When the Storm Comes Down

© 1999 by Ladyhawke

Fandom: Air America

Pairing

Rating

Disclaimers: Wiley Ferrell, Alison Stratton, Rio Arnett, Edward Furman, Jenner, Dominique and Pablo aren't mine. They belong to Pearson TV and whoever else makes Air America. I'm just borrowing them for a little fun and I'll give 'em back to you unharmed. Promise. Although if Wiley's covered in frosting, I didn't do it. *smirk*

Jessie O'Shea and all other characters are mine and may not be used without permission (but if ya ask nicely, I'll probably let you).

Do not archive. When I get time, it will be archived at my site.

When the Storm Comes Down
© 1999 by Ladyhawke
*****

"We're beginning our final approach to Costa Perdida, so please return your seats, tray tables and flight attendants to their upright position. It's a sunny 85 degrees down there, and we'll be on the ground shortly, but it may be a little bumpy. Those ocean winds are a little strong today." With the audible pop of the intercom being turned off, the pilot's voice vanished.

*Terrific. A rough landing to go with all the turbulence in the air and the bluster from the cockpit. Can my day possibly get any better?* Jessie thought, rolling her eyes and reaching for her carry-on bag. She had planned on sleeping during the flight to Buenaventura but between the ceaseless patter from the pilot and the roar of the engines had made it impossible. Oh well, not much she could do about it now.

As the plane taxied toward the small hangar, the pilot came back on the intercom. "Those of you staying at the Hotel Parador, a shuttle will take you to your destination. And don't forget, tips are gratefully accepted."

A wicked thought crossed Jessie's mind. She dug for a notepad and a pen, scribbled something, then tore out one of the pages. She folded it up as the plane came to a halt and the pilot and ground crew — make that ground *man* — began opening the door and preparing for everyone to debark.

While the passengers made their way off, Alison Stratton's silver sports car roared into the hanger's dirt parking lot and she quickly climbed out, raising a hand to shield her eyes. She scrutinized the passengers, who were poking through the luggage being stacked by a young local- looking man, maybe 17 or 18 years old. Nothing like a crisis at the hotel to make her late to meet a new staff member, a replacement for the staff nurse who had left three months ago. Not spying anyone who looked like the description she had been given, she crossed her arms and leaned against her car, content to wait for a moment and pester Wiley Ferrell later as necessary.

Nearing the plane's entrance, Jessie was greeted to the sight of the pilot standing a few feet away, a glass jar labeled "Tips for Wiley" in his hands. He was well tanned with blonde highlights in his brown hair, and clad in khaki shorts, shades and an obnoxious blue, brown, orange and white Hawaiian shirt hanging over a white T-shirt. He reached for her hand to help her down the none- too-steady stairs.

"Thank you," he said as she dropped her note, wrapped in a dollar bill, into the jar. "So are you staying at the Parador?" he asked, turning on the old Wiley charm and not releasing her hand.

"You could say that," Jessie replied, desperately fighting back mirth that threatened to explode. *Must be a shortage of women around here ... I'm barely on the ground and someone's already trying to pick me up.*

He smiled, dimples magically appearing. "Great. Maybe we could get together for drinks, dinner perhaps?"

"We'll see," she said, peripherally spying a woman in a bright red sun dress heading toward them. She withdrew her hand from Wiley's and turned toward the woman.

"Jessica O'Shea?" Alison asked.

"That's me," Jessie replied with a smile, extending her hand.

"Alison Stratton. It's so nice to finally meet you." The two women shook hands. Alison mentally slugged Wiley, who was noting the exchange with interest. She could almost hear the wheels turning in his mind. "Shall we?" she said, gesturing to her car.

Jessie nodded and moved toward it. Alison followed a couple steps behind, shooting a glare at Wiley as she went. He held out his arms in a "Who, me?" gesture, looking at her innocently over the rim of his sunglasses before chuckling. Then he noticed the slip of paper in the jar and fished through the greenbacks for it. *Someone's room number, perhaps?* he thought wickedly. He set the jar on the ground between his feet and opened the paper, then glared at the swiftly departing silver car and the smirking face surrounded by honey blonde hair.

