by L. L. Muir
Her stomach turned, but not from lack of food. The emotions from everything that had happened on the last flight stirred up a noxious soup in her stomach. Her wound suddenly throbbed, as if recognizing the danger and trying to get her to turn away.
Her escort jumped out. She tucked the phone back into the sack and pushed it beneath the seat in front of her. It was her first act of defiance against the new regime. None of the promises made in that room would be kept, on either side.
The driver came around to open her door and help her stand. She thanked him, but he didn’t look her in the eye.
He must know.
There was no sign of Shawn or anyone else. Where the steps would swing up to seal the fuselage, the side of the plane gaped open to the darkness within. Her escort led her to the steps like a disturbing version of Vanna White, pointing to the steps with both hands, smiling at her like she’d just won a free trip home.
“Here we are,” he said. “You’ll find crackers and things on board for your stomach. Have a pleasant trip.” He held his weak smile and his pose while she made her way up the steps. She went slowly just to bug him.
Finally, he stepped back to the car, then stood and watched. Apparently, he wasn’t going to report she was on her way until he’d seen it with his own eyes.
She backed away from the opening and found that she was on the plane alone. The door to the private rear cabin stood open. There were no other passengers and the cockpit was empty. She prayed it wasn’t empty because they’d already hauled Shawn away! If he wasn’t on the plane, then hopefully he’d left all on his own.
The butter-soft leather called to her and she sat. Just as promised, there was food. Only there was a heck of a lot more than just crackers and things. Spread out on an L-shaped bar behind the cockpit was a large bowl of ice covered with shrimp, platters of crackers and cheeses, and various hors d'oeuvres with fancy garnishes. A bucket sat in the sink with a large bottle of champagne. Glasses hung by their stems against the outer wall with little bars in place to keep them from banging into each other or sliding out during turbulence. She wondered how long they’d last when the plane took a dive.
She heard a car pull into the hangar and adrenaline dumped into her blood stream. Could that be Shawn? She worried she might be sick again but then decided she would definitely not allow Shawn’s last memory of her to include her bending over a trash can.
He was going to walk up the stairs. She was going to tell him to go away, that she didn’t want to see him anymore and he’d have to find his own ride home. How dare he let her worry? How dare he not come to save her? Well, she’d saved herself and proved she didn’t need him. She’d tell him to go back to wherever he called home and have a nice life.
Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, but she wiped them away quickly, before he might see them.
Her little speech was on the tip of her tongue, but it wasn’t Shawn who boarded the plane, it was the pilot. A single pilot. He stepped over the threshold and pressed a button. The stairs began to rise, the little hydraulic engine whirred away.
Shawn wasn’t on the plane! Please, God, don’t let that mean Lacrosse has him!
While the plane leaving without him was what she’d wanted all along, she’d also been hoping to see his glorious face one last time, so she was torn between elation and devastation. But at least he wouldn’t die. And maybe, if he heard about the flight going down, he’d appreciate how close he’d come.
With the unpleasant Vanna White looking on, she couldn’t sneak back off the plane. And if she tried to make a break for it, they’d realize she knew the danger and they’d truss her up and put her back on the plane. But why hadn’t they done that in the first place? It also made no sense to tend her wounds and let her heal if they were just going to send her to her death. Why not just put her in a plane and crash it?
What did they need from her? Were they using her as bait to get Shawn on board? If so, they’d failed.
She remembered the discussion in the car. Here’s a phone. Why don’t you let your fans know you’re all right?
Was that it? Had her little stunt caused such a stir on social media that they needed her to fix it? That didn’t make sense either. She was certain they could post anything they wanted on her account.
Maybe it all came down to the duck. They had Dorothy Jean, now they needed to destroy the files. But Shawn had been too clever to fall for their little trap.
The stairs locked into place and the little whirring sound cut off. The pilot turned to her with a smile.
It was Cleary, the co-pilot from the last flight!
“You!”
He shrugged and blushed. “Sorry. It looks like you can’t get rid of me.” She got quickly to her feet and headed for the cockpit. His brows pinched together as he watched her come near. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah. You can.” She put her hands on his chest and shoved with what strength she could gather, then she dove into the cockpit and looked for the cubby hole where his gun had been hidden. She shoved her hand into the darkness and her hand closed around heavy metal.
She made certain the safety was off, then returned cautiously to the cabin. The co-pilot sat on the arm of a chair with his hands in the air and a smile on his face.
“What’s the hold up?” The voice came from a black radio on the guy’s hip.
He pointed to it. “May I?”
She nodded. “Tell him everything’s fine.”
He nodded and put the radio to his mouth. “No hold up. Just helped the woman into her seat.”
“It’s important we stay on schedule.”
