by Linda Howard
“Sure do,” Chance answered.
When he was closer, the man stuck out his hand. “Charlie Jones, Civil Air Patrol. We’ve been looking for you for a couple of days. Didn’t expect to find you this far south.”
“I veered off course looking for a place to land. Fuel pump went out.”
“In that case, you’re mighty lucky. That’s rough territory out there. This might be the only spot in a hundred miles when you could have landed. Come on. I expect you folks are ready for a shower and some food.”
Chance held out his hand to Sunny, and she gave him that brilliant smile again as she put her hand in his and they walked to the helicopter.
Chapter 11
Sunny was almost dizzy with mingled relief and regret; relief because she wouldn’t miss Margreta’s call, regret because this time with Chance, even under such trying conditions, had been the happiest, most fulfilling few days of her life and they were now over. She had known from the beginning that their time together was limited; once they were back in the regular world, all the old rules came back into play.
She couldn’t, wouldn’t risk his life by letting him be a part of hers. He had given her two nights of bliss, and a lifetime of memories. That would have to be enough, no matter how much she was already aching at the thought of walking away from him and never seeing him again. At least now she knew what it was to love a man, to revel in his existence, and she was richer for it. She wouldn’t have traded these few days with him for any amount of money, no matter the price in loneliness she would have to pay.
So she held his hand all during the helicopter flight to a small, ramshackle air field. The only building was made of corrugated metal, rounded at the top like a Quonset hut, with a wooden addition, housing the office, added to one side. If the addition had ever seen a coat of paint, the evidence of it had long since been blasted off by the wind-driven sand. After living under a rock for three days, Sunny thought the little field looked like heaven.
Seven airplanes, of various makes and vintage, were parked with almost military precision along one side of the air strip. Charlie Jones landed his helicopter on a concrete pad behind the corrugated building. Three men, one wiping his greasy hands on a stained red rag, left the building by the back door and walked toward them, ducking their heads against the turbulence of the rotor blades.
Charlie took off his headset and hopped out of the chopper, smiling. “Found ’em,” he called cheerfully to the approaching trio. To Chance and Sunny he said, “The two on the left fly CAP with me. Saul Osgood, far left, is the one who spotted your smoke this morning and radioed in your position. Ed Lynch is the one in the middle. The one with the greasy hands is Rabbit Warren, the mechanic here. His real name’s Jerome, but he’ll fight you if you call him that.”
Sunny almost laughed aloud. She controlled the urge, but she was careful not to look at Chance as they shook hands with the three men and introduced themselves.
“I couldn’t believe it when I saw your bird in that little bitty narrow canyon,” Saul Osgood said, shaking his head after Chance told them what had happened. “How you ever found it is a miracle. And to make a dead stick landing—” He shook his head again. “Someone was sure looking out for you, is all I can say.”
“So you think it was your fuel pump went out, huh?” Rabbit Warren asked as they walked into the hangar.
“Everything else checked out.”
“It’s a Skylane, right?”
“Yeah.” Chance told him the model, and Rabbit stroked his lean jaw.
“I might have a pump for that. There was a feller in here last year flying a Skylane. He ordered some parts for it, then left and never did come back for ’em. I’ll check while you folks are refreshing yourselves.”
If “refreshing” themselves had anything to do with a bathroom, Sunny was more than ready. Chance gave her the first turn, and she almost crooned with delight at the copious water that gushed from the faucet at a turn of the handle. And a flush toilet! She was in heaven.
After Chance had his turn, they indulged in ice-cold soft drinks from a battered vending machine. A snack machine stood beside it, and Sunny surveyed the offerings with an eager eye. “How much change do you have?” she asked Chance.
He delved his hand into his front pocket and pulled out his change, holding it out for Sunny to see. She picked out two quarters and fed them into the machine, punched a button, and a pack of cheese and crackers fell to the tray.
“I thought you’d go for a candy bar,” Chance said as he fed more quarters into the machine and got a pack of peanuts.
“That’s next.” She raised her eyebrows. “You didn’t think I was going to stop with cheese and crackers, did you?”
Ed Lynch opened the door to the office. “Is there anyone you need to call? We’ve notified the FAA and called off the search, but if you have family you want to talk to, feel free to use the phone.”
“I need to call the office,” Sunny said, pulling a wry face. She had a good excuse—a very good one—for not making her delivery, but the bottom line was that a customer was unhappy.
Chance waited until she was on the phone, then strolled over to where Rabbit was making a show of looking for a fuel pump. His men were good, Chance thought; they had played this so naturally they should have been on the stage. Of course, subterfuge was their lives, just as it was his.
“Everything’s good,” Chance said quietly. “You guys can clear out after Charlie takes us back to the canyon with the fuel pump.”
Rabbit pulled a greasy box from a makeshift shelf that was piled with an assortment of parts and tools. Over Chance’s shoulder he eyed Sunny through the windowed door to the office. “You pulled a real hardship assignment this time, boss,” he said admiringly. “That’s the sweetest face I’ve seen in a while.”
“There’s a sweet person behind it, too,” Chance said as he took the box. “She’s not part of the organization.”
