“Help you?” She barely managed to croak a response. She took a sip from the bottle he held to her lips and rinsed her mouth. Leaning to one side, she spat it out and moaned. Any movement caused the top of her head to feel as if it was on the verge of explosion. Dull pain throbbed through her skull and settled between her eyes, but her memory started to clear.
The plane!
She’d been piloting her cousin Raider’s twin engine Cessna. It was waiting for them at Sydney. His plane. Oh, God. Taylor and she were on their way to Damnboola, Raider’s station, located on the western end of the Kimberly. She was going to attend her Aunt Marion’s funeral near Broome. Something went wrong. Something bad. No. No. Birds flew into the propellers, and the engines simply shut down. Maybe the birds tore up more than the propeller blades. She didn’t know. Dear God, they’d crashed! She’d crashed Raider’s plane.
Taylor! Where was Taylor?
She turned her head and winced. He was busy scooping handfuls of dirt and tossing it on the fire. The reeking odor of fuel tainted the air.
Dianna pushed herself up. Sharp pain tore through her upper left thigh. Her leg buckled, and she fell back to the ground. Gingerly, she tugged her skirt up mid thigh and stared at her injured leg.
A chunk of metal as big around as the handle of a hammer stuck out of her leg. Funny, it didn’t hurt. Her head hurt much worse. Tears streamed down her face. Dear Lord, she had to get up from here and help Taylor. They’d need whatever they could salvage from the plane to survive. They had mere minutes to collect whatever they could.
She pushed herself up again. This time she remained upright. Dianna hobbled to Taylor. Her vision blurred in and out. She paused, waiting for her stomach to stop rolling like a giant tidal wave, and then she lurched closer to Taylor, determined to help him.
He slanted a gaze at her. “Get back! When it explodes, I don’t want you anywhere near it.”
“We need whatever water and supplies we can gather out of the wreckage.”
“I’ll get them. You stay back.”
She grabbed his arm. “You can’t go in there. I’m the pilot. It’s my responsibility.”
“For God’s sake, Dianna, you can barely stand. Let go!” He jerked away from her feeble hold on his arm. “You’re not going back in the damn thing.”
* * * *
Taylor worked his way inside the crumpled fuselage. God, his legs hurt. They trembled with weakness. They were nowhere near ready for a trek across Australia. For Pete’s sake, he was still in physical therapy.
Dodging a gush of smoke and flames from the front of the aircraft, he tossed luggage willy-nilly out the broken hull. Heat stabbed his eyes and seared the exposed flesh on his arms. Churning, black smoke drenched his lungs. He couldn’t see through the thick haze. His lungs chugged, demanding fresh air.
Taylor swiveled around, looking for anything they could use. Mere seconds.
Hurry. Hurry. Get everything you can gather before what’s left of the aircraft explodes.
He remembered an ice chest. He didn’t know what was in it or even if it had survived the crash, but whatever he found might mean the difference between living and dying.
“Get my bag,” Dianna yelled from the jagged opening at the rear of the plane.
Taylor dug her white shoulder bag from beneath a broken seat and hooked it over his arm. “Anything else, princess?” he snapped. “A bottle of wine? Theatre tickets?”
“My fur coat…I want it, and get out of there. Now!”
Flames exploded in an orange-red burst from the cockpit.
He staggered, grabbed a discarded blanket off what was left of a seat, a rolled-up sleeping bag, and there was the fur coat she wanted, and the ice chest underneath it. Flinging the sleeping bag and coat toward Dianna, he tossed the blanket over his head and shoulders and yanked up the ice chest.
Taylor pushed into the roiling black smoke and worked his way toward the rear section. He toppled out at Dianna’s feet and sprawled on top of the fur coat. Groaning, he sucked fresh air into his oxygen-hungry lungs. “Jesus! We have to get back!”
She helped him up, grabbed the handle of the ice chest, the fur coat, the sleeping bag and together, they staggered several feet from the wreckage.
Whoosh!
The fierce roar of the fire blasted its way toward them, sounding like a ravenous beast hot on their trail.