Written in an elegant hand was "Too many ugly curtains died to make that shirt."

*****

"That pilot's quite a character, isn't he?" Jessie said, still chuckling from the look Wiley had given her as Alison drove away.

"Three or four of them, actually," Alison quipped. "He's pretty harmless, and really a nice guy ..."

"But ... ?"

"But a little wild. Occasionally drinks a bit too much at the bar. Hits on anything female, so be wary."

Jessie laughed. "He wastes no time either." Alison shot her a questioning glance. "I barely got one foot on the tarmac before he was inviting me out for drinks and/or dinner."

When their laughter subsided, Alison said, "Your things arrived yesterday, so I had them put in your room. But we need to do some paperwork before you get started settling in. And a tour of the place might help, too."

"I need to check out supplies and my office as well, make sure there's enough of everything. What kind of medical problems do you have at the hotel? You said there really weren't too many incidents when we talked on the phone."

"It's more staff problems than anything — a cook with a burn or a cut, one of the maintenance men fell off a ladder one time, that kind of thing. Occasionally some of the guests have gotten very nasty sunburns, or stung by a jellyfish in the ocean. A couple of people managed to get tossed down at the stables, but there's really nothing too serious. Actually, you'll probably spend most of your time on the guys."

"The guys?" Jessie crooked an eyebrow.

"You've already met Wiley Ferrell. He and his partner-slash-boss, Rio, tend to get into some nasty scrapes," Alison said.

"Now why doesn't that surprise me?" Jessie said with a laugh.

(2)

"So you're the hotel's new nurse," Wiley said, two fruity tropical drinks in his hands as he plopped uninvited into a chair opposite the pool side table where Jessie sat poring over a pile of papers.

She bit back a smile and surreptitiously consulted her watch. *He's faster than I thought. Only took three hours to find me.* "Yes, I am," she said, dropping her pen and extending her hand. "Jessie O'Shea."

"Wiley Ferrell."

"So I've heard," she replied with a hint of a smirk.

Wiley rolled his eyes. "Has Alison been telling stories about me again?"

"Would do something like that?" Alison said sweetly as she came up behind the blond pilot.

"Yes," Wiley said indignantly before breaking into laughter.

"Just try not to make her work too hard on you and Rio, OK?" Alison said, giving Jessie a wink before heading to the bar to make sure it was adequately stocked.

"Hey, not our fault people enjoy shooting at us ... " Wiley muttered, taking a sip of one of the drinks.

"Shoot at you? Rough neighborhood ... " Jessie said, testing her own drink. *Mmmm* ... Pineapple, orange and something or other juice, frozen and slushy.

"Rough neighborhood, rough town, rough country. Alison didn't tell you about the dark side of Buenaventura?"

"She didn't need to. I checked it out before I made any commitments. And it's not like the guerilla warfare around here doesn't make the national news on occasion."

The two sat for awhile, Wiley doing most of the talking, telling her about the hotel, the country and the few guerillas near the hotel. Most of the time the guerillas left the Parador alone as long as they were left alone, but a few groups were openly hostile to vacationers and the resort.

*Shoulda known,* Rio thought as he headed for the table where his partner sat, probably trying to seduce the woman he was with. *Where else would he be?*

"Wiley," he said, dropping a hand onto his partner's shoulder.

"Rio," Wiley acknowledged, not even having to look at the source of the voice. "I'd like you to meet Jessie O'Shea, the new staff nurse around here. Jessie, Rio Arnett, my boss."

"Hi," Jessie said.

"Nice to meet you. Um, I hate to break up the party, but we've got some business to attend to, Wiley."

Wiley sighed in mock annoyance. "Ah, duty calls," he said regretfully as he pushed back his chair.

Jessie chuckled. "Thanks for the drink."

"Anytime."

