Her knees turned to Jell-O, and it was a wonder she didn’t crumple onto the floor before she made it to her seat.
Mayday made it official. They were screwed.
One in eleven million. Dear god!
“Mayday, mayday!” Romeo’s voice was clear and measured, but she could hear the urgency underlying every word. “This is flight number—” He rattled off a series of letters and numbers followed by the type of aircraft. “We have a multi-system failure. I cannot maintain speed, altitude, or heading. Come in, Key West. Do you copy?”
Mia closed her eyes and began counting to ten again. She’d made it to five before she realized no one was talking back to Romeo.
Was the radio part of their multi-system failure?
Six, seven, eight...
“Mayday, Mayday!” Romeo tried again. “If anyone is out there picking me up, this is flight—” He went through the same information as before, but this time he added their current position followed by, “There are four people onboard. We are headed in a south, southeasterly direction. I estimate we have two, maybe three minutes of airtime remaining. We will be ditching.”
Mia thought her terror couldn’t climb any higher.
Then it did when the engine sputtered and died, and an ominous quiet filled the plane.
Chapter 5
11:44 AM...
Romeo had always considered himself a lucky S.O.B.
Despite his less than auspicious start in life, he’d made it as a Frogman—something few who aspired to the role ever achieved. He’d survived more than a handful of missions where he should’ve found a final resting place inside a body bag. And he had a group of loyal friends and business partners who were closer to him than his own family.
But he feared his luck may have run out.
The Otter was a dead-stick.
To make matters worse, he was pretty sure his tail was either completely gone or so badly damaged, it might as well be gone. Whatever had happened to his beloved plane made keeping the bird in a steady glide impossible.
A cold sweat slicked his skin, reminding him of the night he’d been initiated into the gang and had known he was staring down the barrel of a bad deal. His muscles strained as he worked the flaps, slowing their descent and struggling to keep them nose-up while looking for the best place to put down.
Most people would think that last thing was a no-brainer since there was nothing but open water as far as the eye could see. Just ditch wherever, right? The ocean is the ocean is the ocean, right?
Wrong.
All sea surfaces were not made the same. A trained eye could detect patches where waves broke higher, see whole stretches where the current caused cross-action in the swells, and pick out the deceptive areas that looked like they’d be good for a landing, but were prone, for whatever reason, to the occasional rogue breaker.
He needed the smoothest piece of water he could find because they were coming in hot. Red hot. The chili pepper in his grandmother’s homemade salsa hot.