Saving Ariel: a Protective Hero Second Chance Romantic Suspense Page 3

  “How’s it looking, guys?” I glance between them, admiring their efficiency.

  Andrew looks up. “ABCs on this one are stable, but the breaks are bad.”

  Airway, breathing, and circulation; those are the basics of first aid. I was trained in Buddy Care in the military and know enough to put someone into the recovery position and how to stop most bleeding.

  “Can I help?”

  “I’ve got a good pulse in both feet, but he shattered his legs.” Andrew turns back to his patient.

  “Just tell me what to do.”

  With adrenaline kicking in, all thoughts of being cold move from my mind. I rub my hands together, bringing warmth back to my icy fingers, and crouch down on the other side of Andrew’s patient.

  “Help me with the splint, then we’ll get him loaded on the stretcher.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “What can we do?” the OIM asks.

  He mentioned his name, but I can’t for the life of me remember what it is. What I do remember is everything else he said, things about tossing me over his shoulder and … I blink hard and force those thoughts from my mind.

  The OIM squats beside me and I can’t focus on what Andrew says.

  “Help Ariel,” Andrew instructs. “Support his leg while I put on the brace. It's hard to tell if his pelvis is fractured, but it looks like it might be. It’s going to be tricky getting him on the stretcher. I’ve given him all the pain meds I dare. Doesn’t look like there are any other injuries.” Andrew glances at me. “It looks pretty bad out there. What are your thoughts about flying out?”

  I purse my lips. “It’s going to be dicey, to be sure. I’ll need to check the wind speed before we take off. The book answer is safety takeoff limits are set at forty knots, but I’ve been out in fifty-five. Not sure I want to take off in much more than that.”

  “What does that mean?” The OIM levels his powerful gaze at me, making me gulp. “Can you leave or not?”

  Ignoring those mesmerizing eyes, I force myself to swallow against the lump in my throat. It’s the only way to silence the fluttering in my belly.

  “Winds are pegging forty right now. It’s going to be dicey, and those gusts are only going to intensify. Obviously, the sooner we get loaded, the better.”

  Larry looks up from placing an intravenous line in his patient. “This one is also stable. Large knot on his skull. Not sure what’s going on in his head. Concussion for certain, but it might be worse. How far out is the hurricane?”

  “Last I looked, 150 nautical miles.” I turn to address the OIM and am determined to treat him like any other Joe. They’re just eyes. “Where’s your weather station?”

  Penetrating, mesmerizing, incredibly blue eyes. There’s something about him that makes me tremble.

  Separated from the helicopter, I no longer have access to my weather radar or communication back to base.

  “Not far,” the OIM says. “I can take you there if you want.”

  I purse my lips. “I can push a takeoff to sixty-knot winds. It’s ill-advised, but I’m thinking hanging out here is a worse option.”

  “The rig hasn’t sunk yet. It’s endured hurricanes before,” he says.

  “A Category 5?” I ask.

  “Well, we don’t get those much in the Gulf, but yeah, it’s withstood one or two.”

  “Hmm, I don’t think we want to get out there only to find out we can’t take off.” I scrunch my brows. “Where’s your ride?”

  “Inbound behind you. These guys are our priority. Once you leave, our ride will land and take us out.”

  I shake my head. “Honestly, I don’t see that happening. The gusts we’re getting are already bad. If they’re on their way, it’s best if they head back to base.” I glance at his other two crewmen who haven’t yet said a word and do some quick math in my head. “I don’t have the weight allowance to take all of you, but I can take one, maybe two if we offload some gear.”

  “Duncan and Randall can go with you. I’ll hunker down here.”

  That’s impressive. It didn’t take him a second to make that decision.

  I respect that, but then I have a thing for men who take charge, especially in the bedroom. Some say it’s an unhealthy obsession. Next to blue eyes, men who wear authority like a second skin are a surefire path to my destruction. I should add that to the growing list of reasons to stay far away from this one.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’d take everyone if I could.”

