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I steeled myself for the worst, likeWhat the hell were you thinking going aloft on a day like today?orHow do you feel about kissing your license goodbye?
But their tenor was entirely different, and I blinked in surprise.
“Miss Sattler, Miss Sattler! How do you feel about saving so many lives?”
“Were you afraid to die, Miss Sattler, or are you as brave as they say?”
I stared. Huh?
Apparently, Madden had tried to make himself out as a hero, but Chico, John, and the guests had set the record straight. Instead of basking in attention, he was slumped in a chair in the back room, surrounded by officers taking copious notes.
The police split Nash and me up for separate questioning. But since Chico, John, and the guests had already reported their accounts, the police were patient — even friendly — with me, and the ranking officer finished with a smile.
“Flying isn’t my thing, but if I ever go up, I’ll make sure you’re the pilot,” he said.
So, whew. Maybe I didn’t have to worry about losing my license after all.
Thank goodness the guests weren’t the social media type. By the time they’d thought of whipping out their phones to film the action, the balloon had been far away. Good news, because I really didn’t want to go viral as the pilot who’d headed recklessly out in a storm — or who was oblivious to the crew member dangling on a rope beneath.
The police even treated me to coffee and doughnuts once they’d finished questioning me.
“Sweet of them, huh?” John grinned.
Too hungry to groan at the pun, I stuffed my mouth with goodies.
Finally, we were free to go — but that put us at the mercy of the press gathered outside.
“Miss Sattler! Miss Sattler!” they all called out, competing for my attention.
I peered upward, ignoring them. The sun was shining, and the sky was blue, as if nothing had happened.
Then the hair on the back of my neck rose, and I scrutinized the crowd. Dozens of people had gathered by then — not just the press, but rubberneckers drawn by the commotion. An older lady with her shopping… A sweaty guy from the nearby fitness studio… A couple of sunburned tourists…
I froze. Harlon stood at the back of the crowd, casual as could be.
God, the nerve. I stuck my hands on my hips and glared.
Nash must have followed my eyes, because he tensed too.
“Meteorologists say that storm was completely unexpected,” one of the reporters said. “Did it catch you unprepared?”
I kept my gaze pinned firmly on Harlon. “Any good pilot knows to expect the unexpected.”
The warlock’s lips quirked.
“In those two hours without contact, many assumed you were dead,” another reporter observed.
I snorted in Harlon’s direction. “Well, I guess I’m not that easy to kill.”
Angelina was beside him, and her scowl deepened.
“From what we hear, you could have jumped out of the balloon to safety. Why didn’t you?”
I mulled that one over. “My dad taught me not to give up and to fight to protect the things I value.”
The warlock grinned openly and raised his hands in silent applause.
I kept my gaze steady.Not amused, asshole.