*****

*Not a bad place,* Jessie thought, closing her eyes and sinking deeper into the scented water, generously piled with bubbles. Her "room" was actually a suite — and a large one at that, much bigger than all of the other rooms for the staff. Then again, none of the other staff members were on call 24-7. The lower level was her office. An exam table was in the center of the living room, with cabinets of supplies along one wall. A kitchenette area and small bathroom opened off of it, and a short hallway lead to a sparse bedroom with two beds. Upstairs was the main sleeping area, which was about the size of a normal studio apartment, and a larger bathroom, complete with whirlpool tub. The whole area was open so she could instantly see the main downstairs area for when people walked in.

The heat and the long day combined to lull her into a doze, until the phone's ringing pulled her back into wakefulness. She grabbed the cordless phone from the closed toilet seat, within easy reach of the bathtub where she was soaking.

"Hello?"

"Jessie?"

"Wiley? Dare I ask why you're calling me this late?"

"Well, not to rush you into your new job, but Rio and I ran into a couple of those guerillas I was telling you about ... "

"And you need a test drive of the medical skills, huh?"

"Yeah, that about sums it up."

"Room 1121. If I don't answer the door immediately, give me a minute."

"We'll be there soon." The line went dead.

Jessie sighed, then hauled herself out of the scented bubbly water. After toweling off, she started yanking open boxes in the bedroom. She hadn't located very many of her clothes yet and the ones she had been wearing earlier were a little rank from her unpacking. Three boxes down she came
across her sleepwear. She grabbed an oversized T-shirt and a pair of boxers and began yanking them on as she heard a knock at the door. "Hang on," she muttered, weaving through the maze of boxes and down the stairs.

She yanked the door open, then nearly gasped aloud, snapping her mouth shut at the last instant. "I don't really want to know what happened to you two, do I?" she said as they came in, Rio leaning heavily on Wiley. Both of them were cut and bloody, bruises already forming and eyes swelling shut.

"Not really," they muttered in unison, staggering in. Rio was limping noticeably while Wiley held the arm Rio wasn't leaning on protectively near his ribs. Neither one was too steady on his feet.

With only minor difficulty, Jessie and Wiley managed to get Rio up on the exam table, then Jessie moved some boxes off a chair for Wiley before heading for the kitchen to get a couple of ice packs.

"One for you," she said, dropping one into Wiley's outstretched hand. He promptly held it against his purpling left eye, and slumped against the wall behind the low-backed chair. "And one for you." She handed one to Rio then began appraising him. She glanced at Wiley for a moment. "Which one of you drove?"

"I did," Wiley answered, his eyes closed.

She came to stand directly in front of him. "Keys," she ordered, holding out her hand.

"Huh?" Wiley said, managing to get one eye open and focused on a spot somewhere near her.

"Keys. As in give them to me. You both are staying here tonight." When Wiley drew in a breath to protest, she cut him off. "You both likely have concussions, and even if you don't, you can't see to walk straight, let alone drive in the dark. Give me the car keys."

He grumbled but fished them out of his pocket, dropping them in her hand with a jingle.

She turned back to Rio. "What hurts most?"

"His pride ... " Wiley muttered.

"Ankle," Rio said, then winced as she began prodding it carefully.

An hour later, she stripped off the latex gloves and dropped them in the biohazard trash can. "Well, Rio, you have a lovely concussion to go with the gash in your forehead and the sprained ankle. You're not flying anytime soon."

Rio nodded, then carefully got to his feet so she could help him get to the small bedroom. "On the table, Wiley. You're next," she said over her shoulder.

After Rio was settled, ice pack resting on his ankle, she returned to find Wiley perched on the table as instructed, one arm still protectively near his ribs. After snapping on another pair of gloves, she flashed her penlight into his eyes. "How ya feeling?"

"My brain's trying to leap out my forehead and my stomach's thinking about staging a revolt."

"Yep, second concussion of the night," she said.

"Yeah, I thought so. I'm also seeing three or four of you, which could be a good thing in the right situation ... "

She glared at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Whoa, Stare of Death. Do you freeze water with that look?"

