Aiden & Ariel Read online

  “Hang on,” she called to her passengers. “It’s going to be bumpy, and don’t unbuckle until I tell you.”

  Understandably, the flight nurse and paramedic were eager to get to their patients, but if they got out before the skids were anchored, it could be the last thing they did. Before touching down, she armed the floats, a precaution in case she didn’t stick the landing. If the gusts bucked them off the platform, the floats would deploy giving them a chance of escaping the helicopter. Her motto was to plan for the worst and pray for the best.

  Right now, she wished for a break in the sheets of rain pouring down. She couldn’t see crap.

  Almost there.

  A gust blew her off the helideck and she cursed. This was turning into a real goat rope. But she regained altitude and realigned for a second approach. Winds gusted from the southeast, Julian testing the waters. Okay, easy now. There was a flare boom to the right and a crane to the left she needed to avoid. She kicked the tail a little to the right after clearing a stairwell. One more check to make sure the floats were armed.

  Holy crap! Where did that antenna come from?

  Hands steady, she cleared the antenna and made a note to speak to their Offshore Installation Manager about putting stuff up above the deck level. The skids touched down and she radioed an update back to base. The whine of the engine powered down and the rotors came to a stop. In the back, Andrew and Larry gathered their gear, hefting packs to their backs and readying the stretcher. They waited for her to give the all clear.

  Outside, three men waited. Shrouded in rain gear, their bulky yellow shapes flashed in the landing lights. Beneath their hoods, their faces fell into shadow.

  Ariel spent eight years in the military. Alpha men were a dime a dozen in the Army, but they all had the same purpose, the same mission. The business of oil drilling attracted a similar breed, rough and rugged men, only these didn’t hold to a code she understood. With the military, everyone marched to the same drummer, followed the same orders, and could be trusted implicitly. Drillers? They were a rough lot.

  They made her uncomfortable, and she didn’t trust them.

  Gusts buffeted the helideck and the craft shuddered. As the whine of the engine disappeared another sound replaced it. A deep, thunderous booming, felt more than heard, joined the roar of the wind. Vibrations from waves crashing against the support pillars ripped through the super-structure. Nature’s power literally shook the world.

  She popped open her door and signaled to the waiting crew it was safe to approach. They rushed forward and secured her skids, bracing the helicopter against the rising winds. They did the same to the rotors overhead.

  Once the skids were locked securely to the helideck, she gave the signal for Andrew and Larry. The two men jumped out, packs strapped to their backs, and portable stretcher in tow. This wasn’t their first foray to one of the thousands of oil rigs distributed throughout the Gulf. The imposing structures never failed to inspire awe and she felt some of that now pounding in her blood. Or maybe that was adrenaline spiking along her nerves? It didn't matter. Everything about this situation was intense.

  Safety protocols had been drilled into her, as it had for her crew. Many of the walkways, stairwells, and ladders spanned vast distances with deadly drops beneath them. One hand on the rail at all times. It was a mantra they lived with. A fall here could be fatal. Drilling remained one of the most dangerous professions for a reason.

  A thick arm braced her door as a gust tried to slam it shut on her leg.

  “Careful!” a gruff voice shouted.

  “Thanks.”

  “What?” He pulled back, a look of surprise on his face. “You’re a chick.”

  “All day. Every day.”

  “Huh.” He held the door open against the wind. “Come with me.”

  “I’ll stay here, thank you.”

  “Not happening. Too dangerous.” His gruff features brooked no argument as he studied her face. An aura of authority surrounded him, rolled off him, and slammed into her with the absolute assurance she would do as he said.

  Her entire career had been spent facing down dominant men and overcoming male and female stereotypes that defined who she could and couldn’t be. She earned her right to pilot the helicopter and wouldn’t let his overwhelming presence force her into feeling less because she happened to be a chick.

  But that authoritative aura?

