by Rebecca York
After a few minutes, he was pretty sure they were headed toward one of the private airstrips on the island.
Jesus, now what?
The car stopped at the edge of a narrow ribbon of blacktop. Nobody seemed to be in the shed that served as an office. These guys had probably paid off the staff.
The men hustled Zach and Anna out of the car, then the one named Bill ran toward a small plane that was sitting at the edge of the runway.
Zach had been hoping they could get away before now. But when Bill came back, he ordered them toward the plane.
RAOUL was in his art gallery with an old guy who was staying in one of the big hotels and wanted to surprise his wife with a piece of island art. Stupid move. In his experience, the tourist guys were better off letting the women pick their own art. But he nodded and smiled and started writing up the ticket, hoping she wasn’t going to return the expensive carving.
When Tomaso burst through the front door, he gave the kid a sharp look, then finished up the transaction. The boy stood there shifting his weight from one foot to the other like he had to pee.
He would have told the kid to get out of there—now—but the look on the small face told him something was up. When the customer had left, Raoul flipped the Closed sign.
“What happened?” he demanded.
“De woman leave. Wit de man who own the Pagor boat. And other men.”
“She was with him?”
“Yeah, mon.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You said to stay wit her.”
Raoul repressed the impulse to take the kid by the shoulders and shake him. He knew it wouldn’t do him any good.
“Where they go?” he asked, hearing the raw edge of his voice.
“I don’t know, mon.”
“Into the city?”
“Into a car.” Tomaso looked like he’d done something wrong.
Truly, Raoul wanted to throttle the boy. But what had happened wasn’t Tomaso’s fault. Instead Raoul took a dollar bill from the cash box and handed it over.
The kid looked wide-eyed at the money. “You want me to do sumpin’ else for you?”
“Not now. Go on.”
As soon as Tomaso had stepped onto the sidewalk, Raoul locked the door and headed for the shrine out back, praying that Ibena could tell him where Anna had gone. On his way to the shed, he opened the cage and plucked out a chicken, carrying it flapping and squawking to the back of the yard.
He didn’t have time for refinements. He knelt before the altar, chanting his prayer and holding up the chicken so that Ibena could see. Then he broke the chicken’s neck and slit the bird’s throat, letting the blood drip into the bowl that sat on the altar.
“Tell me where my queen has gone,” he asked. “The queen who will rule this island with me. With your help,” he added, lest the goddess think that he had forgotten his place in the scheme of saints and men. “I need your help. Show me what is hidden to my own eyes. Show me where to find her.”
He squeezed his eyes closed, praying that a scene would form in his mind.
At first he saw the street outside his shop’s front door. But he knew that was a false image, born of his own desperation.
He banished the street scene, and opened himself to whatever image Ibena would send him.
And when he saw one of the airstrips outside the city, he gasped.
She was leaving.
No, she wouldn’t leave him. Someone was taking her away.
“WHERE are we going?” Zach asked.
“To meet our boss.”
The truth? Or a lie designed to keep him calm?
He thought he detected a lie, but there was no way to know for sure.
Despair threatened to swamp him. They were in a hell of a fix. And he didn’t know how to get out of it.
He should have trusted Anna. He should have—
He cut off the self-accusation. There was no point in beating himself up over what he should have done. That was in the past. He had to figure out what to do now.
They hustled him onto the plane, then into a seat, where they fastened his seatbelt. Anna followed and was pushed into a seat across the aisle and also buckled in. They were in the middle of the plane. Bill and one of the big thugs were behind them. The pilot and one of the other hoods was in front.
Zach didn’t know much about aircraft. Not the way he knew boats. There wasn’t a chance of his flying this thing—even if he and Anna could somehow take it over.
Yeah sure. And elephants could fly.
He glanced at Anna. She looked scared. Like she’d given up. Maybe that was what she wanted the bad guys to think.
He hoped to hell that was true. Because if she’d given up, they were both dead.
Keep it together, he urged. I know you can hear me. I’m with you. And we have to keep it together. He kept saying it in his mind, trying to project the message outward. When Anna gave a little nod, he felt a surge of hope.
He heard the men conferring, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying. Was Anna picking it up? Exactly what could she do? Together they had planted suggestions in these men’s minds. Could they do it without touching?
He didn’t know. But he knew their lives might depend on it.
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
ANNA COULD HEAR Zach shouting in her mind, telling her to keep it together.
Yes, okay. They could…
Could what?
Before she let herself hope, she sent a message to him. If you can hear me, raise your hands a little.
She slid her eyes in his direction, waiting with her heart pounding to see if he got the message. Long seconds passed, but he sat staring straight ahead with his hands in his lap.
Raise your hands a little so I know we can communicate, she said again, hearing the urgency in her own silent voice. But he sat utterly still, staring straight ahead, and she knew the communication was going only one way—as it had the night before.
