Chapter 9

"Doyou know what the definition of insanity is, Walker?"

Walker glanced over his shoulder at Corbin buckled into one of the seats behind him, waiting to see if the kid would elaborate.

Corbin cursed when the next rumble of thunder echoed around them, the resulting downdraft shaking the chopper as Walker cleared Virgin Gorda, heading toward Tortola. "This. This is the definition of insanity. Flying in a tin can in the middle of a fucking thunderstorm. I swear, if I get fried…"

Walker shrugged it off. "The chopper's electrically grounded. You'll be fine as long as you're not hanging out one of the doors. Besides, you were standing right there when Becca called and told us she'd gotten a positive match for Blair in Lettsome — less than an hour ago. If we don't find her before she slips away…"

They might not find her alive because that wasn't all Becca had spotted in the security feed. The one she'd apparently hacked her way into in less time than it took to reheat a cup of coffee. There were men following Blair and some beefy asshole who'd led Blair outside. Who looked like the kind of jerk the CIA would hire for their Special Activities Division inside the National Clandestine Service.

In other words, deadly.

Becca was still trying to identify the guy, which meant, he was definitely a plant. Maybe a double agent. Or a mercenary. Anyone, but who he'd claimed to be.

Blair obviously knew something was awry because she'd purposely shown her face to the camera after being previously unrecognizable, according to Becca. And Walker doubted that lady missed much.

That single act had allowed Becca to identify glimpses of Blair on some of the external feeds — deduce which vehicle she'd been traveling in. Coupled with Miller having a buddy do a satellite sweep of the island, and Walker's team had a decent idea where Blair was headed.

None of which was going to do them any good if Walker couldn't get them as far as Tortola before the inbound storm made finding her impossible. Because he could dodge lightning strikes all night. Dance his way through downdrafts and wind sheer. But even he couldn't see through buildings. And with how violently the storm was raging, there was little chance Blair would linger outside once she'd reached her destination, choice or not.

That thought had him doubling down. Lowering a bit to avoid the gathering clouds. Hopefully staying clear of any electrical buildup that would make the chopper a virtual lightning rod. While a strike might not hurt them, it would likely do a number on the machine. Maybe fry the controls or put a hole in the rotors. Chances he really couldn't take.

Corbin sighed, giving Walker's shoulder a squeeze through the opening by Walker's chair. "We'll find her. I just… Christ, I haven't experienced this much turbulence since that spin during the accident. Which is saying a lot considering you flew us through a freaking crack in a mountain yesterday."

"It was more than a crack. But I hear ya. That night on the carrier…" Walker hadn't been bucked around like that before or since, either.

Corbin snorted. "Just see that you don't give us a repeat performance. Is that the area Miller's buddy said the vehicle was heading toward? The one engulfed in storm clouds?"

"Looks like X marks the spot. I'll have to take us in treetop height once we get close or we won't be able to see anything in the rain."

"And if we hit a downdraft while we're skimming the palms?"

Walker glanced back, again. "Let's see that we don't."

Corbin's lips pinched tightly as he focused on the large hills rising out of the water. Even from this distance, they looked impressive. Not like the mountains of Montana, but noticeably steep for an island. What would be one hell of a jump if someone was crazy enough to try it.

Lightning forked across the sky behind them, the resulting clap of thunder making the entire fuselage vibrate.

Corbin hadn't been wrong. This was insane, but Walker wasn't going to lose Blair. Not like this, when he had a chance to save her, however remote it was.

A blast of static chirped over the radio, followed by the click of a mic. "Walker? Miller. Can you hear me, mate?"

Walker activated his comm unit. "You're crackling, but yeah, Miller. You got an update for me?"

A sigh. As if he was preparing himself for the news he had to share. "My mate was able to get one last image before the storm turned it all to black. That vehicle Blair was in is parked on the side of the hill, a click down from the peak. Appears as if the bloke drove off the road. Doors were open, and my buddy said it looked empty. Along with a second four by four parked behind it."

