Page 87 of One Last Chance

And no, he didn’t have an ounce of faith that it wasn’t going to crash and burn. Because fate didn’t play fair.

Parker came to the table. “You done?” She gathered up the plates, the pizza box. “You guys going to the festival this weekend?”

He pulled out his wallet and handed her a card.

“Axel!”

He turned and spotted Moose headed across the street. His brother stepped up on the deck of the pizza place, walked over.

“I picked up the radios, if you’re wondering. They’re in the truck,” Axel said.

“Good. We have a callout. Dodge called, and he’s been ferrying climbers off the mountain all day in his Otter, but there’s been a fall. The wind took a couple of climbers off Squirrel Hill, and they’re on a slab overlooking Peters Basin.”

“That’s pretty high elevation.”

“We can be up for thirty minutes without supplemental oxygen. C’mon—we need to go before the winds get worse. We’re meeting Dodge at Sky King Ranch—he’ll be my copilot. I need you on the line—London will run the hoist.”

Axel was already swinging his leg over the bench. “What about Flynn?”

“She can take your Yukon back to the house?—”

“Or I can go with you,” Flynn said.

Moose looked at her. “Not to Denali. Not this time.”

Flynn’s mouth tightened.

And Axel didn’t know why he said it. “She could wait at Sky King Ranch. Maybe man the radio. She’s good on the radio.” He looked over at her, winked.

“I think Echo can handle it,” Moose said. “But that’s okay with me. Let’s go.”

Axel drove the Yukon to the airport, then left it there and retrieved his gear from the storage unit. Moose arrived with London, and ten minutes later, they were airborne, Flynn strapped into the seat, her helmet on.

He didn’t know why he’d lobbied for her to come with them—it would probably have been better for her to wait at home.

Except . . . weirdly . . . Okay, yeah. He couldn’t get past the idea that he didn’t want her out of his sight. Or at least, not roaming Copper Mountain alone.

Because . . . shooting. And her bum knee. And maybe because he didn’t want it to end.

Sheesh,yeah—what she said. He was in big trouble.

Flynn stared out the window as the Air One chopper flew over the roaring Copper River and to the western hills and valleys that made up the Denali basin. Mostly homesteaders out this way, but Sky King Ranch owned a decent swath of land, a lodge, some cabins around their own lake, and had for years run a bush pilot service. Dodge still managed that, in between rescue flights.

Axel spotted the ranch from a distance—the Quonset hangar for Dodge’s Otter and the Air One chopper, the red barn for their cars and gear, the lodge, with the front porch and stone chimney jutting from the roof. A runway ran along the back of the yard.

The storm hadn’t yet reached the valley, clogged on the jagged mountaintops. Echo stood outside, a sweater wrapped around her body, not quite able to fit over her nearly-to-term belly. She wore a pair of oversized sweatpants, a stretchy shirt, her dark hair back in a messy bun, and now stepped back, away from the rotor wash.

Axel opened the side door, and he and Flynn got out. He walked her over to Echo and introduced them.

“Flynn can help with the radio, if you need.”

“Good, because my back is killing me.” She stretched, her stomach larger than her body, it seemed. “Dodge flew up to the base camp. He’ll meet you there.”

Axel turned to Flynn. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

“Stay safe,” she said, and stood there. And he wanted to lean over, give her a kiss goodbye, but suddenly that felt too . . . domestic. Real. Like they somehow belonged to each other.

He nodded instead and ran back to the chopper.

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