to anyone, and Sam liked conversation. "I don't back out of our trips," Ty said. His frown deepened as Sam remained silent. "Do I?" He rubbed the bridge of his nose. He probably had, more than once. Disappointing Sam yet again.
Sam shrugged. "It doesn't matter, Ty. I'm just giving you a hard time. You're a biochemist. They're all crazy."
"And helicopter crews aren't?"
A roar of laughter went up. Sam held out his hands, palms up. "All right, you've got me there."
"I want to hear more about Ty's saint. Is she blond and built?" Rory Smith asked. He rubbed his hands together. "Let's get to the good stuff."
"That's your idea of the perfect woman, Rory," Doug Higgens observed, jabbing the firefighter in the arm. "And you definitely don't want a saint. What does she look like, Ty? You found her yet?"
Sam's mouth tightened. "He thinks he's found her."
An image flashed in his mind before Ty could suppress it. Her face. Pale. Midnight black hair. Large green eyes. A mouth to kill for. Ty shook his head. "She has to be intelligent. I can't spend more than a couple of minutes with someone who's an idiot." And that was the problem, would always be the problem. He wanted to talk about things he was enthusiastic about. He wanted to share problems at work with someone. Not even Sam had a clue what he was talking about and Sam actually tolerated him.
Most women's eyes just glazed over when he started talking. And God help him if a date started talking about hair and nails and makeup.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"Geez, Ty. What the hell is wrong with you? Who gives a damn if they have brains? You're just doing the wrong things with her," Rory said. "Stop trying to talk and get on with the action. You need help, man."
Another round of laughter went up.
Three tones blasted through the air and the men went instantly silent. The three tones chimed again and they were on their feet. The radio crackled and command central announced an injured climber on the cliffs of Sea Lion Cove just south of Fort Bragg .
Ty and the others grabbed the rescue gear, loading it into the Huey as fast and as systematically as possible.
"Ben, go to the Fort Bragg command center first, but I'll want you to get as close as possible,"
Brannigan, the helicopter pilot, told the fire apparatus engineer. Ben would drive the heli-tender carrying the fuel for the helicopter as well as extra stokes—the baskets they put the victim in—and everything else needed in emergencies. He would have to take the large truck over the mountainous route to reach Fort Bragg and it would take him at least an hour or more. The helicopter would be there in fourteen minutes.
Ben nodded and ran for his vehicle. The helicopter devoured fuel and they never went anywhere without the heli-tender.
The familiar rush of adrenaline coursed through Ty's body, making him feel alive again after living in his cave of a laboratory for so long. He needed this—the wild slam of his pulse, the adventure, even the camaraderie of the other firefighters. He took his place in the back of the helicopter with the other four firefighters, the captain and pilot up front. His helmet was fitted with a radio and the familiar checklist settled everyone down.
"Commo check," Brannigan said into his mike.
The crew chief answered, followed by each member of the team.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"ICS isolation," Brannigan announced.
In the back, Ty, along with the others, checked their communication box and turned off all radios to isolate themselves from all unnecessary chatter. During the rescue operation it was necessary nothing distracted them.
Sean Fortune, the crew chief, answered. "Isolated."
"Pilot is isolated except for channel twenty. All loose items in cabin."
"Secured," Sean answered.
Ty felt the familiar tightness in his stomach. He loved the danger and he craved the
Sam shrugged. "It doesn't matter, Ty. I'm just giving you a hard time. You're a biochemist. They're all crazy."
"And helicopter crews aren't?"
A roar of laughter went up. Sam held out his hands, palms up. "All right, you've got me there."
"I want to hear more about Ty's saint. Is she blond and built?" Rory Smith asked. He rubbed his hands together. "Let's get to the good stuff."
"That's your idea of the perfect woman, Rory," Doug Higgens observed, jabbing the firefighter in the arm. "And you definitely don't want a saint. What does she look like, Ty? You found her yet?"
Sam's mouth tightened. "He thinks he's found her."
An image flashed in his mind before Ty could suppress it. Her face. Pale. Midnight black hair. Large green eyes. A mouth to kill for. Ty shook his head. "She has to be intelligent. I can't spend more than a couple of minutes with someone who's an idiot." And that was the problem, would always be the problem. He wanted to talk about things he was enthusiastic about. He wanted to share problems at work with someone. Not even Sam had a clue what he was talking about and Sam actually tolerated him.
Most women's eyes just glazed over when he started talking. And God help him if a date started talking about hair and nails and makeup.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"Geez, Ty. What the hell is wrong with you? Who gives a damn if they have brains? You're just doing the wrong things with her," Rory said. "Stop trying to talk and get on with the action. You need help, man."
Another round of laughter went up.
Three tones blasted through the air and the men went instantly silent. The three tones chimed again and they were on their feet. The radio crackled and command central announced an injured climber on the cliffs of Sea Lion Cove just south of Fort Bragg .
Ty and the others grabbed the rescue gear, loading it into the Huey as fast and as systematically as possible.
"Ben, go to the Fort Bragg command center first, but I'll want you to get as close as possible,"
Brannigan, the helicopter pilot, told the fire apparatus engineer. Ben would drive the heli-tender carrying the fuel for the helicopter as well as extra stokes—the baskets they put the victim in—and everything else needed in emergencies. He would have to take the large truck over the mountainous route to reach Fort Bragg and it would take him at least an hour or more. The helicopter would be there in fourteen minutes.
Ben nodded and ran for his vehicle. The helicopter devoured fuel and they never went anywhere without the heli-tender.
The familiar rush of adrenaline coursed through Ty's body, making him feel alive again after living in his cave of a laboratory for so long. He needed this—the wild slam of his pulse, the adventure, even the camaraderie of the other firefighters. He took his place in the back of the helicopter with the other four firefighters, the captain and pilot up front. His helmet was fitted with a radio and the familiar checklist settled everyone down.
"Commo check," Brannigan said into his mike.
The crew chief answered, followed by each member of the team.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"ICS isolation," Brannigan announced.
In the back, Ty, along with the others, checked their communication box and turned off all radios to isolate themselves from all unnecessary chatter. During the rescue operation it was necessary nothing distracted them.
Sean Fortune, the crew chief, answered. "Isolated."
"Pilot is isolated except for channel twenty. All loose items in cabin."
"Secured," Sean answered.
Ty felt the familiar tightness in his stomach. He loved the danger and he craved the
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