Dangerous Kiss

by Avery Flynn

  Unable to turn away from the stubborn set of her jaw, he didn’t realize the SUV had wandered onto the shoulder until the vehicle started to shake as he drove over the edge of the roadway. He yanked the steering wheel and got the SUV back on the highway. Adrenaline surged through his body as the vehicle fishtailed on the pavement. Both hands on the wheel, he regained control of the vehicle and his desperate thoughts in time to make the turn into the airport.

  A few empty cars dotted the parking lot; among them was Burlington’s sedan. The single terminal was wrapped in darkness, but through the chain-link fence surrounding the airfield, he spotted a small white jet idling on the tarmac. Burlington.

  “Wait here for Hank.” Jake flicked off the engine, shot out of the SUV and made a beeline toward the fence.

  Burlington could fly away at any moment. Jake jumped onto the fence and started climbing. It swayed under his weight while he scrambled up. The jet engine purred in the background as he sailed over the top and dropped to the tarmac.

  A second set of footsteps slapped the ground behind him and he spun around, ready to confront an attacker.

  Claire stood barefoot on the inside of the fence. Grunting, she tugged at the hem of her dress.

  “Stupid thing is caught.” She gave it a ferocious yank and the fabric tore free. Tumbling back, she came to a stop flat on her ass.

  The rip in her dress extended up to her round hip. A flash of green thong caught his eye as she stood up and brushed herself off. Even in the midst of all this madness, his body responded with a lust that sucked the oxygen right out of his lungs and the blood from his brain.

  “Stop staring at me like a dog eyeing a juicy steak.” She smacked him on the arm. “We have to figure out how to stop that plane.”

  Hand-in-hand, they sprinted to a small wooden equipment shed. Peeling red paint flaked off onto Jake’s shirt as he leaned against the shed. Eyeballing the plane, he absentmindedly brushed the paint off onto a pile of crumbled paint chips that had accumulated like a snowdrift alongside the shed. Claire wiped away the dust caked on its lone window and pressed her face against the glass.

  “How long until Hank and his deputies get here?” Jake whispered and slid his body closer to Claire’s, his muscles taut.

  She pulled back from the window, dirt smudges darkening her nose and forehead. “At least twenty minutes. The sheriff’s office is on the other side of town.”

  “No one was in the area?”

  “This is Dry Creek, Jake. There are only three deputies on duty during the overnight shift and they’re all at headquarters for shift change. That’s why I told Hank we couldn’t wait for him.”

  Jake grimaced and grasped for the inkling of a plan. It didn’t even have to be a great one, just good enough to keep Burlington from jetting off to Brazil.

  Bracing himself for the worst, he risked another glance around the shed. About fifty feet long, the small jet idled with its steps extended out to the tarmac. No one stood in the gangway or behind one of the plane’s five windows. Desperation growing, he scanned the area near Burlington’s jet in a clockwise circle, weighing the possibilities of each item crossing his line of vision. A moveable staircase. Two closed airplane hangars. A bright yellow crop duster. Gas tankers parked beside each other at the far end. The glass doors to the terminal. A baggage car. Another equipment shed.

  His body stiffened and he dragged his gaze back to the baggage car. Of course. Excitement pulsed through his body as he ducked his head back behind the shed. “There’s a baggage car. I can smash it into the plane’s staircase.”

  “Are you nuts?” Claire’s voice cracked. “You want to play chicken with a jet?”

  He swiped the grime from her nose with his thumb. “You got a better idea?”

  She leaned forward and brushed an electric kiss across his lips. “No. But I know where the keys are.” With an impish grin, she pointed toward the window.

  Sure enough, a set of keys hung from a hook under a hand-printed sticky note reading, baggage cart. Elated, he grabbed her hand and they snuck around the corner to the shed’s door. His body tense, prepared for an attack, he twisted the knob as he watched the jet. The door swung open and hit the wall with a thud.

