by Emma Slate
I could barely make his face out in the darkness. Another flash of lightning, a tilt of the plane, and I screamed.
Flynn’s hands reached out to grasp my face. “Listen to me!” he barked.
I whimpered in fear, but forced myself to take a breath. The plane continued to shake; the interior lights winked on for a second and then went off again.
“It’s just a little storm,” Flynn said. “Charles was in the air force, okay? He knows how to fly in weather like this. Did you hear me, Barrett?”
I managed to nod even as Flynn’s hands held the sides of my head. The lights came on and I let out a laugh of relief. Flynn’s hands dropped and then reached for my hands.
“See? Told you. Nothing to worry about.”
And then the plane went into a nosedive.
The pilot landed the plane in the middle of the Highlands on a stretch of land that was unusually flat. Rain continued to assault the windows, but the lightning seemed to have stopped. The emergency lights flashed on and off. I felt the pulsing of my rapid heart beat in my neck as I tried to control my breathing.
The more I tried to breathe deeply, the harder it became and I grew lightheaded. Panic swelled inside me, surging up my throat. I scrambled to unlatch my seat belt, needing to get outside, or I was going to vomit.
Hands reached out to stop my movements, and it only made me renew my struggle. “I’m going to vomit,” I shouted. “Let me go!”
“No,” came Flynn’s voice. Calm. “You’re not going to vomit.”
Terror and bile clawed at my throat. I shook my head, one of my hands moving to cover my mouth.
“Barrett,” Flynn said, his hands squeezing my arms. “You’re okay. We’re okay.”
I shook my head violently, still fighting him, but Flynn held on.
“We’re okay,” he repeated, hauling me towards him to force me against his chest. He crooned Gaelic words into my hair, stroking my back, soothing my terror.
“You’re okay,” he said one last time.
I pulled away, wiping the tears off of my face. The urge to vomit had passed. I heard the door to the cockpit open and the sound of Charles coming towards us.
“Radio’s busted. I can’t get a signal,” Charles said.
The low lighting illuminated the pilot, painting him in yellow light. He looked unperturbed, like he hadn’t just had to make an emergency landing in a rainstorm.
“Cell phone?” Flynn asked.
Charles shook his head. “No service out here. We’re close to Ardross.”
“So it could be a lot worse,” Flynn said, squeezing my hand. “Good.”
“I’m sorry. I have no idea where Ardross is,” I said, still dazed.
“About thirty miles north of Inverness,” Charles explained. “We’ll be able to walk to Ardross from here. It’s just a few miles.”
I jumped out of my seat. “Let’s go. Let’s go now.”
“Hen,” Flynn began. “We can’t go now.”
“Yes, we can. We have to—I have to get back to Hawk tonight!”
“Hen,” Flynn said softly. “It’s dark. There’s a storm. And you’re in heels. We’ll just get hurt. We’ll wait until tomorrow and then when it’s light out, we’ll head to Ardross.”
“But, Mrs. Keith—”
“She’s not going to leave Hawk, love. She’s well familiar with the SINS. She won’t worry if we don’t call tonight. She’ll stay with Hawk and we’ll see them tomorrow.” Flynn looked away from me to glance at Charles.
“Charles will stay up here and we’ll sleep in the back.”
I numbly let Flynn lead me to the back of the plane to the private sleeping cabin. Exhausted now that the adrenaline had fled and we were safe, I kicked off my heels and perched on the bed. Flynn went to the dresser and pulled out pajamas for me.
I removed my tight dress and thick bra. I hissed when I tugged the t-shirt over my aching breasts, the fabric grazing my sensitive nipples.
“What is it?” Flynn asked.
“Biology.”
There are hands around my neck, squeezing, squeezing the life out of me. My vision becomes spotty.
“Please,” I choke out. “Let me live.”
“You have to die,” Vlad states, his Russian accent brutal and thick.
“No,” I whisper, struggling to breathe, struggling to live.
