Irene ran her fingers through her damp hair, paced back and forth on the beach. “So … no one knows we’re here?”
Alex rested a hand on her shoulder. “The pilot, Kevin you called him, certainly he called in an SOS, right?”
Irene shook her head. “Not that I heard. He was trying to land, but I wasn’t sure why. I hadn’t heard or seen anything. No smoke. No bang. One minute we were flying, and the next thing I knew, we were heading straight for a cliff.” She lifted her head skyward. The sun would set in a few hours, and the temperature would drop. She moved from beneath his touch, walked a few paces, then stopped. There was no place to go. Even the cliff face looked impassable. What if the water came in farther? “What are we going to do? We can’t stay here.” She struggled to keep her tone light, to not let him know how freaked out she was.
“It’s okay,” Alex said, lifting his hands to her shoulders. “First things first, I need to do what you did: I need to put on some dry clothes, and then we need to find shelter and start a fire. Someone is bound to fly this path, so they’ll see the smoke. We just need to let them know we’re here. Wanna wait here while I grab some clothes?”
“Uh, no …” She scanned the shoreline again, eyeing some of the seals that were darned near as big as she was. The seagulls weren’t so small either. The way they were circling overhead reminded her of a horror movie she’d seen as a child. Were they hungry? Would they attack?
Alex tilted his head. “Are you okay? There’s no reason to panic yet. We have warm clothes. We’ll find food. We’ll be fine.”
She straightened her spine. “I’m … not … panicking,” she said each word slowly, convincingly. “I’m just pointing out that we need a plan,” she continued in a lackluster tone. The last thing she wanted was for Alex to think she needed him to calm her down. She’d put herself in scarier situations than this when she was trying to prove herself as a journalist.
“All righty then.” Alex turned and headed toward his plane, but then stopped when he reached the unconscious pilot. “He’s about my size. One of these duffle bags must be his, right?”
She shrugged. “I would think so. He carried them from his car to the plane, and I was the only passenger.”
As Alex hauled one of the black bags away from the encroaching tide, Irene dug inside her luggage for the lighter she always carried in her makeup case. She flicked the lighter, then turned to Alex, smiling at the fact that she was prepared … to build a fire anyway.
Alex flashed a wide grin. “Great. The more light sources we have the better, but don’t waste the fuel.” Standing next to the cliff face, he unzipped the bag and stared inside. A second later, his head popped up. He stared up and down the beach, then jogged to the second bag.
She was ready to growl at him for his comment, since at least she had a lighter, but his sudden nervous actions confused her. “What’s going on, Alex?” She gathered up driftwood pieces as she walked toward him.
Alex ignored her, dragged the second bag next to the other one, then carefully unzipped it. He pulled out a couple articles of clothing, then plopped down onto the snow-covered sand.
His hand over his mouth, Alex stared up at her. “Don’t light a fire, Irene. The pilot’s friends will be looking for us very soon, and we can’t let them find us.”
Chapter 4
~ Alex ~
Alex dropped his hand from his mouth and ventured back into the duffle bag. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he’d misconstrued what he’d seen in the pilot’s bag. But what else would someone wrap in thick brown paper … and wrap again with plastic and duct tape? And the sheer number of identical packages. Other than a few articles of clothing, nothing else was in the canvas bags. The seams were nearly bursting from the sheer volume of paper-covered blocks.
Irene dropped the wood shards she had gathered next to his feet. “What’s going on, Alex? Of course, we need a fire. I’m freaking freezing. And why in the world wouldn’t we want someone to find us?” She crossed her arms, staring at him as if he’d not only dropped out of the sky to rescue her, but had also grown two heads.
He rubbed his eyes, as if doing so might change his view. Of all the stupid, idiotic, senseless, unthinking, ridiculous things he’d done in his life, today’s decision — decisions — definitely topped the list. Not only had he screwed up his best chance to right the wrong he’d done to his father and family, but now he was sitting on an abandoned beach with a pissed-off woman and drugs … lots and lots of drugs. More drugs than he’d ever seen. Drugs that someone would be looking for real soon. Sam wouldn’t just be laughing if he were here; he’d be doubled over, howling so violently his insides would nearly split in two. Alex could just imagine his brother taunting, You can’t even kill yourself properly.