“Get down!” Taylor shoved Dianna to the ground and crawled on top of her. He covered their heads with the blanket, shielding them as best he could.
Boom!
The second explosion shook the ground like the mighty rumble of an earthquake. Hot shards of jagged metal erupted into the sky and rained down onto Taylor’s back. Dianna lay on her belly beneath him, arms and legs spread awkwardly.
He tucked her tighter against his chest and pressed his face close to the back of her neck. “Roll with me!”
Dianna nodded her understanding before he tightened his hold on her waist and rolled twice to their right. He settled them into a depression in the soil. Taylor hovered above her protectively and hugged her close.
The small valley helped shield them from some of the intense heat generated by the fire. Smaller, erratic explosions continued. Glowing chunks of fused parts exploded into the sky and peppered them. Taylor grunted as something sharp impacted his shoulder. “Shit!”
Liquid warmth spilled down his arm, and still, pieces of hot rubble fell upon them like fire and brimstone—but the main show was over.
Then everything quieted, except for the low, hungry rumble of the fire burning itself out.
Taylor raised his head and stared into Dianna’s brilliant green eyes. She stared back at him, half-dazed. A smudge of black stained one cheek, along with streaks of blood. Her lips trembled. Swear to God, if she cried, that’d be it. He’d lose what little control he had left—and neither of them was in any shape for what he wanted. He laughed softly. Hell, might as well laugh as cuss. “Well, so much for the plane providing us shelter. I hope this isn’t the wet season, princess.”
Taylor eyed the horrible gash on her forehead. It would leave an ugly scar. “You’re going to have to wear bangs for the rest of your life.”
“Why?”
“Trust me, sweetheart, don’t ask why.”
“Okay,” she said faintly. “I hate bangs. I kinda like the rain.” Her lips quivered.
“Don’t do it.”
“What?”
“Cry.”
Tears filled her eyes and spilled over.
His heart clenched, and he smothered a groan. “Damn it, didn’t I tell you not to do that?”
He’d seen her cry once, and once was enough. She cried, he melted, simple as that. Nope, no waterworks, not right now, not when all he wanted to do was tug her closer, hold her tight, and celebrate the fact they were both still alive in the most elemental of ways.
Instead, he clenched his jaw and glared at her. “Great! Of all the people to get stuck with, I get you for the prize, a female with acorns for breasts, scrawny chicken legs, and tear ducts that drip like a leaky faucet. You can’t even do a decent job of crashing a plane, and you like the wet.”
Dianna bucked beneath him. “Get off me,” she yelled, then grimaced. “Ouch! See what you made me do? I hurt my head. I said, get off me!”
He stood up. “You’re such a pain in the—”
Taylor jerked as another explosion jarred the ground from the burning wreckage. A single chunk of red-hot metal belched from the wreckage and hurled through the air straight at him.
He grunted and rubbed his chest. “Ouch! Shit!” Quickly, he tore off his shirt and tossed both the chunk of glowing metal and shirt aside. He eyed the red area above his heart. “Holy hell! It’s bad enough you tried to kill me. I should have known better than to fly with you. You’re like a one-woman-hit-and-fly killer, but now your damn plane belches crap at me?”
She blinked, pushed herself up, and wobbled toward him. “Let me see.”
“Leave me alone!”
“Don’t be such a baby. Let me look.” Dianna eyed the blisters already starting to form. “You aren’t dead…yet.” She sighed. “I did not try to kill you, although the things you’ve said to me are enough to rile any woman’s desire to commit murder.” Her eyes suddenly widened. “Oh my God! This is priceless.”
“What?” Taylor cut his eyes at the rows of blisters. “Hell, Dianna, it hurts. There isn’t a damn thing funny about a circle of blisters on my chest.”
“Yes, there is. It isn’t a circle.”
“What? Would you mind sharing what you find so funny about me getting burned by a piece of red-hot…whatever, because I fail to see the humor in it?”