Rabbit’s eyebrows went up. “So all this was for nothing.”
“No, everything is still a go. The only thing that’s changed is her role. Instead of being the key, she’s the bait. She’s been on the run from Hauer her entire life. If he knows where she is, he’ll come out of hiding.” He glanced around to make certain she was still on the phone. “Spread the word that we’re going to be extra careful with her, make sure she doesn’t get hurt. Hauer has already caused enough damage in her life.”
And he himself was going to cause more, Chance thought bleakly. As terrified as she was of Hauer, when she learned Chance had deliberately leaked her location to the man she was going to go ballistic. That would definitely be the end of this relationship, but he’d known from the beginning this was only temporary. Like her, he wasn’t in any position for permanent ties. Sunny’s circumstances would change when her father was gone, but Chance’s wouldn’t; he would move on to another crisis, another security threat.
Just because he was her first lover didn’t mean he would be her last.
The idea shot a bolt of pure rage through him. Damn it, she was his—he caught the possessive thought and strangled it. Sunny wasn’t his; she was her own person, and if she found happiness in her life with some other man, he should be happy for her. She more than deserved anything good that came her way.
He wasn’t happy. Her laughter, her passion—he wanted it all for himself. Knowing he couldn’t have her was already eating a huge hole out of his insides, but she deserved far better than a mongrel with blood on his hands. He had chosen his world, and he was well-suited for it. He was accustomed to living a lie, to pretending to be someone he wasn’t, to always staying in the shadows. Sunny was…sunny, both by name and by nature. He would enjoy her while he had her—by God, he’d enjoy her—but in the end he knew he would have to walk away.
Sunny ended the call and left the office. Hearing the door close, he turned to watch her approach, and he let himself savor the pleasure of just watching her.
She wrinkled her nose. “
Everyone’s glad the plane didn’t crash, that I’m a live—but the fact that I didn’t die makes it a little less forgivable that I didn’t deliver the package on time. The customer still wants it, though, so I still have to go to Seattle.”
She came to him as naturally as if they had been together for years, and just as naturally he found himself slipping his arm around her slender waist. “Screw ’em,” he said dismissively. He lifted the box. “Guess what I have.”
She beamed. “The keys to the kingdom.”
“Close enough. Charlie’s going to take me back to the plane so I can swap out the fuel pump. Do you want to go with me, or stay here and rest until I get back?”
“Go with you,” she said promptly. “I don’t know anything about airplanes, but I can keep you company while you work. Are we coming back here, anyway?”
“Sure. This is as good a place to refuel as any.” Plus she wouldn’t find out they weren’t in Oregon as he’d told her.
“Then I’ll leave my bag here, if that’s all right with Rabbit.” She looked inquiringly at Rabbit, who nodded his head.
“That’ll be just fine, ma’am. Put it in the office and it’ll be as safe as a baby in the womb.”
Sunny walked away to get the bag. She felt safe, Chance realized, otherwise she would never let the bag out of her possession. Except for her worry for Margreta, these last few days she must have felt free, unburdened by the need to constantly look over her shoulder.
He had enjoyed their little adventure, too, every minute of it, because he had known they weren’t in any danger. Sunny made him feel more alive than he ever had before, even when he was angry at her because she had just scared him half to death. And when he was inside her—then he was as close to heaven as he was ever likely to get. The pleasure of making love to her was so intense it was almost blinding.
He grinned to himself as he hefted his own overnight bag. No way was he leaving it here; after all, the condoms were in it. No telling what might happen when he and Sunny were alone.
The afternoon was wearing on when Charlie set the helicopter down in the canyon again. He looked up at the light with an experienced pilot’s eye. “You think you have enough time to get that fuel pump put on before dark?”
“No problem,” Chance said. After all, as he and Charlie both knew, there was nothing wrong with the fuel pump, anyway. He would tinker around for a while, make it look realistic. Sunny wasn’t likely to stand at his elbow the entire time, and if she did he would distract her.
He and Sunny jumped out of the helicopter, and he leaned in to get his bag. “See you in a few hours.”
“If you don’t make it back to the airfield, we know where you are,” Charlie said, saluting.
They ducked away from the turbulence as the helicopter lifted away. Sunny pushed her hair away from her face and looked around the canyon, smiling. “Home again,” she said, and laughed. “Funny how it looks a lot more inviting now that I know we aren’t stuck here.”
“I’m going to miss it,” he said, winking at her. He carried his bag and the box containing the fuel pump over to the plane. “But we’ll find out tonight if a bed is more fun than a tent.”
To his surprise, sadness flashed in her eyes. “Chance…once we’re away from here…” She shook her head. “It won’t be safe.”
He checked for a moment, then very deliberately put down the bag and box. Turning back to her, he put his hands on his hips. “If you’re saying what I think you’re saying, you can just forget about it. You aren’t dumping me.”
“You know what the situation is! I don’t have a choice.”
“I do. You’re not just a fun screw who was available while we were here. I care about you, Sunny,” he said softly. “When you look over your shoulder, you’re going to see my face. Get used to it.”
