"Don't cry, sweetheart." He slid his fingers into her hair, lifting her head from his shoulder. His night vision was good, and now adjusted to the dark he could just about make her out. "Let me tell you how amazing that was. How there aren't words to tell you how I feel about it."
"Yes?" It was no more than a shaky whisper.
"Yes." He brushed a kiss against each of her cheeks and tasted the salty tears. "You know what? I think I died in the crash, and this is my own special heaven. Can't for the life of me work out what I did to deserve it, though."
Taylor tolerated the pain in his arm because to move now would look like a rejection. Danielle rested her chin on his shoulder, keeping very still. Apart from the occasional sniff, she remained silent, absorbing his words. Both of them way past the need to question any of this.
Accept it. In a life so empty, any crumb of happiness was a bonus. Only now did he realise how starved of happiness he'd been.
"Let's get a bit more comfy, shall we?"
Danielle lifted her head from his shoulder. "Oh, Taylor, I'm hurting you." She shifted back and levered herself awkwardly onto the seat behind her. "Thank you," she said. "I don't have words for it, either. I wish I did. I really wish I did."
Her mouth, so gentle on his, her tongue delicately outlining his lips, making him want her all over again.
Needle-sharp pain shot through his legs as the blood rushed back when he straightened them. The pain in his arm had settled into a dull ache. He pushed back into the seat and reached out, fumbling for Danielle's hand in the darkness, trying to pull her across to him.
"Danielle, sit with me for a while." Yes, he wanted her, but with the day catching up with him big-time, a repeat performance was out of the question. The spirit was very willing. The flesh, however, was hurting like hell. What he really needed, more than anything, was sleep.
"Let me get you some more painkillers first." Her hand slid from his. Turning, she groped for the edge of the seat. "There's a flashlight on my keychain. You stay right there."
Exhausted didn't begin to cover it. With his eyes half-closed, Taylor settled back into the seat. As weird days went, this was a good one. Waking up in a police cell, feeling mildly insulted they'd only assigned two stupid policemen to escort him back to England. He knew why. He wasn't destined to reach England, let alone stand trial. Somewhere along the way someone like him would be waiting to tidy up this mess. A single bullet, or a fatal accident. He knew the drill. But he wouldn't see it coming, and that's what he'd wanted. This morning he'd said goodbye to life, resigned to his decision and stepped out into the unknown.
Taylor drifted into sleep, mumbling a prayer of thanks to no god in particular. Even if they caught him tomorrow, he cherished this extra day. Not as empty as he'd imagined, nor as hopeless. With that thought, he could almost die a happy man.
* * * *
The cabin stank of lovemaking and hot, sticky bodies. Danielle felt for the small flashlight on her keychain and located the wet-wipes in her carry-on. Taylor would need one too, and those painkillers. He must be desperate for them, poor thing. She'd paid his broken arm no heed when they'd made love. So caught up in taking what she'd wanted the pain hadn't crossed her mind.
Hell, it had been a frenzy of need and want. A desperate struggle to get as close to each other as possible. Scary. If she felt like this with him a few feet away, how would it be when he'd disappeared from her life?
She'd been certain she wanted him to run, but now wasn't so sure. How selfish could she get? With a pang, she noticed the ring, the two crosses, a billfold, littering the cabin floor along with the rest of the condoms. Thrown down with no regard to the dignity of the dead passengers. Lighting her way with the small flashlight, she gathered them up and replaced them in the bag, all except two of the condoms, an apology on her lips.
This wasn't only about what she wanted. So much more was at stake. Taylor had to leave and knowing that made tonight more important than ever. It could be their only night together.
Rooting through her carry-on, she quickly pulled out the wipes, painkillers and the bottle of water and in the thin thread of light, made her way back to the seat.
Taylor was fast asleep, leaning into the corner of the seat, his features relaxed, looking almost peaceful. She placed the painkillers on the spare seat, the condoms in her pocket. He needed the sleep more. And she needed to clean herself up.
In the cramped bathroom she stared at the reflection in the tiny mirror with some trepidation, wondering who she'd see. Not the same woman who'd boarded the plane earlier today. That person had survived a plane crash and met one of the most amazing men she'd ever know. She had condoms in her pocket because she wanted him again and wasn't afraid to ask. That had to change her.
A surprise to discover she still looked like Danielle Radley. A bit strange in the flashlight's glow, hair lank and greasy, dark circles under the eyes, but she was still there. Maybe the changes were on the inside? Something she'd notice when the rescue came and returned her to civilisation?
Rescue? That thought gave her goosebumps. Being here with Taylor already felt more normal than her real life, and the thought of going back strange and slightly alarming.
And, hell, she looked tired. Even worse when she wiped away the last traces of her make-up. Time to go snuggle up with Taylor and make the most of him while she could. The rescue might come early in the morning, and that would be the end of this.
No, don't start crying again. He hadn't wanted her to cry, she could tell.
