Page 29 of Rescuing Brinley

Her limbs shook with adrenaline and she didn’t dare blink.

Dash took cover behind the front of the truck as he returned fire, doing his best to take out the man who’d shot at him.

She heard the Red Vipers yelling at each other but couldn’t understand what they were saying over the ringing in her ears. When the man who’d been transporting the women fell to the wooden boards of the pier with a pained shout, she felt satisfaction course through her. It was wrong to be so happy about a man getting shot, but since he was trying to kill Dash, and was clearly not a good person, she didn’t waste time feeling too bad.

Dash moved quickly around the truck, and she heard another gunshot. She held her breath, hoping against hope that it had been Dash who’d fired, and not the downed asshole.

Her breath came out with a whoosh when she saw Dash with his weapon drawn and pointing at the man who’d now climbed out of the small float plane—his own pistol aimed at Dash. He was using the last woman who hadn’t been loaded as cover, holding her limp body in front of him as he knelt on the weathered boards of the pier.

The men were yelling at each other, and Brinley imagined they were each telling the other to drop their weapons. Neither seemed willing to back down. It was a stalemate.

Then sounds from behind caught Brinley’s attention, and she turned her head to see two men running down the beach toward them. They were carrying rifles, and they looked pissed way the hell off.

Backup was arriving fast. Too fast. She had no time to wait for Dash to disarm or kill the pilot. She was a sitting duck where she was. The newcomers would spot her as they approached and shoot her on sight. She had no doubt of that.

Her legs were moving before she had time to think about what she was doing.

She was running down the pier toward Dash and the plane, her heart in her throat, adrenaline making her move faster than she otherwise might. She’d always joked to Cypress that the only thing that could make her run was if a pissed-off moose or bear was on her heels, but the men behind her with their automatic rifles were twice as deadly as any of the animals she might run across in her daily life in Fairbanks.

“Dash!” she yelled as she neared. “They’re coming!”

Two things happened almost simultaneously with her panicked shout: the pilot turned his attention to her in surprise; and a loud gunshot echoed over the calm waters.

Brinley didn’t slow down as she ran around the truck. The pilot’s moment of inattention had given Dash the opening he needed. He’d shot the man in the head, his blood spraying all over the woman he’d been using as a human shield. It was gruesome, but he was no longer a threat.

She had a split second to see the look of concentration on Dash’s face, the way he took in the newest crisis, before he barked, “We have twenty seconds, maybe less for you to get this plane moving.”

Brinley didn’t hesitate. She jumped over the man with the hole in his head and into the cramped float plane. The back was filled with bodies, and she stumbled as she practically leaped into the pilot’s seat, stepping on someone’s arm in the process. But all her concentration was on the controls. She took a deep breath, orientating herself, and thankfully, all her lessons came back to her without a second thought. She began to flick switches and felt a giddy sense of relief when everything seemed normal.

Turning briefly when she heard a grunt behind her, she saw Dash settling the last woman inside the plane.

Brinley began to ease the plane away from the dock before he could jump back out and sacrifice himself. She wasn’t leaving him behind. No freaking way.

“Fuck!”

The swear word he’d used several times to communicate his displeasure at their current situation made her smile for half a second, before reality crashed back down and the seriousness of the situation had her pressing her lips together in determination once more.

He crouched over the pile of arms and legs and pointed his pistol out the door. “Go!” he yelled.

Brinley didn’t need to be told to get the hell out of there. One glance over her shoulder told her the other terrorists were almost upon them. The plane moved farther away from the dock, and she was relieved Dash had the foresight to remove the ropes that had secured the plane to the pilings before he’d loaded the last woman onboard.

Her hands shook with adrenaline, but she focused on what she had to do. Not only her life, but Dash’s and the lives of all the women depended on Brinley not losing her shit. On using what she’d learned to get them all out of a deadly situation she previously never could’ve fathomed.

“We aren’t out of range yet,” Dash said in a voice so calm, he could be talking about the weather.

Brinley throttled forward, moving the plane a little faster away from the dock.

“You’re doing great, Brin. You’ve got this.”

She was amazed that even though the situation wasn’t anywhere near safe, he was taking the time to reassure her. She realized at that moment what an amazing leader this man must be. Calm under pressure.

The plane put more and more distance between the dock and the men who were now left behind, staring at them in cold fury. She heard the sound of automatic gunfire but kept her attention on what she was doing. The shots Dash returned were loud in the small confines of the float plane. All she could do was pray none of the bullets hit the gas tank, or they were all in deep shit.

She wasn’t exactly in the best position to take off as far as the wind direction was concerned, but she was more than ready to get the hell out of there. It seemed as if hours had passed since she’d first realized something was wrong inside the ballroom, but in reality, less than twenty minutes had probably gone by.

Sweat dripped into her eyes, and she impatiently wiped her forehead with her shoulder as she gripped the yoke with a white-knuckled grasp.

This was it. It was now or never.