“Roger that.” He put the radio back on his belt. “I need to start the engines or he’s going to freak out.”
“Fine.” She gestured toward the cockpit with the gun. “Just remember—”
“You know how to land this thing. Yes. I remember.” He stood, then looked toward the back of the plane. “We have a little problem,” he called out, then headed for the cockpit.
Macey turned the gun on the empty hallway. The door to the rear cabin moved and Shawn stepped out. Half her heart took flight. The other half sank like a heavy weight dropping off the end of a barbell.
“Macey!” He smiled and started walking.
She groaned.
He slowed. “You don’t look too happy to see me.”
She shook her head and strode toward him. She tossed the gun into a seat and didn’t care if it went off.
“I’m not.” She slammed her body into his and wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him close. “You have to get off this plane.” She kissed him hard, then soft, then hard again. “They’ve sabotaged it. It’s going to crash.” She kissed him again. “You have to get off right now, before it takes off.”
He laughed and kissed her back. She would have loved to let him continue, but there was no time.
“Stop kissing me. You have to get off. Right now!” She kissed him again, one last time, then started dragging him toward the closed doorway. “Cleary! Open the door. Do it!”
Shawn laughed again. “Wait, Macey. You’re wrong about the plane. We knew about the sabotage. It’s not going to crash.”
She shook her head. “Not crash. It can’t land. Once we’re in the air—”
“Yes. We know. We switched planes.”
She shook her head again. “So we can land fine, but now someone else will crash?”
“No. They’ll realize what we’ve done when this plane doesn’t go down. And if not, there are others who will report us…as soon as they wake up.”
She was having a hard time releasing all the panic inside her. She’d been so sure she’d have to let him go. And she’d been so sure she would have to die alone—well, except for Cleary.
“But Lacrosse is still alive,” she said.
He nodded. “We know. It’s okay, sweetheart. This is over. You’re safe.” He pulled her against his chest.
She pressed her ear to his heart and though it was a thou
sand times too good to be true, she relaxed into him. His shoe grazed the top of hers and she looked down.
Cowboy boots.
Familiar cowboy boots. But where?
She tipped her head back and looked into his smiling eyes. “I’ve seen those boots!”
“Have you?”
“In water! You came for me…”
“Yes. Almost ruined my boots, too.”
She stepped back from him. “You left me in there?”
“Here. Sit down.” He tried to lead her to a seat but she resisted.
“Parker?” Cleary called over his shoulder. “Are we clear? Or is she going to try to hijack the plane again?”
“We’re clear,” Shawn answered. He turned back to her, his face dark with concern. “Macey, listen. You were in bad shape and there were doctors in the building who could heal you. Taking you out of there would have been far too dangerous.”
“I might have ended up in the morgue,” she whispered, her terror finally making it to the surface.
“Not on my watch, sweetheart.” He lowered his forehead to hers and pulled her close again. “After Dorothy Jean told me about how you went to all that trouble to swallow a tracer, the least I could do was come after you, right? And I had people I trusted watching over you. There are a lot of people who can’t be bought, even with all the money in the world.”
“That’s what Lacrosse was afraid of.”
“Hang on!” Cleary hollered.
The plane started to turn and she and Shawn stumbled into a pair of seats that faced each other.
“How did you do it? How did you get Lacrosse to give me up?”
“You met De Vos. He and Lacrosse have a pretty bitter rivalry going on. De Vos has been given control over the Virginia facility, and I just happen to do a killer imitation of his voice. It only took a few phone calls. De Vos thought Lacrosse had sent for the doctors in case he needed you for an exchange. Lacrosse thought De Vos had done it. The balance of power is a delicate thing at the moment and neither of them would dare rock the boat.”
“And you knew De Vos would let me go?”
He shook his head quickly. “We were prepared to get you out as soon as you were able. But then De Vos’s plan was just too perfect. Try to lure us onto a fueled-up jet and let us take off? How could we resist that? After we discovered the catch, of course. We owe that to Cleary. You should be nice to him.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t shoot him.”
Shawn laughed and leaned forward for a quick kiss. “That’s a start. But you’ll have to do better. He’s going to be with us for a while.”
“But what about Dorothy Jean? Why did she go back?”
He sat back and sighed. “We took her to see her daughter, but she could only handle driving by the house. She couldn’t stand the idea of making Linda mourn her twice. After that, she insisted we let her go back to the hospital. She wanted to make sure Lacrosse wouldn’t have a reason to watch her daughter anymore, and she wanted to help find the cure. How could we argue?”
Macey wiped the backs of her hands across her cheeks and they came away sopping wet.
“I’m sorry,” Shawn said softly. “I know you didn’t want to like her.”