  “You can’t change the law of physics. Don’t worry about me. I’ve seen worse than a simple storm.”

  Holy rocking that confidence.

  Blue eyes, authority, self-assuredness? He hits all my buttons. I respond too, dry mouth, lump in throat, and butterflies in my stomach, which refuse to sit still.

  Get a grip.

  The OIM and I hold the splint in place while Andrew secures it around the injured man’s leg. Once that’s done, I’m shivering again.

  “How does it look, Andrew?” I glance at Andrew and the deep-set scowl on his face.

  “It’ll do. Maybe another fifteen minutes to get them loaded on the stretchers.”

  That will give me enough time to check on the weather. I stand and take a step back. Mr. OIM rises with me.

  “You ready to check it out?” Did his drawl thicken in the past five minutes?

  I close my mouth. I was staring at the prominent bulge in his pants. “Excuse me?”

  “The weather radar?” He arches a brow, then checks me out, letting his gaze linger on my tits.

  As cold as I am, my nipples harden into rocks beneath my flight suit. Thank goodness he can’t see them. I would be mortified if he knew.

  “You’re shivering.” His tone softens. “Can’t let that happen. Need you to fly everyone out. We need to get you into something dry.”

  Right, while leaving him behind. Alone to sit out the storm.

  “You know, if we went to the helicopter, I could try to dump more weight. I might be able to get all of us back to shore.”

  “I appreciate that.” He pauses. “More than you know, but you saw what it’s like out there. No way can we lighten that helicopter safely. Best we make sure you can take off and take it from there.”

  “Okay, it’s just …”

  He bends down to look me in the eye.

  “Sugar, I’ll be fine. It’ll be rough, but this place is built for this shit. Won’t be my first rodeo.”

  “How long do you think it’ll take to get them to the helideck?”

  “It’s not going to be easy. Twenty minutes maybe?”

  “Okay. I guess we have time to show me your radar.”

  “Sure, luv. Let’s go take a look at my radar.”

  I pause, then crack a smile when he gives me a wink.

  Humor too? This man has it all.

  I wave to Andrew. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Andrew has the OIM’s other two crewmen setting up the stretchers. They should be ready to go by the time I get back.

  Chapter Four

  Aiden

  I don’t miss the spark which flashes in the pretty pilot’s eyes. If we were anywhere else, I know exactly how the evening would end—my place or hers with twisted sheets beneath us.

  As it is, all hell is about to break loose as Hurricane Julian slams into us.

  She wants to look at the radar, gauge wind speed, and decide whether to fly out of this shitstorm. I can’t believe she’ll even consider it. Hell, I thought she was crazy to land on the helideck.

  As it is, I respect any decision she makes. She’s the only qualified individual to fly that helicopter, which means only she can determine if it’s safe to take off.

  But she’ll be taking four of my men with her, two of whom are injured. If I think for a minute their lives will be in greater danger in that helicopter rather than hunkering down on the rig, words will be exchanged between me and the pilot.

  A short trip through the crew quarters brings us to what func
tions as a control center. I hold the door open and let her step inside.

  “Weather radar is over there.” The rig has a fully functional weather station on board.

  Ariel doesn’t waste any time. She familiarizes herself with the controls, then sets to it. I stand silently while she pulls up information on the path of the storm, its speed, wind velocities, and whatever else she needs. Meanwhile, I stare out the windows as they rattle and shake with the advance of the storm.

  Hurricane Julian isn’t fooling around. It isn’t supposed to hit for another couple of hours, but it seems like it’s far ahead of schedule. Hurricanes have been known to slow down as they approach land, and I hope Julian chooses to do that. It will increase the chances of getting my men off the rig and home to safety.

