Cherry Adair - T-flac 06 (41 page)

"Sure you can," St. John told her. "You're doing fine. Look for the altimeter, a red dial in the middle of the instrument panel. See it?"

"Y-yes."

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"The small hand indicates feet above sea level in thousand-foot increments, the large hand in hundreds."

Lily swiped a dry tongue across arid lips. " 'K."

"Line up the landing strip when the altimeter reads one thousand feet… which should be about… now."

His voice seemed eerily calm to Lily, who was shaking so hard her vision jumped and shimmied. "See the airport down there off your right wing tip?"

No. She'd just have to believe him that that's where the hell it was. She had too much else going on now to look at anything.

"Reduce power by pulling back on the throttle—No, that's too much. You're okay. Easy. Easy. There you go. Don't let the nose drop more than six inches below the horizon—Good girl. All right. Almost on the ground."

Oh, God. It was close enough to
touch
. Lily pulled on the yoke and the nose rose.

"Other way, honey. Pull back. Now don't panic when you hear—That's the stall. It's supposed to do that. Pull the yoke all the way into your stomach, until you're on the ground. Gently does it."

The plane bounced and shook as the skis hit the tarmac. Right ski. Then left ski. The plane started to porpoise—

"Ease back toward you—Hold it. It'll level out by itself."

"How do I stop this thing? Isn't there a brake?"

"Yeah, but I don't want you to use it," he said dryly. "Just let it roll out. You have plenty of runway.

Slowly pull back on the throttle and the engine will stop."

The dogs howled behind her, the sound almost as muted as though it were underwater. In a daze Lily stared uncomprehendingly at the yoke as St. John talked her to a wobbly taxi along the runway.

By the time the plane shuddered to a stop, Lily's jaw ached from clenching her teeth, her fingers were fused for posterity to the yoke and perspiration glued her shirt to her back.

The helicopter landed as lightly as a dragonfly beside her. A tall, dark-haired man with a ponytail leaped to the tarmac. Even as the blades rotated above his head he stalked toward her.

Several hundred feet away, a door to the terminal slammed open, and a herd of people stampeded out like cows running in front of Diablo at his horny best. An ambulance raced down the runway, siren wailing, revolving lights flashing red across the snowy ground. Personnel raced around like busy ants doing things with hoses and foam and God only knew what else. The area was a hive of activity. But none of it mattered to Lily.

She turned to Derek and cradled his head on her shoulder, her arms around him. "We landed safely, you can open your eyes now," she said, her voice shaky. But he remained still.

She felt for a pulse beneath his jaw. Thready and weak. His skin felt cold and clammy, and when she
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lifted a lid, his pupils were fixed and dilated. Everything she knew about medicine told her he needed help,
now
. Everything she knew about
him
told her he was too stubborn to die. But just to make sure, she whispered in his ear, "Don't you leave me, Derek. If you leave me, I swear I'll find a way to make your eternity
miserable
."

The sound of the siren grew closer and closer. On the ambulance would be doctors, medicine, blankets, supplies. She lifted her head and glared out the window. "Hurry up, damn it!"

The man from the helicopter pounded on the window, and Lily strained to reach around and unlock the door. She almost fell out, Derek in her arms, when he yanked it open.

"Derek needs help now," she told him urgently, unwilling to let go of the man she still clasped desperately to her. "I'm fine, but Derek needs help. He's been shot and—"

"It's okay now." St. John reached out a hand. "Easy, love. You did a spectacular job of it. Hop out, I'll get him. Here, take my hand. There you go."

The next half hour flew by in a blur as medics bundled Lily into the ambulance carrying Derek and they were followed by a convoy of people to the small hospital down the street.

It all seemed surreal to Lily as they took Derek off to surgery, and she lost sight of everyone as she was wheeled off to be checked by the doctor. No matter, she kept telling anyone who'd listen, the blood on her clothes was Derek's, and she was just fine.

Ten minutes later, her completely fine self was on an exam table. Her shirt was off and a serious-looking third-year medical student was stitching up the graze wound on her shoulder. It didn't take long for the three sutures and the dressing, then Lily was allowed to dress and leave.

