While They Watch

by Khloe Summers

  “Fuck,” he whispered, climbing back onto the bed. His brows had creased deeply into the center of his nose. “Start googling how to fly a plane.”

  I laughed, assuming he was joking, though his face stayed serious, now locked in his phone. “Wait. What? Why?” I responded, as my veins surged with blood.

  He looked over with a narrowed face, enunciating his words with fever. “Because Erik is dead. I saw the captain dragging him away. He’s the only other one on the plane now, and I can only assume that’s not the guy we hired.”

  My stomach turned, every bone in my body aching for the ground. “Just let him take us to wherever, and then kill him.”

  “If these people are a big enough deal to be high jacking planes, I don’t think we want to be around for the landing of their choice,” he said, pulling on a pair of jeans. “You stay here.” Reaching under the bed, he searched, looking for something that was no longer there. “My gun. I’ve always kept a gun back here, just in case something happened. It’s gone.” Anger rushed over his face, causing his jaw to clench tight and his muscles to flex involuntarily. Pulling a drawer from the dresser, he emptied the contents, snapping off the flimsy sides, leaving only the hard-front panel that looked to be made of solid mahogany.

  “I can’t let you go out by yourself. I did this to us; I need to help.” My voice trembled, knowing this could very well be the end.

  Matteo lifted his eyebrows, slipping a straight smile onto his stoic face. “You’re not coming, sit back down. I won’t let anything bad happen.” He moved me gently back towards the bed. “I need to know you’re okay. Just stay here.”

  Terror filled me, but for reasons, I didn’t expect. Suddenly, the thought of not growing old next to him, not finishing our list of exploits, not having a family, not telling him, I loved him—that was the terror that plagued me. Together, I knew we could do something, something more than he could do alone.

  “I can’t stay here. I can’t! I need to go!” I ripped another drawer from the dresser. “I’ll at least hand you another one. I’m sorry I got us into this.”

  He moved towards me, his bare chest still exposed, now firmly against mine. His free hand planted on my hip.

  “I love you so much, Hannah Adams,” he whispered, leaning his forehead in. “And I can’t wait to spend forever suspended in adventure with you, even if that means we’re knocking off bad guys at twenty thousand feet.”

  Emotion spilled from my eyes in a stream of release and passion.

  “I love you more. So much more. Forever. Forever and then some.”

  “And then some,” he repeated, softly kissing my cheek. The scent of his cedar cologne lingered in the air as he pulled away.

  “I’m going to storm the isle, catch him off guard. I should be able to knock him out. While I’m doing that, you get the sharpest knife you can from the bar.” Without a second thought, Matteo left the room, storming down the aisle as planned. I watched for a moment before turning away, diverting my attention to the knife.

  Moments later, we lost altitude, dropping at least twenty feet instantly. I fell, tumbling to my knees in the crescent-shaped bar. The roar of the engine blocked out noises from any struggle as I quickly searched for a knife. A sharp blade, like the one in my dream—like the one I’d tried to carry without hurting everyone around me. Except now, I wished it would.

  Again, a fall. A drop in altitude and a slight turn to the left. They were still struggling. Turning the corner out of the bar, I looked down into the open cockpit. Matteo on the floor, his swelling shoulders trying to push the captain off. A gun, a shiny metal gun, glistening in his hands as he pushed towards Matteo’s head.

  Focused on each other, the captain didn’t see me coming. He didn’t see as I flew down the aisle like a reindeer on steroids, ready to face every demon I’d ever had. He didn’t see as I let the sharp knife fall, aiming its blade to crisply land on the corner of his neck, forcing blood to spray onto the white surrounding us. Matteo caught my eyes, wide and entrenched with purpose, as I reached for the gun still swaying. The captain, unwillingly loosening his grip, as his life emptied around him. Matteo stood, lifting the smaller man’s dying body away.

  He kissed me gently on the top of my head, bending slightly in pain, “Who has a hero complex now?”

  With no time to spare, he jumped into the pilot’s seat to figure out the landing, radioing in to the nearest airport, asking for help. Quickly, a response with detailed instructions. We would be in the air for twenty more minutes before landing in Dallas, where another jet would meet us to complete the trip to Africa. I sat down next to Matteo, sick that a person was dying next to us.

  “He was going to kill me, and he did kill Erik. Thank you,” he said, reaching to touch my stiff shoulder. “You saved me. I was too afraid he’d shoot—killing me or putting a hole in the plane.”

