“A little of both.”
“So you’ll never do this again either?”
“I’ll be back up there as soon as she’s fixed.”
“After what we went through?”
“Amber, flying is still a thousand times safer than driving.”
“Tell that to my foot.”
He gets off the floor and holds out a hand. “Can you get up?”
I stand, putting all my weight on my left foot. When I try to take a step, pain sears up my right leg, and I fall back down on the seat. “No way.”
He looks around. “Okay. We’ll think of something.” He pulls out his phone, taps around on it, shakes his head, and tucks it back into his pocket.
“What is it?”
“Well, as best I can tell, we’re smack in the middle of Blue Horse Ranch. Which means I’ve landed us in one of the only spots in Northeast Texas without cellphone reception. And you can’t walk out of here.”
Chapter Five
Quinn
Amber pulls her phone out of her bag. “Zero bars,” she says, holding it higher as if it will make a difference. “How can we not have coverage? Isn’t it everywhere?”
“We’re on Blue Horse Ranch. It’s over five times the size of DHR. It covers about 50,000 acres. Butch Nelson, the owner, was offered a lot of money to put cell towers on his land, but he refused. Said it could somehow hurt the animals.”
“Stupid man. What’ll we do?”
“I’ll carry you.”
Her gaze falls to my biceps. “I know you’re strong and all, but I doubt even you could carry me for that long.”
I check our surroundings. I was pretty accurate when I told her we landed right in the middle. I fly over this place all the time. No way can I carry her out of here. “Are you sure you can’t walk?”
“Get me out of this thing and I’ll try again. Maybe if I can put some weight on you.”
I scoop her into my arms and carefully exit the chopper, then I put her down on the grass, hoping it provides cushion. She balances on her left foot as I support her. “Try a few steps. I’ll help.”
She tries to take a step and almost falls. I catch her and put her back in the helicopter. “Can’t you just use your radio thing and call for help?”
“The radio isn’t working either.”
“No phones. No radio. It’ll be dark in four hours. Great. What are we supposed to do, butcher a cow for dinner?”
I laugh. “Food is what you’re concerned with?”
“People starve all the time in situations like this.”
“We’re not going to starve, Amber. I’ve got a bottle of water and three muffins in the front, but we won’t need them. I’m going to walk to the main road.”
Her eyes go wide. “You’re not leaving me here alone.”
“You’ll be perfectly safe.”
“You’re not leaving. I have” —she sinks back into the seat and rolls her eyes— “abandonment issues.”
“I’m not abandoning you. I’m going for help.”
“Quinn, I mean it. Don’t all helicopters have trackers or something?”
“A transponder, yes. But nobody will realize we’re missing for a while.”
“But I heard you on the radio earlier. You talked to someone about the flight plan. Won’t they come looking if you don’t show up?”
I sit down next to her. “Eventually, Ken will realize we’re missing. But it’s not unheard of that I take a detour from the plan.”
“Detour? What do you mean?” When I don’t answer, her jaw goes slack. “Like you land somewhere and have sex?” She sneers at the seats. “Here?”
I shrug. “I can’t say it’s never happened.”
Her eyes close. “Great. How long will we have to wait?”
“I’m sure he’ll call it in after a few hours.”
“Oh, well, that’s not such a big deal.”
“Then they’ll have to find us. There’s almost eighty square miles of searchable area between DHR and the airport.”
She huffs in frustration. “Why couldn’t I have chosen the airport closer to the ranch? They would have found us faster.”
“They’ll find us faster if I jog out of here.” Her eyes narrow. She’s about to bite my head off. I hold up my hands. “Fine. Fine. I’ll stay.”
“What if they don’t find us before nightfall?”
“I have flares.”
“What’ll we do until then?” she asks.
I raise a brow.
She pushes me away. “Shut up. I’m not sleeping with you.”
I chuckle. “You call what we did sleeping?”
Ignoring my comment, she asks, “How long have you been flying helicopters?”
“About four months.”
“Four? How in the hell did you manage to land us?”
“Because I’m that good,” I tell her. She flashes me a vicious glare. “What? You said you liked cocky.”
“Yeah, when I’m not in a life-or-death situation.”
“Cocky is exactly what you should want in that case. Wouldn’t you rather be up there with a pilot who’s sure of himself?”
“I suppose you have a point.”
“I had over a hundred and eighty hours of flight training. I only needed forty because I’m not a commercial pilot. But I figured, what the hell, I might as well get the license.”
“But this has never happened to you before? I’m your first crash?”
I laugh. “Crash is putting it a little harshly. I doubt there’s even body damage.”
“You’re a daredevil, aren’t you?”
“I didn’t do it on purpose, Amber.”
“I mean with the flying and the bronc riding. Do you have a death wish or something?”
“Flying choppers does not mean I have a death wish. It’s one of the safest modes of transportation.”
“The broncs, then—why do it?”
“Which answer do you want? The one where I tell you chicks dig it? The bruises, the buckles, the danger? Or the one where I tell you I do it to try and control something that’s out of control—namely, my family.”
“Did your therapist tell you that?”
“I don’t have a therapist.”
She cocks her head and stares. “Self-analysis. Add that to your list of talents. So, you have family issues too?”
“I don’t talk about my family. Let’s just say they hate the fact that the apple fell really far from the tree.”
“Well, I do have a therapist, and he tells me my promiscuity stems from my fear of abandonment. No attachments—no risk.”
“And you have a fear of abandonment because…”
“If you can’t figure it out, you’re not as smart as I thought you were. Listen, can we not talk about family?”
“Fine by me. How about our jobs? You know what I do. How about you tell me what pays the rent.”
“I’m a head hunter.”