by Jill Shalvis
“What?” Fear nearly strangled her when the plane dipped again. Then yet again.
Nina struggled to sit upright, to blink past the dizziness to focus. She saw Rick reach down and unhook the pilot’s seat belt, stepping over the body when it hit the floor. Sitting in the now empty pilot’s seat, he glanced quickly over his shoulder. “You okay?”
“You are...flying.”
“Yeah.”
Again the plane jerked, violently, so that Nina thought her seat belt would tear her in two. “Rick!”
“Come here.”
“Wh-what?”
“Come here!”
Easier said than done since the plane continued to dip and rise like a roller coaster, up and down, and also side to side as Rick struggled to regain control. She could hardly get her fingers around her seat belt to release it.
“Hurry, damn it.”
“Hurry,” she repeated, crawling on the floor to the front, grabbing Rick’s leg to steady herself. Poking her head up, she looked out the window to find that they’d lost altitude. Her stomach leaped into her throat. “Do you know what to do?”
The plane dipped again, knocking her into Rick’s lap. At the feel of his tense, powerful thighs beneath her, she jerked back, nearly landing on top of the prone pilot on the floor. “Have you done this before?” she cried.
He was busy fighting with the controls.
“Rick!”
“I’ve seen it done a few times.”
He’d seen it done. Something was rolling around at her feet and she stared at it. “There is a soda can with foam coming out of it.”
“Empty?”
“Yes.”
He looked down at the pilot, then let out a string of obscenities. “Does it smell like almonds? Never mind, don’t touch it! How is he?”
She reached for the pilot. “He’s not moving. What do I do?”
“Is he dead?”
She stared down at the man in growing horror. “How do I tell?”
“Check for a pulse.”
“Check for a pulse. Checking for a pulse. Meu Deus, there is no pulse!” She didn’t know his name, but he’d worked at All That Glitters for several years, and he’d always been courteous. Did he have a wife? Children? This could not be happening. “Rick!”
Rick closed his eyes briefly, then leveled his intense gaze on her. “Okay, listen carefully. We’re losing altitude.”
She could only stare at him.
“I’m not sure how to stop it.”
All the air left her lungs.
“Get back into a seat belt, Nina. Now.”
She peered out the window at the lush, green Amazon jungle beneath, the jungle that was currently rushing up to meet them. Vertigo swamped her, but she shook it off and crawled back to her seat.
“Are you in?” he yelled back.
“Almost. Rick, are we—”
The plane dropped and tipped to the side, throwing her against the wall. Her face hit, hard enough that she saw stars.
“Nina, seat belt! Now!”
He was craning his neck to peer out the windows, searching to the front and the sides of him with a deadly calm as he worked the controls with a sort of aim-and-miss method that made her very grateful she wasn’t prone to motion sickness. “Seat belt,” she repeated, afraid she knew the answer to her question, but she asked anyway. “Are we going to make it?”
“Hang on.” The plane shuddered and let out a horrendous noise. He had to shout to be heard. “We’re going down.”
“Do you know how to land?”
There was a thin line of sweat running down his temple, his mouth was tight. “Don’t ask me anything you don’t really want to know.”
He didn’t know how to land.
By some miracle they’d stopped dropping out of the sky, but they flew low, too low, the belly of the plane brushing against the wild, lush growth that made up the jungle, stretching out as far as the eye could see, without a break in sight.
“There is nowhere to put this thing down!” she cried. “We will never make it!”
“Never say never.”
The airplane pitched brutally, throwing her weight against the restraint of the seat belt, cutting into her chest, her ribs, until she was sure she would simply snap in half.
“This is it,” he yelled back. “Tuck your body, cover your head with your arms. Don’t look up until we stop.”
She started to tuck, then stopped. “What about you?” He’d never found the time to hook his seat belt, she thought with a surge of panic. “Rick! How will you protect yourself?”
“Nina, damn it, tuck!”
She tucked.
The plane dipped again, and she bit her lip so hard she tasted blood.
They were going to die.
She’d never really imagined dying, but she was suddenly sorry she was going to do so before they’d worked through their problems.
She didn’t want to die like this. She didn’t want to die at all. She hadn’t had kids, or gone scuba diving. She hadn’t told her father she loved him.
Or Rick.
“Nina?”
She started to look up, but remembered his directions. She stayed tucked.
“Nina...” Rick sounded different now, frantic for the first time. “Nina, I’m sorry.”
She closed her eyes against the onslaught of regret and anguish.
So he didn’t want to die at odds with her, either. “I know.”
“I should have told you.”
He was only saying that because he thought they were going to die. They were hitting the tops of the trees now. The plane shuddered and made a horrendous noise. Nina was thrown left and right, then left again, her entire body pummeled from all directions, and she bit her lip again, not wanting to distract him by crying out.
The noise was atrocious. As Rick took the plane down through the thin canopy of trees, they hit hard and fast, bouncing up off the ground twice more before smashing down for the final time, sliding through the thick growth and headlong into a tree.
