by D'Ann Lindun
She debated, weighing her options. A flashlight could be a lifesaver. It could also be a beacon, drawing Rueben straight to her. Finally, the promise of some light lured her inside. Grasping the sides of the window sill, she pulled herself up and inside.
She landed on one of the padded seats. Smashed Plexiglas crunched under her weight. For a minute, she sat and stared at the sky. If only this thing could lift off and take her out of this nightmare.
With her fingers, she felt the dashboard and the steering wheel. And the control stick. Was that what it was called? She had no idea. A lot of knobs on the dash. Didn’t planes have radios? And some kind of transmitter so they could be found in the event of a crash? She continued to search and found the radio. Although she knew it was useless, she whispered into it. “Hello? Hello?”
Dropping the worthless instrument, she stood and bumped into one of the seats with her knees. Where would a First Aid kit be located? She had no idea. Why hadn’t she paid more attention to the flight attendants the few times she’d flown? She touched something soft and sticky. A cobweb? With a muttered curse, she yanked her hand away and wiped it on her jeans.
The right side of the plane had been ripped away and a sliver of moonlight lit the interior. An organizer bag hung over the co-pilot’s seat and she searched the pockets. Her fingers wrapped around a flashlight. Bingo!
Her elation quickly faded when she tried the switch and no beam came on. Dead batteries. Damn. She stuck it in her back pocket and continued to explore the spaces. A folded map in one. Impossible to see in the low light. Nothing else in the other slots.
The aisle between the back seats was littered with canvas bags. She knelt and picked up the closest one. In the dim light of the moon she could see it was bright orange. She opened it and found two folded silver squares she sort of remembered being called space blankets. Putting them aside, she continued digging. A couple cans of some kind of food, but she couldn’t read the label in the dark. Several bottles of water. Evaporated.
Another flashlight.
It didn't work either.
“Damn it.” She tossed it aside. “Where’s the Energizer bunny when you need him?”
In the bottom of the bag, she found a half dozen energy bars.
And something solid.
Too afraid to hope, she lifted it. And opened her palm. On it laid a pocketknife. A blessed, beautiful knife.
She closed her eyes and said a prayer of thanks before tucking it in her pocket and patting it to make sure it was secure. If Rueben trapped her, she wouldn’t be completely without resources.
She had to get out of here before he found her. She turned to leave and her toe caught on another one of the canvas sacks. Why were there so many? Most planes only had one or two survival bags, right? Maybe she had her facts wrong and they carried one per passenger. That made no sense either. This plane only had four seats.
Her good sense told her to get out and away before Rueben tracked her, but curiosity won out and she knelt and opened one of the bags. For a moment, she stared, unbelieving. In front of her were stacks of money. Sure her exhausted mind had to be playing tricks on her she lifted one of the piles. Held together by a rubber band, was a bunch of twenty dollar bills.
“What the hell?” She rifled the money. “I think I just found what Reuben’s been searching for all day.”
One by one, she opened the bags. Every single one held hundreds, probably thousands. Possibly even more, since a million had been stolen. How had the cash gotten here, on a wrecked plane in the middle of the mountains? Unbelievable.
Pulling out a handful of bills, she stuffed them in the orange nylon bag. When she got back to civilization she’d have proof of her story. Next, she crammed in the blankets. Finally, she dropped in one of the plastic water bottles. In a pinch, she’d fill it from a stream. The possibility of catching some horrible disease existed, but so did dying of dehydration.
She stood and turned to leave. “Time to go.”
From the inside of the plane, she spotted what she had not from the outside—the left door hung by one hinge. If she pushed it, maybe it would open. Climbing back through the shattered glass held little appeal. Amazingly, she hadn’t been cut coming in.
She slung the bag over her shoulder and pushed the door. With a groan, it fell open. She peered out. The right side of the plane had been sheered like a sardine can. The doorway stood about six feet off the ground.
“Here goes nothing, Bella.” Taking a deep breath, she jumped.
Somehow, she landed on her feet, but she’d dropped her bag. It landed a few feet away, and she moved to retrieve it. When she bent down, her gaze caught on something white. Had she lost something out of her makeshift backpack? Puzzled, she touched it.
Smooth.
Hard.
Round.
She dragged the object close for a better look. Moonlight caught on empty eye sockets. Teeth seemed to smile at her.
A skull.
Isabella dropped it and reeled back. Dear God in Heaven. Had she just found what was left of the pilot?
She smothered a scream with both hands.
CHAPTER FOUR
Just past dawn Isabella stumbled into a familiar meadow. A sigh of relief slid out of her. Home and safety were still miles away, but she knew where she was and how to get there. If Reuben didn’t catch her first. A shudder ran up and down her spine.
As she trudged through the tall grass in the field, something caught her eye and she spun toward the tree line. A figure came out of the dark, towering pines and she stifled a gasp of fear. Not Rueben. This guy was tall, slim. His dun-colored hair reminded her of an elk’s hide. He had the sexy, rolling walk of a cowboy.
She stood frozen as he came closer. He had a white towel around his neck and the ends of his hair were damp. His shirt hung open and her gaze locked on his abs. This guy worked out. A lot. She swallowed.
