Texas Kidnapping
Page 20
Was he trying to convince her or himself?
“I can’t...breathe.” Understanding lit his bearded features as he noted the seat pressing against her chest, and in that moment, her body heat spiked with the concern sliding into his expression. Memory of him holding her hand during takeoff rushed to the front of her mind. Vincent pushed out of his seat, and the plane slid another couple of inches toward the cliff. She closed her eyes as terror ricocheted through her. “No, don’t!”
“Shea, look at me.” His featherlight touch trailed down her jaw, and she forced herself to follow his command. He stilled, bending at the knees until her gaze settled on his. Her heart pounded hard at the base of her skull but slowed the longer he stared at her. “I’m going to get you out of here, okay? You have my word. I need you to trust me.”
Trust him. The people he worked for—worked with—couldn’t be trusted. None of them could. Blackhawk Security might help catch the bad guys, same as her, but at the cost of breaking the law she’d taken an oath to uphold. They didn’t deserve her trust, but the pain in her chest wouldn’t let up, was getting worse, and all she could do was nod.
He moved forward slowly, and Shea strengthened her grip on the metal crushing her. The only reason the seat hadn’t killed her was because of the padded backpack she’d clutched before the crash, but how much more could her body take? The plane was shifting again, threatening to slide right toward another cliff edge. They’d survived a crash landing from 1,500 feet. What were the chances they’d survive another? Vincent crouched beside her, the plane barely large enough to contain his hulking size. Although the gaping hole at the tail end helped. “Hey, eyes on me, Officer. Nowhere else, you got that? I’m going to try to get this thing off of you, but I need you to focus on me.”
Focus on him. She could do that. She’d spent so long trying not to notice him while they worked their joint investigations, it was a nice change to have permission for once. Pins and needles spread through her feet and hands as cold worked deep into her bones. The back of the plane had been separated from the main fuselage, and the bloodied windshield had a large hole where she’d expected to see the pilot in his seat. They were in the middle of the Alaskan wilderness, and temperatures were dropping by the minute. “You’re...bleeding.”
“I’ve survived worse.” He skimmed his fingers over hers, and her awareness of how close he’d gotten rocketed her heart into her throat.
“Worse than...a plane crash?” How was that possible? She’d read his service records, thanks to a former partner now working for the NYPD. Vincent Kalani had been assigned to the department’s Detective Bureau’s Forensic Investigations Division, collecting and analyzing evidence from crime scenes for close to ten years. Until suddenly he wasn’t. There was nothing in those files about an injury in the line of duty. In fact, it was as though he’d simply disappeared before signing on with Sullivan Bishop’s new security firm here in Anchorage.
“I think I’ve got this loose enough to move it. You ready? I need you to push the seat forward as hard as you can.” Vincent handled the leather seat crushing her chest. “On my count. One, two, three.” Together, they shoved the debris forward, and Shea gasped as much crisp, clean air as her lungs allowed.
“Thank you.” The pain vanished as he maneuvered the hunk of metal to the front of the plane, and a panicked laugh bubbled to the surface. Because if she didn’t have this small release, Shea feared she might break down here in front of him. The ground rumbled beneath them, and she stilled. The plane hadn’t moved. At least, not as far as she could tell. So what—
Another shock wave rolled through the fuselage, and she tightened her grip around the backpack in her lap. “Vincent...”
Fear cut through the relief that’d spread over his expression. “Avalanche.”
Shea twisted in her seat, staring up at the ripples creasing through the snowbanks high above, her fingers plastered against the window. Strong hands ripped her out of her seat and thrust her toward the back of the plane. Adrenaline flooded into her veins, triggering her fight-or-flight response. The plane tilted to one side as they raced toward the back, threatening to roll with their escape. Cargo slid into her path. Her boot caught on a black duffel bag, and she hit freezing metal. The rumble was growing louder outside, stronger.
“Go, go, go!” Vincent helped her to her feet, keeping close on her heels as the plane shifted beneath them. With a final push, he forced her through the hole where the tail end of the plane was supposed to be, but they couldn’t stop. Not with an entire mountain of snow cascading directly toward them.
Flakes worked into the tops of her boots and soaked through her jeans. She pumped her legs as hard as she could, but it wouldn’t be enough. The avalanche was moving too fast. She was going to die out here, and everything she’d worked for—everything she’d ever cared about—wouldn’t matter anymore.
“There!” Vincent fisted her jacket and shoved her ahead of him. “Head for that opening!”
Trying to gain control of the panic eating her alive from the inside, Shea sprinted as fast as several feet of snow would let her toward what looked like the entrance to a cave a mere twenty feet ahead of them. Her fingers ached from the grip she kept on the backpack, but it was nothing compared to the burn in her lungs. A rush of cold air and flecks of snow blew her hair into her face and disrupted her vision, but she wouldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Ten feet. Five. She pumped her free arm to gain momentum. Sweat beaded at the base of her neck. They were going to make it. They had to make it. Glancing back over her shoulder, she ensured Vincent was still behind her, but the plane had already been consumed. Snow started to fall over the cave’s entrance in a thundering rush, and she lunged for the opening before it disappeared completely.
And hit solid dirt.
She clutched the backpack close to her chest, as if it’d bring any kind of comfort.
Within seconds, darkness filled her vision, only the sound of her and Vincent’s combined breathing registering over the rumble of them being buried alive. She reached for him, skimming her fingertips across what she assumed was one of his arms, but the padding of his jacket was too thick to be sure. Dust filled her nostrils as she fought to catch her breath. Silence descended, the wall of snow and ice settling over the cave. “You saved my life.”
A soft hissing sound preceded a burst of orange flame. Shadows danced over Vincent’s features, his battle-worn expression on full display in the dull flame of the lighter, and a hint of the awareness she’d felt when he’d held her hand during takeoff settled low in her stomach. Faster than she thought possible, he hauled her from the floor and pinned her against the wall of the cave and his body with one hand, her pack forgotten. “Tell me why you were on that plane.”
His body pressed into hers. Shadowed, angry angles were carved into his features, unlike anything she’d seen before when they’d worked together. Shea pushed at him, but he was so much stronger, so much bigger. “Get off me.”
“Before we crashed you said, ‘This wasn’t supposed to happen.’” He increased the pressure at the base of her throat, simulating the crushing debris he’d pulled off her chest mere minutes ago. “There was no reason that plane should’ve crashed unless it’d been sabotaged. You know something, and I’m not letting you go until you tell me who sent you after me—”
Turning one side of her body into him, she struck his forearm with the base of her palm and withdrew her service weapon with her free hand from the shoulder holster beneath her jacket. She aimed center mass, just as she’d been trained, but kept her finger alongside the trigger. “Touch me again and I won’t hesitate to shoot you. Understand?”
He backed off, easing the blood pulsing in her face and neck.
“Nobody sent me after you, whatever the hell that means.” In the dim light of the flame, Shea swallowed the discomfort in her throat as though that would make it easier to breathe, but she wouldn’t
lower her weapon. “I was on the plane because I need to get my son back.”
Copyright © 2020 by Natascha Jaffa
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ISBN-13: 9781488067648
Texas Kidnapping
Copyright © 2020 by Barb Han
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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