Although his earlier message had helped bolster her resolve, she knew she was on her own. She was the one who had to figure out what to do. And she had to do it while she let the bad guys surrounding them think they had everything under control.
As that thought lodged in her mind, one of the men came down the aisle, stopping to check that the handcuffs were still fastened. She didn’t have to pretend revulsion as she shrank away from him, then sat with her head bowed and her shoulders slumped, outwardly projecting defeat.
Zach had asked their captors where they were going, and one of the thugs had told him they were going to see the boss.
But she knew that was a flat-out lie. Unless the boss was a stingray. She had heard the bitter truth in the mind of the slim guy who seemed to be in charge.
They were going to swoop low enough to push her and Zach out of the plane over the water, then fly away and leave them to drown or be eaten by sharks.
She tried to get that awful image out of her mind. Tried to keep panic from choking off her breath.
Much better to make sure she and Zach came out of this alive. She kept her eyes lowered, but she was chanting the words she used when preparing for her act.
Relax now. Relax now, she whispered to herself, calling up the self-hypnosis technique that she used before she went on stage.
The familiar mantra soothed her. The words were like a lifeline she could grab on to and use to pull herself back from quicksand onto firm ground.
However, she wasn’t sitting in her dressing room. She might be able to pretend she was striving for inner peace, but when the plane began accelerating down the runway, she lost her focus entirely as reality slammed back into her.
They were taking off. Speeding toward their deaths.
She felt hysteria threatening to grab her by the throat and choke off her breath.
Stop it! Stop it! she silently ordered. If she gave in to panic, she and Zach were dead.
The harsh assessment worked. Eyes closed, she dragged in a d
eep breath and let it out before starting again. Her life depended on what she could accomplish in the next few minutes, but she didn’t focus on that. She focused on the job. Like when she went on stage.
She had possessed psychic talents since she was a little girl. She had advantages over these men. But she needed Zach’s help to do anything useful, because until today, her only skill had been picking up objects and catching other people’s memories. Well, that and somehow making contact with Zach when they were little.
Calmly, she reached out to him, trying to link them as they had been linked before. Today and years ago.
She could just feel the edge of his mind, because when they’d been in bed together, she had learned to recognize what she was looking for. But it was only the edge. Not enough to do her any good, to do both of them any good.
The present communication between them was so new, so fragile. If they’d only had a little more time together before the men had burst onto his boat, she was sure the connection would have been more solid—more usable.
But they’d been rudely interrupted in those first important hours together. Now she had to figure out how to increase the connection without touching him.
How much time did they have?
She didn’t know. But she knew the men were restless—and eager to get rid of their unwanted cargo.
She looked out the window and sucked in a sharp breath. They were already over the blue Caribbean, with no land anywhere in front of them. All she could see was water, and some boats.
Over water. They’re going to drop me and Zach over the water. Soon.
Forget that. Think about what you have to do to get out of this plane alive. You have to reach Zach. The two of you have to work together.
She kept her eyes closed, thinking about the connection between her and Zach. Not the past imaginary friendship, but the fast and furious linking in the present. She had felt it tugging at her that first night when she’d seen him in the club. During her performance, when he’d been sitting at a table in the Sugar Cane Club, she thought he might be the man from her fantasy encounter. She’d tried to ignore that insight, but ignoring him had been impossible.
Then he’d kissed her, caressed her, made love to her, and each new stage of intimacy had strengthened the bond between them.
She couldn’t touch him now. Not physically. But she could bring those precious moments back—as though it were happening again.
The small plane had about eleven passenger seats. Three of them were occupied by killers. What would they think when they saw her cheeks flush? When they heard her breath quicken?
The hell with them. Maybe they’d just think she looked scared.
She thrust the thugs from her mind and focused on Zach. He was sitting close enough to touch. If either one of them could have reached out.
Zach, she silently whispered his name, trying to draw him closer as she thought about how it had been in bed with him. The wonderful feel of his hands and lips on her. The equally wonderful feel of his body under her own hands.
You cupped my breasts, then glided your fingers over the tips. They were already so hard. And you made them ache with the need for you.
As she spoke inside her head, she felt it again, his hot touch on her breasts, arousing her beyond reason. She focused on the sensations, her body heating as she got back into the scene.
Sliding her eyes sidewise, she tried to see if he was getting the message. But he was staring straight ahead, his gaze trained on the back of the neck of the bad guy in the seat in front of him.
Well, she was making herself hot. But the flames weren’t crossing the aisle of the small plane.
Struggling for an analogy, she came up with—phone sex. Too bad she’d never indulged in that activity. But a few times when she’d been restless and up late at night, she’d seen commercials for phone numbers where you could call and talk to sexy women.
She’d always felt sorry for the poor guys who had to resort to that kind of activity. Now she wondered if she’d picked up any seduction tips from the girls in the commercials.