* * *
AFTER ALL the earsplitting noise, the silence was deafening. In that silence, Nina heard Rick’s last words.
I’m sorry.
I should have told you.
Should have.
Should have.
Those last words echoed in her head over and over, until suddenly it occurred to her.
All was still. Too still.
Everything felt like a dream. Even her own breathing, so harsh in the quiet, seemed surreal. Lifting her head, she opened her eyes.
And at the sight of the dead pilot, on his back at her feet, eyes and mouth open, tongue hanging out, she screamed.
The sound bounced around her head and in the plane, but there was no answer. The fog blurring the edges of her vision faded, and so did the sense of being asleep.
She was horribly wide-awake, not dreaming at all.
Where was Rick?
Fumbling with her seat belt, she freed herself. She tripped over the pilot and landed on her hands and knees in the front of the plane.
Rick lay slumped forward, and didn’t move when she sobbed his name. Scooting closer, she placed her hands on his back, leaning over him, looking into his face.
His eyes were closed, which was a good thing, since blood was pouring down his temple from a long, jagged gash on the top of his head. “Rick!”
“Told you...” His lips barely moved. Nothing else did, either. “Told you...I’d seen this done.”
A laugh escaped her, but it was purely hysterical. “You need medical attention. Stitches for certain.”
“Got...any thread?” Somehow he managed a smile, though it was a weak one. “Come on, it can be your revenge. Stitching me up without drugs.”
The thought made her feel like throwing up, but then he shifted and groaned.
“Don’t move,” she said quickly.
“Not...planning on it.”
“My God. What are we going to do?” He was fadin
g fast, not moving at all. His eyes were still closed, his color far too pale. Frenzied, Nina craned her neck around and surveyed the wreckage around her.
It was bad. One side of the plane had been sheared right off, leaving them exposed to the elements, which happened to be Amazon jungle in the hot, sticky midmorning.
She could see branches tangled together. Thick vines curled around trunks and dangled from limbs. The foliage was so thick that very little light reached through, and already insects had discovered them.
Who knew what other creatures were hovering just beyond?
“This is really bad,” she whispered. Figuring Rick would come up with a good quip for that, one that would probably annoy her but at least banish her fear, she looked at him.
He didn’t so much as budge. In fact, he hadn’t moved or said another word.
“Rick?”
Nothing.
The man was a thorn in her side, a brooding, rough-and-tumble man afraid of nothing but his own emotions.
A man she’d had the bad luck of falling in love with.
But furious as she was at him for all of the above, she wanted him to open his eyes and flash her his cocky smile. She wanted him to tell her everything was going to be okay.
She wanted him to hold her tight and be the strong one, but since he didn’t move and nothing was okay, nothing at all, that job looked to be hers.
“Rick.” She touched his back, his neck, searching for a pulse, which she found with a grateful sob, but the fact that he was deeply unconscious, possibly dying, prevented her from throwing herself over him. Afraid to worsen his injuries, she stroked his hair and once again looked around her.
She was truly alone in this, she thought, then nearly leaped right out of her skin at the screeching bark of a howler monkey.
The air came alive with noises then, cries and hoots from hawks, vultures, and many other unknown creatures, all of which made her scrunch tighter within herself.
Seems she wasn’t quite so alone after all.
* * *
RICK WOKE to a screaming headache and a sweet, soft coaxing voice.
“...all you have to do is wake up, Rick, yes?” Something silky brushed his face. “And anything you want, I promise. Just please wake up.”
“That’d be...worth coming back from the dead for.” He licked his dry lips and cracked open an eye. Nina leaned over him, her hair tickling his jaw. He managed to pop open the other eye. “Did you really say...anything I want?”
“Oh, Rick!” She flung her arms around his neck and squeezed, hard. Her body slammed into his and she lay over the top of him, shaking like a leaf. “I thought you were going to die—” She squeezed harder. “And I could not help you and—”
As she squeezed, serious pain shot through him, through every single inch, and Mr. Tough Guy that he was whimpered like a damned baby.
“Oh!” Nina eased back, just a little, and beamed at him, though her smile was wet and wobbly. “Sorry.”
His throat was parched, his head hurt like a son of a bitch, and that was before he tried to sit. Gasping, he struggled, then finally managed to sit up with her help. “I feel as if I’ve been in a plane wreck.”
Her smile faded. “That is not funny.”
“I know.” They were still in the plane; he could see that. She’d managed to get him flat on the floor, or maybe he’d landed there himself. All he remembered was her scream and the control panel rushing up to greet his forehead, all personal-like.
Near his feet lay the pilot, and the gritty details, such as murder and bad landings, came back to him. For the first time he got a good look at Nina, or as signicant as he could through a haze of pain and a good amount of sweat and blood blurring his vision, but what he saw made his heart twist. Lifting a hand that felt as if it weighed a million pounds, he touched the growing bruise on her jaw and cheek, regret and fear making his voice hoarse. “You’re hurt.”
“Not like you.”
Not believing her, he ran his hand down her arm, tugging her back against his side so that he could search the rest of her for himself. Her limbs moved around him easily enough, but when he touched the ribs on her right side, she sucked in her breath hard. Tears came to her eyes.
