Her cheeks blossomed with color. “Thank you.” She swiped the rag from his hands and stuffed it back into her pocket before turning to the others. “We’re not too far from the resort. If we’re lucky, we won’t have to wait more than an hour before someone shows up to take us there.”
“An hour?” Buck asked.
Marly shrugged. “You never know who or how they will arrive. I’m assuming in a ground vehicle.”
“I’d give my left nut for a whirly bird,” Pitbull muttered. “We wouldn’t be in this situation if we’d started out in a helicopter.”
Marly rounded on Pitbull, eyes blazing, and jabbed her finger into Pitbull’s chest. “If we’d been in a helicopter and the fuel pump went out, those vultures would be picking our bones clean.” She redirected her pointer finger to a flock of vultures riding the air currents several hundred yards away.
Pitbull held up his hands. “Okay, okay. You made your point.”
“Damn right I did. I’d like to see your helicopter pilots land as smoothly without an engine.”
Buck draped an arm over Marly’s shoulders. “You were awesome.” He shot a glare at Pitbull. “We’re alive, aren’t we?”
Pitbull returned his buddy’s glare and then nodded, letting the tension seep out of his body. “You’re right.” He held out his hand to Marly. “You did great landing the plane.”
She stared at it for a moment, but didn’t take it.
Pitbull dropped his arm, somewhat relieved. The last time she’d touched him with her hand, electricity had ricocheted throughout his body. He’d be better off enforcing a hands-off policy with Marly.
“I thought we were going to have zebra stew for dinner, as close as we came to landing on them,” Harm said. “How did you know they’d get out of the way in time?”
Marly ducked from beneath Buck’s arm. “I didn’t. That was pure luck. Landing without damaging the plane...” She straightened her shoulders and flung back her ponytail. “That was all me.”
It was true—Pitbull had been in the copilot’s seat the whole way down. Marly had done a hell of a job piloting the craft to the ground among a herd of zebras and on bumpy terrain. “I guess I should thank you. But all I can think about is the fact you broke your promise.”
She shook her head. “No I didn’t.”
“You said you wouldn’t crash the plane,” he told her.
“No, I said I wouldn’t pass out while flying.” She winked. “Those are two completely different things. And I didn’t crash the plane.”
Pitbull waved his hand toward the aircraft. “It’s not flying.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “But it will, once I get the replacement part.”
“How soon will that be?” Pitbull panned the surrounding savanna. “There aren’t any aviation superstores anywhere nearby. And you can’t seriously think you can take off on this field.”
“I’m sure I can get a replacement part within a couple of days. And when I can find a smooth enough stretch, long enough to build up some speed, I can get this bird off the ground.” She shook her head, a disgusted look on her face. “What do you know about avionics, anyway?”
Marly walked several yards away and stood staring at the animals in the distance, her back to the men. The band holding her ponytail had slipped loose. Strands of silky, sandy-blond hair caught in the breeze.
Pitbull couldn’t tear his gaze off her slim, athletic figure encased in the form-hugging flight suit.
Buck leaned close to his friend and whispered, “You’re a knucklehead.”
“What’s your point?” Pitbull snapped back, too engaged in his view of Marly to care what Buck had to say.
“She landed the plane,” Buck said.
T-Mac added, “That’s right. We’re alive. You should be down on your knees, groveling at her feet.”
His teammates were right. What was it about Marly that got Pitbull all fired up? She was smart and sexy and knew her way around her airplane. Why couldn’t he leave her alone?
She turned, a smile on her face.
That smile hit him square in the chest like a round from a .55-caliber machine gun. He almost staggered back a few steps with the impact.
“Here comes our rescue team.” Marly pointed to a cloud of dust rising from the grass, heading straight for them.
The men gathered around Marly, like cowboys circling their wagons.
“Are you sure that’s our rescue team?” Pitbull asked.
“Who else would be out in the middle of nowhere?” Marly’s brows dipped. “Seriously, the ATC had our coordinates from the transponder. They had to have passed them on to whoever they called.”
“We’ve seen some of the welcoming committees here in Africa,” Harm said, squinting at the oncoming vehicle.
“If you’re worried, wait behind me.” Marly unzipped her flight suit to reveal a pink bra beneath and a shoulder holster. She pulled out a nine-millimeter handgun.
The team all backed up several steps, every man raising his hands.
“Whoa there, Marly,” Buck said. “Do you know how to use that thing?”
She glared at him. “Do you think I’d carry it if I didn’t?”
Buck shrugged. “Some women do.”
“I’d be a fool to fly around this country unarmed, now, wouldn’t I?” She nodded toward the vehicle now visible through the cloud of dust. “Looks like a safari wagon.”
“And it’s not empty.” Pitbull dove for his backpack, unearthed the M4A1 he’d stashed inside and quickly assembled the main parts.
“Hold your fire, Zippy,” Marly said. “They wouldn’t come out without a contingent of armed men. The animals can cause enough damage, but the poachers and warring rebels are even more dangerous. Wait and see.”
“If we wait too long, we could all be dead.” Pitbull took up a position in the shadow of the airplane and lined up his sights with the driver of the oncoming truck.
“I’m with Pitbull.” Harm reached for his backpack and pulled out a .45-caliber handgun.
The other four men did the same. Soon, everyone waiting at the plane was armed and ready for whatever was headed their way.
The big truck pulled to a lumbering stop several yards away from the plane.
A woman appeared out of the cloud of dust, wearing tall leather riding boots, khaki slacks tucked into the top of the boots and a matching khaki shirt, unbuttoned to reveal an ample amount of cleavage. She swept a wide-brimmed safari hat from her head and shook out auburn curls. “We’re here to help.”
Buck let out a long, low whistle. “Wow.”
She was followed by three dark-skinned men dressed in khaki uniforms and carrying machine guns.
Pitbull aimed for the first one, keeping all three in his peripheral vision. If any one of them made a move, he’d take them down.
“Hey, don’t shoot!” a sultry voice called out. “We’re really here to help.”
Marly shoved her pistol back into the holster