ONE IN A BILLION

Accidentally Yours ~ Book 1

Excerpt

Of all the sights Mathilda Wheeler had expected—maybe some injured people, hopefully no dead ones—the last thing she’d pictured was a man standing in the middle of this high-end private jet holding a briefcase in one hand and what looked like a lunchbox in the other.

He looked…confused. And the briefcase didn’t really fit him, somehow. He wore all black—slacks and a black button-down shirt. He was going to absolutely roast once he exited the plane.

“Are you okay?” she asked cautiously. Maybe that briefcase held a weapon. The way he was holding it, she wouldn’t be surprised. “We heard you crash. Is anyone else onboard?”

“Who are you?”

Suspicious. Wary. What if there were drugs in that briefcase? Maybe this was a drug-running plane. Who knew what went on in this unfamiliar part of the jungle. She didn’t even know the half of it, she was sure.

“My name is Mathilda, and this is Robert.” She beckoned to Robert to step forward. As a six-foot-four native Hawaiian guy, his presence would add a layer of “don’t mess with us” to the conversation. “Like I said, we heard you crash. And you are…”

The man gave Robert a long look, his expression unreadable. “Where are we?” he asked. “Which island?”

“We’re on the northeast side of the Big Island. Where were you headed?”

“Not here, that’s for sure.” Looking suddenly exhausted, he rubbed the middle of his forehead with the heel of his hand. “So this is one of the seven valleys.”

Good. He had a general idea of Big Island geography. The seven deep valleys had been formed by erosion along the slopes of the Kohala volcano. They paraded up the windward coast, from the farthest south, Waipi’o, to Pololū at the northern tip of the island. Most of that territory was completely undeveloped jungle or native forest. The Nahele Research Camp didn’t count, since no one lived there long-term.

She loved this jungle with every bone in her body, but it could be daunting to those unfamiliar with its challenges.

“Correct. If you know that much, you know we’re nowhere close to any kind of town or emergency services. You’re lucky we heard you and were close enough to bushwhack here.”

He gave her a long scrutinizing glance, as if trying to determine if she was lying or not. That irritated her to no end. It had taken her and Robert well over an hour to machete their way through the jungle to this spot. And now he was acting like she had to prove something.

“Expensive plane you’ve got here.” She made a show of scanning the interior. The seats were upholstered in cream leather, with touches of chrome. Every inch of it screamed sleek and modern and pure luxury.

She was almost embarrassed to set foot inside, considering she was wearing her soft-sided hiking boots, loose work pants, and an oversized chambray shirt to protect herself from bugs. Should she change into a power suit? Or maybe a skimpy dress?

He shifted the briefcase to his other hand. Jeez, did he think she was going to grab it?

“Is that gold?” She gestured at a champagne bucket on wheels that had rolled down the aisle. Of course she knew it wasn’t real gold, and didn’t care anyway, but if this idiot thought she was after his stuff, she might as well go along with the bit.

“It’s not, but you’re welcome to it. Doesn’t everyone in the jungle need an ice bucket?” His wry tone made her give a double take, as it was the first sign of personality he’d shown.

Robert stepped from behind her, picked up the champagne bucket, which was set into a kind of stand, and glared at the man. She nearly burst out laughing at his expression. Robert could look very fearsome when he chose. And apparently he wanted that champagne bucket.

The man cleared his throat. “I might as well tell you two that I’m…well, let’s just say that people will be looking for me. Powerful people.”

“Are you on the run from the law?” she asked innocently, though she knew perfectly well that he meant he was a big-shot. “It’s a good place to hide out, so long as you don’t mind the bugs, or the menehune.”

“Mene—?” He broke off and shook his head. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. I’m not running from the law. My name is Lincoln Kerr and I head a multinational corporation. I’m expected on Maui, and the instant my plane is determined to be late, this place will be swarming with searchers.”

“Really? You think?” She shrugged. She’d heard of Lincoln Kerr. He was rumored to be looking for property on the islands to build one of those insane billionaire bunkers. She usually steered clear of guys like him, but it was two to one, after all. She might not look it, but she could fight. And fight dirty, if need be. In this jungle, she never went anywhere without her knife strapped to her thigh and her machete slung across her back.

“Okay, cool. Sounds like you’ve got your rescue all planned out. We’ll let you be then.”

“Thank you.” His stiff posture didn’t change.

She backed away toward the open cabin door. Robert climbed out first, then helped her jump back to the ground. The whole time, she expected Lincoln to change his mind, to call them back. But he didn’t.

Then, from outside, she saw something move in the cockpit. Was there someone else on the jet? Of course—there must have been a pilot. No way had Lincoln Kerr flown his own plane. Apparently billionaires didn’t care about what happened to their pilots.

