Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Jackson
“You fucking what?” I charged at Hastings in the middle of the Elizabethtown air station.
“I only had room for two more, Montgomery!”
“So you just left her there?” I came around the table at him. “She’s been out there all alone since yesterday?”
“There are hundreds of people out there! What did you want me to do?” He put his hands up, which caught me off guard long enough to stop myself from beating him to death.
“I wanted you to rescue my girlfriend!” I shouted. That term didn’t even remotely come close to what Morgan meant to me, and she’d probably deny it was even true.
Sawyer flanked my right, and Garrett took my left.
“We’re running round-the-clock evacs on serious cases, Jax, and I rescued your daughter and her grandmother because Morgan chose to save them. Now calm the hell down.” Three other pilots stared at us like we were the evening entertainment.
“Calm down? Where’s Christina right now?” I spat.
“In Tennessee with her family.”
“Morgan is on a hurricane-ravaged island! I have no idea how much food she has, or gas for her generator! So do not tell me to calm down!”
“Why don’t we back this up a little,” Garrett suggested, laying one hand on my shoulder.
Recognizing that I was only six inches away from Hastings’s face, I retreated a few steps and rubbed a hand over my eyes. My eyelids felt like sandpaper.
“Finley’s at the hospital?” I confirmed, making sure I’d heard him right.
“Yes. They admitted Vivian for observation, and they’re all safe and sound,” Hastings assured me.
Finley was safe. Morgan wasn’t.
“Give me your helicopter.”
“I’m sorry?” Hastings’s eyebrows shot up.
“You heard me. I want your fucking helicopter.” Did I stutter?
Startled, Sawyer’s gaze swung between Hastings and me. “Yeah, what he said. We want your helicopter.”
“Exactly how much crew rest have you had, Jax?” Hastings folded his arms over his chest.
“Eight hours,” I answered with a shrug.
“Over the last three days,” Garrett muttered.
I turned a slow glare on him.
“Just trying to keep you alive, my friend. Love you like a brother, and you know I’m down for going after Morgan, but you’re not safe to fly.”
“I didn’t say I had to fly it.”
Hastings tilted his head. “I’m listening.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Morgan
I had a fish in a vase on my kitchen counter, a turtle in my bathtub, a guinea pig in what was supposed to be a shabby chic, decorative birdcage, and a cat curled up on my lap as I rested on the couch.
Fin had been a ridiculously responsible pet owner and packed food for all her charges in a pocket of the cat carrier, but since Juno had gone through her two allotted cans of cat food, she was now licking tuna from my pantry off her paws.
My hands ached from setting my garage to rights, which had consumed my morning, but I still managed to hold my book.
I checked my cell phone for the hundredth time in the last hour, but there was still no service. Logically, I knew Fin and Vivian were fine—they’d probably been airlifted straight to the hospital—but I wanted a little reassurance, and I would have killed to hear Jackson’s voice. Hopefully, he knew they were safe. I had a billion things I wanted to tell him, none of which included the state of his house.
Rotors beat the air, but I didn’t jump off the couch. The coast guard had been up and down the island, evacuating emergency medical cases, so the sound had become more than commonplace.
The police officer who stopped by this morning told me they were hoping to have cell service up by tomorrow, and they were evacuating people by ferry based on levels of need. With Finley and Vivian safe, I figured my need wasn’t as pressing as the others around me, and I definitely wasn’t about to ask to evac Fin’s zoo.
The steady thump of rotor blades didn’t retreat.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
I jumped, looking up from my book to see a coastie at my sliding glass door. Guess Hastings had come back. I climbed off the couch and tried not to trip over Juno as I made my way to the door. Then I flipped the lock and slid the glass open to look up at my own reflection in a visor.
“Hi! Can I help you?” I shouted over the noise of the hovering helicopter.
He said something into his helmet, and the bird flew away.
He’d unhooked his tether. What the hell?
The guy unsnapped his helmet, yanked it off, and tucked it under his—
“Jackson!” This had to be a dream, right? But the air still smelled like post-hurricane funk, and surely, I wouldn’t imagine that.
I threw myself at him.
He caught me, tugging me close as the air fell quiet around us. Thank you, God. We stumbled backward, and he set his helmet on the table, then wrapped both his arms around me and held tight.