Chapter Thirty-Five
Archer stood on his deck, coffee cup in hand, staring blindly at the dramatic view of the cloud-clogged sky, the spring-green hillside, and far below, the slate blue water. Key sat beside him, still panting from their morning run. Wally wound between his legs, occasionally vying for attention by snagging a claw in his thick athletic socks or attacking his calf through his gray sweats. Key, the far better behaved of the two, finally picked her up by the scruff and carried her inside through the open slider.
He had messages to answer and several meetings to prepare for, but his mind refused to budge from Bridget. Until he resolved that limbo, the rest would have to wait.
She’d be on her way back to Captivity by now. He knew she’d made it to Anchorage, having received her unembellished text last night. He pulled out his phone and called up the message.
He analyzed the two words for underlying meanings as he raised his cup to his lips. At least the lines of communication were open. As if the universe read his thoughts, the phone buzzed in his hand. Surprise caught the swallow of coffee halfway down and caused a choked cough. Not because of the call, but the name flashing across his screen. Bridget.
He cleared his throat and answered. “Bridget?” Loud, grinding noise carried over the line, causing him to immediately repeat her name at a higher volume.
“Archer?”
Definitely her voice, though she sounded like she was calling from inside a turbine engine.
“It’s me. Where are you?”
“…knots out. Fuck”—a jarring thunk interrupted—“sorry…loud.”
Cold dread dripped down his spine. She was in the air. He bolted into the house but strove to keep his voice calm. “What’s the situation?”
“…challenging.”
The degree of vibration in her voice gave him horrific insight into the stability of her aircraft. His heart rate accelerated, causing his blood to rush in his ears.
He took a deep breath to clear his head—he had to be able to hear her—and shoved his feet into shoes. “How challenging?”
“…severely compromised directional control. Random bad luck…” The communication cut out again, and then he heard, “…bird strike.”
Random, yes, but not unheard of, and they could cause serious damage to a plane a hell of a lot larger than her Beaver. Grabbing his keys, he ran out the door, practically flung himself into his car. “What’s the damage, baby?”
Nothing. Just noise. He put the phone on speaker, started his engine, and threw the Rover into reverse. “Talk to me.”
“Right engine’s gone.” Her voice suddenly surged over the line, loud and clear. “Left is damaged but operating. Sort of.”
His blood froze. “That sounds challenging, all right. But if any pilot is up to the challenge, it’s you. I’m on my way to the airfield. What do you need? Tell me how to help.”
“Need you to listen…Archer?”
“I’m here. I’m right here.” While he drove down the hill, his eyes scanned the sky, searching for a speck of red.
“I have…tell you something. Sorry to do it this way, but…important.”
A vice in his chest turned brutally tight. He shook his head, even knowing she couldn’t see him. Denial ran bone deep. “No. Tell me when you’re on the ground. How far out are you?”
“Maybe…ah, God, I’m rattling all over the f-fucking place…hard to see the instrument panel. Two miles? I’m socked in. Descent is going to be…haha…challenging.”
“Who’s at the field?” Someone needed to call the fire station and get a truck out there.
“Nobody. Too early.”
Shit. “Bridget, baby, I’m going to put you on hold for a quick sec—”
“Don’t. Don’t. I know why…want to, but don’t. Please. Just stay with me.”
Fuck. “I’m not going anywhere. What’s happening up there?”
“Bouncing along, but I can’t see shit. I have to descend for better visibility, ’cause if I don’t line this up on the first try…game over. I don’t have enough thrust to pull up or steering control to circle. I should maybe…put down…the cove.”
Break apart on impact and sink like a stone. Small craft water landings rarely went well. “No. Don’t do that. Put her down on the runway. You’ve flown this sky all your life. You could nail the approach with your eyes closed. You can do this.”
You have to.
“I’m descending…Jesus. Getting a lot of nose shimmy. It’s b-b-bad.”
He could hear it in her voice. His own muscles pulled tight in a helpless attempt to lend his strength to her effort to hold onto control of the plane. Still focused on the sky, he turned into the airfield fast enough to make his tires scream and drove directly around to the back of the terminal. “I’m at the airfield.” Following an impulse he didn’t take time to question, he opened the glove compartment and shoved what he found there into his pocket.
“Can…see m-m-me?”
“No. Wait.” He got out of the Rover and squinted hard as a dark shape fell out of the clouds. “I do. I see you. You’re looking good. Stay on that course. Keep descending and hold her steady.”
“I’m t-trying. It’s challenging. Shit!”
A hard updraft buffeted the plane. She tipped left, and his heart tipped along with her. But after a moment, she leveled out. “Okay, that was exciting,” he said, not sure how he managed to speak with no saliva in his mouth.
“Ha…should have exp-p-perienced it from up here. Archer, I—”
“Just hold her steady, baby. It’s going to be fine. You’re looking so good. Pull to the left a little if you can.” Please, God, a crosswind.
“I c-c-can’t hold it. The n-n-nose w-w-ants to go d-down. I’m pulling up with everything I’ve g-g-got. Can’t steer.”
He could picture her there in the cockpit, arms looped around the yoke, pulling up until her shoulders screamed. “Listen to me, I’ve got you. I’ll guide you. Just hold steady and trust me.”
“I d-do, Archer. I t-t-trust you. I l-l-l—”
“Tell me when you land.” Icicles of doubt tried to stab their way into his gut, but he refused to let them. “Right now, I have things to tell you. I love you, Bridget. I’ve always loved you.” It choked him to say it, but he added, “I always will. Ten feet to runway. Bring her lower.”