“Who are you?” He came close enough she could smell shaving soap. “I’m guessing Isabella Califano?”
She nodded, unable to find her tongue.
“What are you doing here?” He looked past her. “Where’s Reuben?”
She found her voice. “I don’t know. Who are you?”
He opened his shirt and pointed to a badge clipped to his belt. “Shane Catlin, U.S. Deputy Marshal.”
Her knees threatened to buckle as relief filled her. “You know me?”
“I’m looking for you,” he said in a deep voice that gave her a shiver. “And your ex-husband.”
“I hit him on the head with a stick and ran,” she said. “I don’t know where he is, or if he’s even alive.”
The marshal indicated his pickup with a camper and horse trailer at the edge of the meadow. “Let me pour you a cup of coffee and then you can tell me about it, from the beginning.”
Coffee sounded like heaven right now. “Okay.”
At the truck, he pointed to a folding chair. “Sit. You look like you’re about to collapse. I’ll get cups.” He ducked into his camper and came back carrying two tin mugs. He filled them from a pot on the fire. “Here you go. Cream? Sugar?”
She fell into the chair and took the cup with shaking hands. “No, thanks.”
He upended a stump and perched on it. While he had been inside he’d buttoned his shirt, and for a brief moment, she was disappointed. She sipped the hot coffee and sighed.
“Did Gonzalez hurt you?”
She shook her head. “Not physically, other than he made me walk a hundred miles. He scared the hell out of me, though.”
Shane’s lips tightened and his eyes narrowed. “How?”
“He broke into my house and forced me to go with him at gunpoint,” she said with a shudder.
“Where did you go?” Shane looked around with a deadly glint in his eyes.
She pointed the way she had come from. “Up there. We walked in circles until dark.”
“Why were you walking in circles? Were you lost?” He studied her like she was a science
experiment.
“Rueben was looking for the money he hid,” she said. “But he couldn’t seem to find it.”
“How did you get away from him?”
“I said I had to go to the bathroom. When he was occupied with the fire, I found an opportunity to crack him over the head and run for my life.” Her hand shook when she lifted the mug to her mouth.
“Do you think you killed him?”
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “But I kind of doubt it because I don’t think I had the strength left to do him in.”
Guilt flashed across the marshal’s handsome face. He stood and “You’re probably starving and exhausted. Go inside the camper and lay down while I make something to eat.”
“Couldn’t you just take me home?” To her own ears, she sounded whiny. Too bad. She’d been through hell in the last twenty-four hours.
He shook his head. “Afraid not. You’re going to stay with me, under my protection, until I have Gonzalez in custody.”
“But he could be anywhere by now,” she protested. “It could take days, if not weeks to find him. I can’t be gone from my life for that long.”
“Would you rather lose your life if he somehow manages to get to you again?” he asked bluntly.
She shivered. “Rueben doesn’t want me; he only wants the money. Once he has it, he’ll disappear. There’ll be no reason for him to ever return to Black Mountain.”
“He doesn’t have the loot, though,” Shane reminded her.
“He does now…if he tracked me, that is.” She bent over and dug in her bag for the bills she’d stowed there. Finding the small bundle, she waved it at the marshal. “I think I found the stolen money last night. I couldn’t carry all of it, so I took a few dollars to prove I actually found some of the loot.”
“What?” Shane took the bills from her and flipped through them. “Where did you find these?”
“There’s a downed plane under a canopy of trees and there’s money is stowed in bags inside,” she explained. “I also found a skull I believe might be the pilot.”
“Can you take me there?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I wasn’t exactly marking my trail.”
“We have to try,” he insisted. “If Rueben gets there first, he’ll disappear off the face of the earth leaving his victim’s families with no closure.”
“I can try,” Isabella said.
He pointed toward his camper. “Get some rest while I tack up the horses.”
Her stomach grumbled as she climbed the steps into his camper, but all talk of breakfast seemed to have been forgotten. She sat on the bench and removed her shoes. Her feet were swollen and sore, tired beyond measure. With an exhausted sigh, she climbed into the double bed and pulled up the covers. The scent of a man surrounded her making her wish Shane would climb in with her.
Although the thought sent a wave of heat crashing through her, within moments she was sound asleep.
~*~
Shane saddled the two paint geldings, then placed a packsaddle on Donquita. He filled the panniers with two sleeping bags, food, bottled water and a Dutch oven. On top, he placed a small pup tent and followed it with a canvas manti. In each pair of saddlebags tied on the saddle horses, he put a small survival kit with matches, lighter fluid and three flares. On the other side, he placed trail mix, two bottled waters and a bag of candy bars. Last, he tied a slicker behind each saddle and shoved his rifle into a scabbard. After making sure he had his regulation sidearm and ammunition, he double checked to make sure his fire was out and his truck locked.
Satisfied all was secure, he knocked on the back door of his camper. After a faint come in, he opened the door and stepped inside. Isabella was just rising from his bed and her hair had escaped her braid, making wild waves around her face and down her back.
Although she wore her rumpled clothes, and was still sleepy, she looked so sexy his breath caught. “Hey, sleepyhead. We better ride.”