There’s a moment, right before death, when you give up, when you want to embrace it. Pain drops away and there’s only calm.
My hands fall from the wrists holding me down, crushing my windpipe. I smile into the darkness coming for me.
Suddenly the hands around my neck are gone. I gulp a breath of air; it’s never been richer. Blood rushes to my head and so does anger.
A violent wave surges within me—swallowing men and anything good I used to be.
I want to be savage. I want to destroy. I want to take a life.
A gun appears in my hand. Lifting it, I aim for Vlad’s chest.
He starts to laugh like a drunken, maniacal clown.
“You won’t,” he predicts. “You are too soft. You are not part of this life.”
“I could be,” I reply.
“If you pull that trigger, there’s no going back. Are you going to become the thing you despise?”
I pull the trigger, feeling like I’ve been shot myself, but it’s Vlad who bleeds out in front of me.
I walk towards him as the light drains from his eyes. Leaning down, I whisper, “I won’t apologize for surviving.”
I awoke with a start, momentarily confused about where I was. Plane. Crash. Hawk. Rolling over, I nudged Flynn awake. He was asleep on his back, mouth just the tiniest big agape. He closed it as he came to.
My stomach rumbled and I was in desperate need of a cup of coffee and a shower, but I had one mindless thought and that was to get back to my child. I scooted out of bed and reached for my dress, hating the idea of squeezing myself back into restrictive and tight clothing.
“Hen?” Flynn asked, running a hand across his face.
I pulled back the curtain of the window to reveal watery sunlight and gray clouds. “It’s light out, Flynn. We have to go.”
When Flynn made no move to get up, I snapped, “I love you, but if you don’t get your ass up, I’m going to kill you.”
Flynn’s lips quirked into a smile of amusement, but damn if he didn’t sit up. “Charles is already on his way to Ardross, hen. He’s probably already there and making arrangements. He should be back soon.”
“What? What are you—”
“Charles left a few hours ago.” He looked at me in confusion. “Did you really think I was going to let you trek across the Highlands in high heels? It rained last night. You’d be slipping in mud, cold, and miserable. You would’ve broken an ankle out there.”
I let out a sigh and flashed him a relieved smile. “You really do love me.”
“I really do. Don’t put that dress back on. Stay in your pajamas. It will be more comfortable for the drive ahead of us anyway.
Nodding I said, “I’ll go find us some bottled water. Please tell me there’s a box of granola bars around here.”
“Should be.” Flynn threw his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his suit trousers.
“I could really get used to this kind of luxury,” I said as I opened the door to the private cabin.
“You still haven’t gotten used to this, have you?” he said.
It was chilly in the plane, so I grabbed one of Flynn’s sweaters and a pair of thick socks. I’d be in a heated car in no time at all and I nearly sighed in pleasure when I thought about it.
“No, I haven’t,” I admitted.
“We live in a castle,” he reminded me. “We have a private plane.”
I looked at him and grinned. “A little over a year ago, I was living in a prewar studio on York and most of my clothes came from H & M. That doesn’t just go away because we have a castle and a private plane.”
Opening a cabinet
, I pulled out two bottles of water and a box of granola bars. I tore one open and took a bite before handing it to Flynn. We ate in silence for a few minutes and sipped our water, each of us lost in our own thoughts.
“Do you miss New York?” he asked suddenly.
“It’s complicated,” I said.
“How so?”
I shrugged. “I miss the city. I miss takeout whenever I want it. I miss the culture, I guess. I miss the apartment we never got to live in. But I…”
“What?”
“I met you there,” I said with a wavering smile. “And that’s incredible, but it’s also the place where I was kidnapped.”
Flynn’s steely gaze didn’t leave my face. Jaw clenched, his nostrils flared in anger. He hated being reminded of the time he hadn’t been able to protect me—and being reminded that his life had changed mine, making it dangerous to love him.
I reached out to touch his cheek. “I’m glad we live here. I love it.”
“It’s so dark and gloomy here,” he muttered.
