Read Online Pilot Error by T.C. Ravenscraft - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: T.C. Ravenscraft
Tags: Romance
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she slumped onto the sand and fiddled with the transmitter.
"And what's that?"
"An ELT; an Emergency Locator Transmitter."
"It looks kind of... outdated."
Micki took immediate offense to Mr. Current Technology's annoying but perceptive observation of the analog switches. "It's been stowed in the back of my plane for years, Mr. Hardigan, but I assure you, it's still within FAA regulations. And fully functional."
"Doesn't matter." Luke shook his head. "I told you before, no Mayday calls—"
"It doesn't work like that," she snapped, tired of taking orders from him, paying customer or not. "No one's going to monitor this signal except a rescue plane."
"You're sure?"
Micki scowled. "If you have so little faith in my competency as a pilot, then why did you charter me?"
Luke avoided answering by asking another question. "So why haven't you activated it?"
"Because thanks to you ripping out my radio mike, no one knows we've gone down!"
She felt guilty the moment she said it. Still bothered by her decision to go without a flight plan, she backed off on the blame. Maybe calling her competency as a pilot into question was exactly what he should do.
"As you were so quick to point out," she explained, giving him the benefit of doubt, "this is an older model ELT. You have to flip the switch—this one—manually, but only when you're sure there's someone out there actually listening for the signal. Turning it on now, before anyone is looking for us, would only waste the battery."
"Someone like Dirk Jurgensen?"
Annoyed at how Luke 'Nosy' Hardigan could turn even a practical discussion into a personal issue, she stuffed the ELT in her backpack, lesson over. "Someone," she insisted.
Luke nodded. "So we're stuck with each other for a while."
"Yep. Lucky us."
Amused by her sarcasm, Luke shifted his attention to the camel-colored backpack. He pulled it toward him. "In the meantime, you got anything actually useful in here?"
Micki took her cap off and swatted at a mosquito. "Nothing that's going to be any good against an Uzi."
"They were AK-47s," Luke corrected absently, rummaging.
She was about to ask how he could so expertly identify the guns at that distance, at that speed, when Luke grunted in grim acknowledgement of the limited contents of the pack. Apart from the ELT, it contained only basic survival gear; dehydrated rations, a canteen of fresh water, a silver thermal blanket, waterproof matches and water purifying tablets, a flashlight, and a small first aid kit.
Pushing the pack aside, he dug in his camera bag instead. "Maybe this'll help even the odds."
Micki knew she shouldn't be surprised by what he withdrew, but she couldn't stop herself from staring at it. It was a handgun; a 9mm Beretta.
Talk about 'pilot error.' Micki, you sure made a mistake taking this guy on.
They looked up from the weapon at the same time, meeting each other's eyes. His were guarded, giving no clues but raising a hell of a lot of questions. Micki fought to control her own expression. Who was she in more danger from here? The morons who had just shot her out of the sky, or the maniac sitting next to her calmly checking a weapon he seemed well at ease in handling?
Despite her effort to appear cool, something must have tipped Luke to her distress because he tucked the gun away in the back of his khaki cargo shorts and threw her a friendly grin. "I know it's not much, but it's something."
The gun was out of sight but it was a long way from being out of Micki's mind. Still, it would be prudent not to let him know that. "You're not really a photographer, are you." It wasn't a question; it was a statement of fact.
"No." Luke rooted around in his camera bag again. "I'm not."
Micki put her arm around Fizz as he came up beside her. "You used me. You used me and my plane to search for those wackos with the nasty attitudes. At the very least, you owe me an explanation."
Luke kept his attention on his bag and his mouth shut.
"Talk to me!"
"Come
"And what's that?"
"An ELT; an Emergency Locator Transmitter."
"It looks kind of... outdated."
Micki took immediate offense to Mr. Current Technology's annoying but perceptive observation of the analog switches. "It's been stowed in the back of my plane for years, Mr. Hardigan, but I assure you, it's still within FAA regulations. And fully functional."
"Doesn't matter." Luke shook his head. "I told you before, no Mayday calls—"
"It doesn't work like that," she snapped, tired of taking orders from him, paying customer or not. "No one's going to monitor this signal except a rescue plane."
"You're sure?"
Micki scowled. "If you have so little faith in my competency as a pilot, then why did you charter me?"
Luke avoided answering by asking another question. "So why haven't you activated it?"
"Because thanks to you ripping out my radio mike, no one knows we've gone down!"
She felt guilty the moment she said it. Still bothered by her decision to go without a flight plan, she backed off on the blame. Maybe calling her competency as a pilot into question was exactly what he should do.
"As you were so quick to point out," she explained, giving him the benefit of doubt, "this is an older model ELT. You have to flip the switch—this one—manually, but only when you're sure there's someone out there actually listening for the signal. Turning it on now, before anyone is looking for us, would only waste the battery."
"Someone like Dirk Jurgensen?"
Annoyed at how Luke 'Nosy' Hardigan could turn even a practical discussion into a personal issue, she stuffed the ELT in her backpack, lesson over. "Someone," she insisted.
Luke nodded. "So we're stuck with each other for a while."
"Yep. Lucky us."
Amused by her sarcasm, Luke shifted his attention to the camel-colored backpack. He pulled it toward him. "In the meantime, you got anything actually useful in here?"
Micki took her cap off and swatted at a mosquito. "Nothing that's going to be any good against an Uzi."
"They were AK-47s," Luke corrected absently, rummaging.
She was about to ask how he could so expertly identify the guns at that distance, at that speed, when Luke grunted in grim acknowledgement of the limited contents of the pack. Apart from the ELT, it contained only basic survival gear; dehydrated rations, a canteen of fresh water, a silver thermal blanket, waterproof matches and water purifying tablets, a flashlight, and a small first aid kit.
Pushing the pack aside, he dug in his camera bag instead. "Maybe this'll help even the odds."
Micki knew she shouldn't be surprised by what he withdrew, but she couldn't stop herself from staring at it. It was a handgun; a 9mm Beretta.
Talk about 'pilot error.' Micki, you sure made a mistake taking this guy on.
They looked up from the weapon at the same time, meeting each other's eyes. His were guarded, giving no clues but raising a hell of a lot of questions. Micki fought to control her own expression. Who was she in more danger from here? The morons who had just shot her out of the sky, or the maniac sitting next to her calmly checking a weapon he seemed well at ease in handling?
Despite her effort to appear cool, something must have tipped Luke to her distress because he tucked the gun away in the back of his khaki cargo shorts and threw her a friendly grin. "I know it's not much, but it's something."
The gun was out of sight but it was a long way from being out of Micki's mind. Still, it would be prudent not to let him know that. "You're not really a photographer, are you." It wasn't a question; it was a statement of fact.
"No." Luke rooted around in his camera bag again. "I'm not."
Micki put her arm around Fizz as he came up beside her. "You used me. You used me and my plane to search for those wackos with the nasty attitudes. At the very least, you owe me an explanation."
Luke kept his attention on his bag and his mouth shut.
"Talk to me!"
"Come
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