  It did things; spun her thoughts, teased her mind, and drew forth a powerful need to cave to his demands. To dispel the effect he was having on her, she shook her head and gritted her teeth.

  “I’m staying with the helicopter.”

  “No. You’re not.” He propped open the door, leaned in, and pulled her out of her seat.

  Chapter 2

  Aiden

  Aiden couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw who landed the helicopter in the middle of the storm.

  A female?

  Women were few and far between out on the rigs, but female pilots were even rarer. As if that wasn’t enough, this one appeared to be stubborn as shit, refusing to comply with his commands. Didn't she know who was in charge around here?

  “Let go of me.” Her tiny hand pounded against his chest.

  He hadn’t meant to frighten her, only to get her off the platform. It wasn't safe to stay with the helicopter, not with the gusts they were seeing. If she’d been a guy, it wouldn’t have been an issue. He would have yanked a guy out and kicked his ass all the way to the ladder leading to the catwalk. Aiden didn't take lip from any of his crew, and definitely not from those unfamiliar with how things worked on a rig.

  All he cared about was the safety side of things. What he didn't need was to carry on a long drawn out conversation about what should be a non-issue. The helideck wasn’t safe, and there was no way in hell he’d leave anybody, man or woman, alone up here in this weather. He released the pilot and pointed to the stairs. Maybe she’d listen to reason.

  “No need to get your panties in a wad, but you will get your ass down those stairs.” He crossed his arms over his chest. The yellow survival suit squeaked as it strained across his bulky chest.

  “Why you…you…” Her face turned beet red.

  He shouldn’t laugh. He really should hold it together, but he couldn’t help himself and a low chuckle escaped. “Asshole, brute, dickhead?” A grin plastered itself on his face and he couldn’t make it go away. She looked so damn indignant, and sexy as hell. “Which one is it going to be?”

  “You’re a prick," she said with a huff, "you know that?”

  “Ah, I hadn’t gotten to prick yet, but it was next.” He glanced into the darkness. The sea seethed below them. The waves had doubled in size from earlier in the day. This hurricane was going to pack a punch, and if they didn’t hurry things along, they wouldn’t make it off the rig before all hell broke loose.

  He turned his attention to the pretty pilot. “Look, I get that you want to stay with the helicopter, but it’s not safe. Therefore, it's not happening.”

  “It’s not safe crawling around a rig in the dark either. I’ll take my chances.”

  “Not happening.”

  He reached for her, but she jerked away and crossed her arms over her chest. He couldn't help the way his eyes dropped to take in the curve of her breasts. The defiant stare she leveled at him made him grin. This chick had a temper. He respected that.

  Too many women caved beneath his demands. Frankly, he found it boring, but this hellcat sparked his interest and stimulated other parts of his anatomy which had no business taking notice…at least not right now.

  “And what are you going to do about it?” Her defiance stirred something deep inside; something primal and highly inappropriate. He couldn’t help it, needing to see how far she would take this. By rights, she had no choice but to follow his orders. As the Offshore Installation Manager, he was the final authority on the rig, but then maybe she didn’t understand how things worked out here? He'd have to break it to her because sh
e couldn’t refuse one of his orders.

  “Get out of that helicopter and follow me down, or I’ll toss you over my shoulder and carry you. Since I have a feeling you’ll kick and scream, and knowing I need to keep a hand on a railing at all times, that wouldn’t end well for either of us. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not dump you over the railing. They have sharks in these waters.”

  “A fall from this height is fatal,” she spat.

  “You’d still be shark bait. How about we skip feeding the sharks and you do as you’re told? What’s it going to be? You coming with me? Or do I have to carry you?” He sized her up, thinking about how much fun that could be.

  “There’s no way in hell you’re carrying me. I’ll bring you up on assault charges.” She edged away from him.

  “I respect that.” He mirrored her pose and stared down at her. “But you’re not filing charges. I’m the only one in charge around here, which means you do as I say.”

