“Shit. It’s the station,” I told her with a wince. “Sorry, I’m on call.”

“Well, then, answer it.” She flashed me a smile and clicked on comedies while I swiped to take the call.

“Montgomery,” I answered.

“Thank God.” Sawyer’s voice was tight, which immediately set me on edge. “Tell me you’re at your house.”

“I’m at Morgan’s.” I got up and walked to the windows. We had about an hour until sunset, so I had no problem seeing the massive white caps roiling angrily just beyond our beach.

“Close enough. A call just came in, the other crew is already engaged, and Hastings just slipped on the fucking deck. I’m pretty sure he broke his leg. Garrett’s looking at him right now.”

“Is it urgent?” The last thing I wanted was to leave Morgan and haul my ass out into a storm for someone who didn’t actually need my help. Problem was, if they called us, they needed the fucking help.

“Life threatening. We’ve got a capsizing fishing vessel with two sailors on board. How fast can you get in here?”

Shit.

“Run up the bird. I’ll be there in six minutes.”

“Roger.”

I ended the call and slid the phone into my pocket. It would take him roughly ten minutes to get the bird through preflight.

“Don’t go.” The words carried the brittle sound of terror as Morgan reached my side. That same fear manifested in her wide eyes.

“Kitty, I have to.” I cupped her face. “It sounds like Hastings fell and broke his leg, and Sawyer can’t go out alone. I gotta go save some lives.”

She ripped her face from my hands and pointed at the sea. “And who exactly is going to show up and save your life? You can’t go out in this!” Her muscles locked and her pupils blew. My stomach twisted. This was bad, and I didn’t have the time to reassure her like she needed. It would have been great if Sam had shown up right about now.

“I know it looks bad out there, but I’ve flown in far worse.” I had to be out of here in the next ninety seconds. “I will be fine.”

She shook her head. “No. No. No. The visibility is shit. What do you think the ceiling is? Five hundred feet?”

I glanced toward the sky. “Probably closer to four—wait, how do you know what a ceiling is?”

“Because I helped him study during primary!” Her voice pitched to a near shriek.

Fantastic. My girl was terrified and knew what she was talking about. “Morgan, honey, I’m more than comfortable with four hundred feet, and I’m just fine flying IFR.” Not that I was a fan of having to fly instruments during shit weather, but it was better than letting people die.