  I stayed silent, focused on the altitude meter. Soon, ten minutes had passed, and it was time for us to lower the flaps and pull back on the throttle while attempting to angle the plane for the descent.

  “We’re taking flying lessons after this. We’re going to be ready,” he laughed, plastering a wide, adrenaline-filled grin over his handsome face. I hadn’t seen this smile before, the one where we were about to crash land a plane.

  “Do you think there are still people out there? Or was this the only one?” The plane was angling down, and he was struggling to control it, but I continued asking questions as though our lives weren’t about to end.

  “There’s more. No way this guy went on his own suicide mission,” he answered, pulling back on the throttle. “They’ll be even more pissed now. Now that they know one of their own is dead.” He bit his bottom lip and gripped the throttle, pressing his foot down into the floor of the plane as though he were stopping it with his strength alone.

  The giant window outstretched before us offered up the bright skyline of Dallas. The airport was ahead, the succession of lights flashing red in a row. We listened as the man relayed directions — Matteo following each one with perfect pitch. Sweat dripped from his temple as he tipped the nose of the plane up for landing — a bump—the wheels hitting the ground—the flight, forcefully slowing.

  Soon, police were on the jet, asking questions, Erik was being taken away, and we were being shuttled to the next runway. Without Erik, Matteo was unclear who to trust. He’d kept his circle small anyway, but now was insistent on the flight being just us and the captain. And he wasn’t planning to sleep. Instead, he held watch, parked in the main galley, looking for anything suspicious. I, on the other hand, needed to be knocked out to fly again.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  We landed in South Africa the following evening. Not trusting anyone, Matteo rented an SUV and drove us to the reserve himself. We seemed to be safe. No cars followed, and no guns shot—It’s like we’d landed on another planet, where no one was out to get us. Then, a buzz, followed by three more.

  Matteo picked up his phone. “Read this to me, Bella. Tell me it’s nothing bad.” Taking his phone from his hand, I read out the texts as they came in.

  Erik: They say its surface level. I’ll be back within weeks. No organs hit.

  Erik: Where are you, sir? Still Africa?

  Erik: I just wanted to check-in. Figured you thought me for dead.

  Matteo turned his head to the side for a moment, then back towards the road, folding his lips in before he began to speak. “That doesn’t make sense. I saw how much blood he spilled. No way he could be alive.”

  I stayed silent, letting Matteo spit his thoughts as they formed organically. “Someone could have found his phone. We’d discussed our location via text.”

  I could see pain swirling through him in a fury of uncertainty, wanting to have hope that his friend and most trusted advisor was alive.

  “Ask him what I spilled on his heirloom blanket.”

  I typed the question into his phone and waited. Before, responses had
been immediate. Now, there was a pause. A long pause, until an hour had gone by with no response at all.

  “He would’ve texted back by now. Someone has his phone.” Matteo’s tone was low as he struggled with the emotional rollercoaster.

  I stayed quiet, reaching out towards his lap to hold his hand. He’d been up all night, and we’d had an incredibly long day. Though just as we pulled into the house on the reserve, miles deep in the heart of the Serengeti… a buzz echoed in the console. We looked at each other, frozen in the moment—wondering if it were the reply we’d been waiting for.

  Erik: You spilled red wine, sir. We still haven’t removed the stain. I’ll never forgive you.

  Matteo’s eyes welled with tears. He dialed Erik, putting the phone on speaker. Six long rings later, Erik answered.

  “Hello, sir.”

  “Erik! How the hell are you alive?”

  “I’m fine sir, tired though.” He sounded different; his voice strained in some way I couldn’t explain. I kept quiet, letting the conversation continue.

  Though, Matteo ended the call abruptly and then turned towards me. “He’ll be back with us in no time. Until then, we’ll lay low. Enjoy the savannah.”

  Granted, I’d been through a lot the last couple of months, so my meter could have been off, but something wasn’t right. I looked at Matteo, his eyes wrinkling in the corners with happiness, despite his still tense body. He’d known Erik much longer than I had. I’m sure he’d know if something was off. Stepping out of the SUV, we head towards the small hive shaped bungalow and threw our bags inside.

  Matteo reached for my hand, “Let’s head out to watch this sunset.” I took his hand and wandered with him out onto the plains, sitting in a folding lawn chair that had been set out in front of the house.

  Acacia trees dotted the hot plains, providing shelter to some large blackbirds in the distance, as they picked at a carcass. To the far right, zebra, rolling and playing in the dirt. I’d heard once, that if zebra were near, predators were always close by.

