Thomas

There was a sparse crowd at the beach, held back by barricades and some bored looking security guards. Rick was at one end, and I moseyed over to him. He had binoculars and a grin which meant he wasn't holding a grudge and I appreciated that.

"Not a huge turnout, but check out the babes!" he enthused, pointing to an area with a few palm trees. Yep, several women in bikinis, standing around and occasionally waving to the crowd. I . . . could see the reason for the barricade.

"More than one Golden Doll then," I commented.

"Yep," Rick nodded. "Goes across the board. It's got . . ."

"Broad appeal," I winced at myself while Rick snickered.

"Daisy's on the other side of the tree," he pointed out. "Wearing a tarp. I guess she's waiting for her ride."

"TC could have done it."

"Nah, he's not cleared for stunt work," Rick reminded me. "And doesn't wanna be. Too many flashbacks."

We both were quiet for a minute. It's one of those ties that none of the three of us have to say much about, but we all understand it. Some things just won't ever be the same in our lives thanks to what we'd been through during the war. All of us had our hidden flinches, that's for sure.

We both heard the chopper at the same time and looked up. Coming in from the north was a Bell 206, done up in the colors of a bottle of Golden Doll suntan lotion. It circled and came down in the center of the blocked off parking lot, kicking up some sand but looking impressive just the same.

"She told me it's a one-shot," Rick spoke up. "Only have one chance to hit the target . . . that big banner thing out there," he waved to the water, and I saw the huge rectangle floating on the water, held in place by a few buoys. "Breakaway," Rick clarified. "Should be good."

"Huh," I replied because I was busy scanning the crowd. Tourists mostly, a few kids and some reporters lurking around along with the usual beach goers. Nobody looked out of place, so I watched Daisy being led to the helicopter as the other Golden Dolls were directed to various points on the beach. A couple were supposed to be playing volleyball, while another was tanning herself and two others were floating on surfboards.

"Man that blonde is hot," Rick muttered.

Out of solidarity, I considered her and gave a shrug, but went back to watching as Daisy took some last-minute instructions and then climbed into the helicopter. Someone with a bullhorn started directing the crowd to move back a little, and I watched the cameramen get to work. Two were focused on the beach scenes and one was in position to film the helicopter—pretty standard stuff, I guess.

The copter circled around, and as I watched, it rocked a little. That bothered me because there wasn't any wind at the moment—no gusts or breeze so I kept my eye on it, waiting for it to swing out over the water towards the target. It rocked again, and this time I pulled the binoculars out of Rick's hands, using them to peer at the copter.

"Hey!" Rick protested, but when he looked up, his protest died. "Shit. What's going on?"

"I don't know," I admitted, "but it's not part of the commercial."

By now that sense of unease was rippling through the crowd, and over the bullhorn I heard the director shouting.
"Davis! What the hell is going on?"

Of course, neither Rick nor I could hear what the reply was, but overhead the chopper was rocking a bit more. I saw the door slide open. Figures were moving and as I focused the lenses, I saw the flash of gold that had to be Daisy. She was struggling with someone, just as I realized who it had to be.

Shit.

I had a few options, none of them good. The fight went on for a few seconds more, and then I saw her leap out in a streak of gold, spinning as she dropped down into the water, hitting the target and pulling it free from the buoys holding it in place. I shoved the binoculars at Rick. "Keep an eye on it! Call the police!" I ordered over my shoulder and took off for the water.

People were applauding and the director was arguing with his cameraman as I sprinted past them and dove into the water, swimming out to where I'd last seen Daisy. The tail ends of the target were drifting by me, so I grabbed one and pulled, hoping it would bring her to me.

I realized how dangerous it was. A weight hitting the tarp would sink it, but it would wrap around whatever had hit it if it didn't break away and I didn't know if it had or not. If it had, Daisy would be fine. If it hadn't, she'd be wrapped in plastic and would drown.

And of course, I cursed myself for being careless. I'd guessed Isaac might be in the audience, but I hadn't even considered he'd try to hijack the helicopter. Normal people wouldn't, but a stalker's infatuation can drive them to do things the rest of us never even think of. I just hoped Daisy was all right.

The plastic was heavy, and I pulled harder, trying to call her name as I treaded water. After a few seconds I saw her head bob up, her hair plastered to her skull as she gasped for air. "The hell? What are you doing?"