She found the change of underwear in her carry-on, suddenly worried they might unexpectedly be rescued in the night and she ought not to be found like this. The thought made her smile. Then a more sobering thought popped into her mind. The authorities must know there was a wanted man, a killer, on board the plane. They would be anxious to know if he'd died in the crash, and worried about the safety of any surviving passengers if he was alive. Taylor needed to get away, and soon. First thing in the morning, he should go. Couldn't afford to hang around for the rescue. He should get as far away as possible.
She slipped into the seat and leaned against him, careful of his broken arm. Listening to the steady beat of his heart, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, she decided to stay awake and keep vigil. That's what he'd wanted before she'd scuttled off for the painkillers. She refused to sleep this precious time away.
If this was her only night with him, she would appreciate every last moment.
* * * *
Taylor stretched out his legs as best he could and squinted at the luminous dial of his watch. Twelve-thirty a.m. Stiff and still in pain, he didn't feel as if he'd slept at all. Adjusting himself so as not to wake Danielle, he yawned and wondered what she'd stowed the now-long-overdue painkillers
"Hey." She was awake, whispering to him in the darkness.
"Hey, reckon I need those painkillers about now. Did you find some?"
"Yes, they're here." Her warm body moved away and then he saw her face in the glow of the flashlight. "Hold out your hand."
He took the tablets and downed two of them, hoping they'd get to work fast.
"How are you feeling, Taylor?"
"Like shit. You?"
"Good, considering. Couldn't sleep." She settled herself against him and he lifted his arm around her, drawing her close. "Didn't want to after..."
"No?" He dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head. "Did I thank you for that?"
"You don't have to thank me, Taylor, it was wonderful."
"Oh, I do, sweetheart. Sorry about earlier. Went out like a light. Had big plans for tonight, too. " He gave a small laugh. "Didn't want to waste it sleeping."
"Me neither, but you needed it. That arm won't heal if you don't rest."
"It's no big deal." He sighed, remembering. "Becomes part of you after a while, you know, the pain. You get used to it."
"What happened to you?"
Her hand drifted over his side, just short of tickling him. He manage
d to keep still with a little effort. Being so ticklish – not very macho.
"How did you get to be handcuffed to a seat on a plane?"
How did he answer that one? Danielle continued stroking him while he worked out which version of this sordid tale to tell her. Too much knowledge might be dangerous for her. He knew how ruthless his cronies were. He'd been one of them. They'd eliminate her without question if they thought she knew too much. On the other hand, he owed her nothing but the truth. And he found himself wanting to tell her. Needing to unburden to someone who would understand without judging him too harshly. Whatever conclusion she reached, he knew she'd never do that. Not because she was a soft touch but simply because she seemed to understand him in a way few ever had.
Where to start?
"I told you I enjoyed killing that wasn't strictly true." How can I explain this? "It wasn't that different from soldiering. Just something I could do, not exactly cold-bloodedly, but I always got the job done. Then I slept at night, no problem. There weren't many who could do that. Most ended up either dead or in the psycho ward. I always said that would never happen to me, and I did last longer than most."
"You couldn't do it any more?"
She was a good listener. Seemed to know that he needed to tell this story, even though he could feel the tension building in her as he spoke.
"It was more what they started asking me to do. Because I was so good, I started getting all the shit dumped on me. The jobs no-one else had the guts for." He rested his chin on the top of her head. "They don't care about you, Danielle. Just use you up, and dump when you're finished. Took me a while to learn that little lesson."
"So, you refused to do a job? Is this what it's all about?"
"Diplomat and his family. Had to make it look like murder. Government, yours and mine, wanted to start something. Had it all lined up, too. And then I just couldn't do it. I'd reached my limit. Christ, one of them was just a kid."
"That's terrible. They wanted you to kill children?"
"You don't know the half of what goes on. Anyway, that was me basically burned out. I jumped ship, lugging what was left of my conscience after me, and that made me really dangerous."
"But couldn't they get someone else to do it?"
"Doesn't work that way. I covered my back, made it my business to know what they were up to. Always made copies of files, hid them away, just in case. Bloody file, all my back-ups disappeared, and so did any hope in hell of me living to tell the tale.
* * * *
Danielle's heart ached for him, even as in her mind she tried to excuse his past. She couldn't say he was a good man because he only killed adults or bad people. Killing was killing; it didn't matter who the victims were. They were all someone's children, husbands, fathers, mothers, even. She could say that he was a better man because he wouldn't do it any more, but then he didn't exactly sound remorseful for his past.
She prompted him to continue, guessing he hadn't found many sympathetic ears in the past and certainly not lately. The best she could do was listen without passing judgement.
"I'm trying to make sense of all this, Taylor. Trying to understand." Danielle lifted her head and brushed a soft kiss onto his cheek. "I'm guessing you wouldn't have survived even if you'd done the job."
"You'd be right. I was a valuable asset, but everyone's expendable. It was too big a job to let me walk away once I knew about it. Hell, when they hand you something like that, you know your number's up. That's why I needed the file, to know who was involved. Figured I could blackmail them into letting me go start a new life somewhere."
This time she kissed him on the mouth and tried to put some passion into it. The way he kissed her back, too desperate, groping blindly for every crumb of comfort made her heart ache. Poor guy, so lost.