She called through the open door. “Is there someone else here?” she asked Lincoln. “Someone injured, maybe?”

Lincoln didn’t answer, so she hoisted herself back onboard. “What is wrong with you?” she scolded him. “Just because not everyone is a billionaire like you doesn’t mean they aren’t worth helping. Jeez. That poor pilot. Is he injured? Or she?”

She made her way across the slanted floor into the cockpit. There, she found an unconscious man in one of the pilot’s seats. She crouched next to him. He was dressed pretty casually for a pilot, she thought. Did pilots usually wear thick, expensive hoodies with monograms?

“I gave him my sweater,” Lincoln explained, having followed after her. “I was worried he might go into shock. As far as I could tell, he has no injuries. I put him in this seat because there’s more space. I made sure his airway was clear and that he could breathe. But he’s been unconscious since we crashed. Do you have any first-responder training?”

“I have some knowledge.” Everyone on the research team was required to pass a basic first-aid course. “It sounds like you did everything right,” she added grudgingly. “Not bad, for a CEO.”

“I’ve watched my share of medical shows.” Lincoln flashed her a smile, then immediately retracted it. Like, it disappeared off his face in less than a second. He seemed awfully wary for a guy who had just survived a plane crash and was incredibly lucky that rescuers happened to be nearby.

“Look, dude. I promise we’re not here to strip all the chrome fittings out of your plane, or whatever you’re worried about. You can relax. We came to see if anyone needed help. There’s no cell service here, and I promise you that no one can see your plane from above the jungle. It’s either us or the wild boars. Your choice.”

She sat back on her heels and glared up at Lincoln Kerr. For a moment, she thought she’d made her point and he got it.

And then Robert had to interfere. He poked his head into the cockpit. “Is there maybe some kind of reward cause you’re a rich dude? Champagne bucket’s like a down payment?” He’d tucked it under his arm like an oversized gold-plated football.

Mathilda nearly burst out laughing at the expression on Lincoln’s face, as if he was regretting ever considering a trip to Hawaii. “We don’t need a reward.”

She shot Robert a glance to warn him away from any more jokes. He loved to tease. Then she reconsidered. Hell, this man had lots of money. They always needed lots of money.

“Although if you chose to make a donation to our research camp, we wouldn’t say no,” she said primly. “But that’s a different story that we can get into later on. We can transport your pilot here to our camp if you like. One of our current team is a medical doctor. She specializes in native medicinal plants, but she’s dealt with all kinds of situations since she’s been with us.”

“Healed my pinkie toe,” said Robert. “I broke it on some lava. The ancestors must have laughed.”

Lincoln looked between the two of them, clearly weighing his options. She could see it from his perspective—two random, machete-wielding, jungle-muddy strangers deserved some caution. She wouldn’t mind leaving the billionaire to find his own way out of trouble, but the poor pilot deserved her help.

“All right,” he finally said. “I think there’s a backboard we can use.”

A backboard. Again, odd that he would know about such a thing. Even odder that he knew exactly where it was, in a compartment packed with a defibrillator, an oxygen tank, and a few other pieces of equipment she didn’t recognize.

He must have noticed her quizzical expression, because he said, “This plane cost me nine million dollars. Of course I know everything about it.”

“Really? I bet you don’t even know the pilot’s name.”

“Rory Baker,” he said instantly. “Age thirty-one, lives in Silver Lake, Los Angeles, the best pilot on the West Coast.” He dug out the backboard and handed it to her.

“You hire only the best, is that it?”

“You know me so well.” Again, that dry sense of humor had her doing a double take. “He’s also extremely popular with women, so don’t go falling in love.”

“But unconscious men are impossible to resist. They’re so much less annoying than the conscious ones.”

He snorted as he poked around in the compartment. “Cute. Funny. Do we need anything else from in here?”

“Is there a neck brace?”

“There’s everything. I—Rory advised me to keep the plane fully stocked with emergency supplies. I always listen to Rory.”

She caught an undertone in his voice that she didn’t quite understand. As if he was laughing at some private joke. “I don’t know, I have a feeling Rory isn’t all he’s cracked up to be. He did crash your plane, after all.”

“That wasn’t his fault,” he said quickly. “There was a storm.”

“Okay. No need to get so defensive. We caught the storm too. We had to wait it out under a breadfruit tree.” She’d quite enjoyed watching the intense torrents of rain drench the vines and ancient mangoes and African tulip trees—which were invasive, so she disliked them on principle, but enjoyed them on an aesthetic level.

He extracted himself from the compartment, a padded neck brace in hand. “Rough one, right?”

“Sure.” Storms like that came through here all the time, but she didn’t know what it was like to fly through them. “I’m sure your pilot did the best he could, poor thing.”

She didn’t understand why he set his jaw in that way. Wasn’t she agreeing with him?