Tears welled in her brilliant eyes, filling them with diamonds. “I can’t,” she whispered. “Because I love you. Don’t ask me to risk your life, because I can’t handle it.”
His stomach muscles tightened. He had set out to make her love him, or at least get involved in a torrid affair with him. He had succeeded at doing both. He felt humbled, and exhilarated—and sick, because he was going to betray her.
He had her in his arms before he was aware of moving, and his mouth was on hers. He felt desperate for the taste of her, as if it had been days since he’d kissed her instead of just hours. Her response was immediate and wholehearted, as she rose on her tiptoes to fit her hips more intimately to his. He tasted the salt of her tears and drew back, rubbing his thumbs across her wet cheeks.
He rested his forehead against hers. “You’re forgetting something,” he murmured.
She sniffed. “What?”
“I was a ranger, sweetheart. I’m a little harder to kill than your average guy. You need someone watching your back, and I can do it. Think about it. We probably made the news. When we get to Seattle, don’t be surprised if there’s a television camera crew there. Both our faces will be on television. Besides that, we were reported missing to the FAA, which is federal. Information would have been dug up on both of us. Our names our linked. If the mole in the FBI tumbles to who you are, your father’s goons will be after me, anyway—especially if they can’t find you.”
She went white. “Television?” She looked a lot like her mother; Chance had seen old photos of Pamela Vickery Hauer. Anyone familiar with Pamela would immediately notice the resemblance. As sharp as she was, Sunny also knew the danger of being on television, even a local newscast.
“We’re in this together.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles, then grinned down at her. “Lucky for you, I’m one mean son of a bitch when I need to be—lucky for you, unlucky for them.”
Nothing she said would sway him, Sunny thought with despair late that night as she showered in the hotel suite he had booked them into for the night—a suite because it had more than one exit. He had been exactly right about the television news crew. Crews, she corrected herself. News had been slow that day, so every station in Seattle had jumped on the human-interest story. The problem was, so had both national news channels.
She had evaded the cameras as much as possible, but the reporters had seemed fixated on her, shouting questions at her instead of Chance. She would have thought the female reporters, at least, would be all over Chance, but he’d worn such a forbidding expression that no one had approached him. She hadn’t answered any questions on camera, though at Chance’s whispered suggestion she had given them a quick comment off-camera, for them to use as a filler on their broadcast.
Her one break was that, since it had been so late when they landed, the story didn’t make even the late news. But unless something more newsworthy happened soon, the story would air in just a few hours over millions of breakfast tables countrywide.
She had to assume her cover had been blown. That meant leaving the courier service, moving—not that she had much to move; she had never accumulated many possessions—even changing her name. She would have to build a new identity.
She had always known it could happen, and she had prepared for it, both mentally and with actual paperwork. Changing her name wouldn’t change who she was; it was just a tool to use to escape her father.
The real problem was Chance. She couldn’t shake him, no matter how she tried, and she knew she was good at that kind of thing. She had tried to lose him at the airport, ducking into a cab when his back was turned. But he seemed to have a sixth sense where she was concerned, and he was sliding in the other door before she could give the driver the address where she had to deliver the courier package. He had remained within touching distance of her until they walked into the hotel room, and she had no doubt that, if she opened the bathroom door, she would find him sprawled across the bed, watching her.
In that, she underestimated him. Just as she began lathering her hair, the shower curtain slid back and he stepped naked into the tub with her. “I thought I’d conserve water and shower with you,�
�� he said easily.
“Hah! You’re just afraid I’ll leave if you shower by yourself,” she said, turning her back on him.
A big hand patted her bottom. “You know me so well.”
She fought a smile. Damn him, why did he have to be so well-matched to her in every way? She could, and had, run rings around most people, but not Chance.
She hogged the spray, turning the nozzle down to rinse her hair. He waited until she was finished with that, at least, then adjusted the nozzle upward so the water hit him in the chest. It also hit her full in the face. She sputtered and elbowed him. “This is my shower, and I didn’t invite you. I get control of the nozzle, not you.”
She knew challenging him was a mistake. He said, “Oh, yeah?” and the tussle was on. Before she knew it she was giggling, he was laughing, and the bathroom was splattered with water. She had played more with Chance than she had since she’d been a little girl; she felt lighthearted with him, despite her problems. Their wet, naked bodies slid against each other, and neither of them could get a good grasp on any body part. At least, she couldn’t. She suspected he could have won the tussle at any time simply by using his size and strength and wrapping his arms around her, but he held back and played at her level, as if he were used to restraining his strength to accommodate someone weaker than himself.
His hands were everywhere: on her breasts, her bottom, sliding between her legs while she laughed and batted them away. One long finger worked its way inside her and she squealed, trying to twist away while excitement spiraled wildly through her veins. Their naked wrestling match was having a predictable effect on both of them. She grabbed for the nozzle and aimed the blast of water at his face, and while he was trying to deflect the spray she made her escape, hopping out of the tub and snatching up a towel to wrap around her.
He vaulted out of the tub and slammed the door shut just as she reached for it. “You left the shower running,” she accused, trying to sidetrack him.