Let him finish. He'll feel better for it.
"Your wife? Where does she come into all this?"
"Helen? She had no idea what she was taking on when she married me. Married for six whole months, we were, then she disappeared. Wasn't hard to track her down, by which time she'd taken up with an insurance salesman in Argentina. She was hysterical when I turned up, so I said yes to a divorce and left them to it. Next day the cleaner found them both dead. So now I'm wanted for murder and every police force in the world is looking for me.
This had to be the plot of some lurid spy movie. Only Taylor was actually living it. And now, so was she. Whether she liked it or not, she was part of this, regardless of how much danger that put her in.
"They killed them both because they couldn't catch me. Figured they needed a helping hand. So all they had to do was sit back and wait for whichever international agency to do it for them."
"But you wanted to get caught. Why?"
He chuckled at that. "You're a very perceptive lady, you know that? By the way, loved you in that red wig."
"You knew it was me? I don't remember seeing you at the resort."
"Recognised you when you got on the plane. And, no, you wouldn't see me unless I wanted you to."
"So you just gave up running?"
"Pretty much. It all started as a game. Seeing how close I could get without being caught, then somewhere along the line it turned into a death wish. I just wanted it over."
"But the file, you could still use it, right?"
"If I knew where it was."
Danielle pulled herself up and knelt beside him, her face level with his, her heart pounding now with excitement. With a hand on either side of his head, she held him still. It didn't matter that she couldn't see him properly. She needed his attention. Simple enough, really. All he had to do was find the file.
"Listen to me, Taylor. You're finding that file, and you're getting your life back. And I'll hear no more talk of giving up." He tried to push away. She held onto him and leaned in even closer. "Are you hearing this?"
"Do you think I haven't tried?"
"Then try harder." It came out a bit harsher than she intended. All this talk of giving up, it was scaring her. No one was giving up on her watch.
"What does the file look like? Tell me?"
"What does it matter?"
"It matters. Tell me."
"Okay, I'm looking for the flash drive. A flash drive I'll never see again."
"You will, Taylor. Find it and get your life back."
"Bossy bint, aren't you?"
"Bint?" Danielle relaxed the grip on his face, leaving her hands resting loosely on his cheeks, caressing them gently with her thumbs. "I wish I could see you properly. What kind of word is bint?"
"It's a...The hell with this." Taylor hooked his arm around her neck and yanked her in for a kiss that left her lips burning. "Too much bloody talking," he mumbled against her mouth. "Not enough of this."
"Painkillers have kicked in, then?" Danielle sucked in a breath and slid her hands under his tee-shirt, gliding over the hard-packed muscles beneath his smooth skin. His jeans were still open. She dipped a hand into the waistband.
"Ahh, Danielle," he groaned when she started stroking him to a painful hardness. "Reckon this is our window. Come here." His mouth came down on hers again and he hauled her onto his lap. Danielle hooked a knee over his thighs, careful this time not to disturb his broken arm.
"Help me," she said tugging at her underwear. It took a bit of manoeuvring, and made them both giggle, especially the moment when she triumphantly revealed the condom. Practical Danielle, even in the throes of passion.
Danielle stopped for a moment, to tenderly stroke his cheek, overawed that, no matter how desperate the situation, they'd managed to find some joy in it. Taylor leaned into her hand and covered it with his.
"Danielle," he whispered, low and husky against her palm.
She held her breath, wondering what he was going to say.
"Bet you've got beautiful breasts," he said. "Let me see."
"It's dark."
"I have good night vision." He fingered a button. "Let me take this off you."
How much he
could really see, she didn't know. The blouse slipped from her shoulders and she felt him fumbling with the catch of her bra, cursing under his breath while trying to undo it one-handed. The bra, too, fell away. His thumb brushed her nipple and she let out a shivering moan.
"Do that again," he said. There was laughter in his voice.
"Only if you do."
"Oh, I can do better than that, love. Give me that condom and let me show you."
It was sinful, what he could do with his mouth. Danielle abandoned herself to the rasp of his tongue and moved in time with his gentle suckling, almost unaware of the moment he slipped inside her. She abandoned herself to the feel of him and let the wave take her. And this time they found the real passion that had been simmering under the surface since that first, meaningful glance. Now she knew who he was, and she still wanted him. Gone was the desperation of earlier and there were no tears. Just two people lost in pleasure, wanting and giving. Lost in the incredible feeling of a perfect moment.
Danielle was on that beach with him, and she could hear the sea, and feel the sun on her back. Somehow, one day, it would happen. She pressed her face into the curve of his shoulder and knew no-one else would ever come close. How could they, after this?
Chapter 8
Taylor woke early and lay still, watching Danielle sleep. Today should have been his first day in hell. The first day of an eternity of paying for his unspeakable crimes. Yet he was alive, and lying next to this beautiful woman. As he contemplated her, he realised that he was looking at the face of his salvation. Redemption, but with a sting in the tail, a price. Hell, there always was. Even if she saved him, they could never be together.
Setting Him Free Page 6