“Oh, Spencer, there are stronger forces at work here than even you or I can imagine. That’s what’s funny. It wasn’t a piece of the plane. It’s the buckle off my belt. D for Dianna. You’re wearing my brand.”
“Oh, hell no! It will heal without leaving a scar.”
“Nope. You might have to wear bangs.” She grinned.
“Funny. I’m not wearing some woman’s brand,” he yelled, snarling.
“You are now.” She quirked a brow. “And you always will.” Her lips twitched.
“You did this on purpose!”
“How could I do something like that deliberately? Don’t touch it! You’ll make it worse. Those are some pretty whopping-sized blisters. I think I have a tube of ointment in my overnight bag.”
“You aren’t touching me. You, your brothers, you’ve all done enough to me and my sister to last a lifetime. Get away from me,” he snapped.
Dianna shrugged. “You don’t have to be so mean. It isn’t my fault you’re wearing my brand.”
“I. Am. Not. Wearing. Your. Brand,” he enunciated through clenched teeth.
She snickered. “Says you.”
“Stay the fuck away from me.”
“I’d love to do just that, but unfortunately, we’re stuck with each other.”
Dianna suddenly screamed and ran past him toward the burning wreckage. Taylor whipped around in time to see her drop to the ground on her knees. “No! Oh, no!”
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“My coat,” she said, lifting it in her arms like a baby and cooing. “My beautiful fur coat. It–it’s holey.”
“What?”
She held up the coat, dismay on her face.
He laughed. “Put it down, Dianna. It’s still smoking. Guess some of the hot chunks of metal landed on it.”
“It isn’t funny. It’s genuine mink.”
“Now it’s cooked mink. The coat was useless anyway. We’re in the tropics. Why did you bring something so ridiculous?”
“It isn’t ridiculous. You never know when a cold front might move in.”
Taylor helped her to her feet. “I didn’t know birds could cause a crash. Are you sure that’s what happened? That’s why we crashed?”
Frowning, Dianna caught a movement from the corner of her eye and stilled. “Uh…yeah, birds can cause major crashes.”
“Would you at least give me the courtesy of looking at me when I’m talking to you?” he snapped.
Her eyes flickered toward him and away.
“I want to know why we crashed. Are you sure there were birds?”
“Reasonably sure,” she replied. “Why else would we crash?”
“Reasonably sure? Did you see birds or not?”
“Not really, no.”
“You tried to kill me. You were playing around with the plane and caused it to crash. That’s what really happened. Isn’t it?”
“I’m not sure what happened.”
“Damn it! Look at me!”
She shifted from foot to foot, but her gaze remained focused on something else. “I don’t think you have to worry about me killing you,” she said quietly.
“What?”
She locked her fingers around his chin and twisted his head in the direction she stared. “Look!”
Chapter Four
The light at the end of the tunnel is just the light of an oncoming train.
~Robert Lowell
North Western Australia
The Kimberly
February 7, Saturday.
“What?” Taylor narrowed his eyes but didn’t see anything. “What is it? What do you see?”
Jesus. His chest hurt like hell. New blisters popped up every few seconds until the center of the D was completely filled and surrounded. He didn’t feel up to playing games.
He steadied Dianna, but his mind was on gathering shit together so they’d survive the damnable mess they were in. God knew they were in the middle of No Where, Australia. He figured rescue was slim-to-none, with odds in favor of none. Survival was going to be based on luck, not skill.
Taylor took a moment to study the terrain. He thought their luck might have been a lot worse. They could have crashed in the desert, where they’d have died quickly from lack of water and bone-drying temperatures. Here, they could take a lot longer to die, unless something unforeseen happened. “I didn’t know Australia has rainforests.”
Dianna frowned. “Yes. There are a few. Daintree Rainforest is the big one and best known, but it’s in northern Queensland. We’re nowhere near it. We need to be careful.”
“What?”
“Simple things, like the blisters on your chest could get infected, turn septic. It’s the little things that get a person killed in the rainforests.”
Taylor scowled. Little things my ass!
