I closed my eyes and concentrated on the rhythmic beat of the rotors and my breathing, hyperaware of my throat. My heart pounded and my stomach dipped with the turn, but there was no looming anxiety attack…yet.

This is fine. You’re fine. Jackson does this every day. He’s a great pilot. Top of his class, right?

So was Will, my devil’s advocate whispered in my ear. And Josh, and Jagger for that matter.

“Morgan, you okay up there?” Garrett asked. “Don’t worry, we’re the only ones who can hear you. They switched our coms to aircraft-only back here.”

“I’m fine,” I lied. I seemed to be doing a lot of that today, but my nerves didn’t matter compared to what those people had to be going through.

“You’re faking it really well,” he assured me as he unbuckled.

“ETA is three minutes,” Sawyer said through the headset.

Garrett rose from his seat and kneeled before me. “I need you to sit right here and not move, okay? That’s all you have to do. Tell me you understand.”

“I understand. Sit. Don’t move.” I nodded for emphasis. There was zero chance in hell I was moving from this seat or getting in the way of saving someone.

“This is totally routine, so don’t stress.” He stood and got ready to do whatever it was he did. He took two gray blankets from the rescue litter and set them on the seat next to me.

“Don’t stress. Right,” I whispered.

“Just keep breathing for me, Kitty.” Jackson’s voice was thick with worry.

“I’m fine.” I even pitched my voice a little higher to prove it. “You just fly this thing, okay?” The last thing he needed to be thinking about was me.

“We have a visual. ETA one minute,” Sawyer announced.

Garrett unstrapped a wire cage from a tower directly in front of me and took it to the floor, where he formed it into a rectangular basket. Then he hooked himself onto a belt that attached to the ceiling and opened the door of the helicopter. The noise level skyrocketed, the wind whipped through the fuselage, and there was ocean as far as I could see. Whoever waited below us was out there all alone, and though I saw the helicopter as a death trap, I realized that for them, it was salvation.

“I have a visual,” Garrett said as he leaned out the freaking door. “The adult male and child are clear of the landing area.”

My chest tightened. There was a kid?

“Do you need me back there, Harrison?” Sawyer asked.

“No, sir. I’ve got this.”

The helicopter slowed to a hover.

“Prepare to drop the basket,” Sawyer said.

Garrett got the thing hooked up to a wire that led outside the helicopter. “Basket ready.”

“Deploy,” Sawyer ordered.