"Making sure you don't drown!" I called back and reeled the plastic in, hand over hand, pulling her to me. She didn't struggle, and when Daisy reached me, she flinched.

"Shoulder's dislocated," she informed me, using only one hand to tread water. I could see that her right arm hung uselessly at her side. "Shit, yeah, I forgot how much this hurts. Can you . . ."

"Hang on." I rolled her onto her back, slipped an arm down her spine and towed her in, trying to keep her from moving too much. I got her to the shallows and a couple of guys waded in, lifting her out and carrying her to shore.

Rick came over and shot me a worried look. "Chopper took off, but the PD are after it—can't go far I suppose. Geez, you okay, Thomas?"

"Wet, but fine," I sighed as I wiped my face. "Let's see about Daisy."

Daisy

I was not happy, no indeed. I had already been a little nervous about the jump, so finding that Isaac had stowed away on the helicopter really freaked me out. He slithered out from the back, staring at me with that little smile of his, holding the gun carelessly as he spoke.

"You've been avoiding me, Pet. Not a wise thing to do."

"Who the hell—you're not authorized to be on this bird, buddy! Ace! It's Ned. We've got a problem up here!" the pilot yelled into his mic. I backed up from Isaac, keeping an eye on the gun. The copter wasn't big and a bullet would do a lot of damage this close.

Isaac pointed the gun—not at me, but at the pilot. "Stop," he told him. "We're going to head north, or I put a hole in the windshield and make things bad for all of us."

It was his tone that got to me— all matter of fact. Isaac meant it. I think the pilot realized it too because he hesitated before setting the mic down again.

"No man, you don't want to do that," the pilot called over his shoulder. "I don't want trouble. None of us do."

I lashed out my foot, hitting Isaac hard at the knee the way I'd been taught in self-defense class and hit him over the head with the Golden Doll bottle I had in my hand, clocking him good. He slammed against the door latch, and suddenly it slid open, bringing in a huge gust. Isaac lashed back, grabbing my shoulder and wrenching it HARD, but the gold paint all over me was pretty slick, and I slipped out of his fingers before he could tighten his grip.

Off-balance now, I felt myself begin to fall out of the helicopter.

Muscle memory saved me. Instinctively I shifted to drop position, still holding the bottle, and forced myself to relax, hoping like hell we hadn't been too high up. I plunged down and before I hit, I could see I was pretty close to center. Not bad!

Unfortunately, I wasn't quite heavy enough to rip the tarp, so it immediately closed around me like the petals of some huge flower. I dropped the bottle and started to claw at the plastic; my shoulder let me know it was NOT going to put up with that and I fought a yell, finally reaching the surface and gasping as I pushed folds of the tarp out of my face.

And Thomas was right there. Soaking wet, looking pissed as hell but there. I couldn't believe it. I realized he must have been in the crowd, watching the filming and more than that, he must have seen the problems with the helicopter because here he was, treading water and staring at me.

My shoulder was killing me and the adrenaline was making me almost hyper at this point so I yelled at him. "The hell? What are you doing here!"

"Making sure you don't drown!" he yelled back, and I would have argued a bit more, but another surge of pain flared through me and I couldn't hide my wince when Thomas reeled me in via the plastic.

I told him about my shoulder, and he went into action. Yeah, I could tell he'd been a SEAL with the way he got me set up and then towed me in. By the time the stunt team waded out for me, I was close to blacking out and I barely remember the ambulance ride to the Queen's Medical Center at all.

When I woke up, it was late afternoon, and my shoulder was blissfully numb. The call button brought one of the nurses, who checked my pulse and blood pressure, lightly reassuring me that my shoulder hadn't required surgery, but I was to keep my arm in a sling for a few weeks to let it heal up. I knew the routine and nodded, yawning.

I wondered about the commercial. I wondered about Isaac and the helicopter. I wondered if Higgins would have my bags packed and waiting out on the porch of Robin's Nest. Melancholy hit and I tried not to give into it but that was tough. At best Golden Doll would claim I'd jeopardized the stunt and not pay me, which would suck but I could manage. But if they sued me though, I'd probably lose and lose big.

They were a national brand after all.

These were not cheery thoughts, but I was at a low ebb and honestly, that's when they get you. Right when you don't have the strength to push them away.

I heard footsteps coming down the hall and looked up when they slowed at my door, glad for the distraction. Even a blood draw would be welcome at this point.

It was Higgins.