Jessie began prodding the gash on the side of his neck, poking it a bit harder than necessary and prompting a small yelp from Wiley. But he took the hint and shut up. "I don't think that needs stitches," she said reaching for the bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

"Uh-uh, no way, get that thing away from me," Wiley said, pulling away from her as far as he could. "No peroxide."

"Why not? You use enough of it on your hair." She doused a cotton ball and began daubing at the cut, which promptly whitened from the fizzing bubbles. He hissed at the sting.

"OK, which hurts, the ribs or the arm?" she said as she kept daubing at other minor cuts and scrapes on his arms and face.

"Neither."

"Liar. Lose the shirt."

He started to protest and she glared at him again. He glared right back for a long moment, arms folded over his chest, then finally looked away with an exasperated sigh, reaching for the hem of the tank top.

*Be professional!* Jessie ordered herself at the same time another part of her brain began drooling. Wiley Ferrell was apparently no slacker at the gym. *And that would be the understatement of the year.*

She carefully began prodding Wiley's rib cage, noting the bruising areas and the spots that caused him to wince. "Well, guess what?" she said when she finished.

"I have a clean bill of health?" he asked hopefully.

"Yeah, right. I think a couple of your ribs are cracked, but I can't tell for sure without an X-ray."

Wiley growled something under his breath. "So now what?"

"Now you're going to hurt like hell for a week or so and try not to do heavy lifting and so forth. Raise your arms." She began bandaging his rib cage.

He growled again in irritation, then quickly hopped off the table when she finished. "Is that all?"

"Yep. Bed's in there," she said, gesturing to the room where Rio was already asleep.

"You're not going to tuck me in?" Wiley the Flirt was back, a big grin splitting his face.

She chuckled. "Not on your life, buster. Now scoot," she said, cleaning up the exam area.

(3)

"Rise and shine!"

A rather familiar voice cut through the swiftly receding remnants of Jessie's dream. She groaned and pulled the pillow over her head, not bothering to check the clock. It was too damn early. That was all she needed to know. *Maybe they'll just leave ...*

"If you're not down here soon, I'm coming up after you. You hid the keys too well ... " Wiley bellowed.

She cursed, then pulled the pillow away and sat up. "All right, all right, hang on." She hauled herself into a semblance of being vertical and stumbled for the bathroom, snagging a pair of jeans and a T-shirt on the way. She splashed some water on her face and dried it slowly, still groggy. Pulling on the clothes and yanking a brush through her hair before pulling it back into a ponytail, she headed down the stairs. "You guys probably want a ride, huh?"

"Morning, sunshine," Wiley said. He was seated backwards on one of the chairs, arms folded over the seat back and his chin propped on his arms.

Jessie glanced at the clock on the wall. "While 5:30 does qualify as the crack of dawn, it doesn't count as morning."

"You know, Rio, I don't think she's a morning person," Wiley said.

"Brilliant deduction, Sherlock," Jessie snapped, opening the door to the fridge. *Caffeine ... must have caffeine.* She dug out a can of Dr Pepper and cracked it open. After a few long swallows she set the can on the counter with a bang, then appraised the two men. "How are you guys feeling?" The bruises weren't much better. Both of the guys looked like the receiving end of a few swings from Mike Tyson.

"Well, I can walk on the ankle, so that's an improvement," Rio said.

"Correction. You can *hobble* on the ankle," Wiley said with a grin. Rio rolled his eyes. "My ribs hurt," Wiley continued, ignoring Rio.

"I told you they would. How's the vision?"

"Well, there's only two of you ... "

Jessie snickered. "Rio?"

He shrugged. "Let's just say I've felt better."

She dug the keys to the Air America jeep out of her pocket. "All right, let's get you two back to the airfield. But no flying, no driving, no operating heavy machinery and no drinking — " she cast a pointed look in Wiley's direction " — for a week."

Wiley gave her an innocent *Who, me?* look before commenting, "So what you mean is no having fun for a week."

"I'm sure you'll find a way to amuse yourself," she said, holding the door to her room open.

"No doubt about it," Rio said, a laugh creeping into his voice. "But will he manage to stay out of jail is the question."

