by Dara Girard
Daniella tilted her head to the side and studied her friend. “You never liked him.”
It was a rhetorical comment, but Sophia answered anyway. “No. I think he’s a pompous ass and just as fake as his name.”
“I told you that in confidence.”
“It doesn’t matter anyway. Now you feel the same way I do, right?”
“Yes…no…I don’t know.” She sighed.
Sophia groaned, exasperated. “You’re not sure? Only two days ago you came home telling me how awful he was and how you were going to ‘show him.’ Now you’re telling me he’s great again?”
“I’m not saying Pascal’s great, but he’s right. If I were really a storyteller I would have thought about doing Richard’s story instead of mine.”
“Your story was great. It was featured in two national magazines. That’s excellent and the money was definitely real.” She touched the new blouse Daniella had bought her to celebrate.
“That night you said I should go for it.”
“Because I thought you were just talking. I was being supportive. I thought it was just bravado, I didn’t think you meant it. Now, days later, in the cold light of day you’re telling me you’re planning to track down a mystery man who could be a fugitive hiding from the law for all we know.”
“Even though we officially broke up, we’re still friends.”
“Sure,” Sophia said, unconvinced.
Daniella tucked her feet underneath her and sunk back into the couch. “And I see him as a mentor.”
Sophia rolled her eyes. “Perfect. As if the guy didn’t need his ego stroked anymore, you still worship him.”
Daniella folded her arms. “I don’t worship him and any criticism he gives me is because he’s pushing me to be better.”
“He’s a jerk,” Sophia said, not wanting to pretend anymore.
“No, he’s forcing me to stretch myself,” Daniella said, warming to the subject and hoping her words would give her the courage she needed to start. “He’s right. I should try to get the story that no one else has. I’ve stayed too safe.” She sat up straighter and tapped her chest. “If anyone can get Richard’s story I can. I was with him long enough to figure out certain things about him.”
“Daniella, this is a really bad idea.”
“I have to do this. Not just to prove it to Pascal or you but to myself.”
Sophia sat down beside her friend and held her hands. “You don’t need to prove anything. Especially not to me. You’re an extremely successful travel writer. And you live well and have a good life.”
Daniella chewed her lower lip. “Ever since Pascal brought up Richard’s name, I just can’t stop thinking about him.”
“Pascal?”
“No, Richard.”
“Try.”
“I have tried.”
“Try harder.”
Daniella laughed. “I can’t try any harder. He’s like an itch I have to scratch.”
“You need to let someone else write the story.”
“No. I want it to be me.”
Sophia shook her head. “You need a break. Go to a spa, or go soak in a nice Jacuzzi.”
“But—”
“Forget him.”
Daniella knew she couldn’t, at least not that easily. After Pascal had given her the challenge, the man from the crash had filled her thoughts. She hadn’t been thinking about him, now every moment he seemed to rise in her thoughts and she couldn’t forget anything about the day he had come into her world. How could she forget the man who’d saved her life?
Chapter 2
Four months earlier
She was alive. She didn’t know how long it had been since the moment of impact—it seemed like hours, days—but her pounding heart let her know that life-supporting blood was pumping through her veins. That the sound of torn metal and the ominous groan of the plane settling between the trees was over. There had been screams, now everything was strangely quiet.
Daniella raised her head and chips of shattered bonded glass and plastic material used for airliner cabin windows rained down from her hair, shoulders and back and dropped to the ground with a tinkling sound. The smell of wet earth invaded her nostrils. Their trip had started off as a routine flight from Nova Scotia. That morning she’d been running late and was one of the last passengers to board, so she’d been able to see everyone else. There weren’t many of them so it was easy to remember them all. She’d seen two brothers teasing each other throughout the flight. From their conversation she knew they had come back from visiting family. They were both redheads who could have passed for identical twins if one didn’t have a mustache and a heavier build. He’d winked at her when she’d asked for help with her bag. Next she’d seen an older woman with bleached blond hair, carefully applied makeup and tight, pinched lips that made her face look like she’d just smelled something foul. The fourth passenger, a young woman beside her, was also a blonde, but naturally so. Everything about her was fair, from her hair, lashes, eyebrows and skin. The black shirt she wore gave her skin an eerie, translucent look as though if the sun’s rays were to hit her directly she would completely disappear. It was clear from the way they interacted that the poor girl knew the older woman. She was a companion or relative of some sort, Daniella didn’t know which. There was the tall, thin man with large glasses that made his eyes small and then lastly, the two children, around eight or nine, with honey-brown hair, neatly dressed and oddly quiet.
The first person she’d noticed on the flight, but the last to come to mind, was the man she’d dubbed The Renegade. He had a cool lonerlike quality and while they had been waiting to board the plane he stood off to the side away from the crowd. He didn’t look like the sort that would fit in or would want to. He looked more like a man who’d likely look good in jeans and leather (preferably black) but he wore neither. Instead he wore dark trousers and a suede jacket. Daniella had first noticed him when she had offered a smile that was either rebuffed or ignored. She was slightly disappointed when she was seated beside him, because she would have preferred a more friendly companion, but she was glad it would be a short flight.
