Page 40 of One Last Chance

“Anything?”

Silence. “Not from starboard?—”

“Wait! I see something—over by the island!” Boo kept her eyes trained to her glasses. “It’s orange—a life raft.”

He angled the chopper west and spotted it too. A crumpled hull of rubber beached on the shore, half-deflated.

Abandoned.

It couldn’t be from the Lady Luck. He’d plainly seen her life boat caught on the cables at the bow.

“It’s not from the Lady Luck,” he said quietly. “And no signs of—wait.”

As they drew closer, the raft started to sway—although it might be the rotor wash. But then?—

A body rolled out of the raft.

Red suit, helmet, boots . . . He crawled onto the rocky shore, then fell onto his back.

Lifted his arm.

“It’s him!” London shouted. “It’s him!”

“Not sure I can land on this shoreline,” Moose said. “It’s pretty narrow?—”

“I’ll grab him,” Boo said. “Shep, you work the winch.” She was already climbing into a harness, attaching a sling to the winch hook.

He held the bird steady, fifty feet over the shoreline, as Boo went down the line. Shep gave him a play-by-play. “She’s on the beach. He looks pretty whipped—she’s attaching the sling around his back and shoulders. Okay, coming up.”

He managed to hold it in as Boo and Shep pushed Axel into the deck.

His brother sprawled there, barely moving. “Is he alive?”

“He’s alive,” said Axel, pulling off his helmet. “But he’s cold. Really cold.”

Shep shut the door. Boo wrapped a blanket around him, and London took the controls as Moose turned. Found his brother’s eyes, his smile. And had nothing.

But Axel just grinned at him, his body now shaking so hard his teeth chattered. “I hope someone brought sandwiches, because I’m starved.”

Moose turned back, took the helm.Yeah, me too. “Let’s go home.”

CHAPTER5

“Flynn, wake up. Wake up.”

A nudge to her shoulder and Flynn jerked, the words piercing the dark veil of her dreams—the ones where she and Kennedy stood together on a mountaintop, surveying the world. Funny, a flying dream too, because she’d definitely wanted to lift off, to soar into the clouds.

She hadn’t had a flying dream in years.

Now she blinked it away and tried to orient herself as she lifted her head from the cradle of her arms.

Light streamed into the cabin through the windows onto the rough-hewn table, and her body ached, the few hours of sleep still sitting in her bones. Peyton Samson stood over her, her dark hair back in a yellow bandanna, wearing her light brown ranger shirt and pants, concern in her eyes. “Wow, you were sleeping hard.”

“Yeah. When I sleep, I drop like a rock.” She ran her hand behind her neck, then, “Wait?—”

“They found him.” Peyton moved over to the counter where a small camp stove heated a kettle. “I got the call early this morning, but you were dead to the world, so . . . But I need to get going, so I thought I’d wake you.”

Flynn stared at her. “Please tell me he’s alive.”

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