"Hey! I resemble that remark ... "

*****

Wiley did manage to stay out of jail during that week and both men remained semi-healthy for the better part of two months, although they usually appeared on the infirmary's doorstep once a week for ice packs and stitches. After stitching Wiley's forehead back together, she cleaned up, then turned to face the two men, leaning against the exam table, her arms crossed. "Answer something for me, you two."

"Whatcha need?" Rio asked.

"What do you guys *really* do for a living?"

"We sell Avon," Wiley smirked. Jessie favored him with the Stare of Death, then glanced at Rio.

An uneasy silence descended. Rio looked at Wiley. Wiley looked at Rio. *Should we tell her?*

"Wait a minute," Jessie said. "Is it one of those ‘I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you' things?"

Both men immediately looked relieved. "Kind of," Rio said. Wiley nodded in agreement. Rio inhaled, ready to give a bit more of an explanation, but Jessie held up both hands.

"Never mind, don't tell me, I don't wanna know," she said. "But you guys *are* more than just a couple of pilots, right?"

"You could say that," Wiley said.

"OK. Just checking. It seemed a little odd that I've patched you two up so many times that I'm surprised you don't look like quilts," she said with a wink. Both men dissolved in laughter.

"Actually, I also need a favor," Jessie said once the laughter had subsided to the occasional chuckle. "I need a ride into town and back."

Wiley lightly smacked Rio on the arm. "Tag, you're it."

As the jeep roared toward the little village, Rio asked, "So what's in town?"

"Well, I'm also a nurse-midwife. The sister of one of the bellboys is expecting a baby and he wanted me to check on her. He said she's been having labor pains, but she's not due for another month or so."

"Is there anything you don't do?" Rio said with a grin.

"Um ... rocket science?" She returned the grin as he stopped the vehicle outside a dingy house. "This won't take long."

*****

Two weeks later

Jessie raced for the air field, her medical supplies in a backpack bouncing behind her. "Rio! Wiley!" she yelled as she neared the hanger. The jeep was parked out front — a good sign someone was here.

"Whoa, where's the fire?" Wiley said, spying her as he rounded the nose of a plane, a wrench in his hand.

"Are you really really busy?" she asked, coming to a halt and trying to recover her breath. It was a heck of a sprint from the hotel. "Like do you have time to drive me into town?" A dark-haired boy, about 10 years old, finally had caught up with her.

"Is it an emergency?" Wiley said, eyeing the boy quizzically.

"The baby's coming!" the boy cried. "Mama needs Jessie!"

"That would be a yes," Wiley said, tossing the wrench back into the pile of tools and wiping his hands on a oily rag pulled from his back pocket. "Get in the jeep, I'll be back in a sec."

*****

"Do you need me to stay?" Wiley said when they pulled up in front of the house.

Pedro, the boy, leaped from the back of the jeep and took off for the front door. "Mama! Ella está aquí!" he yelled.

"You any good at baby-sitting?" she asked.

"Well, my sister always pawns her munchkins off on me whenever I go home to visit, so I guess so."

"Good. Pedro's got three younger brothers and sisters who I need out of my hair for a while."

"No problem."

After much sweating, waiting and howling, the little girl was born near dawn with a full head of black hair and a healthy set of lungs. Thankfully, the four other children had stayed the night at their aunt's house nearby. Amid near-constant but exhausted thank-yous from the parents, Jessie
slipped out the door and headed for the jeep.

Snoring slightly, Wiley was sprawled across the front seats of the vehicle, his head resting against the driver's side door, feet propped on the opposite door. Jessie restrained the urge to bang on the door and startle him awake. She settled for tousling his hair. "Wake up, time to go."

"Mmph, what?" he mumbled, blinking sleepily as he yawned and stretched. "Oh. How'd it go?" He sat up and fumbled around for the keys.

"It's a girl. I'm surprised she didn't wake you up."

The trip back to the Parador started out quiet enough — Jessie was fighting to stay awake until she got home and took a shower and Wiley, for once, ceased his chatter. Quiet until they came to a dead tree blocking the roadway.