  They darted inside the shed’s gloomy interior lit only by the airport’s floodlights. The dust covering everything tickled Jake’s nose. Claire snatched the keys. The daredevil gleam in her eyes scared him down to his toes. He needed to get those keys quick before she decided she’d be the one to ram Burlington’s plane.

  “Oh, no you don’t.” He held out his hand for the keys.

  A shadow slunk across the wall beside Claire. Too late, Jake’s inner alarm bells clanged. Goose bumps popped up along his arms. The summer breeze changed direction and cigar smoke wafted into the shed.

  The color drained from Claire’s face as she looked past his shoulder.

  Heart pumping at breakneck speed, he spun around.

  Franklin.

  A makeshift white gauze bandage covered one eye, but hate glistened in the other. The big man spit out his lit cigar, cracked his knuckles and pointed at Jake. “You’re all mine.”

  Claire gasped.

  Operating purely on instinct, he hurled himself at the huge goon, pushing him out of the doorway. “Run, Claire!”

  Her bare feet smacked against the tarmac as she cleared the doorway. Jake steamrolled Franklin, pushing him around the shed’s corner. They jostled for control, punching and grappling.

  With a low growl, the big man slammed his head against Jake’s forehead. Pain spiraled through his skull and everything went black. Unable to defend himself, Franklin’s punch to the gut sent Jake to the ground on top of a pile of paint chips.

  “I am going to enjoy my time with that little lady.” Franklin drove his cruel words home with a kick to Jake’s side.

  His body screamed in agony, but his sight returned. Everything had a fuzzy glow to it, but he could see. The red flakes scattered on the ground in front of him made his lips curl back into a snarl. When it came to saving Claire, Jake wasn’t above fighting dirty.

  Franklin stood, watching Claire as she dashed toward the baggage cart. Jake would be damned before he let Franklin harm a single strand of auburn hair on her head.

  Letting out a yowl of fury, Jake swung out one leg and swept the goon off his feet. The big man landed with a thump on the tarmac. Quick as a tornado rips through a trailer park, Jake grabbed a handful of paint chips and ground them into Franklin’s good eye. The thug howled as he pawed at his injury.

  Jake struggled up, his lungs heaving and head pounding. He turned in time to see Claire at the helm of the baggage cart headed straight for Burlington’s jet on the opposite side of the tarmac. She was going to get herself killed.

  Sprinting toward her, he second guessed his every move since he’d arrived in Dry Creek. He’d doubted Burlington’s story about the phone’s and flash drive’s importance since the beginning, but he’d ignored his better judgment. When Burlington threatened his dad, he’d almost turned on Claire. Since he’d met her, she’d been beaten up, had her home trashed, her body drugged, her restaurant torched and now this.

  Sprinting toward her, he fought past the pain cramping his side and the burning in his lungs with each ragged breath. Terror wrenched his heart apart. He’d never reach her before she smashed into the jet.

  The steering wheel shook in Claire’s grasp as she bounced across the baggage cart’s seat. If the vehicle had shocks, they’d been worn off years ago and never replaced. Ignoring the beating her tailbone was taking from the jostling cart, she drove hell bent for leather toward the plane’s lowered staircase.

  Tires screeched on the tarmac. The cart tipped as the right-side tires lifted off the ground and the trailer, normally filled with travelers’ luggage, weaved like a snake behind her.

  Claire held her breath and squeezed her eyes tight, waiting for the whole thing to roll. For a millisecond, she thought it was all over, but the thunk of the
tires hitting the ground proved her wrong. Air whooshed out of her lungs. Tonight, she loved being wrong.

  The landing threw her body up in the air, but she held on to the steering wheel for dear life. As soon as her butt hit the hard plastic seat, she hunched over the wheel and pushed the gas pedal to the floor.

  “Claire!” Jake’s voice rose above the baggage cart’s rattling.

  She snapped her head around in his direction. He waved his arms over his head as he dashed toward her. Franklin, the rat bastard, squirmed on the ground behind Jake. The goon had curled up in the fetal position next to the shed. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

  Jake had done his part. Now it was her turn. Stiffening her shoulders, she focused in on the plane. Only open tarmac stood between her and the staircase. A shadow appeared in the plane’s doorway. Burlington. A second later, the stairs started to fold upward.