  Keeping my thoughts to myself, I plan for every contingency. If we get stuck, I need to find the best place for everyone to shelter. Someplace protected from the worst of the winds, unlikely to be damaged during the storm, yet close enough to the emergency lifeboats in case the unthinkable happens.

  Not that anything will happen to the rig. It was built to withstand the storm of the century and then some.

  “Shit!” Ariel punches the screen. “Shit! Shit! Double Shit!”

  The girl has a mouth on her.

  “That doesn’t sound reassuring.” I turn and cross my arms over my chest.

  As if it were possible, her anger only makes her more attractive. I love the way her tiny fists punch the screen and the way her lips twist in frustration. A spitfire attitude promises many things in more intimate surroundings, but then again, I’ve always been a man who enjoys aggressive, private play.

  I really shouldn’t be thinking about sex, but she makes that damn near impossible. Not with the flashing of anger in her eyes, that tight body the flight suit does nothing to hide, or the fierceness she brings to her job. Everything about her screams sex.

  “It’s a total clusterfuck.” She kicks the console. “That’s what this is.”

  “Such words from a lady,” I tease, trying to keep the mood light. “My ears are burning.”

  She spins around and cocks her hip forward. Sparks ignite in her eyes, and I can almost see the steam coming out of her ears. “I’m pretty sure my language is the least offensive thing you’ve heard all week.”

  “True, but I have to say, you’d give the men a run for their money with that filthy mouth of yours. Good thing we don’t have a swear jar around here.” I unclasp my arms and lean against the counter.

  “You’re kidding, right?” She glances left and right, searching.

  I can’t help but grin. In a place like this, we need a swear barrel, and it would be filled to the brim daily.

  “One thing you’ll discover about me is that I seldom kid," I say. "Fortunately, we don’t have one here. Consider yourself safe.”

  She seems to consider my words and I wonder if her thoughts travel down any of the filthy paths I’ve already taken ten times over.

  “I bet,” she says. “You’d all be broke.”

  A sense of humor. I like that.

  I give a laugh. “True, but I do have one at home.” Let her extrapolate from that.

  “I’m guessing the wife doesn’t appreciate swearing around the kids?”

  Uh-oh, that’s a wrong turn.

  I don’t need her thinking I’m unavailable. Truth is, it’s been a long time since I've dated, but I’m definitely unencumbered. Time to steer her in the right direction, but I need to make sure she understands certain things. Surprises like mine aren’t generally accepted well. If my daughter is going to be a deal-breaker, best to know up front. It’s time to test the waters.

  “When my nine-year-old spouted out cunt motherfucker, I knew something had to change.”

  She places her hand to her mouth and laughs. “Oh my, that is a mouthful for a boy.”

  “Well, I guess she wanted to be like her old man.”

  “A girl?” Her laughter spills through the room. “Now that’s priceless. I bet you need a swear jar, and I bet your daughter is the richest nine-year-old in the neighborhood."

  “That might not be far off from the truth. It’s most definitely not my finest parenting moment.”

  “I bet your wife was pissed. Of all the words for a girl to hear, let alone repeat …”

  “Yeah, I got an earful, but not from the Missus.” One of the reasons I don’t date, other than working on an oil rig two weeks out of every month, is because I spend every minute of my time ashore with my kid.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I meant to say there is no Missus. Just me, Callie and Jewels, her pet iguana.”

  “An iguana? I expected a dog or cat for a girl, or a fluffy hamster, not a salmonella-infested reptile.”

  “Well, Callie isn’t like most girls, and I'm surprised you'd stereotype considering what you do for a living.” My comment seems to give her pause.

  She gives me a look. “So, are you divorced or …?”

  Her question holds more than casual interest. I’m willing to feed her interest; I’m interested in her but will begin with the truth first. Best to get that shit out of the way at the start.

  “Widowed.” One of those gut-wrenching twists grabs me in the gut. It never gets easier, but I made a promise to my late wife that I would honor her dying wish no matter how impossible it seems. “A little over eight years.”