"Terrific," Wiley growled as he brought the car to a halt. He left it in park while he climbed out to examine the tree, see if there was enough room to bypass it on one side or the other.

The sudden sound of a gun being cocked yanked his attention back to the jeep, where a dozen men dressed in camouflage surrounded the vehicle, their weapons trained either on him or on Jessie.

"Uh oh ... " he muttered.

(4)

A hard shove to his shoulder sent Wiley to the floor. He managed to catch himself with his hands, but he was so weak that his arms didn't hold him. He thudded face first into the rough wood. Another kick to the ribs — he had lost count of how many that made — flopped him over onto his back. His tormentor's face swam above him momentarily before the door to the room slammed shut.

He lay still for a moment, blinking, trying to get something — anything — to come into focus, which was rather difficult the way his face was swelling. Before the dizzy fog that had surrounded him for the past several hours had time to abate, the door swung open again. A shadow was pushed into the room and the door slammed again. The shadow landed beside him with a thump and a whimper, narrowly missing landing on him.

It took him three tries, but he rolled onto one side, wincing as his ribs reminded him they were broken. Despite being tangled and matted with blood, Wiley instantly recognized the honey-blonde hair that obscured the woman's face.

He willed his hand to reach for her, to brush the hair back. "Jess?"

At the first gentle touch, she suddenly moved, managing to pull herself semi-upright and scramble away from him. "Don't touch me!" she choked out, hysteria mingling with fear in her voice.

"OK, hey, no problem," Wiley said, forcing himself into a sitting position despite the objections from his body. He scooted back from the door but made no move toward Jessie. She had clasped her knees to her chest and buried her face in her arms.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "It's not you. I just ... " She trailed off.

"What'd they do to you, Jessie?" he asked quietly.

She raised her head and fixed him with a heartbreaking look. "You tell me. What's the favorite way for men to celebrate with captive women?" Her head sank back down onto her arms.

It took Wiley's pain-fogged brain a moment to comprehend what she meant. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry ... "

She sighed. "I don't think there's much you could have done anyway. You look like the only thing keeping you conscious is sheer willpower."

"That's about the size of it. That was one of the more creative beatings I've had recently," he said, slumping back down to a prone position and stifling a groan. "And more painful," he amended.

"You've actually gone through this before?" she said in disbelief. "Oh, wait, you're not just a pilot. Never mind."

He managed a tiny chuckle. "Well, in addition to being 'not just a pilot,' I also used to be a Navy SEAL."

"Oh." After a moment, she said, "We're in big trouble, aren't we?"

"I don't know, Jessie," he said with a sigh. "I just don't know."

*****

*We've really got to stop meeting like this,* Wiley thought as he landed face-first on the floor again, and impact sending jagged shards of pain through his jaw and skull. His knee howled as it smacked against the floor, absorbing a good portion of his weight as he fell.

He stayed where he fell, too exhausted and weak to move. *Rio, where the hell are you?* The first moment he had been out of sight of the guards, Wiley had activated the transmitter on his watch, hoping Rio would have the receiver on and start tracking them. Surely by now Rio would have figured out that Wiley wasn't off on one of his decadent sojourns that he sometimes went on with whatever willing female he could find.

He couldn't be sure, but Wiley thought he and Jessie had been in the guerrilla camp for three days now. The beatings were administered at least two times a day and possibly three. Getting run over by a Mack truck had to feel better than what he had been forced to endure. And it didn't help that he was being plagued by guilt at Jessie being beaten and raped.

At the feel of tentative fingers touching his hair, Wiley jumped. He hadn't realized Jessie was in the tiny cell they had been confined to.

His startled reaction had prompted a similar one from Jessie, who snatched her hand back. "Sorry," she said automatically. "I was afraid you were ... " she swallowed, but didn't finish the thought.

"Don't be. I didn't mean to scare you. I'm too tough to die anyway." Wiley slowly managed to roll over onto his back, his head coming to rest against her leg.