  She leaned forward, willing the baggage cart to go faster, but the little engine was already giving her its all. Her heart sank. He couldn’t get away now, not when they were so close. Halfway up, the stairs stilled, just the kind of lucky break she needed. She had to aim just right. If she could damage the stairs, Burlington wouldn’t be able to close the door to take off.

  Police sirens wailed in the background. Hank and his backup were almost there. They were going to do it. Burlington wouldn’t get away.

  The stairs dropped a foot, stuttered, then climbed upward again. Heart hammering in her chest. The stairs cranked up higher and higher. Just as the last step was slightly lower than the cart’s hood, she rammed into the stairs.

  The force of the crash slammed her chest into the steering wheel. Waves of pain undulated from her sternum as her head snapped forward. The screech of metal scraping metal reverberated down her spine. Gasping for breath, she locked her fingers around the steering wheel, afraid of being tossed from the cart. Finally, the world stopped zooming by. The stairs were to damaged to close, she’d accomplished her mission.

  Hands grabbed at her, pulled her from the seat. Disoriented, she ineffectually slapped at the hard, muscular chest swimming in front of her.

  “If you ever do that again, I swear to God I’ll never sit center ice with you at a hockey game.” Jake enveloped her in his arms.

  Warmth that had nothing to do with the summer heat swamped her body as she melted into him. Wrapped in his solid embrace, Claire regained her bearings as sheriff’s deputies surged onto the runway with their cruisers’ lights flashing.

  Hank burst out of one of the cars, his gun pointing toward the plane. Burlington stood at the top of the stairs. Without a fight, Burlington raised his hands, surrendering to the inevitable.

  Claire sighed into Jake’s chest. She felt as if she’d gone twelve rounds in the ring with the heavyweight boxing title holder. Pushing her own aches and pains to the background, she focused on the damage Franklin had inflicted on Jake. Wincing at the sight, she took in his bloodied nose and the shiner darkening his left eye.

  “You look like you just played in a hockey game.”

  He smirked down at her and patted her wind-twisted hair. “Yeah, we make a hell of a couple.”

  “We sure do.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and captured his lips with hers. Activity swirled around them, but her bones dissolved and her muscles became limp. Right now, there was only Jake.

  His hands slid up her sides, rubbing against the ache throbbing in her ribs. Claire jerked back from the kiss, panting in agony. Black dots marred her vision and she waited for the searing pain to lessen.

  “Shit, Claire. We’ve got to get you to the ambulance. Come on.” Jake scooped her up into his arms and hustled her over to the waiting medics.

  She kept her breaths short and shallow in an effort not to aggravate her sore ribs. But her misery must have flashed on her face like a neon sign because the paramedic took one look at her and waved her inside the vehicle. Jake helped her up and took a seat in the stretcher across from her.

  “Sit up, don’t lie down.” The EMT slid his palms down her side. His assessing touch was gentle, but when he connected with the rib underneath her right breast, she writhed in agony and squirmed back from him.

  He shook his head and sighed. “It could be a bad bruise or a fracture. We’ll have to take you in.”

  Jake grabbed her hand. His gaze didn’t waver from her when his phone started ringing.

  “Go on, answer it. I don’t think we have to worry about phone calls anymore.” Claire tried to smile, but the effort exhausted her.

  He squeezed her fingers and answered the phone with his free hand. “Hello?”

  His grasp on her fingers tightened until their tips were almost purple. With care, she slid them away, knowing from the pinched look on his face that something else had gone wrong.

  What now? It had to be over. Burlington was in custody. Tears sprang to her eyes, she couldn’t take any more bad guys.

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He nodded once and clicked the phone off.

  She leaned forward, ignoring her throbbing ribs, to take his hands in hers. “What now?”

  “It’s my old man.” A distant, mournful look haunted his slate-blue eyes. “He’s having trouble breathing. They don’t think it’s related to his lung cancer, but they can’t be sure. They just took him to the hospital. I’m sorry, Claire, I have to get back to Denver.”

