Page 111 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

I climbed into my seat and strapped in. Pickle started the motor, the gentle whir turning into a loud noise. I wasn’t nervous.

Not really.

Lie.

I’m fucking terrified.

I did my best not to look as afraid as I felt. Pickle was too focused on flying to notice my terror. The higher we got, the better my view of the damage.

“Holy shit,” I breathed.

I couldn’t believe the fire’s power. It looked alive. It was moving in almost every direction. But it seemed to be intent on burning down the town that had managed to survive so many other close calls.

“Evac point is the high school parking lot,” Pickle said into the headset. “We’ll start there. If the winds shift, we’ll have to move fast.”

I nodded. “Let’s do it.”

I focused on the job, but the memory of what I’d said to Dalton kept running through my mind. It was the worst kind of loop. I was not that kind of a person. My words had been cruel. Personal. Cutting.

Was I trying to hurt him because he’d hurt me first? Probably. Did it matter? Yes. Damn it, it mattered.

But there was no room for regret now. We landed hard on the pavement near the school, where fire crews were already helping people board buses and choppers. The air stung with smoke. Sirens wailed. Children cried.

I hopped out and started helping an elderly woman into one of the waiting buses. Pickle was still in the helicopter.

I wasn’t sure if we were going to be evacuating anyone, but I couldn’t just sit in the helicopter and wait. My comm buzzed.

“Town perimeter’s starting to go. Flames at the edge of the eastern residential area. We’ve got maybe thirty minutes.”

“Copy that,” I told Pickle.

He cut the engine and hopped out, jogging over to where I was helping the elderly woman. Her hands were shaking as she gripped my arm, and I could see the fear in her cloudy blue eyes.

“Thank you, dear,” she whispered. “I’ve lived in this town for seventy years. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“You’re going to be fine,” I told her, guiding her up the bus steps. “They’re taking you somewhere safe.”

Pickle appeared at my elbow with a young mother carrying a crying toddler. “Bus is almost full,” he said. “We need to get the next load ready.”

The scene around us was chaos. Fire department personnel were directing traffic while volunteers helped load personal belongings and pets into vehicles. The smoke was getting thicker, and I could taste ash on my tongue even through the helmet.

“Where’s the hospital crew?” I asked, scanning the crowd.

“They’re using the ambulances for the critical patients,” Pickle said, helping an older man with a walker. “We’re supposed to handle the assisted living center next.”

I nodded and moved to help a family with two small children. The kids were wide eyed and quiet, clinging to their mother’s legs. The father was trying to stay calm, but I could see how scared he was.

I felt terrible for all of them. They were going to lose everything unless my team was able to stop the fire.

And I wasn’t sure we could.