Daniella remembered the sound of laughter and easy chatter before the weather change, and soon the mood of the passengers did, as well.
The pilot’s voice came booming through the plane’s speakers. “Make sure your seat belts are buckled. We’re heading into a storm so there will be some turbulence.”
It felt like more than turbulence. Suddenly, Daniella felt as if she was on a ship being tossed by large waves in the sea—the plane was rocking to and fro and up and down. One moment they were experiencing smooth flying then they plummeted several feet before the plane settled again. No one spoke. Tension and fear hung as thick as the dark clouds that surrounded them. The overhead lights came on in the cabin, but only emphasized the blackness that enveloped them. Daniella had looked out the window but there had been no point, it was like looking into a pot of thick pea soup and she hoped the pilot’s visibility was better than her own. She looked at The Renegade, but knew he’d be no source of comfort. He was alert, not panicked but on guard as if he sensed something wasn’t right. But she’d flown through storms before, Daniella knew they’d be okay. She considered making a joke, but soon thought better of it. Instead she focused on the article she had to write about her recent trip to Nova Scotia, Canada, and the notes she had to clean up for her editor. She took a deep breath. They’d get through this.
Without warning the plane took a sudden nosedive. Screams filled the air and the man beside her rushed to his feet and disappeared into the cockpit. She went into the emergency position she’d learned from the many flight drills she’d practiced and thought of her family. Then her mind went blank.
Daniella still couldn’t remember the impact or how long she’d been hovering with her hands over
her head. She knew one emergency had been averted, but they weren’t out of danger yet. Now there was the sound of rain and she felt the cool of the approaching evening. She noticed that a thick tree branch had gone through one of the plane’s windows just behind her. Seeing how large the branch was and how close it was to her head, she was surprised and relieved to discover that no one had been decapitated. Tree branches mingled in a macabre arrangement with the plane’s brightly colored orange cloth seats. She decided to look around to check on the other passengers.
She turned and saw the older woman with the pinched lips frantically tugging at her seat belt. “No, no, you’re doing it wrong. You imbecile!” she said to her companion. “I bet you’d like to leave me here to die.”
“No, Mrs. Pruit,” the blonde woman said in a weary voice.
Daniella recognized her tone. Her elder sister Isabella had had to work for a similarly demanding woman and she’d also had to play that same role for a while. She knew the other woman needed help.
Daniella stood, then grabbed a seat to keep from falling because the plane leaned at a strange angle. Once she had regained her balance she made her way over to the older woman and her aide and said in a calm voice, “Come, let me help you.”
“I don’t need help,” Mrs. Pruit snapped. She pointed an accusatory finger at the younger woman. “She’s the one doing it all wrong.”
Daniella shrugged. “Well, if that’s the case I’ll just leave you.” She turned.
“No,” the woman said in a voice of panic. “You…I—girl, come back here!”
Daniella sent the young woman a look of sympathy then unlatched the seat belt and helped the older woman out. Then she started to count heads. She remembered the boisterous brothers who were sitting toward the front. Those seats were empty and the emergency chute deployed so they must have made it out safely. She’d just helped the older woman and her companion and both looked in good shape, with a few bumps and scratches. She was glad to see the thin young man with large glasses and a mustache who had sat behind her was also gone. Lastly, there were the two children. She walked down the aisle and found them crouched between the seats, holding each other.
Daniella reached out her hand to them. She knew that in a crisis some people ran while others froze. “Come on,” she said in a gentle voice. “We have to go.”
“I’m frightened,” the girl said.
“Anna won’t leave and I can’t leave without her,” the boy said.
“You don’t need to be frightened anymore, we’re safe on the ground. Come on.”
She kept her hand outstretched and slowly the children stood and followed her. Once they were safely out of the plane, Daniella did one last check and then walked into the cockpit and bit back a scream—three men lay slumped over. She walked over to the pilot on the floor, but from the color of his skin she knew he was dead and had been for a while. She’d seen death up close before and knew what it looked like. But she still felt for a pulse. Nothing. Next she went to check the copilot and sighed when she felt his pulse. It was faint but it was still there. He was alive. She jumped when she heard a strange noise. She turned and noticed that the last man was watching her. It was The Renegade. His eyes were like petrified wood—hard, sleek yet bright with pain. But instead of making him seem vulnerable, he appeared more watchful, assessing. Daniella suddenly became acutely aware of his brute strength, keen intelligence and piercing gaze. An intensive shiver slid down her spine. He was a man to approach with caution. She walked over to assist him but he held out his hand keeping her away.
“What are you still doing in here?”
“I’m here to help,” she said.
“Where are the men?”
“Everyone got off safely. I made sure.”
His jaw tensed. “You did? Did they help you?”
