Page 2 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

She was in the spotter plane ahead of me. I was flying a heavy beast while she was able to move faster and get lower. I slowly dropped in elevation. To anyone on the ground, it might look like I was chasing her in a game of tag. Her smaller plane was all windows, giving her a clear one-hundred-and-eighty-degree view.

“Dropped,” Laser’s voice said. “Knock it dead, Herc.”

“I see it,” I said, scanning the treetops. “Starting the run now.”

The red smoke rose above the trees. Red was a lot easier to see. The red smoke plumed from a meadow area that should be damp right now but was likely all dry grass and undergrowth that harbored a spark for a long time until it sprang to life. Where there’s smoke, there is always going to be fire. It wouldn’t take long for that small fire to explode when it hit the trees. One tree became a torch that sparked hundreds more in a violent chain reaction.

Adrenaline pumped through my veins. Between the excitement of flying and the thrill of fighting one of the most formidable beasts known to man, I was riding high. It was what I lived for. Being in the sky was exciting, but I loved to push the limits and scraping the belly of my plane along the tips of the trees always gave me a rush. I wasn’t going to do that this time. The trees rose up as I descended, throttle tight in my hand. I aligned my nose with the red plume and angled down for the drop.

“Here we go,” I muttered, thumb ready on the release.

I pressed the button.

Nothing.

“Shit.”

I pressed again, jabbing it harder than should have been necessary.

Still nothing.

“What the fuck!” I hit the damn thing again, wanting to punch a hole through the instrument panel.

“The drop doors aren’t opening,” I snapped into the radio. “I fucking told those guys the release was sticking.”

There had been a weird lag in the hydraulics last week. It wasn’t obvious, but I noticed it. I thought it was just a hiccup but even the tiniest issue could be a big deal once you were in the sky.

I’d reported it. Loudly. I had been told it was just grit in the system. They told me to work it loose. It might have worked. But it didn’t this time. When I needed it to fucking work, it was dead.

“Son of a bitch!” My cool calm had cracked, and anger bled through. “That fire is five minutes from exploding and I can’t drop any fucking water!”

“Don’t do anything crazy, Herc.” Laser’s voice carried her dread and concern through the headset.

“Crazy?” I hissed. “Wait until I land. I’ll show you crazy.”

I pulled back on the stick and banked hard away from the site, the smoke curling past the wing. The S-2 groaned under the maneuver, heavy with the full water tank still sloshing behind me. I had to keep her steady. I probably shouldn’t manhandle the old thing so much but I was in a hurry.

“Get someone else up here. Now!”

Ten seconds later the radio crackled. “Pickle is on his way.” Chief’s voice was calm. Not the least bit bothered by the idea we were risking a major problem because someone didn’t do their damn job.

“This is why I hate shared equipment,” I muttered, teeth clenched.

“You hate everything shared,” Laser replied dryly.

She wasn’t wrong. If I could fly barefoot and shirtless just to avoid standard issue anything, I would. I liked things that were mine. My plane. My rhythm. My choices.

“What’s the plan, Herc?” Laser asked.

I adjusted altitude and exhaled. “Going to circle back. Take another look. If I can’t get her to drop, I’m heading back to base.”

“Be smart, Dalton.”

Ah. The real name. Now I knew she was serious.

I snorted. “Copy that.”

I leveled out, trying not to think about the fact that every second we lost gave the fire more time to grow. The wind could change on a dime. A little patch of undergrowth could become a hellish fire in ten minutes flat. Mistakes like this could get people killed.

But I couldn’t fix that with a stuck release valve. I could see the last bit of red smoke and flew over again. I tapped the control. Still nothing. My thumb hovered over the button like maybe, just maybe, this time it would work.

“Fuck.”

The red plume below thinned as the wind carried it away.

“Shit. No go. Heading back to base.”

“I’ll radio the tower,” she said. “Let them know you’re coming in heavy.”

“Appreciate it.”

The headset clicked off and I was alone again. Now it was Jelly Roll singing about being a sinner. I hated leaving a job undone. Hated even more that I was right about the goddamn valve and no one listened.

Someone on the ground was about to get my fire—and they fucking deserved it.