Becky Avella - Crash Landing

RANCHER UNDER FIRE

When rancher Sean Loomis hires a pilot to help him track a runaway horse on his land, what they find almost gets them killed. Someone has set up an illegal drug smuggling operation on a remote section of Sean’s ranch. With their plane shot down and armed thugs who can’t leave witnesses hunting them, Sean and brave pilot Deanna Jackson must work together to survive. They narrowly escape but discover they can’t trust anyone—including law enforcement. With wildfires raging through the area, cutting off communication with the outside world, Sean and Deanna are on their own. Now, to stay alive, they must outwit criminals desperate to see them crash and burn.

“Don’t shoot,” Sean said to the thug pointing a gun at them.

How could he be so calm? Deanna couldn’t think straight. She doubted she could even speak, but here was Sean telling this guy how it was going to be as if he were one of Sean’s hired hands.

Without waiting for permission, Sean turned, keeping his hands high. Deanna hesitated for a beat and then followed his lead, brittle pine needles crunching under her boots as she turned. The shotgun’s barrel raised dead even with Sean’s head, making Deanna’s throat constrict. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry.

“Don’t move!” The guy behind the gun demanded. He sounded nervous. Scared enough to pull the trigger?

“Easy,” she begged.

If they could disarm him somehow, Sean could take this guy.

Sean didn’t seek out chances to prove his masculinity like some men she knew, but Deanna had seen him win a fight before.

Even staring down the barrel of a shotgun, having him next to her made Deanna feel safer.

Dear Reader,

Thank you for reading this story. I celebrated with Deanna as she learned that trusting God made her stronger not weaker, and ached for Sean as he faced such deep betrayal and loss. I hope you were rooting for them as much as I was and that they earned a tender place in your heart.

This book was the most challenging story I’ve written to date. I felt a huge pressure to get it right because I wanted it to be a love letter to a place that is dear to me. The fictional town of Kinakane was inspired by the small towns of Okanogan County in North Central Washington State where my family calls home. I know I didn’t do it justice, but I hope I somehow conveyed a small taste of the rich culture, the amazing strength of the people who live there and the rugged, high desert beauty that make the Okanogan Valley so striking. You can visit my Crash Landing board on Pinterest to see more.

I love to hear from readers. You can find me online on Twitter ( @BeckyAvella) and my “ Becky Avella, author” Facebook page. I look forward to connecting with you.

May God bless you,

Becky Avella

BECKY AVELLA grew up in Washington state with her nose in a book and her imagination in the clouds. These days she spends her time dreaming up heart-pounding fiction full of romance and faith. Becky married a real-life hero and follows him around begging him to give her material she can use in her stories. Together with their children, they make their home in the beautiful Northwest.

Crash Landing

Becky Avella

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in Him will I trust.

—Psalms 91:2

To Mom and Dad—

Always the wind beneath my wings.

This book is also dedicated to the people of Okanogan County who faced the Carlton Complex Fire of 2014 and the Okanogan Complex Fire of 2015 with such inspiring bravery and resiliency.

Acknowledgments

This story could not have been told without the help of pilots Michael Nitzel and Bob Sandefur, and firefighters Dereck Bohan and Chad Sheets.

I’m so grateful for your willingness to share your expertise with me. You can’t be blamed for any mistakes I made. Thank you for making this story stronger.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Acknowledgments

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

ONE

Deanna Jackson just wanted to see the sky. The tiniest sliver of blue would be enough.

The real sky was up there somewhere, hidden behind the canopy of smoke hovering above the rooflines of Main Street. It called to her to be free, to escape the doom and the stress in her airplane, but she couldn’t. Although it looked like it was nearing nightfall, it was really only eleven in the morning, and Deanna was stuck indoors. Stuck being a grown-up with bills to pay.

Eerie shadows flickered through her coffee shop windows, making the inside of The Hangar feel too bright, as if its cheeriness offended the gloom outside. Occasional chunks of charred debris and ash dropped onto the sidewalks like dirty hail, a taste of what awaited the small town of Kinakane, Washington, if the wildfires bearing down on them weren’t contained.

“Make that coffee extra hot, please.” Sharon Grabe’s hands trembled as she dug through her purse for her wallet. Sharon was one of the many refugees stranded in town awaiting word that she could return to her home, wondering if her house in Salmon Creek still stood and if her husband would get out in time. If he’d be smart enough to know his life mattered more than a building, no matter how many generations of memories that building might hold.

“What are you doing, Sharon? Put that money away,” Deanna insisted.

Sharon slapped her debit card on the counter and covered it with her hand. There was no trembling now. Her resolve solid as stone, she slid the card across the counter. “Don’t make me a charity case, Deanna. Not yet, anyway. I’m not ready to exchange hope for a free latte.”

Deanna swallowed the lump in her throat, wishing she had more to offer, but she knew she’d despise the pity she was feeling for Sharon if it were turned in her direction.

Townspeople used to complain about a little summertime smoke in the air caused by far-off wildfires in the mountains. Now the entire Northwest appeared to be ablaze, and five separate fires hemmed them in, sucking the life out of already taxed firefighting resources. The threat squeezed in on Deanna so tight she could hardly breathe.

She felt the flames coming, their approach rumbling through her like the vibrations of an ancient army marching on a besieged city. More and more refugees were streaming into town bringing new horror stories every day. Homes and ranches that had been in families for generations, obliterated by infernos. Old Harley Hopkins died of a heart attack because after telephone poles burned out in Scotch Creek, he had no phone service to call 911.