  The despondent look on his face hurt her more than the steering wheel to her ribs had. “Go on. You don’t need to come to the hospital with me. Go home to Denver.” She brushed his lips with hers, her heart aching for him.

  He returned her gentle kiss before she pulled away. He slid his thumb across her swollen lips, worry and regret plain in his gaze. “Claire, I…” His hands fell to his sides. He opened and shut his mouth a few times, but no more words came.

  “It’s okay, Jake. Everything will be okay.” Her bottom lip trembled as she dug her fingernails into her palms, hoping her words made it true.

  He stood, hunched over, in the crowded ambulance and shuffled out. As he straightened to his full height in the parking lot, he turned. The torment etched on his face twisted her into a knot.

  He plowed his fingers through his short black hair. “I…we…this…”

  The knot tightened until her heart tore in two. This was it. He wasn’t coming back. They’d known a relationship wasn’t in the cards. Whatever they were doing, it wouldn’t last past his time in Dry Creek. Now that time was up. He’d probably remember the past few days as just a crazy interlude brought about by the chaos they’d experienced.

  Part of her wanted to plead her case, beg him to love her as much as he said. But she couldn’t add to the stress and pressure he was no doubt feeling right now.

  She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. Best for both of them to let him off the hook now.

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine from here on out on my own thanks to you.” She took in a shaky breath. “Jake, go be with your dad. He needs you.”

  He remained still for another few seconds, shoulders slumped and his face turned toward the ground. When he looked up, a hollowness darkened his gaze. Then, he spun around on his heel and strode for the gate.

  Wondering if she’d really done the right thing, Claire watched him go until the EMT shut the doors and the ambulance took off.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Giggles, interrupted by the occasional high-pitched squeal, erupted from the other side of the hospital door. Curious, Jake peeked through the rectangular window into his father’s recovery room and smiled.

  Absolute Security’s longtime secretary, Velma, sat on his dad’s bed, her hand clamped over her mouth, while the old man waved a spoonful of lemon-yellow Jell-O in her direction. They’d been acting like goofy teenagers for the past six months, ever since Velma told his stubborn father that she was getting married. It wasn’t until after the old man finally declared his love for her that Velma admitted there was no fiancé. Ever since, Jake had been cat
ching them kissing in the copy room, sneaking out early for matinees and making cow eyes at each other. It was sickening. And sweet. Not that he’d ever say that to them.

  Pushing open the door, Jake smothered his grin. “Okay. Break it up, you two. I’ve got the car out front to take you home.”

  Velma jumped from the bed and smoothed her floral skirt over her ample thighs. A smile so big it made her dimple seem miles deep lit up her face. “Hey there, Jake.”

  The old man turned a scowl Jake’s way and grunted in greeting. When Velma had called Jake last night, no one knew what was wrong. Turned out to be a respiratory infection. The doctors had wanted to keep him in the hospital for longer than overnight, but, par for the course, the old man ignored their advice.

  “Damn, Velma, I told you not to call him. Now I have to deal with a son who thinks he’s my boss.”

  Jake shook his head. “Trust me, no one wants that job.”

  Velma leaned down and brushed the old man’s lips with hers. “Sugar, I’m heading back to the office and I don’t want to see you there for at least a week.”

  “A week,” his father sputtered. “That place will go to pot without me for a week.”

  Velma raised a penciled eyebrow at him. The old man shut his trap.

  “Love you, baby,” she hollered over her shoulder and strode out the door.

  His father climbed out of the bed and stood on spindly legs. “Tell me you brought me something to wear so I don’t have to flash my ass to the world.”

  Ten minutes later they were in Jake’s SUV, headed for his dad’s house. Traffic was a bitch. They were stuck behind a minivan at a light when the old man turned in the passenger seat to eyeball Jake.

  “What?”

  “When were you going to tell me about Burlington trying to blackmail you?”

  Sighing, Jake considered his answer carefully. “Probably never.”