Her eyes widened. “Ride?”
“My horses. Can you handle one?” he asked belatedly.
She bent to retrieve her shoes. “Yeah. I learned as a kid. Do you know I’m a western novelist?”
He nodded. “Yeah. A good one, I’m told.”
She stood and ran her fingers through her wild hair. “I do okay. I sell enough to support myself anyway.”
He’d been told she did a hell of a lot better than that. She was a best seller, at the top of her game. And, a female in a male-dominated field. Her fans knew her as Ike Bell. Shane wondered if they’d still gobble up her stories if they knew she was a jaw-dropping gorgeous woman.
He forced his gaze from her slender fingers going through her tangled hair. His belly tightened. “When you’re ready we should head out. Try to get to the plane before Reuben does.”
“I need to wash my face and hands, brush my teeth,” Isabella said. “Does the bathroom work?”
“Yeah. The camper’s self-sufficient.”
She reached for her bag. “I’ll be ready in a moment.”
“Okay, I’ll be right outside.” Shane backed out of the camper, a little shaken by his reaction to Isabella. No woman since Ellie had affected him so much. He wasn’t looking for another relationship because no other woman could ever replace his wife. He’d had the best, and he’d lost her.
Pain ripped through him worse than it had in a long time. After Ellie’s death, he had felt as if his guts were being ripped out. Nothing helped—not throwing himself into work, not drinking himself to sleep. Time had barely healed the wound. It would be a cold day in hell before he’d allow anyone to rip off the scab.
In a few moments, Isabella stepped out of the camper looking as fresh as a spring morning. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a French braid and her skin gleamed. Obviously, she’d just washed her face.
“You ready?” Shane asked gruffly.
“Yes.” She looked at Donquita’s pack. Good lord. How long do you expect to be gone?”
He patted the pack on the burro. “As long as it takes.” When he turned around, he handed Isabella a granola bar. “Eat this."
She gobbled it like she was starving and he remembered her uneaten lunch “You want another?”
“No, I’m good. Let’s get this over with. I’m on a tight deadline.” She swiped her hands on her slim hips. “Which horse is mine?”
Pointing toward the red and white gelding that had been Ellie’s, he said, “Take Gunner.”
“He’s a beauty.” Isabelle untied the gelding, tightened the cinch and climbed into the saddle. “Stirrups are a little short for me.”
When she began to dismount, Shane moved over and motioned Isabella to move her leg forward. Ellie had been petite—a blonde doll. One he had failed to protect. “He was my wife’s. The saddle was also hers.” He’d bought her this saddle for their anniversary.
Isabella hooked her knee around the saddlehorn. “Was? Are you divorced?”
“Yes.” He kept his head down so she couldn’t see the pain in his eyes. Sharing these horses had been some of the best times of he and Ellie’s life.
“I’m so sorry.” The sympathy in her voice made his heart pinch.
“Thanks.” He moved to the other side of the gelding and again indicated Isabella should move her leg. She lifted it to the saddlehorn. He adjusted the length for her and watched her shapely leg as her foot found the stirrup. “That work?”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
“You bet.” He turned toward his black and white paint gelding and untied him, then the burro. After tying Donquita’s lead to her pack, he mounted Wrangler. “Which way?”
She reined his wife’s horse toward the trees. “Follow me.”
He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Donquita was following, then dropped behind Isabella. If he hadn’t been hunting a dangerous fugitive, Shane could get into a trail ride through the mountains. If this were a pleasure trip, he’d have his fishing pole with him. Trout reeled in from high country lakes and
broiled over an open fire were the best eating.
Another time. After Rueben was back in prison where he belonged Shane could take a little time off to relax.
Right now, he had to keep his mind on business.
That included tamping down any attraction to Isabella. Getting involved with a victim was unacceptable.
Once under the trees, the sun hidden, the temperature dropped and he pulled his coat a little tighter around his neck. Isabella only wore a sweatshirt. “Are you cold?” he called.
She glanced over her shoulder. “No.”
“I can loan you my coat…”
“I have one in my bag,” she said. “Thanks.”
He nodded. “Let me know if you want it.”
“I will.” She turned away again.
They rode in silence for a while until she reined in and looked around. “I’m not sure where I need to go. I don’t see any tracks and it was dark last night when I came through here.”
Shane shot her a sharp glance. Was she lying? Giving Reuben time to get the loot and escape? Maybe planning to meet up with him later? She wouldn’t be the first woman to help a convict.
Reminding himself she had been straight so far, he dismounted and handed her his reins. “Let me look.”
He scoured the forest floor for tracks, but the pine needles looked undisturbed. “I don’t think you came through here. Should we backtrack a little to where you lost your trail?” He fought his impatience. Every minute lost gave Reuben more of a head start.
“Yeah.” She turned Gunner around to face him. “Wait. I remember that tree.” She pointed to a pine that had been split in two by lightening. “I climbed through the middle of it last night.”
Shane mounted Wrangler again. “After you.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Isabella led the way into the forest, feeling as if a thousand ancient eyes were on her every move. Her skin prickled, but more likely only two pairs—those of Rueben and those belonging to the marshal—gazed at her.