  “This light suits you,” he said, sliding his hand onto the back of my neck. “Belladonna, my beautiful woman.”

  There was something sensual about the moment. Something erotic I couldn’t put my finger on—though I assumed it was because we were again surrounded by danger. Danger in its most primitive form—wild and free. So then, it was only natural that he took me—that he bent me like an animal in the setting sun, showing his primitive dominance.

  Standing in front of him, I lifted the black sundress over my head. My naked body now exposed to the elements of nature. He stayed in his seat, looking up at my face as he touched my silky skin—running his hands slowly over each crevasse and cell as if he were studying its origin. A warm wind puffed lightly, blowing my long blonde hair to the side. He reached up, cupping my large, pale breasts with his olive hands. My hard nipples, grating on the rough interior of his palm.

  He stood, grazing his thumb across my lips as he looked towards me with glassy eyes. Slowly, his head moved in, angling to perfect his kiss. I reached down, unbuckling his pants, letting them fall to the sand as he continued to massage at my tongue. Removing his shirt, I paused our now frantic kissing for a moment, as the fabric twisted between us. Then, turned to bow into the horizon.

  There we were, a part of nature. Me, on hands and knees, looking out at the dark red sun setting over the savannah. Him, thrusting behind me in eager anticipation, part of the animal kingdom. We were two worlds colliding on land that united us, both desperate to belong in someone’s arms. Off in the distance, zebra joined with antelope to graze in the cooler dusk.

  Frantic for his eyes, I turned, inviting him to enter me from the front. My back on the grainy, dry sand, rubbing like sandpaper with each thrust, heightening all sensations. He straightened up, lifting my legs to go deeper, rolling his eyes back slightly as he struggled for focus. I reached down, rubbing my clit, hoping for simultaneous combustion. His pace became quicker, more exact, his muscular legs now stiff against the back of my thighs. I rubbed faster with his rhythm, thumping into orgasm as I watched ecstasy shake him blind like a mask on a stick.

  The sun had set below the horizon before we strolled in for the night, narrowly avoiding mosquitos the size of dinosaurs as they convened around our bungalow. I’d never been to Africa, though I hadn’t been to many places. Yet, this is how I’d imagined it. Raw and uninhibited with the man I loved.

  “If that wasn’t on our list, it should’ve been,” Matteo joked, as we rinsed off in the refreshing shower.

  “But there were no lions, what’s the fun in that?” I replied, sarcastically twisting my lips to the side.

  Grabbing my hips, he pulled me into his space—looking at me with a smile that said everything.

  Epilogue

  Matteo

  I used to think I wanted a certain kind of woman. Someone like my mother. Beautiful and poised, sophisticated and proper, composed, and well educated. A woman in touch with her Italian heritage.

  I’d wanted a woman who could teach our children local customs, rich traditions, and recipes handed down through generations. Instead, I found myself flatlining with gold diggers, nervous with beautiful strangers, and trusting all the wrong people.

  A life I’d surrendered to until I met Hannah. The awkwardly, guilt-ridden, unsure of herself, but sure of herself, crazy, unpredictable, gorgeous creature that is: Hannah Adams. And that’s just it. It’s the imperfections. It’s the over apologetic half-smile and the candid passion for wildlife. It’s the sweetheart gaze, with her soft skin against your chest because she’s scared of the dark. It’s the list of exploits she couldn’t wait to explore as she fucks you, as you’ve always dreamed of being fucked. It’s messy and complicated, intense, and uncensored. And effortlessly wonderful in every way I never knew I needed.

  That’s why it’s so hard to tell her the truth. A truth I realized immediately after my call with Erik. He’d said red wine spilled on his heirloom blanket, but we both know it was black tea. This seems like a simple mistake, and I would have thought so too, had it not been for the jesting he’d continued to dish.

  That means one of two things, either Erik is alive and being held hostage or he got wrapped up like Lyla. That would make sense considering the placement of cameras last-minute. But why? Either way, he was sending me a message.

  A message that was tormenting me, but I couldn’t scare Hannah. I wondered if I gave them Pegasus’ line and the money if they’d leave us alone. Or rather, keep going until everything was theirs. There was no way to know for sure — no straight line to freedom. I didn’t know who we could trust, but I did know I had to fight to get our lives back.

  I sat up with my thoughts all night, watching Hannah sleep in a ball of comfort, protected from danger in the middle of the African plains. She deserved to feel safe, wherever she was, and I was determined to make that happen.