There was nothing little about Australia. He figured the rainforest was teeming with all kinds of hazards for the unwary. One wrong step and they’d be in a whole heap of trouble. Knowing nothing about the country didn’t help matters, either.
The only thing he knew was Australia had a variety of venomous snakes—of which he wouldn’t recognize a single one—and he figured some of them dwelled in the rainforest, were even now probably right under his nose or overhead. That thought popping in his head immediately had him looking up at the canopy overhead.
Uh—yeah, snakes plopping out of a tree and landing on him with his luck? It was a given. Would they come bailing out in attack mode? Sure. Why not? Taylor shook his head, feeling a bit foolish at his paranoia.
But there were some equally nasty spiders, salt and fresh water crocs—and who knew what other beastly things waited to devour them alive?
Even if he was in great physical shape, which he wasn’t, he’d watched enough television programs hosted by Steve Irwin to know the wild terrain in Australia and everything about it was way out of his league. He admired and respected the man, the legend, his wonderful humor and love of all species of animals and reptiles, but if an expert like Irwin couldn’t survive nature in this country, how could he possibly expect to?
Regardless, he needed to gather firewood, build a fire, because they weren’t going anywhere today. They needed time to let their bodies rest for the ordeals ahead, mend their wounds, see what food, water, and medical supplies they had, and he needed to check Dianna for other injuries.
She limped when she walked. He knew damn well she’d taken a hard blow to the head, so most likely she had a concussion. The gash on her forehead looked messy and no doubt needed suturing. She looked awful. The part of her clothing that wasn’t covered in blood was ripped and hanging in rags. Her clothes looked rather moth eaten, kind of like her mink coat.
He wondered if she had any idea most of the top half of her shirt hung around her waist. Princess Remington, who always looked fashionably turned out, looked like shit. He’d never seen Dianna any way but immaculate, except for the time she slipped and fell in Jillian’s blood. She’d looked like a refugee from Friday the Thirteenth that night.
He slid his gaze over her. The thin, lacy cups of her bra and the tempting shadow of her areolas and peach-tinted nipples were plainly visible.
Stop licking your chops. She isn’t your private eye candy.
So what if her tits were half
exposed? She had no breasts to speak of. He didn’t know why she bothered with a bra when she had so little to fill the cups. He’d much rather see her go braless.
Taylor frowned. And what did that say about him? If he was honest, he’d admit to himself he liked her tits just fine. His palms itched to explore them, to tease the nipples into a tight response. His mouth watered just thinking about wrapping his tongue around the sweet buds and sucking on them until he had her squirming with need.
No. Taylor mentally shook his head. He couldn’t go there. Remembering he didn’t like Dianna was important. He needed to keep that frame of mind. He did not like her, did not like her tits. All he wanted was to fuck her, once. One time. Get her out of his system. Scratch the itch, be done with her.
For sure, he did not like her brothers. Once he fucked Dianna, he’d have to be ready for a fight, probably with every one of them.
Impatiently, he allowed his gaze to follow the direction she’d turned him.
“There, on the ridge,” she said, pointing. “I thought I saw a–a wolf.”
Shading his eyes with his hand, he searched the distant ridge, but all he saw was green trees, greener vegetation, and shimmering heat waves. He slapped at an annoying fly that nibbled at the blood on his arm. “I doubt it’s a wolf. Are there wolves in Australia? No, I doubt there was anything there at all. You have a concussion. You’re probably seeing things.”
“Maybe.” She sounded doubtful. “My vision is a little weird. I see two of you, and that’s a freakin’ nightmare.”
Taylor laughed. “It’ll be a nightmare if we don’t get rescued. You have any idea where we are?”
“Sure, I do.” She flopped down on the ground and immediately pressed fingers to her temples. “Oooh. I have a miserable headache. Flies and mosquitoes buzz around my head. They think I’m a delicacy. I’m bleeding like a pig, and there’s an iron pole sticking out of my leg.”
“What? What’s sticking out of your leg?” He squatted beside her and started working her skirt up her thigh.
Too Close To The Fire/Too Hot To Handle (Montana Men 3) Page 4