She pushed her way out of the examining room and stalked down the crowded corridor. She stood at the waiting-room door unobserved for a minute. The man who'd saved her butt—St. John—stood by the window talking to a petite, dark-haired woman. He was a good-looking guy in a room filled with hunks.

The Wright brothers had arrived, Lily thought, impressed. The room was chockablock with muscle and testosterone.

"Lily." Geoffrey Wright, Derek's father, came toward her, arms open wide. She'd only met Derek's father twice before, but she walked straight into his embrace, her throat tight with emotion. Geoff gave her a tight hug, which for some stupid reason made Lily want to cry. Resisting laying her head on his shoulder and holding on for dear life, Lily stood dead still in his embrace, and when his arms relaxed some, she stepped free.

She felt a blush climb her cheeks as all conversation stopped and everyone turned to stare at her. Geoff kept his arm about her shoulders and casually walked her farther into the room.

"Everyone," he said, his voice a low rumble demanding attention from his gathered family, "this is the very brave Dr. Lily Munroe. How's the shoulder?"

She shrugged. "I didn't notice it when it happened."

Geoff smiled. "I'm sorry you were hurt, but I'm glad it wasn't anything serious. And since I know the first question she'll ask is about Derek, the answer is: he's out of surgery, in recovery and is expected to be fine. So while he gets his beauty rest, let me introduce you to the rest of the family."

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Fine.

Safe.

Alive.

Lily felt a smile curve her mouth even as her heart began to beat in a regular rhythm again. Not usually shy, she was still grateful for the solid presence of Derek's father beside her. She met Derek's twin, Kane, and his extraordinarily beautiful redheaded wife, A. J. And although the brothers looked alike, Kane wasn't nearly as commanding a presence as Derek.

Marnie pushed through her much taller brothers. "Give her a break, you guys!" She practically snatched Lily from her father's side and wrapped her own arm about Lily's waist. "She's just lived through a harrowing experience. Let her at least sit down."

"I don't need to s—"

"Michael." A tall brother—good Lord!—wearing an eye patch introduced himself with a kiss on her forehead. "Thank you for saving my brother's butt. We owe you."

"You're wel—"

"Hey, my turn." The petite woman at his side muscled in. She grabbed Lily up in a tight hug, difficult to do since she looked to be about eighteen months' pregnant. "Thank you. Oh—I'm Michael's better half, Tally." She patted her enormous tummy. "And these two are Sarah and Jason. They only look full grown," she said dryly, stepping back. "They have four months to go before they hatch. And not a moment too damn soon, I say."

"That's—"

"Huntington St. John. Call me Hunt," her hero of the hour said smoothly, breaking in. The helicopter pilot was as tall as the Wrights, with an austere face and cool, light eyes that seemed to see everything. God.

Another mind reader. "You were extraordinarily brave up there," he told her, his eyes gleaming with sincerity. "
And
you kept your head. Derek's a lucky man."

Lily felt the sting behind her eyes, and almost lost it. "Thank yo—"

Another brother stepped up to hug her. Lily managed a wobbly smile as she caught Hunt's eye, and he winked at her. The next brother, one she'd never met but who was easy to identify as a Wright, grabbed her up in a careful bear hug. God, she hadn't had this many hugs in her entire lifetime.

"Kyle," he told her with a smile as he set her down. "And this is my bride, Delanie." He introduced his pretty blond wife, who was also pregnant.

"I can't
tell
you how impressed I am that you landed that plane without knowing how to fly. You're my new hero." Delanie gave her a brief hug and a big smile. She patted her little round pooch under a red sweater with an arrow pointing down. "Fee and Fo. No names as yet." She grinned engagingly. "Three months along, and we already know they're going to be giants. Okay, okay. I'm moving!"

Lily had a growing sense of unreality and found it hard to focus on the voices coming at her. She sensed
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the blood draining out of her head, and swallowed the pool of saliva, praying she didn't pass out like a rock at these nice people's feet.