  “Bossy much?”

  He chuckled. “You have no idea.” With a sweep of his arm, he gestured toward the stairs. “Ladies choice: on your feet or over my shoulder? I can tell you which one I prefer, but that might get me written up.”

  “You’re an ass. You know that?”

  “I’m also a stickler for safety, and for others following my orders.” He stretched out his hand. “I’m Aiden Cole, OIM, that means Offshore Installation”

  “I know what an OIM is, asshole.”

  Her temper and sharp comebacks were as sexy as fuck. Despite the dangerous conditions, impending superstorm, and the very real threat of having to ride out the storm on the rig, she turned him on. None of that was good.

  “Good,” he said, “then you know you have to do as I say.”

  “I don’t see why I can’t stay here.”

  As if to support his argument, the wind whipped over the helideck and nearly blew off the door to the helicopter. He grabbed it, stabilizing it until the gust died down. Her eyes widened as the helicopter rocked in the clamps. It was locked tight and wouldn’t be going anywhere, but that had been one hell of a gust. With Julian approaching, things would only get worse.

  “Look, it’s going to take a moment to stabilize my crewmen. Then we have to load them on stretchers, walk them back, and lift them from that deck down there to this one up here. There’s only the five of us left on this rig, and I’m not leaving anyone alone where I don’t have eyes on them.”

  The play of emotions marching across her face was interesting to watch. He wasn’t kidding about tossing her over his shoulder. It had been an exaggeration and would be highly unsafe, but she seemed to believe he might do just that. Which had him considering what it would feel like to drape her over his shoulder and go all caveman on her. With a shake of his head, he tossed the fantasy and focused on maintaining his professionalism. She made that impossible, however, with her doe-brown eyes and pert little mouth.

  With a huff, she exited the helicopter. Poor thing was barely five-foot-six and looked like she weighed a buck twenty at most. The slightest gust could sweep her off the decking.

  “Stay here.” He gripped her hand and placed it over the handle of the door, indicating she should hang on.

  “I thought I was supposed to go with you.”

  “You are, but you need a harness.”

  “Andrew and Larry didn’t need harnesses.”

  “They’re also well over two-hundred pounds. You’re half that, and I’ll be damned if I let the medevac pilot get blown off the platform.”

  “I’m not going to—”

  Another gust swept over the rig. Metal groaned and it slammed her against the helicopter. If the wind had come from the other direction, she would’ve been knocked to her ass and have slid halfway across the deck. Her grip tightened and she gave a clipped nod.

  Finally, some sense settled into her head. He went to a utility box and retrieved a safety harness. He already wore one, as did his men. Before they made their way back, he would need to make sure the transport team had them as well.

  Was it even safe to take off in weather like this?

  He didn’t know, but the pilot didn’t seem concerned. That was a good thing because no one wanted to ride out a hurricane trapped inside a rig. He sure didn’t, but would the company send another helicopter to pick up him and his remaining two crewmen?

  It was already on its way, but the timing would be tight. He needed to get his wounded off the rig before the last helicopter landed to evacuate him and the last of his men.

  Gritting his teeth, he returned to the pilot with the webbing. Not caring what she thought about where he might or might not be touching, he forced her to step into the harness and pulled it up to her waist. Tightening the straps, he hooked one end of a short strap to a D-ring on her harness and fastened the other end to his. Now, at least if the wind tried to blow her away, she would be anchored to him.

  He gave another smirk, thinking about tying her down.

  “You ready?” He had to shout to be heard over the wind.

  Unlike him, she didn’t have weather gear. Rain dripped down her face, but her tight bun kept her hair out of the way. He’d bet a million dollars this chick was prior military with that tight-ass regulation bun. It made more sense, to be honest.

  She gave a nod and he headed toward the stairs. It was a bit of a hike from the helideck down the stairs and across catwalks to the crew area. He had two men in the sickbay. One with multiple leg fractures and the other knocked out cold. The accident occurred when the men rushed to tie down equipment in advance of the storm. Rushing and a momentary lack of attention was all it took for an accident to happen.