“Archer…”
“Eight feet. Lower now. Lower.” Still too high, too unsteady, smoke pouring from the remaining engine.
“Please listen…”
“You listen. Drop your ass now. I’m not going to let you slam into the runway. Do it!”
“J-J-Jesus C-Christ.”
“Throttle back. Back.” Her wheels kissed the runway, skipped across the surface and back into the air. “Brake. Brake, Bridget. Stand on it if you have to.”
The wheels connected with the runway again. The plane skidded, moving diagonally under the control of gravity and inertia. It tore across the soft shoulder between the intersecting runways, and the tail came around, putting the small craft into a slow spin, like a toy tossed from the careless hand of a child.
He ran, barely aware of moving, but the plane slowed, and he was coming up fast. Avoiding the smoking engine, he leaped up onto the wheel strut and yanked the door open. Bridget literally spilled out into his arms, sending them both tumbling to the tarmac. He landed hard on the asphalt, breaking her fall. Her “oof” from impact vibrated through his chest. Before she could draw in a breath, he had them both up, his arms tight around her, doing his best to absorb her shaking body into his own.
Because she’d buried her face against his neck, he kissed her temple and whispered, “You’re trembling.”
“That’s you.”
“It’s both. Again. Let’s not do this anymore.”
She nodded into his sweater. “Deal.” Her arms snuck up around his neck, and she raised overbright eyes to him. “I love you.” She pressed her hands to his cheeks. “I always did. Even when I hated you, I loved you.”
Those words, so long in coming, washed over him like a rainstorm in the desert, all the more staggering for how close he’d come to never hearing them. It took a moment to find his voice. Cupping her face in his hands, he said, “I love you, too. I have a proposal for you.”
One black brow arched. “You do?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Taking her left hand in his, he reached into his pocket and withdrew her ring. While she watched, he slid it on her finger. “Bridget Shanahan, will you do me the honor of not marrying me?”
The other black brow winged up to match its mate. “Let me get this straight. You want me to not marry you?”
He kissed her forehead. The tip of her nose. Her stubborn chin. “I would like you to spend the rest of your life not marrying me, if that’s what it takes to make you trust that I love you and I want to be with you, and that’s my only agenda. Also,” he continued smoothly when she started to speak, “I want you to know I resigned my board seat yesterday.”
Violet eyes clouded. Her hands came back to his cheeks. “Oh, no. I don’t want you to do that.”
“It’s done.”
“I can’t imagine what your father had to say.”
He laughed. “According to Ainsley, he threw a snifter of hundred-year-old brandy against the freshly papered wall of the dining room, sending our mother into a fury at the damage to her custom silk damask. Then he congratulated Ainsley on becoming the heir apparent to Ellison Enterprises. Which is fine. Perfect, really. She’s earned it, and more importantly, she wants it.”
“Archer, I’m sorry. I never meant for you to sacrifice—”
“I know, but it’s the right thing to do for many reasons. Running EE isn’t important to me. Winning some fucked-up power play against my father is definitely not important to me. You’re important to me, and I don’t want you to doubt it. Ever. So what do you say, Bridge? Will you not marry me?”
She laughed, looked away, and actually blushed a little, but when she turned back to him, her eyes were serious and steady. “Are you playing hard to get again?”
“Maybe.” He gave her hair a little tug. “Is it working?”
“Maybe,” she admitted, and her blush deepened. “But a ring, a ceremony, and a piece of paper won’t change the way I feel about you.” She looped her arms around his neck and leaned in. “You’re the man I need. The man I love. A man I trust. I want to spend the rest of my life needing, loving, and trusting you. I want to be the woman you spend the rest of your life needing, loving, and trusting.”
“That’s all?”
“In a nutshell. Think you can handle it?”
“Yeah.” He drew her in. “I’m pretty sure I can.” Then he kissed her, gently and slowly, but some of the pent-up terror of the last minutes came out with an intensity he couldn’t hold back. She didn’t seem to need him to. She held on, held fast, while the kiss turned hot and desperate and slightly out of control.
Her hands were deep into the back pockets of his sweats and his were under her sweater, running up and down her back, when the sound of multiple footsteps approaching at a fast pace and someone calling, “What the fuck?” finally broke through all the urgency building between them. He raised his head and smiled down at her. “Welcome back.”
She winced. “I’m never going to live this down.”
“Tell you what.” He shifted to her side and put an arm over her shoulders. “When the dust clears, I’ll give you a ride home…ow.”
She stopped walking and looked at him, eyes full of concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just…” He took another step. “Fuck me. Every time I move, a pain shoots up my spine. I think I tweaked something when we—”
“When you broke my fall,” she finished, a knowing look coming over her. Coming around to face him, she slid her hand down his back and under the waist of his sweats. “Does it hurt right…here?”
“Christ!” Hell yes, it did. “Cut that out.”
“You know what you’ve done, right?”
“No. No, I haven’t. Not a chance.”
She took his hand and led him across the runway to where Mad, Wing, and Lenna stood, watching. “Come on. I see someone who needs an X-ray.”
“I do not.”
“The good news is I have a really great orthopedic seat cushion, and a body pillow, and some awesome stretches, and…”
He swung her into the circle of his arms and shut her up with a kiss. When they came up for air, he said, “Are you going to nurse me back to health?”
She smiled up at him. “I have a proposal for you.”
He laughed despite the pain settling in south of his spine. “I can’t wait to hear it.”
“It might take the rest of our lives to explain it to you properly,” she warned.
“That’s okay.” He kissed her again. “I’m a patient man.”