Crash Landing

Sean cleared his throat. “Yeah. Didn’t anyone tell you we were coming?” His acting skills could use some work, but he’d joined her charade without missing a beat.

“Who are you?” the pilot demanded, the tip of his gun wavering. “Pritchard never said nothing about another plane.”

Deanna bit back the obvious question. Pritchard? She’d never heard the name before. Time to wing it again.

“Well, he told us—” she amped up the annoyance in her voice “—that there’d be too much cargo for one plane. That you would need our help.”

She flicked one of her raised hands in the direction of her Cessna. “We’re supposed to help you transport.”

The gun’s tip relaxed slightly. Was he buying it?

“You didn’t think we landed for a picnic, did you?” she said.

Deanna blinked rapidly. The sweat she couldn’t wipe away stung her eyes. She arranged her face into what she hoped was a confident expression. This guy couldn’t see fear on her face or he’d see right through her act.

Indecision danced across his features, but something else—something possessive and dark—dawned in his eyes, taking its place. His gaze traveled from Deanna’s head to her feet as if he were seeing her for the first time. Heat filled her cheeks. Every part of her begged her to run from this predator, but she couldn’t.

He stepped closer to Deanna, and a hissing sound escaped from Sean. Sean took a step forward. The guy waved the shotgun back at Sean’s face.

“Get back!”

Deanna wouldn’t want to be alone with a guy like this, but she needed to use the attraction to her advantage before Sean’s cowboy code of honor got them both shot.

She added sweetness to her voice. “While we wait, can we put our arms down? Please? They’re killing me.”

He shuffled his feet and lowered the gun another centimeter. “Yeah. Fine. Put them down, but don’t move until someone gets out here to tell me what’s going on.”

He locked eyes with Sean, his mouth lifting in a cocky half smile. “I’ve shot a man before. I’ll do it again if I need to.”

Deanna froze, believing him. His eyes were so cold. He looked like a killer, like he’d follow through on that promise without a moment of guilt. She lowered her arms slowly, the gun against her stomach calling to her. I’m here—use me.

There was nothing to make her care about this guy, but still, he was a human being with a beating heart. She’d prepared for scenarios like this—she’d bought the gun for self-defense—but facing a real flesh-and-blood threat made her second-guess herself. It made her imagine blood and death. Even if she could get the gun out, could she pull the trigger?

Her questions took too long. Suddenly the pilot spun her, shoved the shotgun’s tip between her shoulder blades and frisked her. He had her pistol in his hands before she could react to stop him.

“Hiding something?” he mocked, waving the gun in front of her face. Her fists clenched. He was too close, sharing too much of her air.

“Like you’d be out here unarmed,” she snapped.

Without the gun against her belly, she was small and vulnerable. And stupid. How could she have lost the gun? Her debt to Sean had just multiplied.

“You armed?” the pilot asked Sean.

“No.”

“Right,” the man sneered. “Just like she wasn’t.”

“I’m not armed,” Sean said.

“Show me,” he commanded. “And don’t try anything. She isn’t too pretty to shoot.”

Sean slowly lifted his T-shirt, revealing a tanned, muscular stomach but no gun. He repeated the process with his pant legs, lifting each side.

“Take off your boots.”

Sean obeyed, pulling off his boots and shaking them out. “I’m clean.”

“Turn out your pockets.” Sean threw down a cell phone and a knife Deanna hadn’t known he had.

The pilot kicked the knife and phone away. “Not armed, eh?”

Sean shrugged. He put his boots back on and stood back up tall, never breaking eye contact. Deanna’s cheeks still burned. She’d had a gun, but she’d lost their ticket out of here by being too slow to act. She met Sean’s eyes and mouthed the words I’m sorry.

The pilot pushed Deanna forward with the shotgun. “Walk to my plane.”

When they arrived at the red Piper Arrow, he raised the shotgun to the back of her head. Deanna could feel the cold metal touching her scalp through her hair. She closed her eyes and refused to imagine the gory details of what would happen to her if that gun fired now.

“Climb into the cockpit and grab the duct tape out of the glove compartment,” he directed Sean. The gun pushed harder against Deanna’s head, making her stagger forward a bit. “There’s two rolls. And don’t forget where I’ve got this gun pointed.”

Sean nodded and climbed in, quickly locating the tape. When he hopped back to the ground, the pilot shoved Deanna hard toward the shed. “Get up against the wall.”

“Hey!” Sean yelled, stepping toward Deanna. “Not so rough!”

“Yeah, about that. Sorry about this, dude,” he said and then swung the shotgun like a baseball bat, connecting with the side of Sean’s head. The thwack of solid wood against Sean’s skull made Deanna’s knees buckle.

“Sean!” she screamed. Reaching out, she caught his slumping body just in time. His weight knocked her to her knees, but she slowed his fall before he hit the ground.

The pilot’s hands shoved her from behind, and Sean rolled from her arms.

“On your stomach,” he ordered Deanna. “And stay there or you’re getting the same as he got.”

* * *

Sean couldn’t measure how much time passed. It could have been forever or maybe it was only seconds. Blackness condensed like a tunnel into a single point of light. He blinked his eyes, so confused. So very confused.

A woman lay on her stomach in front of him. He knew her, didn’t he? Was he supposed to help her?

He tried to stand but gravity pulled at him like a magnet. He wobbled on his knees, trying not to fall.

“Stay down.”

Rough hands shoved him back to the ground. A man was yelling at the girl.

Deanna. That was her name. Sean really should try to fight back. Make that guy stop yelling at her. He would. Later. After he got his head right.

No, now. Something was wrong. Deanna needed him.

Sean struggled to stand again but his body wouldn’t obey. He had no more strength than a rag doll. The hands were on him again, pulling him into a seated position, pushing him against something. A dull pain throbbed against Sean’s temple. He closed his eyes. He just wanted to focus. If he could only process what was happening. That’s all he wanted. To stop being so confused.