“Well, you Scots make good scotch. I think it gets you through the 320 days of rain,” I teased. “I love that Hawk is going to grow up here. I don’t have any family, I don’t have a village or a clan.”
“You have me. You have the SINS.”
I nodded. “I know. Even though I’m American, I feel Scottish. I feel it here, Flynn.” My hand touched my chest over my heart.
He let out a breath and looked relieved. “Sometimes I just feel like I’m dragging you behind me, hoping you’ll still be there when I look over my shoulder.”
“I’m right where I want to be.”
Flynn took my hand and it brought it to his lips. “Let’s go home.”
Chapter 13
An hour later Charles returned in a black SUV that easily navigated over rough, muddy terrain where most of the roads had been washed away. He didn’t look worse for wear despite the fact that he’d walked to Ardross. I was starting to think he was more than just a pilot.
He was a Scottish Crocodile Dundee.
“Thank you!” I said, wrapping the man in my arms and kissing his cheek. “Whatever we’re paying you, I’m doubling it.”
Charles raised an eyebrow and glanced at Flynn. I looked back at Flynn who shrugged.
“It took me longer than I expected,” Charles explained. “I had to make a few calls. Mechanics are on their way to see to the plane.”
I scrambled towards the car. My heels sank into the mud and when I tried to lift a foot, there was an audible suction noise and my heel was gone—lost forever in the muck.
“Help!” I called to Flynn.
Flynn strode towards me and scooped me up into his arms. We managed to get the back door of the SUV open and he stuck me inside. Charles climbed into the driver’s seat and Flynn took his place in the passenger side. As we drove away, I saw the plane through the car window. Thank God for Charles.
I was silent while Flynn plugged in his dead cellphone. After a little juice, it beeped with the many missed messages and voicemails. Pressing a button, he turned in his seat to look at me. He smiled.
“Ramsey is back in Dornoch. Jane is giving him a hard time.”
I chuckled. “I bet she is.”
Flynn shook his head and then frowned as the next message played, but then his face smoothed out and he smiled. He hung up.
“What was that about?” I asked.
“Mrs. Keith, wanting to let us know that Hawk went down easy and that she wouldn’t leave the house until we got home. She also told me to tell you not to worry.”
“Really? Or is that you telling me not to worry?”
He held out his phone. “You can listen to the message if you want.”
I let out a sigh of relief but shook my head. “How long is the drive to Dornoch?”
“Forty-five minutes to two hours,” Charles answered.
“How’s that now?”
I caught sight of Flynn’s smile before he turned back around to face the front.
“It means,” Charles said, “that it will take forty-five minutes if we don’t run into any road obstructions.”
“He means Highland coos,” Flynn said, his brogue thick.
“Coos?”
“Those hairy, shaggy brown beasts that don’t budge no matter how much you yell at them.”
I laughed. “Cows. You mean Highland cows.”
“Aye,” Flynn said. “We’re going to stop in Inverness for a minute. I need a to-go cup of coffee and a breakfast sandwich.”
“I could go for that, too,” I admitted. I was exhausted, having slept badly, waking every hour, feeling like something was missing. It was amazing how quickly I’d adjusted to having Hawk. I knew his habits, and I was beginning to know him. And yeah, he wasn’t even a month old, so how could he already be turning into his own person, right? But he had a personality, and knowing his paternity, I wasn’t surprised that Hawk was a greedy, demanding little bugger. Then again, weren’t all newborns?
After we briefly stopped in Inverness for our food and coffee, we were back in the car. Flynn got on the phone and started making calls, dictating orders. I tuned it all out and closed my eyes as I continued to think about my son. He was as bald as a cue ball. It made me smile. When his hair grew in, would it be black like Flynn’s? Auburn like mine? Or something else entirely? Was it cliché to hope he looked just like Flynn?
I tried not to think too far into the future or I would worry constantly. It wasn’t enough that I’d chosen this life when I decided to stay with Flynn, but knowingly bringing a child into the world to grow up among the SINS? I had to be some kind of crazy. Parents were supposed to protect their children, not put them in harm’s way.