“Yeah.” She shook her head. “But I’m glad I got the chance.” She leaned forward, hoping for another kiss. “I don’t hold out much hope for Cleary, though.”
Mentioning another man brought him forward fast and he gave her much more than a peck that time. “I’m okay with you not liking him. You just need to be nice, that’s all.” He kissed her again, wrapping his fingers in her hair while he did so. “But not too nice.”
She hummed against his lips. “Deal.” Then she sat back to give her side a rest.
“There’s just one more thing…” He glanced down for a second, making her worry, ramping up her adrenaline again. “Dave Wells.”
“What about him?”
He glanced at the rear cabin and her stomach knotted. Dave was back there somewhere, on the plane with them. They weren’t safe after all.
“I told him to wait until you were ready to face him. What do you think?”
She shook her head. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
Shawn laughed, probably assuming she was joking—or pretending to misunderstand. He looked to the back again. “Come on out.”
Her heart jumped when she saw movement in the doorway. She tried to sit calmly while Dave walked up the aisle toward her. He was pulling a tall, pretty redhead by the hand, and the girl stopped shyly beside him.
Shawn squeezed Macey’s fingers. “This is Allison, Dave’s step-sister. You remember us talking about Allison?”
Macey nodded.
“Hey,” the girl said, blushing furiously.
“Hey,” Macey said and forced a smile.
So, this was the woman Lacrosse had been using to manipulate Dave. She could see why her brother would have done just about anything to get her away from Lacrosse, but Macey still felt the betrayal like it had happened an hour ago.
“Hey, babe,” Dave said. “Uh, Macey.” He grimaced. “I know you can’t forgive me—”
“I can’t.” She wasn’t even ready to try.
“But maybe we could call a truce, until we get our feet under us and all.”
She didn’t understand and looked to Shawn to explain.
Shawn finally let go of her fingers and sat back again. “Dave had an idea…”
“Yeah?” She narrowed her eyes at the guy and he moved back to sit by his sister.
“We obviously have to disappear off the radar, so Dave thought since we’re going to be hiding for a while, that we may as well do something productive.”
“Like what?”
“Like…become the organization that will bring down WHOSO.”
“I thought you said Dave wasn’t capable of organizing anything more than a carpool to a ski resort?”
Dave gasped.
“He can’t.” Shawn chuckled. “But that’s what we’ve got you for.”
She blinked slowly, her eyelids suddenly heavy. All the excitement of having Shawn back again left her spent. She either needed more sleep or more adrenaline.
“Macey?”
She shook herself. “Can I sleep on it?”
“A great idea.” Shawn popped to his feet and pointed to the back of the plane.
Macey shook her head. Too much had gone on in one of those cabins for her to ever feel safe inside one. “I was shot in there…” She pointed, unable to explain.
“I know, sweetheart.” He sat again and took her hands. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to help you.”
Dave’s eyes widened and he got up and strolled to the bar.
“Do you trust him?” she asked quietly.
Shawn smiled carefully. “I do, Mace. I do.”
She shrugged. “Then maybe I will too...”
Dave spun on his heel, looking far too hopeful.
“Someday,” she added.
Shawn let go of her hands and leaned back. After a solid minute of just staring at each other, he broke the silence.
“So? What do you think?”
“About?”
“About spending your foreseeable future with me, under the radar, wherever that may be.”
“Foreseeable future.” She tried the words on her tongue. They felt funny.
“Or, you know.” He held his hands out like some politician making a speech. “We could take it slow.”
“Slow.” She couldn’t quite do much more than parrot him.
“Yeah. Spend some time getting to know each other. Fly to Belgium. Spend some more time getting to know each other. Spy on some bad guys. Spend even more time together.” He lifted a shoulder. “You know, slow.”
Tears trickled down her cheeks before she knew it.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He kissed the back of her hand. “And you know what I think?”
She shook her head. There were far too many tears in her throat to speak.
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“I think, sometimes, the end does justify the means.”
At first, she wondered how he could possibly believe anything would be worth all the crap they’d been through. But after a second or two, she realized she felt the same. If she knew they’d end up alive and together, she would willingly go through a few weeks of torment and a bullet hole.
He tugged her gently until she moved over onto his lap. And as they ascended into a thick, white quilt of clouds, she tried her best to tell him, silently, she thought he was worth it too.
THE END
*If you leave a review for Gone Duck on Amazon, please let me know, through my website, so I can thank you personally. www.llmuir.weebly.com
*Starting March 10, 2015, you’ll be able to find the first of Keefer Boone and the Gladiator Diaries—by Mortimer Coffee. The initial adventure will be released in episodes which your kids can read for free with Kindle Unlimited. Find out more at www.llmuir.weebly.com
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