  “I’m sorry.” She places a hand over her heart.

  “Don’t be. I had a great marriage. We had Callie, and I have the best memories.”

  “How did …” She seems hesitant to ask the question polite conversation demands.

  I’m not going to leave her hanging. I’ve had years to get over Samantha’s death. It’s far past time to move on. I made a promise I haven’t kept and something about this pilot tells me it might be time to rectify that.

  “Breast cancer, the aggressive kind. They found cancer when Sam was pregnant. Already aggressive, there were few options—start chemo and lose the baby, or wait and deal with it after. Sam didn’t hesitate, even knowing what delaying treatment would most likely mean.” The cancer ate at Samantha’s body while she nurtured our growing daughter in her womb. “Chemotherapy started after Callie’s delivery, but it was too late. The cancer was too advanced.”

  “Aiden…” Samantha’s voice trailed off. Too weak to speak, she tried nonetheless.

  “Shh, you don’t have to say a word.”

  “I know.”

  All the color had left her face. I stared down at her pale complexion and the wan smile she struggled to keep for me. Such a trooper, she remained strong until the end.

  “I …” Weakness pulled at her, and she closed her eyes.

  I brushed the hair back from her face and kissed her forehead. “You don’t have to say it. I love you too.” I knew what she wanted to say but couldn’t bear the heartbreak it would bring. Sam wanted me to move on, but I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.

  Too frail to move, her fingers twitched on the starched hospital sheets. I took her hand in mine and rubbed the pad of my thumb over the thin, crepe-like skin and spider veins. Her eyes pinched with pain. Relentless in its attack, the cancer settled into her bones, bringing unrelenting pain.

  “How’s Callie?”

  Our daughter was born a beautiful and perfect little thing and was just a few months old but already bursting with personality. Callie would never know her mother.

  “She’s with your mom. Do you want to see her?”

  Babies weren’t allowed in the intensive care unit, although the staff made exceptions for the dying mother. My mother-in-law sat with Callie in the waiting room and would bring her when the time came. It wouldn’t be long. Samantha would be released from her burdens soon.

  “I do, but I want to talk to you …”

  I didn’t want to hear it. She was going to say goodbye and then something much worse.

  “I want you to promise …”

  I threaded my fing
ers through hers as my heart cracked and broke apart.

  “Sam, I can’t …”

  She shook her head. “Promise …”

  This wasn’t the first time she asked me to give my word, but how could I promise the impossible?

  “Sam …”

  Her words gutted me from the inside out, and I couldn’t swallow past my grief. I would live my life without the love of my life and raise our child alone. Not fully alone; Samantha’s mother already promised to help me raise her granddaughter.

  I wasn’t ready. I never would be. There was no future without Samantha.

  “You deserve happiness.”

  There would be no joy without her, no happiness, and nobody else. I couldn’t conceive of loving another. I held her hand while tears spilled down my cheeks.

  “You’ve given me everything, Sam. Love I never imagined possible and the most beautiful baby girl in the world. I’m happy.”

  “Aiden, that’s not enough. I won’t let you mourn me for the rest of your life. I want you to live and love again.”

  “I have Callie. I’m happy. I don’t need anything else.”

  “I know the kind of man you are. You’re too wonderful not to share your love with another. You deserve love.”

  I didn’t want to talk about another woman. It felt too much like cheating, and I wouldn’t consider the idea, not with my wife dying in my arms, but it seemed important to Sam.

  She needed my promise before she could let go, and hell if she hadn’t fought long enough. It was selfish to deny her dying wish.

  I brought her hand to my mouth and pressed my lips to the paper-thin skin. The cancer stole Sam’s strength and destroyed the woman I loved.

  “I promise.” Tears ran down my face with a promise I never planned on keeping.

  She breathed out a sigh and her expression eased of all its pain. Her fingers fluttered in my palm. The beeping on the monitors slowed.