Opening my eyes, I stared out the window, realizing we’d come to a stop. “We’re not home,” I stated.
“No,” Flynn said with a sigh. “We’re about twenty minutes out.”
“Why have we stopped? Don’t tell me? Coos?” I asked with a look around.
“No. Highland sheep,” Charles said.
“For the love of God!” I muttered, sitting up straighter so I could see out the front windshield. A herd of Scottish Blackface sheep baaed as they ran across the road. An older man in a burgundy wool sweater, boots and a green felt hat, trailed behind.
“A sheepherder,” I murmured in stupid amazement. “A real honest to God sheepherder.”
“My wife is from New York,” Flynn explained to Charles who only nodded.
“Oh, be quiet,” I said, unlatching my seat belt and opening the door.
The day was chilly and my bare feet were cold as I walked across the pavement towards the older man. “Pardon me,” I called out to him over the sound of the sheep hooves on the ground.
The man looked at me and raised his white eyebrows in question. “Aye?”
“I know this going to sound really strange, but may I pet one?”
“They’re not pets, lass,” came the old man’s rough voice.
I heard the car door open and turned to see Flynn get out. He moved to stand next to the hood of the car.
“Sorry, Mr. Campbell,” the man stuttered, “I didn’t realize that you were with—that she—”
“My wife,” Flynn said softly.
“Mrs. Campbell,” the man said, his tone suddenly deferential. “I’d be honored if you’d—”
“What’s your name?” I asked him.
“Barnabas Stuart.”
“Barnabas, may I pet one of your sheep?”
He nodded quickly as I leaned down to pet the closet one to me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Barnabas trying to shoo his sheep off the road. It was totally ridiculous, and I couldn’t believe I’d gotten out of the car. But if I learned anything while living in Scotland, it was that everything happened at a slower pace and you just had to go with it.
While I was busy stroking the slightly dirty fleece of an ewe, Barnabas managed to get the rest of his flock off of the road.
“Barrett,” F
lynn called.
“Coming,” I said. With a smile at Barnabas, I thanked him. The craggy old man managed to smile, and for a moment, I was reminded of Malcolm. The ache of grief caught me low in my stomach.
Just as I was about to close the door to the car, Barnabas ambled over. In his arms, he held a young lamb. He set it on my lap.
“I’d be honored if you’d have her,” Barnabas said.
“Oh, but—”
“Thank you. We’d be honored,” Flynn interjected before I could give the lamb back.
Barnabas nodded and then closed the door for me. I looked down at my lap and stared into the brown eyes of the lamb.
“What the hell just happened?” I asked when Charles had started the car and we began our drive home again.
“He was worried that he’d offended me by initially refusing you when you wanted to pet his sheep,” Flynn explained. “This was his way of making amends.”
“That’s all well and good,” I said, stroking the fleece of the lamb on my lap. “But what the hell do I know about keeping livestock.”
Charles and Flynn laughed. “We can find a use for him,” Flynn said.
“It’s a her,” I reminded him.
“Whatever you do, don’t name it,” Charles warned.
“Why?” I asked.
He looked at me in the rearview mirror. “You’ll get attached.”
It took me a second to realize what he was implying. I covered the lamb’s ears and said, “We’re not eating her.”
Flynn turned in his seat and shook his head. “Attached already, hmmm?”
I pointed to the lamb. “Have you seen this face? It’s adorable!”
“You love lamb,” Flynn pointed out, turning back around to face the front.
“Shut up,” I pleaded, stroking the lamb’s soft ears. She made a little noise and tried scooting closer. “We need to build a barn.”
“For our one sheep?” Flynn asked.
“Her name is Betty.”
“Oh, lord,” Flynn muttered.
“I heard that! And so did Betty!”
Chapter 14
A hand touched my knee. I opened my eyes. Flynn had turned around in his seat, his cobalt gaze intense.