"She made a run for it?"

"No other reason to stop there. I'm sending you and your team the coordinates, now. It'll give you a starting point, if nothing else. But with the storm inbound and nothing but rainforest and ocean between her and those bastards…"

"She doesn't have anywhere safe to go."

"Sorry I don't have better news. My buddy will keep trying, but chances are he won't be able to see anything until that cell passes. And based on the size of it…"

"Understood. Thanks, Gibson. I owe you."

"Bring Blair back in one piece, and I'll consider it paid, mate."

Walker wanted to answer — assure Miller he'd do just that — but all he got out was a huff, because if he'd thought it was going to be a challenge locating her vehicle, trying to find her racing through the forest…

That was the real definition of insanity.

Corbin keyed up the mic. "So, Blair's on foot. That… complicates things."

Walker swallowed the bitter hint of fear in the back of his throat, inputting the coordinates as a waypoint on his touch screen. "We'll start at the edge of the island and work a grid pattern back toward those coordinates. Pray we get lucky before this damn storm zaps us out of the sky."

Which seemed like a viable possibility with the winds increasing, swirling around the machine like a freaking funnel. Each downdraft stronger than before. Determined or not, Walker wouldn't be able to keep the bird airborne much longer. Not without risking Corbin and Gretta's lives. And that wasn't something he was willing to do.

He angled the machine over, pointing it toward the cliffs when Corbin buzzed in his ear.

"Hey, buddy. Can you swing the nose over a bit — parallel that rocky outcrop at our eleven o'clock? I think I saw something moving."

Walker banked the chopper over, fighting the controls when a nearby lightning flash buffeted the machine, dropping them twenty feet in less than a second. The kind of turbulence that would send them into the trees once they'd gotten over the island and exactly what Walker said he needed to avoid.

Corbin didn't call him on it, nothing sounding behind Walker but the occasional whisper of breath. Gretta and Corbin obviously engrossed on scouring that rock face. Walker was just about to key up the mic — tell them he needed to swing around — when Corbin whistled.

"Holy shit, I think I've got her. That silhouette by the edge of the cliff. About ten o'clock. Gretta? Babe, tell me I'm not imagining this."

Gretta inhaled. "Bloody hell, that's really her. But what's she doing?"

Walker grunted, pushing the cyclic forward — using the gusting winds to his advantage as he picked up more speed. "Nothing good. Don't let her out of your sight because we might not spot her, again."

"Like I'd ever lose sight of a target, old man." Corbin exhaled. "This is my sandbox, now."

Walker shook his head, angling the chopper slightly toward the island as he closed the distance, all the while working just to keep the machine level and out of the clouds. Rain pelted the bubble, giving him only glimpses of the landscape. One giant black blur amidst the churning water and gray sky.

Corbin was calling out distances, keeping Walker on track as they raced over the water, dodging more lightning, when he cursed. "I've got two tangos moving in from the west. I can't make a positive ID at this angle, but they're definitely armed."

"Not what I want to hear, kid."

"Tell me about it. Looks like I might have to open the doors early… oh no. No, no, no… don't do it Blair. Don't?—"

"Don't what? I can't see a fucking thing."

"She backed up. I think… Christ, she jumped. Jesus, Walker, get us down before she fucking drowns or gets swept out to sea."

She'd jumped? Off what had to be at least sixty-foot cliffs?

That was all Walker needed to hear to remove any lingering hesitations about whether he should be risking their lives. If he was being foolish.

A shift of his hands and feet, and he had the chopper heading for the base of the rocks, screaming across the waves at some insane speed. Gretta was on her feet and readying the flimsy rescue ladder Charlie had included with the bird. Walker had wanted a machine equipped with a hoist and a collapsible rescue basket — to cover every scenario when he'd known they might have to grab her somewhere he couldn't land — but beggars and all that.

The ladder wasn't much, but if Walker could hold the machine steady enough for Blair to grab on, Corbin could help pull her up. The kid would have to hang partway out the open door, but it was possible.