Someone else came up to hug her. Lily started to feel a greasy, cold sweat break out at her hairline; nausea rose in waves, making her skin prickle, and the lights in the room sparkled and shimmied.

There seemed to be a million people in the room all wanting to hug, pet, pat and kiss her. Lily didn't feel like a hero. She felt like a piece of saltwater taffy being pulled and pulled and—

"Absolutely fine," she answered someone's question automatically, for what seemed like the hundredth time, as she forced down some serious nausea. "Yes.
Really
. Excuse me a moment. Have to go to—"

She gestured vaguely down the hall. Giving the room in general a confident smile, she made a dash for the door before anyone else could hug her.

Shoulders stiff, Lily walked quickly down the hall, past one bathroom and then another, past the nurses'

station and an empty gurney. Her mind raced, her heart pounded and her stomach did a slow, sliding spin ending in a sickening lurch.

Far away from the waiting room filled with pregnant women, Wrights and assorted other strong personalities, Lily knew she wasn't far enough. The adrenaline—which had kept her going, kept her sane, kept her able to land a stupid plane when every instinct inside her had wanted to run screaming into the darkness—had now dissolved. And without the rush of heart-pounding fear, there was nothing to hold her up anymore.

Her knees wobbled as she kept moving, kept walking. Her feet moved in time to her erratic heartbeat.

Her mind raced, her breath quickened and her stomach did another pitch and roll.

She'd survived the plane.

Her oldest fear conquered.

But now there was a new fear.

Living, breathing inside her.

Derek was safe.

Their adventure was over.

And so was her special time with him.

Practically on the other side of the small hospital, Lily spotted the next bathroom sign and kept her attention focused on the letters until she could slap open the door beneath.

The bathroom door opened on hydraulic hinges. Stepping inside, Lily pushed at the enormous handle with both hands. The door was closing, but not fast enough. She pressed her palms and full weight against it as panic clawed at her.

Her breath caught, strangling her.

Stomach spinning wildly, she stumbled across the small room and fell to her knees and immediately
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emptied her stomach into the toilet.

She wanted to blame what she was feeling on fatigue. But that wasn't the problem. Sleep deprivation was par for the course during the race, and also in her profession, and it had simply been amplified by the conditions of the race.

The race. It seemed a lifetime ago. That was someone else—someone she didn't know anymore. Or rather didn't feel.

She'd come to Alaska to find herself, yet she now felt more lost and confused than before. She couldn't fathom what would come next. Was she supposed to just go back to being a vet now? Forget the sniper, the bodies, the bomb?

Forget Derek?

The thought settled over her like a cement cloak. Was this it?

Maybe, maybe she could forget the thrill of her adventure. Not. She could live a hundred years and she would never forget the onslaught of adrenaline that had driven her through these last hours.

She shook her head, hoping her jumbled thoughts might fall accurately into place like pool balls landing in their pockets. It didn't help. She was a mass of conflicting emotions. Her whole life was askew.

Just days earlier she had thought the only thing she really wanted was peace and serenity. But she had tasted life with Derek and she was greedy for more.

But more wasn't an option and less made her want to scream.

Her whole body quivered as she clung to the cold porcelain and when she was finally finished throwing up, she curled weakly on the floor. It was cold and smelled of antiseptic. But she didn't give a damn. A sob crested and broke, followed by another, and another.

Fist pressed against her mouth to muffle her sobs, Lily didn't hear the door whoosh open behind her.

"Ah, sweetie. Of course you're crying," a woman's soft voice said from close by. "No. Don't try holding back because I've invaded your space, baby, cry it out."

She couldn't have stopped the tears if someone had pointed a gun at her and demanded silence. Nothing could stop them now that they'd finally begun. Lily had never felt so alone. So empty. So…

Somehow, she found herself sitting up and gathered against a maternal chest without quite knowing how it happened. She vaguely recognized the woman as Sunny, Geoffrey Wright's bride-to-be. And she was pitifully grateful for the warm embrace and the comforting sound of her voice.