“Just bruised,” she whispered.
“But they hurt like hell,” he guessed, pulling her closer, welcoming the pain because at least they were alive.
But the empty soda can on the floor spoke of deadly intentions. Even now he could still smell that faint scent of bitter almond, which he knew from his SEAL days was cyanide. His guess was someone had offered their pilot that drink knowing the heavy taste of the poison would be masked by the vanilla flavor of the soda. And once their pilot died in the air, everyone else would die as well.
Without Rick’s lucky landing, that is. “Much as I’d like to make you repeat that promise to me—”
Nina blinked. “Promise?”
“That you’d do anything, anything I want...”
She blushed. “As always, you speak inappropriately.”
“There’s nothing inappropriate about what I want, believe me.”
She stared at him, her eyes wide and troubled, reminding him there was still a world of differences between them, not the least of which was that she was a forever sort of woman.
And he no longer did forever.
But suddenly, looking at her, that seemed rash.
And even, somehow, a chicken way out. His life was lonely.
Incomplete.
He’d definitely hit his head too hard. “Help me up.”
“I do not know if you should be moved.”
“We need to get out of here.”
“But you need medical attention!”
“Nina, do you see an ambulance waiting for us?”
They both looked outside to the lush, green overgrowth of a Brazilian jungle.
“Do you see a highway, or even a hint of civilization?” he pressed. “Anything?”
Her eyes clouded. “No.”
“It’s just you and me, sweetheart. Just you and me.”
She didn’t look thrilled, and he couldn’t blame her.
He wasn’t exactly thrilled himself.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BY NOW their plane had gone down, courtesy of a nicely reliable poison.
Nina Monteverde and Rick Singleton were dead, which should have brought a rush of pleasure, but there was no relief at all from the all-consuming need for revenge.
Because Terry was still missing.
But she would be found. No matter what, she’d be found.
And finally, vengeance would be had.
* * *
NINA FOUND HERSELF sitting in the middle of the wreckage, blankly staring around her. Logically, she was in shock. She’d been in shock for days, it seemed. She couldn’t quite escape the fog.
Rick looked as if he suffered from the same shock. His eyes were wide and slightly unfocused, though that could be his head injury.
What if he’d died?
Like their poor pilot. At the reminder of him, her entire body tightened in grief.
But Rick was still alive. He was still in her life.
Not that she wanted him there, but it was out of her hands. Like it or not, he was firmly encroached in her heart and soul.
She must have made a sound because he whipped toward her, his face lined with worry. “What? What’s the matter?”
Only that she loved him. “I—”
He let out a short, mirthless laugh. “What’s the matter? Can you believe I asked you that?” He came close, pulling her against him. “We have to do something.”
“Yes.” But she’d rather stay like this for a good long while first.
“Our equipment is out. No radio. And no way are the cell phones going to work. We filed a flight plan, but as the plane is now beneath the tree canopy, it’ll take forever for anyone to find us.”
They were about as isolated as they could get and still be on earth.
&nb
sp; She watched Rick push to his feet, then wobble crazily. She thrust her shoulder beneath his arm to steady him. “What are you doing?”
He tossed her a smile but it didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m thinking we need to get on the move. I don’t know about you, but spending the night here isn’t my idea of five star accommodation.”
“But...will they not come find us?”
“They?”
“Officials. Someone. Anyone,” she added weakly at the sympathy in his eyes.
“Nina. We didn’t come down in the best of places.” Squeezing her shoulders, he let go to teeter his way toward the back of the plane, where he pulled out first the plane’s emergency supply kit, then his backpack. He dumped the contents of his pack out, only to toss selected items back in it such as water, a snake bite kit, bug repellent and dried food. “We’ll be able to load just my backpack with what we need.” He stopped to swipe the blood that was, still oozing into his eyes, and took a moment to rub his temple. “If we’re lucky, we’ll find help within a few days.”
“Days! But...”
“Cover him.” He tossed her a blanket and gestured toward the dead pilot. “We’ll do what we can to make sure someone can get back for his body. Good, there’s pills for malaria.” He opened the drugs and pulled out a bottle of water. “Take two of these right now.” He did the same. “We’ll take more, for as many days as it takes us.”
Meu Deus. Malaria. Snakes.
As many days as it takes.
“Here’s a tent.” He let out a grim smile, but his relief was clear. “We’re styling now.”
A tent.
As in camping.
Only she’d never camped a day in her life. Overwhelmed by the magnitude of it all, she just stood there.
Rick stopped filling the pack and looked up at her, his eyes dark and intense. “We should hurry.”
“Why?”
He dropped his gaze and began working on the pack again, tying the small, tightly wound tent—the one that didn’t look big enough for him alone, much less the two of them—to his pack. “I hope your shoes are comfortable.”
She looked down at her leather flats. “Yes, but...Rick?”
He sighed. “Look, we’re alive, right? Let’s keep it that way.”
They took care of his head injury the best they could, and did the same for her lesser injuries.