Assuming the jump hadn't killed her.

"Corbin. Do you have her?"

"Still looking, but between the spray and the white caps…"

The hairs on Walker's neck prickled as a heavy feeling centered between his shoulder blades. He took a second to scan his instruments, inhaling at the red dot flashing on one of the screens.

"Well, crap. This is going to sound crazy, but we've got company."

Corbin snorted. "Company? As in another aircraft?"

"Bogey on our six. It's not close enough to engage, yet, but it's definitely heading straight for us."

"Who the fuck would be crazy enough to be out in this weather other than you?"

"No one we want to dance with. We need to grab Blair before they get within range because there's no way they aren't looking for her, too."

"I'm still… got her. She's barely staying above the surface. Looks like a rip's taking her out. Angle a bit left and get lower. A lot lower."

Walker resisted rolling his eyes. Any lower, and they'd be swimming. But he adjusted the controls, had the bird skimming over the water. Spray hitting the skid gear as he raced for the cliff. Corbin called it out, eventually slowing Walker down as they neared where Blair was barely keeping her head out of the waves. What could change in a heartbeat if they weren't quick. Because… damn. Walker wasn't sure how she hadn't drowned, already, between the swells and the undertow. Not to mention the unrelenting wind determined to send the helicopter crashing into the rocks.

Walker brought the machine into a hover, holding it as steady as possible as Gretta and Corbin opened the back doors, tossing that stupidly thin ladder out the side. The thing whipped around, looking as if it might tangle in the damn blades before it hit the surface and dragged the machine sideways.

Walker countered the pull, wondering if this was what landing a whale would feel like, all the while shifting his position in order to match Blair's location. Move with her as the current dragged her further from shore, only to send her careening back with the next big wave. What might get them all killed if they didn't manage to snag her before she got pummeled onto the rocks.

Corbin was halfway out the damn doors, trying to hold the ladder steady enough for Blair to grab ahold of as rain kept the visibility to nearly zero. More lightning forked around them, striking the surface far too close for Walker's comfort. If it hit the machine while Blair and Corbin were holding the ladder…

Walker wasn't sure if they'd both get shocked — if the ladder touching the chopper and the water would be enough to ground everything in between and keep them safe or if they'd get shot off like that scene from Jurassic Park — and he damn well didn't want to find out. Not with the storm gathering more strength. What would be a death sentence if they didn't get someplace safe.

"Got her… just hold steady a bit longer, buddy."

Walker didn't answer. Didn't have to because Corbin knew Walker would keep the bird hovering there until they either got Blair up or ran out of gas. The only two scenarios on the board, until something hit the chopper from behind, the resulting impact nearly spinning the machine around.

Corbin was on the comms a second later. "What the hell was that?"

But Walker was already countering — doing his best to keep the ladder centered over Blair as he spun just enough Corbin or Gretta would have a clear sight line at the inbound helicopter. "Kid, we've got a problem. That other chopper's definitely not friendly. We need firepower. Now."

Gretta snorted, and Walker heard her shuffling around when a volley of shots ricocheted off the machine, a few hitting the mast. What could take them down if the other gunman hit the rotors or tail section. A damn repeat of that accident Walker hadn't quite put behind him.

Having Gretta return fire eased a bit of the tension. The girl was nuts, but definitely the level of crazy they needed, right now. Especially with them stuck in place until they'd gotten Blair on board.

More gunfire hit the side, those tangos standing on the rocky cliff joining in. Not that they were as much of a threat as the incoming chopper, but Murphy was always in play. Threatening to screw things over.

Walker swung the chopper around just enough to shield Corbin and Gretta from the jerks on the cliff when a strong gust sent them sliding sideways. He countered but they were already getting in close — giving those tangos a better chance at actually hitting someone.

Corbin clicked his mic. "I've got her. Get us out of here because we've already got holes in the fuselage."

"Roger, that. Hold on. Things are about to get interesting."