Forged in Steele (KGI #7)(104)

She nodded, though terror blazed in her eyes. I love you, she mouthed.

Oh f**k no. There would be no farewells. No I love yous before dying. He wasn’t going to let her die.

He strained down as far as he could, splaying his hand and stretching every muscle in his body. “One, two, three!”

She lurched upward, her hand glancing off his. Her fingers failed to wrap around his but he caught her wrist, gripping it so hard it was a wonder he hadn’t broken it. But there was no way in hell he was letting her go.

“Now give me your other hand, Maren. Reach up and give it to me. I have to be able to pull you up. If I can get you high enough that you can put your feet on the bottom rail, you can stand up and crawl inside.”

She nodded and then let go of the rail. The helicopter took a crazy swing, spinning rapidly like a drunken merry- go-round. She flailed and swung out and then slammed against the railing with her body.

He knew he had to be crushing the bones in her wrist, but his grip was the only thing between her life and death.

After their hands bounced off several times, he finally managed to grasp her fingers and then he worked his hand down so he now had both wrists in his grasp.

He pulled upward, using every ounce of his strength to pull her as high as he could so she could gain a foothold on the railing. His foot started to slide from where he had it tucked underneath the seat.

Fuck!

He inched downward and knew that either he had to let her go or they were both going to fall to their deaths. He locked gazes with her, his expression fierce. No f**king way he was letting her die alone. If they fell, he’d hold her the entire way and she’d know that he loved her with his very last breath. They might even get lucky and if she landed on top of him, there might be a slim chance she wouldn’t be killed on impact.

Just as he was coming to terms with the fact they were both going to die, hands circled his ankles and began dragging him backward. Maren’s eyes widened, going from resignation and acceptance to hope.

Steele renewed his efforts, pulling Maren upward with all his strength. The situation was made worse by the fact that the helicopter was spinning out of control and Maren was flapping in the wind. It was taking every bit of his strength, grit and determination not to let her go. He was all the way inside the helicopter with just his arms extending downward gripping Maren’s wrists when Hancock leaned over him, lying on Steele’s back as he reached to grab Maren’s wrists just below where Steele held them.

Together they hauled her up and into the helicopter and Hancock promptly rolled away, blood smeared all over his chest. He was pale as death, and helping Steele had sapped his remaining strength.

“Pilot,” Hancock gasped out. “No pilot. Going down. Controls are shot.”

Steele dragged himself up and then hauled Maren to her feet. There was no time for relief or joy. They weren’t out of the woods yet.

“Get belted in and hang on tight,” Steele ground out. “I’m going to have to try to land us the best I can, but it’s not going to be smooth and it’ll be one hell of a bumpy landing.”

CHAPTER 39

AS soon as Steele headed for the cockpit, Maren leaned over Hancock’s body and began to pull him toward the seat. It took every bit of her strength, but she was wired on adrenaline and at the moment she could move a damn mountain.

Hancock’s eyelids fluttered and he stared up at her in confusion as she began to prop him up so she could roll him onto the seat.

“What the f**k are you doing? Are you crazy? Get your ass belted in. Now!” he barked.

Only it came out so weakly it was more of a yip than an actual bark. Where before he might have sounded like a German shepherd, he now sounded like a Chihuahua. God, she was getting hysterical because she was actually considering what kind of dog he sounded like now.

Steele was in the cockpit after hauling the dead body of the pilot onto the floor. He was swearing a blue streak and Maren knew that wasn’t good. Not at all.

“I’m getting you belted in. We’re going to crash,” she said calmly. She marveled at how nonchalant she sounded. As though she’d just said they were attending tea at some palace. Yeah, she was losing it.

“For f**k’s sake, woman, I took a bullet for you. I’m going to be pissed if you kill yourself trying to buckle me in. Now get your ass in your seat and get your head down and cover it with your hands. Got me?”

She ignored him and pushed and pulled until she had him far enough onto the seat to secure the seat belt around him. Then she pushed in next to him and belted herself in. Before she could think of what to do next, Hancock shoved her down and covered her body with his.

She could feel the warmth of his blood against her skin. Could smell it. His pulse was weak. She’d been barely able to detect it when she’d briefly checked for one as she was dragging him from the floor. How he managed to even speak was beyond her, but the man had already proved to be somewhat of a superhuman. He and Steele were evidently cut from the same cloth.

“Going down!” Steele yelled from the front.

The rest was a blur. She almost expected one of those out-of-body moments where everything slowed and your life flashed before your eyes in episodic frames. But all she registered was shattering glass, a bone-shattering thud and the creak and screech of metal tearing. And then the world tilted sideways and she was slammed against the side of the helicopter, Hancock still draped over her.