A smile flitted across her face briefly. "Why are we here, Wiley?" she asked quietly. Her fingers tentatively reached for his hair again, brushing a stray lock back from his forehead.

"Rio and I had a run-in with them about a year ago. Apparently they aren't real happy we killed their leader."

"Mmm."

They sat in silence for awhile, Wiley shifting so his head now rested on her thigh. He knew she was still skittish about contact, but she seemed better than the first day, and he had some unexplainable need to be near her. In the midst of the unending pain, her gentle touch was a tiny spark of comfort.

He must have dozed a bit, but the sound of a shout followed by a muffled thump brought him awake instantly. He sat up quickly and remembered too late that he had taken a few too many blows to the head. The world tilted, then slowly righted.

"What was — " Jessie began.

"Shh," he whispered, placing a finger over her lips. "Just stay close to me, don't say anything and do whatever I say with no questions asked. OK?"

She nodded, then followed his lead and got to her feet. Wiley stiffly moved to the door, staying to the side nearest the hinges, so the opening door would shield them as much as possible should someone come in with guns blazing.

Suddenly the cracks of light between the door and its frame vanished as the light outside was shut off. Jessie raised her hand and touched Wiley's arm so as not to lose in the pitch black darkness.

>From outside the door came a whistle. *Hallelujah,* Wiley thought as he returned the whistle.

"Coyote?" came a harsh whisper through the door.

"Affirmative," Wiley whispered back.

A slight scraping indicated the bolt was being drawn back, then the door swung inward slowly. Rio Arnett stepped in and pushed the door nearly shut behind him. "You all right?" he whispered, handing something bulky to Wiley.

"I will be once we get out of here," he replied. A couple of clicks echoed loudly in the sparse room as he checked his weapon, making sure it was loaded and the safety was off. "What's the plan, Stan?"

"In exactly 90 seconds, a chopper will hover above the courtyard of this place. They'll drop a ladder, wait 15 seconds, then pull away."

"We've got to be on that ladder."

"Yup. So let's get moving."

"Jess, stay between Rio and me," Wiley said as Rio eased the door open and scanned the hallway for guerrillas.

The trio slipped down the hallway, Rio checking around each corner before rounding it, Wiley keeping an eye on their back. Gunfire met Rio once, but he quickly dropped the shooter with a few shots. They crept outside and ducked behind a stone wall to await the chopper's arrival, its whirring blades signaling that it was close.

Rio leaned close to Jessie and whispered in her ear. "When the ladder drops, you and I will go first. Climb up a few rungs, then weave your arms through them and hang on. I'll be right behind you. When we get clear of the shooting, they'll pull us up. Got it?"

She nodded.

A clatter drew their attention as the bottom couple rungs bounced on the stone courtyard. "Go!" Rio whispered, pulling her along after him. Gunfire immediately exploded all around them, sending puffs and dirt and shards of stone up around them. Rio promptly began returning fire, still running for the ladder. Wiley popped up from behind the wall and started picking off shooters as best he could in the darkness.

As soon as Jessie climbed up a few rungs and secured her arms, the ladder sagged. A well-tanned arm snaked around her waist and wove itself through the rungs, pinning her between the ladder and Rio.

A moment later, Wiley appeared on the other side of the ladder. As soon as his feet found a rung, he yelled, "GO, GO, GO!!!" The now-swinging ladder lurched as the helicopter pulled away.

Shots continued to fill the air around them, and the two men continued returning fire, both hanging on to the ladder one-armed. *Like a couple of monkeys,* Jessie thought wildly, realizing she was hovering on hysteria. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that when she took the job in Costa Perdida that she would end up sandwiched between two men swinging on a ladder from a helicopter. It was just too surreal.

A shudder and a grunt from Rio snapped her back to where she was as the ladder lurched again, a split second before she felt her outer right thigh burning. A bullet whined past, then the ladder began to twist to one side as all of Rio's weight suddenly sagged against her.

"Rio?!?" Wiley yelled.

"I think he's been shot," Jessie yelled back, as the sudden weight began pulling her fingers from their grasp.

End part 4