  He led the way, pointing to the railings she needed to grip as they went up and down stairs and across the catwalks. The woman listened as he barked orders, obeying immediately. Yeah, she was prior military. Despite the noise from the growling winds, the rig sat in silence. Shut down, it had been prepped to hunker down and endure the storm. It would take a massive storm to upset the rig, but the company didn’t take chances with its men. Everyone was evacuated until the storm passed.

  They moved by a row of emergency lifeboats: red torpedoes hung over the ocean. In the event of an emergency, they would release and plummet down to the water over two-hundred feet below. He prayed to never have to take that ride. The company said it was safe, but he doubted it.

  Unsinkable, they could endure any storm. The occupants inside, however, would be tossed about like corks. Without any orientation as to up and down, and with no view of the outside world, they’d all come out covered in one another’s vomit. He had never been in one and might choose going down with the rig over climbing into one of those. That decision would be his to make, but he had faith in his rig. It wouldn’t fail him.

  “Come on. It’s just a bit further.”

  The woman was a fighter. She struggled with the wind. Head down, white-knuckled grip, and soaked to the bone, she didn’t voice one word of complaint. Yet another thing he admired.

  The door to the crew area was just ahead and he led her to it as fast as safety allowed. It was getting dicey outside.

  He yanked on the door, then held it open. She stepped under his arm and over the hatchway. He followed her inside and removed his safety gear. With a turn of the locking mechanism, he sealed them away from the storm and the howling wind. It seemed eerily quiet inside and he was suddenly hyperaware of the beautiful woman trembling beside him.

  Her teeth chattered and she looked like a ghost.

  “We need to get you into something dry.”

  “W-wh-where are m-m-my m-men?”

  “Darlin’ your teeth are chattering so hard I can barely understand a word you’re saying.”

  Her gaze popped to his and determination flashed in their depths. “Where are they?”

  He pointed down the hall. “Not far.”

  She turned and stomped down the hallway. Guess they were going to sickbay.

  Chapter 3

&n
bsp; Ariel

  Ariel’s heart hammered in her chest and she could barely breathe. It had nothing to do with the imposing stranger walking behind her, although he was a sight to melt the coldest heart. Tall, imposing, stunningly attractive, he had baby blues that stopped her in her tracks. Baby blues were her Achilles heel and she’d fallen for them one time too many.

  But that’s not why her heart raced.

  From the very first step on the stairs leading down from the helideck, terror held her in its iron-fisted grip. Thankfully, she had the OIM’s broad shoulders to stare at as he led the way. It helped to keep her attention from straying from the rails of the catwalks to the deadly depths they spanned. Beneath them, an angry sea surged as white-capped waves slammed against the support pillars of the oil rig.

  As the OIM moved her from one catwalk to another, the blood in her veins raced inside her body with the same ferocity as the wind buffeting her outside. As a helicopter pilot, height wasn’t something she feared. How many times had she stared between her feet, watching the ground drop away? Or how about all the times she’d willingly rappelled out of a helicopter? She lived most of her life between ground level and five-thousand feet.

  She'd conquered any number of fears in life, survived the heat of battle, and never had she been afraid. That roiling sea, with its unrestrained fury, made her feel small, inconsequential, and terribly vulnerable.

  The fear running rampant in her body had to be a combination of the wind, the darkness, and the driving rain which had her gritting her teeth and struggling to take the next step. Rain soaked the thick fabric of her flight suit and the wind chilled her to the bone. Her teeth chattered and her hands shook.

  Hypothermia much?

  That walk took less than five minutes, yet she arrived in the throes of a full-bodied shiver. She'd have to walk back the way they came, and it wouldn’t be quick. Not with two stretchers to maneuver. How was she going to fly out of here when she could barely control her hands?