“No, but—”
“Three healthy men left you to take care of the rest of us?” he said with disgust. “Is that the new modern man? Leave the woman and children to fend for themselves?”
“I’m sure—”
“The pilot’s dead,” he interrupted, obviously in no mood for excuses.
Daniella paused. “I know. What happened?”
“Heart attack most likely. It was quick, the impact didn’t kill him.”
“And the copilot?”
The Renegade briefly shut his eyes. “He likely has a concussion.”
“But how? Didn’t he take over when the pilot had his attack?”
“No.”
“Then who landed the plane if…?”
“Let’s just say my flying lessons paid off.” The man grimaced, but remained silent. Daniella sensed there was something he wasn’t telling her but now wasn’t the time to press him.
“What about you?” she said, quickly looking over him for any major injuries. “What’s wrong?” she noticed him rubbing the upper part of his arm.
“Old injury. I’ll be fine in a minute.”
“We need to get out of here in case the plane explodes. That’s probably why the others left.” Daniella’s voice betrayed her calm demeanor—she didn’t want to get blown up.
“Honey, if you were worried about that you should have been gone long ago.”
Honey? “I’m trying to help.”
“I know. Relax. It’s not going to explode.”
“How do you know?”
The Renegade sent her a measured look. “It would have done so by now. Do you really think I’d be lying here if I thought it was going to burst into flames?”
He had a point, but she didn’t like his attitude, treating her as if she were some hysterical female.
“What’s your name?” he asked in a curt tone.
“Daniella.”
“Richard.” He slowly rose. “I knew I should have taken the train.”
“Are you trying to be funny?”
“No, I am being funny.”
“Then you have a sick sense of humor.”
“True, but laughter makes the world go round.”
“No, that’s love.”
“If that were true, the world would have stopped spinning centuries ago.” He gestured to the copilot. “Help me with him.”
Daniella helped The Renegade grab the copilot by each arm and slowly pulled him out. His name was Herman Walker and he was a veteran pilot, owing to the fact that he’d worked for Canadian Airlines for over twenty-five years. He kept drifting in and out of consciousness. They set him down near a tree and Richard assessed his injuries then nodded and stood. “We’ll have to watch him but he’ll live.” He glanced at the airplane, which looked like it had survived some sort of bomb attack. From the look of the damage Daniella knew they were all lucky. She was alive. She looked at Richard again. His expression remained guarded, it seemed he was used to emergency and disaster. Now she was safe. Everyone was safe because of this unexpected hero. She looked at him once more, telling herself that she was just curious about him, but knowing instinctively that her interest in him was much more than that. He had a magnetic presence and her eyes soaked up his broad shoulders and powerful frame. He stood as if he could take on the world. The camera was going to love him. He was not typically handsome. The word handsome would be too ordinary a term to describe him and he was far from that. He had a rigid jaw that hinted at a stubborn streak, but it was softened by a mouth that shouldn’t have been so enticing. It should have been a hard mouth to match his eyes. But instead his lips were soft and she could imagine them melting into a smile. She felt her skin tingle at the thought; he seemed like the kind of man who could put his mouth to good use beyond just a sexy smile. But that didn’t matter because he wasn’t her type. Men like Pascal—refined, engaging, charming—were her type. Not hard, cynical men like him.
“What really happened?”
Danie
lla expected him to pause or hesitate as he came up with a suitable lie to soothe her, but he did neither, he just continued to stare at the plane as if Daniella hadn’t spoken.
“What happened?” she asked again, insistent.
“I told you what happened.” He rested his hands on his hips, broadening his shoulders. Daniella fought not to notice. “Or rather what I think happened.”
“You explained what happened to the pilot, but not the copilot. How could he have lost such control of the plane?”
He shook his head. “You ask the wrong questions.”
“What should I be asking?”
“How are we going to survive until help arrives.”
“But I want to know what happened. Why did you end up having to fly the plane?”
Richard turned to her, his eyes like obsidian orbs. “It was a freak accident, leave it at that.”
Daniella folded her arms, unafraid but rather more intrigued by him. “You know something.”
“I know lots of things. None of which I plan to share with you right now.”
Before heading toward the plane, Richard took several minutes to check on the other passengers. Surprisingly, everyone escaped basically unscathed except for a few bruises. He stood and started to walk to the plane. Daniella began to follow.
“Stay here with the women and children,” he said. “I need to talk to the men.” Before she could argue he pointed at the two brothers and the tall thin man. “You guys, come with me.”
They looked at each other, but didn’t move.
His tone remained soft but became more ominous. “Unless you want me to shame you in front of these women you’d better follow me now.”
They did. He led them close to the plane, but not inside.
“What do you think they’re saying?” the little girl Anna said, still holding her brother’s hand.
“I don’t know,” the young woman said.
“What did they do?” Anna asked, her voice shaking with fear and almost pleading.
“Something really bad,” her brother said. “He doesn’t look happy.”