Then again, if he hadn’t made the decision to try to off himself today … If he hadn’t made the second decision to land, Irene might be dead right now. Even though he would be dead and never would have known about her death … the idea of her dying troubled him more than any other issues he was dealing with. The thought of never seeing those arresting eyes again —
Irene squatted in front of him. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“Do you know him?” Alex jutted his chin at the prone pilot. Was it possible Irene had known there were drugs?
She pulled back as if he’d accused her of sleeping with the man. “No … I chartered the plane online. Not many flights heading to Saint Paul Island this time of year.” She flicked her eyes to where the pilot still lay unconscious. “He’s a pill, though. Cranky as all get out. I must look like someone who jilted him. He didn’t like me from the moment he spotted me.”
Suddenly aware his teeth were chattering, Alex just grunted at her answer and pulled off his jacket and shirt. He pulled the pilot’s clothes out of the duffle bag with shaking fingers. Adrenaline was something else. Keyed up as he was from the rescue and then the drug discovery, he hadn’t even noticed his body trembling.
Icy wind whipped at his back as he pulled the long-sleeve shirt over his head. Thank God, he and the pilot were similar in size. As soon as he unbuttoned his jeans, Irene hopped up.
She waved her hands. “I’ll umm … see to the pilot again.” She hustled off, sending sand and ice in his direction.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Alex grumbled, irritation overtaking him. “You didn’t have any issue stripping me out of my tux within seconds of entering my hotel room.”
Irene kept her head turned away as she bent over the pilot. “One-night stand, Alex, remember?”
“Is he still alive?” Alex called out. “If not, I might just kill him.” He pushed off one sneaker with the toe of the other shoe, then the second one with his freezing toes, then peeled off his jeans. Rid of his wet clothes, he quickly pulled on the dry pair of jeans and stepped back into his wet tennis shoes. He purposely stomped to where Irene knelt next to the pilot, ready to clobber the man into consciousness.
When he reached Irene, he realized his annoyance was unfounded. It wasn’t her fault. He inhaled deeply and let the breath out slowly. At least all the plastic-covered blocks of drugs had caused the duffel bag to stay afloat, keeping the clothes dry. His mother had always told him to be thankful for what they had. So here he was, stuck on a deserted island in the middle of winter, and he was thankful for dry clothes.
Irene tilted her head up and then stood, apparently relieved to see that he was dressed. “You didn’t answer me, Alex. What the hell’s going on? Do you know Kevin?”
“No.” Alex leaned over the pilot. He didn’t want to mention his drug theory aloud if the man was merely faking unconsciousness, which was highly unlikely. “Hey!” he shouted into the man’s ear. No response. Not even a flicker of his eyelids, as he’d gotten earlier. Alex quickly lifted the man’s hand and dropped it over his face.
Irene shoved him so hard he fell backward. “What the hell are you doing to him?”
Frustrated again, Alex stood and brushed the snow off his dry clot
hes. “That little tap didn’t hurt him. It just so happens to be one of the best ways to find out if someone is faking unconsciousness.”
Irene’s hazel eyes darkened. “Why would he be faking? He probably has internal bleeding, and you try to break his nose!”
“I wasn’t trying to break his nose. I was trying to see if he was really unconscious.” He reached out, took her hand, and urged her down the beach to no avail.
Instead of walking with him, she reared back. “What are you —”
He raised the hand not latched around her wrist to her lips. “Shh … Just walk with me, okay?”
“The hell I will.” She groped at his hand. “Let go of me!”
“Irene, I just need you to walk with me.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you!” She kicked snow at him. “Help! Kevin! Wake up!”