Closing her eyes, she imagined herself lying on a bed with silk sheets, leaning comfortably against a pile of silk pillows, a phone in her hand, talking seductively into the receiver while she used her other hand to cup her own breast.
The image was erotic. But when she opened her eyes and cut Zach a glance, he was still staring straight ahead, apparently unaware of her efforts on their behalf.
She dragged in a breath and let it out. At the back of her mind, she could feel her deadline looming. She pushed the time pressure away and focused on what she needed to do.
Perhaps she was being too realistic. Maybe she needed a full-blown fantasy.
So where would she like to be with Zach? She settled on a plush bedroom, maybe in Las Vegas. Details were important. What were their surroundings?
Once again, she imagined a bed with silk sheets and pillows. Only this was a king-size bed with plenty of room to play. And the sheets were a soft…lavender. With hot pink accents on the pillows. Velvet draperies covered the windows. But enough light drifted in from the marble bathroom so that she and Zach had a good view of each other.
She was wearing a thin gown, held up by barely-there spaghetti straps. And she knew her nipples were clearly visible through the lace-edged bodice. They were still hard and throbbing. Begging for his touch. But she had asked Zach to lie with his hands pressed against the mattress.
Because she wanted to be the one in charge.
He lay with his arms at his sides, with his wonderful chest bare. But he was wearing silk pajama bottoms. She smiled when she pictured him lying there, staring up at her with a hungry expression on his face.
With a wicked grin, she reached to run her hand over the front of the pajama bottoms, sliding her palm against his erection, touching him through the thin fabric.
She could only see the vague outline of his penis through the silky material, but she could feel the shape of him, feel him straining against her hand.
Smiling to herself, she slid her hand up and down, playing with him, then pressed more firmly before reaching through the opening in the front of the pajamas, finding the swollen head, circling the ridge with her index finger, then gliding to the top, finding a drop of moisture there and spreading it over him.
From the seat opposite her, he made a low exclamation.
Jesus! The word echoed in her head.
I got your attention.
Oh yeah.
Good.
She didn’t have to look at him to know he was grinning. She grinned, too, then sobered immediately. She hadn’t touched him so intimately because she wanted to play around; she had an urgent message to deliver.
We have to get out of here. They lied to you. They’re going to push us out of the plane. Over the water.
Jesus! He said it again, but this time the tone was different.
If we work together, we can make them change their minds. Even as she silently said it, she wondered if it was really possible. But she had to believe they could do it, because it was their only chance.
From far away, she heard another silent voice. A voice in her head, chanting.
Turn the plane around. Come back to Grand Fernandino. Turn the plane around. Come back.
Zach gave her a startled look, and she knew he had heard it, too. Someone else was here. When she’d joined with Zach, someone else had connected with them. Well, maybe not with them. With her.
She didn’t have any terms to describe what was happening. And she had only one reference point—the vision from the previous day, when she had been called to a high, windswept plain. The plain where she’d first met Zach. Only, another man had been in the shadows. Watching them and hating what he was seeing.
And she thought he was somehow here again. Chanting.
She knew Zach heard it, too. She saw him clench his fists and felt his mental shout. Get out of here.
No! He can help us. Let him help
us.
Zach’s answer was fast and furious. He wants you! He wants to take you away from me.
She swallowed. She understood that.
Who the hell is he?
I don’t know.
The knowledge of the other man had simmered in her thoughts all along—since she had come to Grand Fernandino, if she was being honest. She had thought it was Etienne, but she had come to realize it had to be someone else.
Then she’d thought it was the guy who had followed her from Denver. But he was on the plane, so it couldn’t be him.
The other man was a problem—for her and Zach. But she understood that they would have to deal with that problem later. Right now, they had to save their lives. And maybe he could help them.
Zach shot her a dark look, but he stopped protesting the help. And when he stopped putting his energy into blocking the intrusion, she breathed out a small sigh.
Moments later, the plane swung around and headed back toward the island.
“Thank God,” Anna whispered, but her relief was short-lived.
As soon as Bill felt the change in course, he stood up and charged toward the cockpit.
“Hey,” he shouted. “What’s happening, Hank? What are you doing?”
“We have to go back,” the pilot said.
“You get a radio communication?”
“We have to go back,” the pilot repeated.
“Mechanical problem?”
Again, the answer was the same. Hank only mouthed the flat statement that they had to go back to where they’d come from.
Anna hung on to the mental connection with Zach.
Yes, mechanical problems, she silently whispered. And if the plane goes down, you don’t want the cops to find two people in the plane wearing handcuffs.
Zach picked up on the message and added his mental weight to the equation. When he did, she felt the power of the suggestion strengthen.
Together they kept broadcasting the message until two of the thugs ran toward them. One unlocked her handcuffs, while the other held a gun on her.
“Don’t move,” he growled.
She nodded, her mental focus still on the man, willing him to unlock Zach’s cuffs, too. But he only walked away, and her throat constricted in panic.