“Dammit, Irene!” he growled. “I’m not abducting you; I’m trying to talk to you.”
She yanked her hand back. “Talk here!”
“You have to trust me,” he muttered, then wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her backward until they were out of earshot.
Instead of trusting him, she dug her heels into the sand and snow the entire way.
Alex stopped when he made it to the bed of seaweed he’d plowed through earlier to save her life. He released his grip from her waist but held onto her wrist again.
As soon as she was upright, she took a defensive stance.
He positioned his body so she couldn’t kick him in the balls, which looked like her next move. “Irene, listen to me!”
She fixed him with a wide-eyed stare, apparently realizing that she couldn’t over-power him and that he was serious.
“I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m trying to tell you something. And I can’t take the chance he’s not faking.” He released his grip when she stopped struggling. “I’m going to ask you again … Do you know the pilot? Personally?”
“No!” she spat. “I told you. I chartered the plane online. I only met him a few hours ago.”
Alex leaned toward her. “Those black duffle bags … They’re his, you said, right?”
“Yes.” She crossed her arms, apparently discarding the thought of pulling self-defense moves on him, but still a million miles away from the woman he’d spent a glorious evening with. “Why?”
“They’re stuffed with what I believe are drugs.”
Irene jerked her head back in the direction of the pilot. “Are you sure? He didn’t look like … He doesn’t look like he does drugs.”
“Most mules don’t look like they do drugs … That’s why dealers use them. If the people who transported the illegal drugs were addicts, the drug dealers wouldn’t be able to trust them. No, the dealers usually get their transporters in other ways. People who owe them money or a favor.”
“So that’s why he was trying to land here? He was trying to drop off drugs?”
Alex nodded. “Probably not to land. I’m guessing he just dropped off the packages. There is an airstrip in the middle of the island. Middleton used to be an Air Force station, but it closed in the sixties. It’s mostly uninhabited, especially this time of the year. In the summer months, birdwatchers and rabbit hunters might visit —
She held up her hand. “Rabbit hunters?”
“Yeah … Umm … apparently there’s an abundance of wild rabbits on the island, which earlier residents brought to feed the foxes. I guess there used to be a fox farm here. The rabbits are now all feral, and from what I understand, the only land animal that remains.” He shook his head. “Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is your pilot friend there was probably dropping a shipment of drugs.”
It was Irene’s turn to shake her head. “Not my friend. And dropping off drugs for whom? The rabbits?”
Alex scratched his forehead then peeked over Irene’s shoulder to make sure the pilot hadn’t moved. If he was a drug dealer, he might be dangerous. He should have searched deeper in the bag for a weapon. “Not rabbits obviously, and not even for anyone here. My guess is that the pilot brings the drugs here from Alaska, then goes about his business of dropping passengers off at Sitka or, an unusual situation like yours, to Saint Paul Island. Then another mule picks up the drugs and heads to Vancouver or Seattle.”
Her thin brows lowered. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Why doesn’t it make sense?”
“The cost? Who would pay to fly drugs from Alaska to Seattle?”
“God, woman, you’re unbelievable. I tell you the pilot is delivering drugs, and you argue over the logistics of whether drug running from Alaska to the Lower 48 is a financially viable business.” Not believing they were having this conversation, he lifted his eyes. “When does the drug-dealing trade make sense? But in this case, it does. It’s probably meth. Cooking meth smells. In Alaska, there’s a lot of land and, mostly, if you stay out of trouble, the cops don’t mess with you. So, it makes perfect sense that the drug dealers would cook meth here and ship the stuff to the Lower 48.” He waved his hands when she opened her mouth to ask another question. “Enough arguing already. I just needed you to know what’s going on. Now, we need to find shelter. We’ll worry about what to do with him later.”
Irene nodded, but her pursed lips made it clear she still wasn’t pleased with him. “Of course, that’s the first item on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs: warmth and shelter.” She looked down. “Obviously water isn’t an issue; we just need to figure out how to melt what’s all around us. When the plane was going down, I saw some buildings.”
“Yeah, most of the buildings are piles of rubble now, but there’s a research station on the other side. There has to be food and heat, and if we’re lucky, fuel for the plane.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “You’re not going to scream and try to kick me again, right?”
She lowered her eyelids in a slow blink. “That depends. As long as you don’t try anything, I won’t have any reason to hurt you.”
He sighed. “I wasn’t trying anything a few minutes ago.”
She fisted her hands and rested them on her narrow hips. “How was I supposed to know that? Far as I knew, you were dragging me off to rape me.”
He huffed out an unbelieving chuckle. “Rape you? Where the hell did that come from?”
“I don’t know. I’m upset.” She stepped back, causing his hands to fall from her shoulders. “I know one thing. You have a lot to learn about women, Alex. Next time, maybe try whispering to me, giving me a hand signal or something. Don’t manhandle me and expect me to be okay with it. Then, I won’t have to scream.”
He wanted to point out that she hadn’t minded a little manhandling in his hotel room, but now wasn’t the time. Instead of arguing, he dropped his head. He’d already told her that he didn’t want to talk in front of the drug-dealing pilot, in the event that he was faking or came to.
“Let’s go,” he said. “We need to get your pilot on my plane and use the meager fuel remaining to motor to the other side of the island. God help us if we run out of gas. If we do, we’ll either be carried out to sea or thrown against the rocky shoreline.”
As cold as it was, her face flushed as if she’d just run a marathon. “We have to get inside … a plane again? Can’t we just … you know … hike around the island? Or climb the cliff?”
Seconds ago, she was acting all tough, ready to take him out with a kick to the groin. Now she was afraid to get in a plane?
He shook his head, resisting the urge to laugh. “The cliff’s impassable without gear. More than likely, we’d only cause a rockslide. And even if it were possible to travel around the island via the shoreline, which it isn’t, it would take all night. We’d freeze to death before morning.” He looked behind him, to where his ancient floatplane sat on the beach. “Sorry, honey, Old Betsy’s our only chance at making it through the night.”
~ Irene ~
Honey? Irene didn’t feel like arguing over how demeaning it sounded to call a woman honey when you weren’t e
ven in a relationship. She had bigger concerns.
She followed Alex’s gaze to the faded red seaplane that was less than half the size of Kevin’s plane. If Kevin’s plane hadn’t been able to manage the gusts and land, then how was that tiny plane going to handle the winds? Then again, Alex had made it sound as if they weren’t going to fly, but “motor” around the island. How did that even work?
Alex turned and headed back to Kevin.
“Wait …” Irene ran up behind him and latched onto the sleeve of his jacket. “I don’t understand. If Kevin couldn’t land, how are you going to get to the runway when you don’t even have enough fuel to fly?”
Alex looked down at her hand clutching his jacket. She’d just berated him for manhandling her, and here she was doing the same thing.
She released her grip. “Sorry. It’s just … One second we were flying, and the next instance a cliff was ripping the plane to shreds.”
Alex straightened the jacket sleeve and stared at her with a cocky tilt of his head. “That’s because your pilot didn’t know what he was doing.”
She clutched her elbows, anything to keep her hands from reaching out and smacking him upside the head. “He’s not my pilot. I don’t own him. I simply chartered his plane. He has a name. Kevin. Use it, all right?”
Alex ran his hand over his mouth. “Okay … Kevin didn’t know what he was doing. If he knew anything about Alaska, he’d know that the only safe way to enter Middleton is from the western side, which protects the plane from the strong east wind. I’m not going to attempt to get in the air and land on the runway. The tide is coming in, so it should be easy to motor right next to a small gravel spit of land. The area bares at low tide, so we need to get a move on while it’s still shallow.” He stopped talking and just stared at her.
She blinked, not sure why he stopped talking or what he expected her to do. “What?”
“Do you have any more questions, Irene, or can we get a move on?”
Alex's Atonement (Midnight Sons Book 2) Page 5
